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After doing my Victorian workshops I realised I haven’t really written here about a major source of headaches for me in making historic garments: modern thread is generally made for a machine.


It’s also incredibly fine.


I like to try and use a very short stitch and even triple stitch where I can and that means basting the schiznitt out of everything so that unpicking that is a nightmare. To the point it is more stable than a straight sewn seam even before I get it under the foot. I am not entirely sure I have found a thread that is readily available that actually matches historic threads and yet passes modern ideas of how invisible stitches need to be.


So what am I talking about? Surely there isn’t that much difference?


First is the gauge (thickness) I tend to use two strands for everything because of the needed strength.My victorian bodices have a thread much more like my vintage cotton threads and actually even a bit heavier. I do have the remnants of similar weight thread in some very old long bobbins and it matches the vintage stuff well enough that I think the machine was used even in the mid 20thC.


Second is twist. It’s quite hard to tell but, yes, like a twill the spin can be Z or S (see the middle section of those letters? That’s the direction of the pattern in a twill and corresponds to a clockwise or counter clockwise twist in a yarn.) Modern thread is the opposite spin to what is needed for a right handed stitcher. So if your threads twist up, it’s not just you. And of course when you double thread that twist goes up then down and makes for even more snarls. Also this is part of the reason one side of the thread gets shorter than the other. But waxing thread still works even on modern polyester threads so try and grab a block 🙂


Thirdly when sewing by hand the thread goes through each stitch for the length you sew. So by the end of your work that thread has gone through the fabric multiple times. But there is also the wear of the eye of the needle that is only at the end of doubled and probably for the last 1/3 or so of a single strand work. In a machine thread only passes through a single stitch. But each and every stitch has passed through the eye of the needle.


Fourth thread types and chemical threatments and dye types all  have a part to play. Even now I find thread dyed black to shred more frequently than any other colour. Of all the readily available threads the very best is Metrosene. I can’t break it by hand where I can break even Gutermann by hand.


Finally, ply. Our ply is super obvious. If you have ever had difficulty threading a needle (machine or hand) you’ll know this. But when I look at historic garments the ply is not so obvious. Over time what this does is allows the thread to swell or flatten against the fabric. Not quite a floss but not heavily twisted and chemically treated to shrink the fibres into smoothness and strength (fun fact, linen can be mercerised! I have 11m of orange linen that was so shiny we all doubted the other evidence- until the burn test,)


Anyway. I just finished doing some handsewing that is obvious even if only on the inside and I am already looking to see if any of my vintage threads can be used to mask the overtly modern thread.

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Right now I am working on two velvet gowns inspired directly from two that were used for film of the late 1920s, these are very representative of a style worn through the 1920s.


I have endeavoured to credit the design or wardrobe team where possible.



Vilma Banky in The magic Flame (1927, uncredited designer), and Norma Shearer in Upstage (1926, Kathleen Kay*, Maude Marsh and André-ani).


Both of these gowns are from the height of the flapper era, and yet both are designed to cling to the body from shoulder to hips. And they are not alone!


 


Nita Naldi, Cobra (1925, Adrian), Anna May Wong, Nita Naldi Cobra, (1925, Adrian)


These gowns are clearly designed to make a stark visual impact and yet the materials are soft and flow around the body.


 


These gowns have defined body shaping. It is achieved using inserts and cutouts to take in or spread out  V shaped elements- using decorative elements to achieve a closer fit, and was used a lot in the 1920s to shape clothing.


From experience it is a style that is best draped on the stand. French bias is used through the 1920s which affects stretch in seams and this style makes most use of barely diagonally cut fabric.


It can be seen on long clinging gowns, short gowns, and even what I am calling a demi skirt- a flared rather than gathered skirt that ends below the knees and before the ankles.


A hip seam (straight or also v shaped) is of benefit in anchoring the bodice to the torso especially for skirts that are gathered or flared.


  


Dorothy Sebastian & Anita Page, Our Dancing Daughters (1928, David Cox), Colleen Moore, Clara Bow


 


Norma Shearer, The Last of Mrs Cheyney (1929, Adrian), Joan Crawford, Our Dancing Daughters (1928, David Cox).


And the fit was even used for Robes de Style!


 


Arlette Marchal, Clara Bow, Jacqueline Gadsen



Anita Page, Our Modern Maidens (1929, Adrian)


 


In this case the fit is from the hips up to underbust at the side and then the excess from the bust is eased into the scooped neckline.



Paul Poiret evening gown, 1920s, Christies auctions.


This gown makes use of the seaming needed to create the geometric patterns to also fit to the body. This use of decorative seams to hide functional seams can also be seen in Patterns of Fashion, a blue silk crepe dress from 1925 has teardrop shaped panels that are used to take in or spread the ground fabric.



1921 evening dress, Les modes, “where there’s smoke” by Patterson.


 


 

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