Buying Vintage Patterns

(A Vintage post transferred from my old blog)

I am visiting family and friends in Pennsylvania this weekend, and thus I am three hours from my sewing. But I do have a few hours down-time so I thought I'd take some time to expound on one of my favorite fashion-shopping weeknesses: vintage patterns.

It started last year when I was in "50s mode" making my own bombshell wedding dress.

You see, I got so excited about it the era and the shortage of good repro patterns, that I started cruising eBay for vintage patterns. And lo and behold, they are abundant on eBay. When I discovered the "Collectibles-->Sewing-->1930 to now" category, I was one excited little seamstress.

They range widely in price, from $2 to $30 or even as high as $80. My own personal price limit is about $8 apiece (plus shipping), unless I am in love with something specific and hard-to-find. 50s bathing suit patterns, for instance, have such a high rate of competition that I think I paid $20 for mine.

When I started out buying these patterns, I bought almost indescriminately. As long as I liked the pattern, and the seller thought all the pieces were there, I would place a bid. I bought a heap of patterns this way, until I have almost filled the top drawer of my filing cabinet (please, no one even hint to my husband how much money I spent on them. He doesn't need to know).

After my initial lust for vintage patterns was sated, I began spending a little more time taking stock and building some criteria. I had bought some good patterns, but now I could be a little more picky. After thinking about it quite a lot, I learned to look at a few things when it came to getting the most out of my purchase.

Size: This didn't start out as being very important to me. After all, I can re-draft just about anything, right? Well, yes, but it does save time (and I have come to look at my time as begin worth money) not to have to size everything up or down accordingly. Many vintage patterns are tiny. I assume this is because the larger patterns got used, abused, and thrown away. As a historian, I have to shout it, people were not smaller back then! Remember, this is your mom's or maybe your grandmother's generation. If we as a species grew at the fast a rate, our grand children would be about 6-7 feet tall-- and that's the women!

Maybe we were a little less chubby on the whole in 1948, but size 32" bust can never have been the norm. For whatever reason, these tiny little patterns seem to be what has survived, and you should take a moment to look before you buy. Sizing up from a 32" bust to a 36" might not be hard. But going from a 32" to a 44" might be a bit more dicey.


Silhoutte: This is easy to recognize. Are you buying 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s? What is a little more important if you are buying a bunch of patterns is that you not buy a bunch of the same thing. In my search for the iconic 50s New Look day dress, I bought about 4 patterns whose main difference was just in manufacturer and the picture on the cover. Duh.

Except for the scalloped neckline on the one on the left, these two are essentially the same dress. Same bust and waist darts, same circle skirt on a round waist. Once you've got a few basic patterns, you might start looking for unusual details that you don't think you can draft yourself.

Think about this one instead. It's got a gored skirt, halter neck, and a great wrap-around button detail.

If you find yourself intrigued by just different the fabrics or minor details pictured on the front of the pattern, save an image of it in your computer and try to replicate it using the pattern you already have.


Condition: This will matter to you differently depending on how much of a collector you are. I don't care if the envelope is torn, provided all the pieces are there. But to some people, it does. Are there water stains? Are the pieces inside all chopped up? Be sure to read the description carefully.


Mail Order Patterns: These babies have quickly risen to become my favorites. Mail order patterns appear (from my very minimal research) to have been popular up until about the 60s, and have petered out through the 1970s. Most often they are highly wearable styles. The packaging also is drawn in really easy-to-interpret style so you can generally get a very good idea of how the garment will fit. Mail order patterns cover everything from evening gowns to underwear, and they often are priced a little cheaper than the fancy-shcmancy Butterick or Advance patterns.

Unusual or Hard-to-Find Patterns: I already mentioned my quest for a bathing suit. That was an ordeal! I was out-bid about a dozen times before I finally won one. And even then, I had to watch it until the very end so that no one bid-Snyped it out from under me (bastards).

Most of us have a few iconic images in our head that we are conjuring up with these patterns: Marylin Monroe over the air vent or in a pink wiggle dress singing "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend." But there are lots of special occasion looks and even daily-wear items that be vintage and still surprising.

Play suits, slips, bathing suits, aprons, and even bath robes can all make good additions to your vintage wardrobe, especially if you have the creative knack to work them in properly. Don't dismiss something just because it doesn't look like what you remember seeing in a movie! There are a lot of nifty patterns floating around out there that are just waiting to be turned into something fabulous!

Pattern Whore

So I got a bonus day off of work today when my car wouldn't start. I was feeling a bit depressed while I watched my car get hauled onto the rollback so I thought I would salve my soul by cruising eBay vintage pattern sales. Except, I'm also worried about paying for car repairs so instead of buying anything, I'll just share my favorites and live vicariously through anyone else who buys them instead of me.

This dress is all about the button detail on the front--probably something a patient seamstress could draft on her own, but perfect for the lazy amongst us (that includes me). At a 32" bust, it will need sizing up for most of us.







From my favorite eBay pattern seller, this 1940s dress was enough to make me think very hard about whether or not I should bid (my thin wallet prevailed upon me not to). I am always a sucker for 40s gathering and the panel cut into the center front of the skirt like that. This one I could easily slip into my work wardrobe and get loads of compliments on (as long as the insertion of that panel went well. It's bound to be a bit tricky). Bust 36"!? I love you. *wipes away a trail of drool*



This one I hesitated to put up because I wasn't sure if it was quite original enough. I finally decided that with the princess waist and inset sleeves (a little hard to find on 50s dresses and kind of a pain to re-draft), it was worth it. I love the scalloped neckline, and I think this could easily make either a pretty cocktail dress or a killer wedding dress. At a 30" bust, it will definitely require sizing up, bat that shouldn't be too bad with its configuration.

I'm also pretty sure that for most of us, proper waist-cinching undergarments and petticoats will be required to make this flattering.

Nevertheless, it's totally adorable.


Wow! The wrap detail on the front of this is spectacular, especially when complimented by the gathers at the hips. Beware though: that wrap detail could be tough to size up for inexperienced seamstresses, and at a size 32" bust, that will almost definitely be a requirement.

Cover it Dummy!

A few weeks ago, a friend off-loaded bunch of dummies on me from the attic of her museum. Score! These were not items from their collections, but rather old junk dummies that had once been used to display historic clothing.

They had spent a loooong time in the attic, and they were officially disgusting with dust and attic "gross." The two 1970s Acme dummies on the right reacted well to a good vacuuming and a light sponging, but the one on the left...

Well, that one is from the first two decades of the 20th century, without a doubt. It is paper mache (so no sponging), with a terrific turned wooden base. It appears to once have been covered by a knit black fabric, but no more. Dust is caked up on it. In short, it is really gross.

But nevertheless, it is a gem in disguise. Since it is from an era when corsets were still worn, it is a much better way to display my corsets than those straight figures of the modern dummies.

So, filled with envy for the magnificent dummies that Lace Embrace uses to display their corsets (at right), I set about covering this one to make it usable.


I started by draping acid-free batting over it (I am a museum nerd after all), snipping it to shape, stitching it down. White satin was draped over it next, cutting a (too big) hole for the neck and adding darts to fit it properly at the waist. All of this require a lot of pinning a smoothing a re-pinning.

From there I began hand stitching up the sides with a large needle (to avoid loosing it inside). Once I reached the armpit, the question of "what the hell do with armscye" became obvious.

This required some artful pleating around in a circle. I was thinking of doing it something like an upholstered chair arm or gathered pillow, though it came out a little more uneven than intended. I will cover the center with a button, and it should look a little more finished.

I still have to stitch down the darts along the bust and back and figure out what on earth to do about my gaping neck hole, but my attention had wandered again, and I haven't touched it in two weeks.

This week I am frantically getting ready for my next UnderWhere? lecture at work; this time it will feature fashions of the 1880s. It runs this weekend (March 27th and 28th), and I still have to finish a petticoat. This weekend I've already enlarged the bodice (I had a giant 4" gap where it wouldn't close over my bossom--that was a first for my sad little chest), made a new chemise with matching drawers, and made collar and cuffs out of fine white lawn (fabulous fabric from Farmhouse Fabrics, by the way. I recommend it). I also bought new high button shoes and net mits to compliment the outfit. Hopefully someone will be available to take pictures this weekend (and lace up my corset because ther is no way I cat get tight enough on my own).

Gown in a Hurry?--Go Empire!

I got this Facebook message from a dear friend asking me if I could make her anything for a party this weekend. Apparently she's tired of the 18th century.

Really? Are you kidding? I sew on my days off from my regular job and then the two weeknights every week when I am not getting off my keister and getting some exercise (the gym and Flamenco--weeee!). That is a total of about 20 hours per week to make a gown and appropriate underwear...

But wait! There is a possibility!

As usual, I am falling back on the basic simplicity of the Empire period. I can whip out a gown in about eight to ten hours, and a petticoat in a about five or six more. And you can totally get away with a sports bra instead of a corset in this period if you need to.

I have six yards of Heritage Trading cotton hanging around that will work perfectly. Yes, I know I always say I've got fabric just "hanging around" but that's because I have a shopping problem that results in vast quantities of fabric sitting on my shelves like little fantasies of what I will make next. I shop on eBay, at fabric stores, and reenactments, building up this cache.

The fabric I am using looks something like this, but mine is pink with green. It's very gauzy--perfect for the Empire period.

And I'll use my old standard Folkwear pattern, which I have now made so many times, that I can't do it without making little alterations and changing the bodice on. I have to say, that the Empire has got to be the easiest period to re-design bodice for. If you ever get the urge to try, I encourage you to start there.

Marathon sewing today--here I come!

Petticoat Princess

The issue of Empire-era petticoats has never been dealt with to my satisfaction. Nobody seems to be positive what all gets worn down there.

I mean, yes. We know that pantalets were coming into use (split crotch of course), and everybody points to the existing bodiced petticoats out there. But like I said, I'm still not satisfied.

From Kosha the Kat showing a bodiced petticoat. God how I love her work.

Because you can't wear that many bodiced petticoats at once. And they're not uncommon, but they're not that common. And I don't think I've seen a single historic sketch, print, or painting that shows them in use (please tell me if you've got one, because I'd kill to have one for my presentation next week).

Gowns of 1795, when extra pouf was still in fashion
From the English fashion magazine Gallery of Fashion

And yet, I know that I once read a brief historic quote where someone was complaining about the "young things of today going around in as few as one or two petticoats" (it's a paraphrase. Lord knows I also didn't memorize it). Adequate petticoats were required for decency, sufficient pouf in your silhouette, and warmth. This one person, at least, thought that three was a bare minimum.

Satirical "Three Graces in a High Wind" image lampooning inadequate undies

So if the ladies of the Regency/Empire/Federal era (say around 1795-1820) needed to add up more petticoats, what was the answer?

1807 image from La Beau Monde showing petticoat under lifted hem of gown

I've spent extra time looking at this over the past week because I am giving my "UnderWhere? in 1800" presentation at work at the end of the month, and I need to have something to say about the issue. I have come to some hesitant conclusions.

I am going to go with the assumption that my memory of this quote is correct and say that three is a good set of petticoats. Say I wear one bodiced petticoat, because we know they aren't excessively common, and any more than that is going to result in some bulking around the shoulders.

What of the other two petticoats?

1813 Fashion plate from La Belle Assemblee

Wearing a standard petticoat around the waist, outside your corset seems like it might create a funny-looking line in your costume, but I have seen people get away with it successfully, provided you don't wear too many.

But I've decided that it must be acceptable to where petticoats underneath your corset in order to get enough of them. This practice went back through the 18th century and would have been considered standard up until at least 1795 when waistlines and bustlines became one-in-the-same.

In the well-known print "Fashion Before Ease," from the last quarter of the 18th century, you can see that this woman is clearly wearing several petticoats, her false rump, and her pockets underneath her stays (corset). From personal experience, I can only guess that her waist was feeling quite squished with all of those under a tight pair of stays.

Fashion Before Ease

The same arrangement is seen on madame below in a 1791 satirical image.

And this 1823 image (now into the Empire era) seems to suggest that this woman could be wearing one underneath hers as well. If you look at her hem, you can decorative tucks. At this point in time, chemises were generally unadorned at the hem, though some decoration was appearing at the neckline.

Book of English Trades, 1823-4

This 1809 French Engraving is less clear. The woman on the right appears to be wearing just her chemise under her stays. But the woman on the left could be seen as wearing a petticoat as well since again there seems to be some ornamentation along her hemline.

However, the woman in the 1810 image "Progress of the Toilet" is planning to depend on petticoats outside her corset, rather than underneath.

"Progress of the toilet," 1810

So where does all this leave me?

Petticoats, like all clothing, would have been heavily influenced by the status, living/working conditions, geographic location, and familial tradition of the wearer, making a standardized practice for garment wear unlikely. This holds especially true in the absence of a popular form of media or other distribution source (such as fashion magazines, which were not commonly circulated and did not show underwear during this period) that would teach women the "right" way to wear their petticoats.

The best any of us can do in recreating this era of costuming is stick to what we know of preceeding practices, written accounts, and the few existing images.

I am standing by my theory that some petticoats continued to be worn under the stays, and I am making myself a new, leightweight white petticoat for the purpose. The best I can do is point to the images I've got and hope that something more conclusive falls in my lap one day.


My thanks to www.pemberly.com, who supplied me with most of my images.

My Masquerade: Part 2

All of the major machine work is done on the dress now. I would like to add some furbellows (the ruffles along the neckline and gown opening), but will have to wait until some more crucial stuff is done on other costumes first. Plus, there is plenty of hand-work left.

My Masquerade

Turning 30 this month hasn't phased me a bit. Maybe that's because I've taken it as an excuse to throw an over-the-top, totally self-indulgent Masquerade Birthday Party in early January: I mean, masks and glitter and champagne and all. And let's not forget the magnificent costumes.

I had planned to make something extravagant for myself, but the truth is,most of my friends can't afford to go buying giant gowns on their own. Now I am not only making my own 18th century gown, but I am trying to assist a few other people in finding something to wear.

First came a good friend of mine from work. Using the old blue "Cornelia" skirt to start with, I whipped to together an 1860s gown.

Okay, so it's not quite finished yet. I still have to do all the finishing touches (boning channels and lacing holes), but here it is in its current state:

Funny story: I had a piece of fabric left over from making the original skirt, but when the bodice was all together and I put them both on my dummy, I realized that I had the wrong fabric! I had a similar, but not quite matching dark blue taffeta. Duh! The effect is not quite what I was going for, but it will be alright for the party. Maybe one of these days I will make a skirt actually matches.


My next challenge is my husband. This is always a challenge because I don't make a lot of men's clothes--nor do I have a man-dummy to use for photos. Since this costume still has a ways to go, I will leave it to your imagination until I am closer to done (yes, I know I only have two and half working weeks to finish it. Stop reminding me!)


My dress however has come together smoothly so far. I returned to my old favorite, the Mill Farm pattern. This s my third use of this pattern, and it works pretty well (although I always forget how much smaller than expected it is so this will be another tight-lacing event for me).



I want to make a voluminous impression so I started with a bustle pad from the Butterick pattern (don't try it; the instructions are lousy) so I could get this silhouette:

gown by Sharon Ann Burnston

I picked an iridescent taffeta, primarily because I would need a lot of it, it was historically appropriate, and I could get it for cheap. Let's just be honest about that. I found a good deal on eBay.

The fabric really does look stellar when the light glints off all of the gathers and pleats though, so once I get that Polonaise looped up, I should look awesome.

My favorite part thus far is the sleeves. I followed Mrs. Burnston's instructions for cutting around the pattern in the lace for the under ruffle to create a border patter. So easy, and so pretty, I feel like a smarty-pants! After studying my V&A 18th century book for sleeve ornamentation suggestions, it came out like this:

I still have a ways to go, but here is the current state of this gown.

Wish me luck on getting on everything done by the 9th. As usual, there is a strong chance that I have bitten off more than I can chew!

1920s Revival

With the big Flapper's Ball just around the corner, I have completed the silk charmuese '20s gown and have hastily moved on to a simpler one for myself. But despite the fact that it seems like I am in a constant hurry these days (again, I accuse the new house), I'd like to follow up on that first gown.

The last pictures I posted just showed six yards of fabric stretched out across my dining room floor. Well, somehow I did make it past that step and assembled the majority of the gown. The styles of the 1920s frequently depended on the quality of the fabric and ornamentation of the gown more than they did fancy cutting and piecing so the process took surprisingly little time.

As expected, my major time investments were in ironing out the rolled hem for the curvaceous edge of the flounces. I was ready to burn that silk charmuese! It was a battle the whole way around.

But the result was pretty and a little surprising. As I expected, during the first fitting, the flounces flowed like water every time the client took a step. I even forgave the silk for giving me such a hard time earlier.

I didn't photograph the fitting (to avoid making my dear friend uncomfortable), but I did snap a picture of it where it hung in my living room for a week while I built up the courage to attach the top flounce.

The armhole binding wasn't stitched down quite yet for this if you're wondering what is the deal with the shoulders.

The flounce took some courage and some thinking, but I finally laid the dress out on my dining room floor (I may actually regret it when I have to give up that precious floor space for a dining room table) and used a piece of marked cardboard as a ruler to get the height even all around. Then I nervously basted it together and hung it up to do a visual check before doing the permanent machine stitching.

There is no photograph of this dress finished yet because I was too excited to hand it over. Nevertheless, you can be sure that I will photograph the hell out of this dress once I am at the ball.



With just three weeks remaining to make something for myself, I also bought this pattern drafting book from an eBay store. It's a 1920s "pattern drafting system" that promised to take about an hour.

They had a fetish for this kind of machine-like efficiency in the early 20th century, and at only $14.95, I kept my expectations low.

However, I was pleased to find it effective, fast, and fairly flattering. It would have been much faster to make, but of course I couldn't just do it the easy way. I had to add tucks and then mess with the pleating on the hips. And now I am beading the damn thing (fool!). I'll post the story of this dress another day.

New Prjects--Oh Joy!

My sewing projects are still a bit on the fritz as I've been slowly putting my new house together. Man--I always thought they were exaggerating when they said how much work a new house was!

But my dear co-worker Audrey has provided me with stuff to keep me busy: She needs a gown for the Flapper's Ball at work in August (or the Flapper's Fall if the typo on the invitation had not gotten fixed in time).

So I am beginning today on this lovely gem from Past Patterns

using 6 yards of gray silk charmuese from Denver Fabrics. In spite of myself, I am still a little bit anxious about sewing on such a fragile fabric. I'll be laying it out in my dining room today.

Since I still have no dining room table, there is plenty of floor space to work with.

Empire Gown in a Hurry

At the last minute (as usual) I decided I needed an 1807-era servant dress for the Steamboat Bicentennial festival at work. I was lucky enough to have some gray check fabric laying around my studio (it belonged to a friend so I now owe her--oops!) so I set to work on a bib-front gown.

By combining the oft-used Folkwear pattern, scaled pattern in Janet Arnold's book, and images of the same dress in the Victoria & Albert's Nineteenth Century Fashion in Detail, I managed to whip up an acceptable bib-front dress in two nights. Yay me!

Yes, the bib is tied on the outside. I hemmed and hawed about this since the Janet Arnold gown shows it tied on the inside, but another gown from the V&A book shows it tied on the outside. Crap!

Well, this dress decided to drape better if I tied it on the outside. So the choice was made for me.

Sorry also about the lack of stays. I made the executive decision that as a servant, she could get away without stays--especially since I didn't have time to make another pair.