If I Had My Own Blue Box:

Elizabeth Stewart Clark’s recent article, “Why We Blame Helen: Or, What Happens When You Improve” brings a favorite line to mind when, with a great sigh we say “Oh, Helen.”

I know. I can’t help it. My brain works that way.

Okay, I also have visions of an absent minded house-elf thanks to the fact that I am re-listening to the Harry Potter series as my drive-time audiobooks.

The reality is, Liz puts a very true phenomenon in a nice capsule, taking a personal stress many of us feel and letting it rest. In my 20s, I don’t know how many times I had finished a dress just to learn something new about construction.

Another thought Liz’s article brought to mind is what I call my “seasonal sewing syndrome.” For several months, I sew straw millinery. For several months, I sew sewing cases. Let’s just say the sewing techniques are very, very different. When I go from months of sewing with large needles and straw to fine needles on silks and cottons the stitches on the first piece is less than fabulous and ends up in the “blaaaa” box. It is like I have to remind my hands to function the way I need them to.

Given that the last couple hats were larger, it was time to do a smaller one. This fashionable, mid-19th century hat is for those with a smaller head (18″ to 21″ at the hairline.) It designed to sit high on the top of your head. It has a shallow crown and a brim that curves down all around while dipping further front and back. I can see this looking adorable with ribbons. Look for it in my Etsy shop.

The second large box of the week didn’t start out as a sewing box. As I worked on sorting and labeling my tools, I decided rather than show all the bodkins together, scissors together, etc., it would be far more interesting to show the antique tools together and the reproduction tools together, side by side. So, a second box was needed. The first box I thought of, that I picked up to be made into a sewing box, is currently storing the doll tea sets with an oh-so-perfect fit.

This box was hiding under the sewing room dresser, forgotten about. It was a $1 garage sale rescue. I have a soft spot for pieces that have obviously had many lives and various remakes. This box was very much that with the replaced lock, as well as assorted nails and nail holes. (I forgot to take a before photo with the various adaptations.) Whether this box will remain a sewing box after the demonstration, we shall see. I don’t know if it is happy with its new designation. Actually, I’m not sure if it is happy with its odd, may be too modern paint. But, I’m afraid the box will fall apart if I take the paint off.

Anyway. Let’s start with the tray since the whole thing started with the need for a second tray. I did a fabric tray (and lining) this time around. Each piece of pasteboard, double on the bottoms and sides, was covered with fabric and stitched together. Okay, so the outer parts were done 3 times. Precise measurements, when adding reproduction cotton quilt prints, becomes too tight to fit. (also frustration and many more hours of work than planned.)

The lining of the box is actually pasteboard covered panels slid into place. I opted for this method because it meant the least amount of alteration to the box itself. The panels can pop back out as needed. It seems I did not take a photo of just the lining. So, here is a photo of the pasteboard that warped on the top and not yet laying flat.

With the tray inserted, it looks like a snazzy sewing box. With the latch on the lock face, it will hold closed pretty well too. (the lock itself does not work, just the latch.

Here it is with the reproduction tools. Each of those green tags tells where it was from or who made it.

The project meets feline approval.

Over “spring” break, in quotes due to the utter lack of warmth ending in an icy snow storm, I finally got around to working on the larger sewing boxes that have been on my to-do list thanks to the nudge a presentation the weekend following. The week was thus filled with working on sewing boxes and cases.

Here is the early 19th century sewing box I picked up last summer for a very nice price due it needing some tlc. It has pretty little mother of pearl inlays.

It was stripped of its interior when I bought it. The lid appears to have been changed at one point because that panel is rough and sorta beveled shaped. The brown tray is my attempt last summer at recovering it in velvet. While I loved how it came out…. one small problem…. it didn’t fit right.

I wanted to find a paper that would be true to the blue paper inside, assuming it was original, but I am not sure. I found a maker of beautiful, handmade marbelized paper, who found me two matching papers. I love the colors and the swirl density.

I started with making panels on pasteboard to cover the bottoms. (second guessing this because this is were the warping came in.) While the panels dried, I covered the sides. One of the tray supports popped right out. One was stuck tight. It was much, much easier to do the one that popped out. Once the sides were in and dry, the bottoms were able to go in.

I decided to do the tray in the paper with the dividers still in the velvet. This is because I cut and sanded the dividers, a pretty cherry, to fit with the velvet inside. I was afraid if I did the dividers in just paper, they would be too loose. You’ll also see the strip of metal sticking up. I wanted to see if I could insert these strips back into the tray. I had 2 and most of 1. I was not able to. 😦 I have them in the bottom of the box in case I figure out how to insert them. (Tried slitting the paper with a knife in one spot. It didn’t work.)

There are a few spots I am not happy with. There was some puckering and just paper unprettiness. The lock measurement must have been off.

Here it is finished, ready for tools.

This one will display the antique sewing tools for the presentation.

This is my first sheer dress made around 2000. It has major construction issues as I had no idea how to turn at the waist for a sheer. The fabric was oh so comfy. The skirt support was prior to me figuring out how to get better poof off my hips. The collar is too wide for 1861-4. (I have a eyes closed problem with photos.)

Here is my second sheer, made the same year or the next as the grey. This one does have a cotton strip folded into the turn. I put it under the fold…. It slipped…. I learned. This fabric had a very loose weave and snagged on everything.

I remade it to fit a significant weight gain, when we were unemployed. The remake was done on an air mattress.

Sheer dress three was the dress I wore for mourning Dad. (Yes, I now know sheer cotton may not be supportable for mourning. It was real mourning. I had little money. I was numb. Live with it.) This was a private gathering for just a few of just a few of us.

Jump forward many years….
The next two sheer dresses were from my green stage in 2013. They were the first dresses I made in what felt like a long time. The green plaid is a cotton lawn; soft, comfy, airy, easy to wrinkle. The green print is a loved gift, a block print from the V&A. It is also very nice to wear. It can not get wet.

The following year, in 2014, I made the matching fabric dresses for Lily and I that we wore for the GCV Mother’s Day fashion show. This sheer cotton shirting was easy to work with and forgiving. It does feel a tad heavier than the white & green dresses. These got hem tape.

The next sheer is an earlier dress. The fabric came from a friend. It is lovable both for the ease and the wear. I want to make new undergarments to truly benefit from the lightness of this dress. (Photo by Eileen Hook)

I’ll admit, I’ve loved wearing sheers so much, I have a hard time wearing some opaque cottons because they feel heavy to me. I have a couple more sheers in the stash. They seem to draw my attention so much more than the period prints.

Hmm. A couple more photos….

This is one I would Love to finish in the style of the inspiration painting, Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun’s, Portrait of a Young Woman, 1789. But, the more I think about it, I fear it would be cost prohibitive to do it right. I already broke the 12 hour mark for sewing and blocking. To finish it off with silk tulle, net or organza edged in red with that beautiful plume, would be lovely but pricey. So, I will be offering it un-decorated for the future owner to finish as desired. This will allow it to be the versatile hat it wants to be. Look for it in my Etsy shop.

Today’s millinery in miniature may already have a home. (I’ll let you know if that changes. Size depending.)

Cali says this hat is oh-so pretty with its open brim with decorative straw. She says it is a tad too small for her 9 1/2″ head, being 8″. It will best fit a doll with a smaller head, 7-9″.

Today I have a hat with a bit of whimsy for you. I made some zigzag straw that I was going to put on the edge of a hat. But, then I had a better idea. I rather like this hat. It is available in my Etsy shop.

This straw hat is a natural pale straw with an inset zigzag accent. The zigzag straw is hand shaped by me.

This hat will fit an average to large size head. Those with average size heads may wish to add a ribbon or lining for comfort. The shallow crown is made to sit high on your head. The brim dips forward with a nice curve fashionable in the era.

The numbers you’ll want to know:
Inside the crown is 21″
Side to side – 12″
Front to back – 12″
Crown height – 2.5″ in front (shallower on the sides)
Brim depth – 3″

Today, I have a larger size hat. I know several of you have been waiting for one. This one has a shallow crown, a fashionably shaped brim and a scallop edge. It is available on Etsy.

The numbers you’ll want to know:
Inside the crown is 22″
Side to side – 12″
Front to back – 12″
Crown height – 2.5″ in front (shallower on the sides)
Brim depth – 2.5″

I’ve decided I need different attire if I am going to interpret sewing straw in public. While my working middle class attire is appropriate for interpreting in the millinery shop, I do not feel it is appropriate for interpreting the sewing of straw done in a domestic setting.

I’ve decided to take a closer look at the clothing worn in illustrations, and the occasional painting, to see what the women work while plaiting and sewing straw.

There is one small or not so small glitch in my plan for different attire, it needs to be suitable or easily tweekable for a couple different decades as I may be out at the museum while different periods ranging from 1812 to 1860 are being interpreted.

This illustration nicely shows the stages of straw manufacture as it takes place in England. Alas, the system was different here in the US. (Please, read From Field to Fashion to know more.)

Dunstable and the Plait Manufacture, The Queen, 1861

This painting is quite informative. Two downsides. First, it is again England. We didn’t have plait schools here. Second, as much as the loose bodice could appeal for comfort, I really do not want to propagate the bodice and skirt separates myth that this attire could me miss-construed as.

George Washington Brownlow – A Straw-Plaiting school in Essex

This may be one of the more comfortable and practical sets of clothing I’ve seen illustrated. While published in the mid-century, the actual date of illustration is unknown. By the hat on the ground to the lower right, I suspect this is the 1840s. This could be a versatile foundation to work off of. That being a cross-over style sacque, skirt, and apron with a shawl added if necessary.

Straw plaiting in St Albans.
From ‘The Illustrated London News’ 1853

Although not the age, era or area I need to be looking at, I need to share this painting because it is just so wonderful: