A Cartridge-Pleated 1630s Petticoat

After all the talk about the stays, it is time for a post about the petticoat. Compared to the stays, it went together really fast. The “pattern” are two 150 cm wide and 95 cm long squares of fabric sewn together. I used the 17th-century petticoat instructions on Marquise.de as a guide. 

Trying on the petticoat for the first time.

My fabric was 100% combed wool. It was a bit on the heavy side so I did a sort of double closure with two 15 cm side seam plackets to balance everything. After some research, I found that such side closures are just as plausible as center-back ones. Also have a look at this great video about getting dressed in the mid-1600s by Prior Attire. It features a gorgeous side-laced bodiced petticoat which is just as plausible for the period.

One half of the waistband. I interfaced it with a strip of silk noil and added two eyelets to attach the finished petticoat to the stays.

I also wanted to talk about my petticoat because it is cartridge-pleated. At the time, cartridge, or accordion, pleats existed alongside knife pleats which were slowly coming into fashion. Knife pleating gives a narrower fit at the waist and a slightly different hang. When cartridge pleating for the first time, the process can be a bit befuddling. So here is a little walkthrough. I used Drea’s tutorial to get me started. Before pleating anything, do not forget to sew your hems…

“Hem before pleats” is definitely the second most important rule after “shoes before corset” ;).

After sewing three rows of gathering stitches with linen twine, I pulled the threads to match the waistband. Using the folded-over selvedge really helped because it saved me the hassle of finishing the top edges.

Pulling up the gathering stitches.

When the skirt bottom and waistband matched, I knotted up the threads to secure everything. Since they stay in the skirt, I then buried all the tails. Next I neatened the pleats by pinning them together in even clusters.

Pinning the pleats into clusters.

Next came the sewing. It is somewhat counter-intuitive because you put the skirt and waistband right sides together with the bottom of the band meeting the top of the skirt. But this is the most important thing to do, really. You will see why in a moment. To join the two, you use a whip stitch, putting two stitches into every pleat that meets the band, like so:

Whip-stitching with two stitches per pleat.

Now when the waistband is folded up, it pushes out the finished pleats to create the characteristic cartridge pleat look. It comes out really well in this photo, with the bum roll underneath. Please ignore the makeshift closure. The finished item closes with two sets of hooks and eyes.

The bum roll nicely pushing out the pleats.

Now that everything is officially finished, I have started planning the gown that will go on top. This makes me super excited! Also because I get to write the first proper research post in a long while … Eee! So please stay tuned for the next installment of 17th-century wackiness!

Cheers, Nessa

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HSM #10 – 1630s Underthings

They are finished! *happy dance* After what felt like an eternity, the final touches on my stays got done this weekend. Now you can have a look at the complete 1630s stays and petticoat. In this post, I will give you the lowdown on the basic facts and spam you with photos. Individual posts on both garments will follow in due course. Right now, I am just bubbly and happy to see how well everything came out. This mammoth project has really boosted my corsetry (and sewing) confidence. :)

Okay, first, here are the pictures:

A look at the front…

… and the back. On me, I lace up with a 1 1/2″ gap, but Rachel here is not squishy enough for it.

The side with a good view of the petticoat placket. Oops. ;)

Here is a closer look at the knitted i-cords in action. I used them as ties on the shoulder straps and to lace the petticoat to the stays. 

Knitted cord at the shoulder straps.

Cords tying the stays and petticoat together.

Attaching the petticoat with “points” like this dates back to Elizabethan fashion. Then “petticoats” were seen as a unit of a stiffened under-bodice and the actual petticoat. Both one-piece and laced two-piece bodice-petticoats were in use. The Dorothea Sabina von Neuburg stays have eyelet holes at the sides for this, too. If there is no heavy busk like I used it, the front tab was also tied down sometimes, to keep it from flapping up.

You may still remember the bum roll I made to go with this ensemble. Here it is, sitting happily on top of the stays:

A look at the underpinnings with the bum roll.

Now, it is time for the challenge facts. I had already mentioned some of them here or there, but it is best to have it all in one place at last. :)


The Challenge:
#10 – Out of your Comfort Zone

This has been my first go at proper 1630s costume and also my very first pair of fully boned stays. All these “firsts” definitely put this project out of my comfort zone.


Material:
1 yd of light orange linen, 1 yd of coarse violet linen blend and 1 yd white shot upholstery silk for the stays.

3 yds tropical wool suiting for the petticoat and a strip of silk noil for interfacing.


Pattern(s):
Dorothea Sabina von Neuburg stays in “Patterns of Fashion” / Drea Lead’s Elizabethan corset pattern and tutorial.

17th-century petticoat instructions at Marquise.de.


Year:
1625-30

Notions: 20 yds of 5mm wide German whalebone; 12″ handmade wooden busk; 3 yds cotton corset lace; no. 100 silk thread for sewing and silk buttonhole for the eyelets.

Cotton thread, linen twine & hooks and eyes for the petticoat.


How historically accurate is it?
About 90% accurate. I tried my best to get the adequate materials and hand-sewed everything. Because there are so few surviving examples of early 1600s corsetry, the stays are plausible but the evidence is a bit patchy.


Hours to complete:
Lost count. ;)


First worn:
Around the house, to break in the stays and take measurements for the next layers.


Total cost:
The orange linen was €10 and the boning around €15, everything else came from my stash. My guesstimate would be around €55 for everything.

And that was it already. The underthings, and especially the stays, came out very well, much better than I thought. Do you remember how skeptical I was in January about getting them done this year at all? At first, drafting the pattern from so many different sources felt rather scary. But after three mock-ups and a good bit of swearing things began to look doable. In the end, the hardest part was binding the stays. The binding tutorial at Your Wardrobe Unlock’d was a real lifesaver here. After surviving even that, my sewing mojo got a much-needed boost.

So, the next time you feel like your sewing skills have hit a snag, I recommend making yourself a pair of stays. ;)

Love, Nessa

1630s Underthings – A simple bum roll

For the Historical Sew Monthly October challenge I am just finishing my ensemble of 1630s underthings. At the moment I am still playing around with the stays and petticoat. But the third piece, the bum roll, is already finished.

Bum rolls have been around in different forms as rump padding since the Elizabethan age. At first they were worn together with the farthingale but around 1620 they began to be worn on their own. This fashion more or less lasted until the Georgian era. When you look at Regency gowns up until the 1810s, there is often a small, sewn-in pad, reminiscent of a roll.

Here a small visual history of bum padding since the early 17th century :

Isabella di Savoia d’Este, Frans Pourbus the Younger, c. 1606. She is till wearing a late version of the Spanish farthingale.

Gertrude Sadler, Lady Aston, British School, c. 1620-23, Tate Gallery. The fullness of the skirt shows more towards the back, hinting at a bum roll being worn on its own.

Madame Molé-Reymond by Élisabeth Vigeé-Lebrun, c. 1786. The nice bump in the back is also created by a bum roll.

Bum pad sewn into the back of a Regency gown, c.1810-13, National Museum of Australia.

My bum roll was inspired by Quinn’s simple 18th-century bum roll. For it, I folded a rectangle of fabric in half and tapered the top edges to form the “horns”. Like so:

The bum roll “pattern” after cutting.

For the ties, I attached two 1 yard long pieces of twill tape into the points before sewing the roll together. Then I filled it with a mix of carbage (fabric scraps) and cotton fiber. Since it will go under some pretty heavy skirts, I made sure to stuff it extra firmly.

The carbage before it went into the roll.

The finished roll is 4″ wide at the widest point in the back. The length is 26″. It equals my high hip circumference, from hip bone to hip bone. Anything else would be too long to fit under the stays at the front.

The finished roll.

Although it does not look very round in flat, it is very pliable and lies nicely against the body. Leaving it tied to the form for a few days helped to shape it. When it was done, I was eager to stick it under a skirt, so I test-fitted the petticoat over it.

Testing the roll under the petticoat.

I must say, I really like that bump! Now it is time to finish the rest of the underthings in time for the challenge. Please stay tuned!

Yours, Nessa

1630s Petticoat Plans (CoBloWriMo #27)

With the stays all done and dusted, it is time to plan ahead. A matching under-petticoat will be next. Since I am not very eager on making a farthingale of any kind, I have chosen to go with a 1630s look. Technically farthingales were already going out of fashion in France by 1620. But, better safe than sorry. ;)

The petticoat will be made of tropical wool. It is not too heavy and has enough body to support the upper layers, with or without a bumroll. I will loosely base it on these instructions by Anne Danvers. 

Up until the 1630s, cartridge pleating was the way forward. This van Dyck painting shows a good example of it. You can see the distinct skirt shape through the girl’s apron.

Portrait of a Young Girl by Anthony van Dyck (c. 1630).

With my cartridge pleating skills being more than rusty, I looked up a few cartridge pleating tutorials. Drea’s and Jennifer’s instructions were both very helpful to jog my memory. Before I get going on my petticoat, I did a quick trial run. For it, I found a willing “victim”… ;)

Practicing cartridge pleats on Cal. ;)

After this little test, I think I can start making my own, bigger petticoat. Wish me luck!

Yours, Nessa

Not in a million years … I thought (CoBloWriMo #20)

Tonight I have some news to share with you: Just in time for the “not in a million years” prompt I finished the binding on my 1620s stays! And this is really something I would not have believed to be doing in a million years.

When I started sewing, I was positively terrified of working on corsetry, let alone fit my own patterns. This, however, was four pairs of stays ago. And things kept getting better with each one.

The first short stays were a catastrophe. Then came the Laughing Moon long stays. They were a big challenge, but the pattern instructions were a great help, as was the generous fitting advice on the Regency Facebook groups. After that, things kept getting better.

My self-drafted morning belt went together quickly, after just a few fits of swearing over the pattern. And now, there are the 1620s stays. When I started them, I was as terrified as ever. Although, aside from being super time-consuming, I have not yet come across any bigger snags.

One thing that really helped with it was Cathy Hay’s corset binding tutorial at Your Wardrobe Unlock’d. And now, the unbelievable has happened. Here are the bound stays, drying after a little spot cleaning to remove the pattern marker. Yippee! I made the binding from leftover lavender linen. The rest of it makes up the interlining.

The bound 1620s stays.

Next up are scores of hand-sewn eyelets. Another thing I believed I would not be doing in a million years. But, oh well, one truly grows with every corsetry project!

Nessa

The Edict of 1634 – A look at French Sumptuary Laws (CoBloWriMo #17)

As promised earlier this month, I have taken a look at the French sumptuary laws of 1634 for the CoBloWriMo “Written Source” theme. Since I am in the middle of making a 1620s-30s costume for a French persona, they were a must for my research, to make the outfit credible for the time period. When I looked around for sources and information on sumptuary laws in fashion, I mostly stumbled across accounts of Tudor or Elizabethan laws. For example you can find good summaries of these two legislations here, here and here.

There is much less material on the French Edict of 1634 to be found online. To be fair, the earlier English versions comprised large rule books of “who wears what”, much like they existed in the Middle Ages. Compared to them, the French sumptuary laws look almost puny. There are a whole of eight articles in the edict, mainly but not only dealing with clothing. For this post I worked with the latest version that was issued under Louis XIII on May 9th, 1634. You can find the original print here on Gallica. Other edicts that were more or less similar were in place before, with the first ones dating back to the regency of Marie de Medicis.

Around 1633, engravings appeared depicting the effects of the latest edict. Like this courtier discarding all the fancy rags he is no longer allowed to wear. In practice, however, sumptuary regulations were handled relatively laxly. This is no surprise, seeing how they were notoriously hard to police or enforce. The general rule of thumb seems to have been that, the higher your social status, the more you got away with. But, of course, others could report you if they wanted to get you in trouble. Though, somehow, I cannot see this happening much. ;)

Bosse_Edict_1633

“Le Courtisan suivant le dernier édit” by Abraham Bosse (c. 1633)

What follows is a brief lowdown on the eight main articles, loosely translated and with some commentary for those of you who are interested in fashion laws and those looking to dress their French 1630s persona in the proper style. I just went ahead and translated everything, also those parts irrelevant to fashion itself, just to show the full scope of the edict. Comments are in round brackets (), additions for better understanding in square ones []. Here we go:

I) No cloth of gold or silver, no gold or silver ornaments.

All subjects are forbidden to wear clothing or accessories, such as belts, baldricks or sword belts, hat bands, garters aglets, scarves and laces (rubans, best understood as ribbon ties in this context) in cloth of gold or silver; with fringes, trims or embroidery of pearls or precious stones, [gold or silver] embossed patterns, cords, filigree (cannetilles) [or] buttons. [V]elvet, satin, taffeta or any other  silk fabrics, [such as] crepe or gauze, linens, striped, intermixed, laced or covered in gold or silver.

All those were forbidden on pain of confiscation although I wonder what they did with them then. In my mind I have this naughty image of the king playing dress-up. Though, probably not… ;)

II) Fine clothing was to be made of silks with no more than two rows of embellishments, each no more than 1 digit (approx. 3/4″) wide. Men could only wear trims in few places.

The finest clothing is to be made of silk fabrics, unadorned except for two rows of silk embroidery or trim (the later articles also mention braids as a third option). Each row cannot be wider than 1 doigt (digit, approx. 3/4″).
On men’s clothes, the embellishment cannot be placed around the collar or the bottom of a cloak/mantle, the shaft or side of their shoes, sleeve seams or upper sleeves, at the center back, around button closures or at the basque (this most likely refers to the bottom of doublets).

And yes, these places could NOT hold any embellishments. I double checked this. But, looking at the engraving above, almost completely unadorned male clothing was the aim of the edict. For women and children, more embellishments were allowed; see the next article.

III) Women’s, girl’s and children’s clothes could hold the prescribed two rows of embellishments in more places than men’s clothes.

The aforementioned braids (galons), embroideries and trims are only to be attached to the tops or bottoms of gowns and skirts as well as in the middle of the sleeves, also around the body or basques of gowns.

IV) No other ornaments as those mentioned before are allowed.

Other ornaments like Italian lace (broderie de Milan) or other satin embroideries (here, “broderie” most likely refers to needle lace, though) […] are forbidden on pain of confiscation.

The list goes on, spanning most of the items already mentioned under the first article, like filigree or buttons, so I left them out here.

V) No silk clothing is to be given to servants. They are supposed to wear wool, trimmed with minimal braiding.

No silk clothes are to be given to pages, servants or coachmen. They ought to be clad in wool, without velvet trim or embroidery, except for two rows of braid on the sleeves or outside of the garment.

VI) Strict punishment for those producing forbidden items of clothing.

Dressmakers, embroiderers [lace makers], doublet makers, shoemakers or others are forbidden from producing any of the banned items on pain of denouncement and exclusion from their trades.

To us this may sound harmless, but being put out of their trade meant losing their entire livelihood since it was not possible to simply enter into another trade. This was indeed a very harsh punishment.

VII) Certain metallic items could still be gold or silver.

In spite of the aforementioned ban on gold and silver ornaments, sword guards, scabbards and buckles on belts, sword belts, baldricks or hatbands can still be in gold or silver.

VIII) Material restrictions for coach builders with strict punishment of violations.

Coach builders are prohibited from using gold embroidery or embellishments inside coaches or on [seat] cushions, […] to gilt wood or line coach interiors with silk fabrics on pain of denouncement and exclusion from their trade.

With this one, I keep wondering what triggered it. Gut feeling tells me that some nobles rode in coaches more lavish than the royal ones. Looking at this article, they were probably on par with the later imperial train carriages… oh my!

In summary, the Edict of 1634 is brief and concise about its restrictions. Officially, class differences as existed in earlier sumptuary laws were not given. Though court wear has still to be seen as separate from these laws, especially as far as high nobility is concerned. A lady of quality would try and dress like the young woman in this 1634 engraving.

La_dame_réformée_suivant_l'édit_[...]Couvay_Graveur_btv1b8402352f

“La Dame reformée suivant l’édit dernier” by Grégoire Huret (c. 1632-34).

For my persona *cheerful wave at Mademoiselle Désirée*, who is from a distinguished noble family but also more modest than most, it means less is more. Sadly, we will have to say good riddance to the super cute linen waistcoat with the silver stripes. However, nothing speaks against some good-quality embellishments. And, of course, the high nobility got away with wearing their gold and silver pretties. At least, according to period painters…

Full_length_portrait_Gaston_of_France_in_1634_van_Dyck_Musée_Condé

The king’s brother rocking some serious gold and bling in 1634 (“Gaston de France” by Antony van Dyck, 1634; Musée Condé).

Nessa

1630s Stays In The Making (CoBloWriMo Day 2)

Since it is August already (wow!) CoBloWriMo has officially started. So here I am accepting the challenge to blog more this month. Since last fall, life has been pretty crazy here with finishing uni, moving house and traveling up and down country in search of the right job. So there is quite a queue of posts now, waiting to be written.

Today I got back from a long birthday weekend and am using the moment to answer the prompt of the day. It is to blog about my current project. And that is *drumroll* a pair of c. 1630s stays. After the smock I finished this spring, they have been the next item on the list. 

It took some time for me to get started, but two weeks ago, I finally felt brave enough to draft the pattern. Being new to 17th-century costume, it was quite intimidating at first, but eventually, after two mock-ups and lots of fittings, things relaxed for me. Now all the layers are cut out and we are almost ready for boning.  Here are some facts about the project so far:

Pattern: Based on the Dorothea von Neuburg stays in “Patterns of Fashion 3″ and ” & Crinolines”. To draft the waistline, I referred to Drea Leed’s Elizabethan corset pattern and instructions for boned tabs. For reference, I also looked at Caroline’s post on making 17th-century stays and Sarah Bendall’s reconstruction of the Dame Filmer bodies, on display at the Gallery of Costume in Manchester. Both have been immensely helpful.

The Dame Filmer bodies (c. 1630-50) at Gallery of Costume, City Galleries Manchester.

Another thing that has helped me out was a 1620s painting of a French lady at her toilette. It shows some interesting details of the tabs and also the straps which you can see underneath the lacey cape.

A French lady at her toilette (c.1620s).

Materials: 

  • Boning: German plastic whalebone, 5mm wide
  • Busk: Hardwood, 30 cm long, 3 cm wide and 9 mm thick.
  • Outer fabric: Orange handkerchief linen
  • Interlining: Heavy linen-viscose blend. It is not entirely HA but super sturdy. Since it is a pretty shade of violet, I might use it for binding, too.

Lining: White upholstery silk. This is a shot silk and absolutely not period. But it was readily available from a local shop and does its job nicely.

The make-up so far: After cutting out the three layers, I sewed together the front and back pattern pieces of each one. At this point I should have stay stitched them to prevent fraying. But I only did that in the next step, after pressing the seams and stacking the layers on top of each other. I do not recommend forgetting this step at all… ;)

Cutting out the top layer.

The lining sewn together.

Next I marked the busk pocket and boning channels with chalk. After some trial and error, I settled on 6mm wide channels. Right now, I am in the middle of sewing them, by hand, using white silk thread. This is how they are looking so far. I think this may take a while to complete. ;)

Boning channel WIP.

This has been the state of the stays so far. I will do my best to keep you posted. Right now, I am just very excited about being a part of CoBloWriMo for the first time. Let us see what surprises this month will bring.

See you soon, Nessa

The Finished 1630s Smock

And the smock is done! After spending the holiday weekend with the finishing touches of some dandelion pink embroidery I finally took the promised pictures. Although the lighting did not really play along with the photo op, I am very happy with the end result. :) Here is a look at the front and back.

The finished smock. :)

The back view.

As you can see in the bottom picture, I added some decorative pink herringbone embroidery over the shoulder seam. I did the same at the side seams and skirt gores. The idea for it, and also the colour choice, came from another 1620s-30s smock at the V&A. Aside from the herringbone, this extant one is also covered in really cute, pink flower and animal embroidery, worked in double backstitch.

Embroidery detail on an extant smock, Victoria & Albert Museum, c. 1615-30.

For the seams on my smock, I used two different sewing techniques that are also documented for the 17th century. The first, and slightly “older” one, are tiny (1/8″ to 1/4″) rolled hems, butted up and sewn together with whip stitches or openwork seams. Laura Mellin of Extreme Costuming has written a very nice tutorial on this technique. I used it to sew together my gores.

Skirt gore, joined with rolled and whipped seam in the center.

The second technique, are itty bitty 1/8″ felled seams, as documented by Janet Arnold. Those I used on the rest of the seams. To get them extra tiny, I hand-rolled the trimmed seam allowances as I went along. Still, as you can see on the shoulder seam below, mine did not turn out as narrow, leaning more towards 1/4″ wide.

Run and fell seam on the shoulder, worked over with herringbone stitch.

The other finishings were also on the narrow side, like the 1/4″ neckband for the neckline gathers and the small rolled hem on the sleeves. Like mentioned in the previous post, I added a bobbin lace casing at the wrist. It ties with a drawstring instead of fixed gathers or ruffles. The lace design was the closest to period designs I could get at the store. It was a really lucky find, on a 15 m roll, at a shop selling florist’s supplies.

Lace drawstring casing at the wrist.

The 1/4″ band at the neckline.

Since the entire smock was cut from squares and rectangles, it fits the Historical Sew Monthly’s April challenge. Okay, I admit the sleeves are actually parallelograms, but that is also a rectangle, right? ;) Here are all the challenge facts to sum up the project:

The Challenge: #4 – Circles, Squares & Rectangles

Fabric / Materials: 2 3/4 yards of 60″ wide linen blend fabric

Pattern: My own, based on “Patterns of Fashion 4”. See the previous post for details.

Year: ca. 1620-30.

Notions: Cotton-linen thread, pink embroidery floss, 1/2 yd. bobbin lace, 1 yd. hemp drawstring.

How historically accurate is it? About 90%. I tried to stick with period patterns and handsewing techniques. Deductions for minor viscose content in the fabric and the use of cotton notions.

Hours to complete: Between 90 and 100 hours.

First worn: For the photos.

Total cost: Around € 18 for the fabric and € 4 for the notions.

This has been my first real 17th-century project. After all the moping beforehand (sorry again about that) it turned out really well in the end. Whew!
For that I also have to thank Noelle and Bránn, who have helped to bring the smock on the right track. Bránn also has a blog. He makes awesome costumes from varied eras. If you have not already, feel free to stop by and have a look! It is absolutely worth it. :)

Now I think I am ready to start planning the bodies/stays to go on top. But first, the new Regency gown awaits. There has been an interesting development on that front since the last time I wrote about it here… but more about that soon.

Much love, Nessa

A 1630s Smock – Pattern & Construction

A day after my last post I decided to stop being a chicken and got to work on my 1630s smock. My journey into this new-to-me period started with a good look through “Patterns of Fashion 4”. There I found the 1625-30 smock from the V&A collection (p. 117). As you can see in the picture, the extant original features some really delicious lace inserts, made from five different types of bobbin lace. I was in love with it even before I had seen pictures of the actual smock.

Smock, c. 1620-40, Victoria & Albert Museum.

This, and the dating of course, is why I decided to use this smock as the main pattern base for mine. My version will not include as much lace, though, and perhaps a bit of plain embroidery. Other sources I used to create my pattern were Drea Leed’s Elizabethan Smock Pattern Generator and the Italian chemise tutorial by Jen of Festive Attyre. While I was looking around the web for resources I also stumbled across the collection of 17th century costume links Elisa of Isis’ Wardrobe has put together. It is a great place to start if you are planning to make a 17th-century outfit.

When making my smock pattern I tried to take some bulk out of the pretty massive extant pattern and tweak it to my petite 5′ stature. Instead of the high neck, I chose to make a low neckline to create a versatile garment that can also go under the more low-cut bodices of the time. In the end, my pattern looked like this:

Pattern pieces and measurements.

The pattern pieces are the following:

  • 1 body piece, 90″x45″
  • 2 sleeves, 23″ long, 20″ wide at the top, 10″ wide at the bottom
  • 2 underarm gussets. 5″ square
  • 2 triangular skirt gores, 11″ wide and 33 1/2″ high

The pattern includes a 1/2″ seam allowance and a 1 1/2″ hem at the bottom. To save space, I cut the gores from rectangles and joined them up at the center. This technique can also be seen on some extant smocks in PoF 4.

After cutting out all the pieces, I folded the body lengthwise and cut out the neck opening, following the schematic below. It sits right at the center of the body and has a total length of 35″ across, leaving a shoulder length of 5″ at each side. The dotted line in the drawing represents the shoulder line.  :)

Schematic of the neckline.

When making up the smock, the neckline is gathered into a 1/2″ wide band, folded in half. To make the band I used a 1 1/2″ wide fabric strip, cut on the straight of grain. The smock at the V&A uses a folded 1/4″ band, but I was too much of a chicken to try that on mine. ;) The length of the strip I determined by gathering the front and back neckline until I liked the fit. Then I measured around the opening:

The gathered front neckline comes to just over the top of the bust and has a total length of 21″. To this I added 10″ for the gathered back neckline. The outer 2″ edges of the neckline are not gathered. This helps the smock to stay on the shoulders. For them I added an extra 4″ to the neckband. Plus a 1″ seam allowance, this added up to a 38″ x 1 1/2″ binding strip.

You can use a similar strip to bind the sleeve cuffs. For a gathered sleeve, however, you should widen the sleeves’ bottom edge by 5 to 10 inches. My version has simple 1/4″ rolled hems. The top 3″ of the sleeve seam are left open to create a slit at the wrist. The bit above that I am closing up with a drawstring in a lace casing. Once finished, it will look like a delicate sleeve ruffle. I will post some pictures of what exactly I did there when the smock is finished.

It will not be too long now. The sewn-up smock went into the wash today. I am hoping to iron and finish everything in time for the April “Circles, Squares & Rectangles” challenge of the Historical Sew Monthly. I will tell you a little more about the materials and construction, too, once the challenge photos are in. Until then, I wish you all a lovely, sunny Mayday weekend.

Love, Nessa