A New Year Necklace

A simple stash-busting project for a bit of New Year Bling: 

 

 

16 inches of faux pearls, pear shaped crystals and matching mountings, a handful of jump rings, and a bean clasp.

 

For real elegance against the stones the pearls should be smaller, but no Napoleonic lady worth her pearls would ever quibble the SIZE of them - she’d grab those honkers, string on some amethysts and sail out into the ballroom, angling towards the candlelight as she went!

 

 

 

 

 

A Tropical-weight Christmas Ensemble

Late December in summer, in the tropics, in the worlds driest desert, is not really the sort of time or place where one wants to put on stays and stockings and chemises and petticoats. A swimsuit feels more appropriate.

But I pulled out my linen-iest 1750s ensemble, and put on my Christmas mitts and my Christmas hat and went down to the beach!

A placemat is a good budget option for a bergere, but doesn't have any crown. It isn't going to sit on the head like a hat with a crown, and for these earlier decades of the 18th century, where there weren't masses of hair to cushion one's headwear, the difference will be noticeable.

 

But if you're wanting a quick and easy seasonal hat that looks brilliant from 100 paces and still pretty all-right up close, a a placemat is FUN!

Two Christmas Bergere Hats

Can I make a pair of bergere hats out of Christmas placemats and decorations from the dollar store?

I've wanted to try making an 18th Century bergere from a placemat for a while now, and when I saw a selection of silly Christmas mats in the local Jumbo supermarket, it felt like the right time to try.

I bought some Christmas- colored ribbons in a cordoneria downtown, and made a trip to the Best Mart dollar store to see what sort of Christmas froof I could find for decorations, came home and dug out my spool of millinery wire - and I was ready to go.

The placemats are VERY floppy, so I started by sewing two circles of millinery wire onto each placemat - one circle about an inch in from the edge, to give structure to the brim, and another circle about 2.25 inches in radius around the center, to stiffen the "crown" of the hat.

 

IMPORTANT NOTE HERE: When sewing millinery wire by machine, you need to be wearing proper eye protection.  Millinery wire is solid metal, sewing machine needles move swiftly and safety goggles are cheap in any hardware store.  Even sewing slowly and deliberately, the needle can snap - and when it does it will happen faster than you think.

 

I set the sewing machine to a zig-zag stitch, of about medium width and about medium stitch length, and I stitched at a slow and deliberate pace - I wanted a zig-zag that would be short and narrow enough to hold the wire securely, but also wide enough that I didn't have to risk the needle hitting the wire on every stitch.
When I came to the end of my circle I kept going and overlapped the wire by about 2 inches to keep the circle circular - and then I cut the wire free with a pair of wire cutters.

I trimmed the hats with my ribbon, using the pleating to hide the wires. 

The red ribbon was pleated in a box pleat, which sprang up in lovely puffs.

The gold ribbon I pleated in wide knife pleats.

I didn't worry about measuring the pleats, I just eyeballed them to keep them relatively even, and let the small variations between the pleats give a happy organic feel to the hat.

 

Once I had the ribbons sewn down, I tacked on dollar store Christmas-y corsages and other wintery floral bits until the hats looked pleasantly tasteless and festive. 

 

Lastly, I cut ribbon ties about 24 inches long and hemmed the ends so that they didn't unravel.  Then I flipped the hats over and sewed on ribbon ties. On these crown-less hats, you need to sew the ties about 2 inches out from the crown line, or you risk looking like a festive pageant pancake.
(See warning photo below)

The red hat is suitable for the 1750s and early 1760s when a single sprig of ornamentation, discreetly placed, was VERY chic

The gold hat is suitable for the 1770s and 1780s, when they wore the entire kitchen sink.

Bold, Brassy, Cool and Classy -  two fabulous Christmas Bergere Hats!

Ribbon Embroidered Reticule

A few weeks ago I had a rummage in my fabric stash, and I found a piece of soft peach silk dupioni. Unfolding it, I saw that at some point I'd begun embroidering wild roses. It took a bit of remembering, but eventually I worked out I'd started this piece back in High School.  That's quite a while ago now.  Why on earth had I abandoned it?

I decided I'd finish it.  Going back to the stash, I pulled out a frame, my silk ribbons, a box of silk threads -

Oh boy.  It was pretty quickly VERY clear why I'd abandoned the project the first time round. I use dupioni often for ribbon embroidery as I find that silk ribbons pass very cleanly through the fabric - far more easily than they do through a silk taffeta.
  But this particular  soft-and-supple-seeming dupioni was so tightly woven and so tough that I could hardly get a needle through it.  To drag a ribbon through it, I had to pull the needle through the fabric with a pair of pliers.

 

The mystery now wasn't why I'd abandoned the project the first time round - it was why I hadn't burned it in a fire and salted the earth afterwards.

Presumably I was as much a stubborn idiot then as I am now.  The roses were pretty. I would not waste them.I abandoned my first plan -  to unpick the rather-badly-laid-out stems and start the composition over, and instead stuck to a few simple rose leaves. 

Leaf by leaf, I dragged the thin ribbon through the blasted silk.  The resulting tension issues mean that my little rose bush is not the healthiest-looking rose bush in embroidered history - in fact I'm pretty sure some of the leaves have sawfly.
But I pressed on, swearing ineffectually, until there was a nasty snap, and only the front half of the needle came through.  Yep.  My, soft and supple silk had actually broken a tapestry needle in half.  

 

Dropping plans for any  further leaves, I tied off and threaded up the smallest needle I could get away with and started embroidering rose thorns instead.  Lots of rose thorns. This was NOT a FRIENDLY rose bush.

Once I'd wrestled the embroidery into submission, turning it into something I could show off was practically a walk in the park. I needed a regency reticule, so I made that.  

I figured out some dimensions, cut out a template, marked it up, cut it out, and stitched it up.

 

A hand-stitched drawstring channel was next.

 

Then a pair of ribbon drawstrings to match the roses, and lastly, I used up a hank of green silk thread making a set of little silk tassels for the corners.

And voila - a reticule!

 

 
The embroidery might not be perfectly accurate to the period, but it is very pretty and photogenic, and I never need to sew this AWFUL silk again.

So there.

 

 

Elephants

 

All of our friends seem to be having babies right now.
I've been knee-deep in elephants.

 

A pair of batik elephants for two babies in Sydney:

 

A pink-and-green fella for a little one in Whyalla:

A rather bizarre floral dude for a new one here in Santiago - (hiding in the first photo)

And a psychedelic number heading up to California:

 

I used the "Tilly and Tommy" pattern from retromama on etsy, which whips up neatly and quickly and looks pretty cute to boot.
Mostly. The pink-and-green elephant is a little cockeyed.   

I marked both eyes at once, but it was late, and I was cross-eyed, and somehow the elephant turned out drunk.
"Mr Tabubil!" I wailed.  "It looks home-made!"
Mr Tabubil said that no one couldn't care less. Those floppy ears are designed for chewing, and that's what counts with a 5 month old baby.

 

A Breezy Summer Hat

Christmas Tote Bags

Not long before I left Whyalla, the ladies from my Wednesday Sewing Group had a conclave and discussed a problem- every single one of them had a stash of Christmas prints that they'd never be using again - on account of having children and grandchildren already plastered with very same holly-and-snowman prints. (Crafters have no self-control at all around holidays.)
            Pretty soon, J's cutting table was buried beneath a 55 liter lucky-dip tub overflowing with red and green and white cotton scraps in all grades of sparkly - the glitter sort of oozing out under the lid and on the floor all around the chest and turning the carpet was twinkly gold.
             The stash was intended as a 'if-you-need-it-it-will-sparkle' group resource for holiday-ifs-and-whens, but when sewers are in the same room as free fabric they have all the restraint of magpies.  And somehow, by a natural progression, we were all making Christmas tote bags.

Lots of Christmas tote bags.

I didn't get them all finished before we left Whallya - my old Elna choked on the wool batting and before I could get it fixed we were knee-deep in packing to leave.  Last week I picked them up again. 

           

Themed bags take care of half your Christmas gift-wrapping needs in one fell swoop (add one cellophane bag of home-made cookies and you're good to go!) and using up other peoples fabric feels like virtuous thrift.
             And that's a nice feeling when I'm spending my free time hunting down vintage ecru valenciennes on etsy.
            Here's a lovely tutorial, if you've too much seasonal fabric glittering up your sewing stash. When I left Whyalla there was still half a tub of christmas cheer left. The ladies were talking about table runners...