This Skirt Uses 4.5 Metres of Fabric | Hand Sewing a Poofy Victorian Skirt

I've been thinking about fancy dress parties lately. These were celebratory historical events where individuals would dress up in actual costumes, oftentimes interpreting a natural phenomena like night, or an inanimate object like a pansy flower. Sometimes in the most hilarious fashion, Victorians would dress up as Georgians, which is quite literally the original wearing of vintage fashion. I decided if I were to make a rendition for a fancy dress party, it would be an abstract interpretation of a berry. Yes, you heard me right, the delicious fruit that we all enjoy during the warmer months. I've always loved berries, perhaps due to the fact of it being such an integral part of Russian heritage. Berries are regularly depicted in Russian artwork, and thus was born the berry dress. This ensemble that I'm planning is going to consist of four parts. The bodice made of a green silk, a skirt in a matching green silk, a Swiss waist, otherwise known as a sash, in a red-pink shot silk, and finally a very outlandish bonnet with both the green and red-pink silks, in addition to tons of silk flowers. Since I want to wear it day to day and not just for an event, I decided to make it a day dress, because I don't really enjoy wearing nor making evening wear. The nice thing about the air I picked, 1860s, is it wasn't uncommon for gowns during this period to have two separate bodices to match one petticoat, oftentimes a day and an evening time option, and these could be alternated. I figure in the future, if I do need an evening version of this gown, I'd easily be able to fashion one using the same bodice block and just changing the neckline and the sleeves. This video today focuses upon the construction of the very poofy green Victorian skirt part of the ensemble. I wanted this skirt to work either with or without a cage crinoline, so I designed it as such. The cage crinoline that I will be using with it is one of those everyday walking style cage crinolines, which I think is a lot more manageable for day-to-day wear if I do decide I want a little extra support underneath the skirt. For the skirt, I didn't use a pattern because it's essentially just one giant four and a half meter wide rectangle. Instead, I just researched methods of construction during the 1860s and made up a lot as I went along, just with the knowledge I've gained over the past year. The skirt in all took me around 45 hours to hand sew, which really isn't so bad, all things considered. I began with my base fabric, this lovely green almost chartreuse silk taffeta. I bought this fabric for less than 12 pounds a meter, which is an amazing steal, so I'm glad it will finally go to good wearable use. This fabric in my mind is the epitome of ugly pretty in a proper Victorian fashion. When I saw it initially, I knew I needed to make it into a mid-Victorian gown and a slightly bizarre one at that. First, I needed to measure out approximately four and a half meters. I had to do this in sections because I simply didn't have enough floor space. I feel like the majority of us probably wouldn't have enough floor space for this. I went ahead and cut off the excess that I won't be using for the skirt, saving it and setting it aside for the future bodice and bonnet. Then I cut some length off the fabric because I'm rather short and I wanted a skirt above floor length so that it'll be easily walkable. You don't see this as often, at least not for more expensive silk gowns in the 1860s, but because I strive for practicality with my historical garments, this is what made sense to me. I marked where the fold of the hem is going to go because I cut the length including a hem allowance and I tucked this amount under, pinning under the excess to the wrong side of the fabric. Once everything was tucked under, I knew I needed to stiffen the silk with a nice layer of cotton organdy, which has to be one of my favorite fabrics as it works miracles. It provides such an incredible amount of support to any garment whilst remaining quite sheer and lightweight. I also have this pink twill tape which will bind the edges where the organdy meets the hem. The twill tape also provides a little extra support to the actual hem bottom. I chose the color pink as an abstract ode to the berry. Occasionally as I walk, some individuals may catch a glimpse of the pink hem, which is meant to represent the sometimes our eyes catch a young berry growing on a very green bush. It's meant to mimic this occurrence in nature, but in dress form. I laid the organdy on top of the silk on the wrong side and pinned it all along the edge, trimming it down. Luckily, organdy rips incredibly easily, so it's actually quite fun to work with. The selvedge of the organdy goes at the top towards the waist, so that way I won't need to finish any of the organdy as the twill tape will cover up the raw edge. I also had to piece some of the organdy because these strips merely weren't enough. Once the organdy was all pinned, I went ahead and placed the twill tape at the hem edge and basted it down using a cheap cotton thread. I hand sewed each side of the twill tape down, starting at the bottom edge first, then working on the top edge. I made sure not to sew onto the right side of the garment for a cleaner look. Once done, the basting thread was removed. Now it was time to finish securing the organdy lining. At the top selvedge side of the organdy, I pinned everything in place, then I proceeded to sew this lining layer down to the silk layer using small felling stitches, grabbing just one or two threads of the silk fabric layer as to not make many marks on the right side of the fabric. This was an incredibly meticulous and patience testing part of the process, as I had to do this for the entire four and a half meters, and I had just finished already running two rows of whip stitches all along the hem, but eventually I managed to get all of this done. Next was the waistband. I started with a rectangle of fabric and measured the length as a couple of inches for the actual waistband portion, then at least an inch on each side for seam allowance. This was all doubled so that the entire thing could be folded over so that the waistband is one continuous piece. For the width of the rectangle, it was my waist measurement plus the seam allowance. Once cut, I folded over the seam allowances and pinned them all down, stitching the side ones so that they'd be secure. Finally, I folded the entire band over and then whip stitched the piece shut. I tried it on whilst wearing all the proper undergarments just to ensure it did fit, and I was happy with it. However, I did add something to it later on, which I'll get to. Now that all the prep work was done, it was time to pleat. I planned to use gauging, more commonly known as cartridge pleating, which is a traditionally historical method used very often during the mid-Victorian period, along with during other periods as well. Gauging, or cartridge pleating, involves condensing as much fabric as you can into tight pleats that rest on their side and stand up straight. This helps to create more volume in the skirt. Each of these individual pleats is then whip stitched to a waistband. I began this process by marking two rows of dots along the entire edge where the waistband goes. This is where two rows of gathering stitches will be threaded. Unfortunately, I misplaced the footage where I actually gathered up the thread into the pleats, but this is really quite a straightforward process. You just pull the long threads and condense the pleats to the length of your waist measurement. Pinning each pleat onto the completed waistband was next. A straight pin held each pleat down, and I secured them to the dips in between each fold. This process took an immensely long time because there were probably hundreds of pleats. Once all pinned, the skirt became an object that no one wants to step on accidentally in the middle of the night. Far, far worse than Legos. I then painstakingly whip stitched each fold on each pleat onto the waistband's wrong side towards the bottom edge. It looked so pretty once it was done though. I decided to try on the skirt at this point, and I wasn't satisfied with the support of the waistband. In reality, I should have used an interlining layer of organdy for stiffening, but instead of reopening the waistband and redoing all of my hard work, I came up with an alternative solution. I decided to pin a layer of organdy onto the inside of the waistband and just treat it almost as another lining. Since no one was going to see the waistband inside anyways when on, I assumed this to be a great solution, and it certainly did do the job. Little whip stitches were used to secure the organdy. So much better. Now it was time to sew up the center back seam. I did so with small backstitches, leaving around 10 inches unsewn at the top so that I could get in and out of the garment. I also finished all the raw edges using felled seams, so that way there would be no future fraying. The final step was securing the hooks and eyes. I opted for three so that the tension could be more evenly distributed. Afterwards, it was time for one last fitting, and I'm so pleased with how the skirt came out. I absolutely adore the color. So the idea of a berry dress might not make sense to you right now. I think the vision will become far clearer once the Swiss waist and the bonnet are added. I'm currently almost done with the Swiss waist, and a video for parts of this ensemble's construction, you may want to check out the last garment I documented the progress of. Thank you so much for watching, and I'll see you all on Thursday for another video.