1899 Doll Clothes for a Lady Doll

1899 Butterick suit pattern for a “lady doll.” Delineator magazine, November 1899, p 572.

Dolls and doll clothes patterns usually appeared in the November and December issues of magazines like Delineator. I have seen “Fashion Dolls” in museums, but the “Lady Doll” is new to me: an 1890’s version of Barbie —  a doll with an adult figure and a wardrobe of current fashions. Butterick patterns made for these dolls were close copies of Butterick patterns for women.

1899 Butterick pattern for a woman’s “tailor” suit. Delineator, December 1899 p 629.

Butterick Patterns for lady doll” clothes from November 1899, Delineator.

Making this in a doll size would be a challenge:

Doll’s suit pattern from Butterick, 1899.

“Dolly” would be wearing a suit very similar to this one for real women:

I had a hard time imagining a doll with the tiny waist, large bust, and rounded hips of that year’s corseted figure, but Butterick also sold patterns for the doll herself.

The doll on the left has a very adult figure, with narrow waist and long legs. The porcelain head would be purchased separately. The jointed rag doll on the right has a painted face.

Unlike the “lady dolls,” this 30″ rag doll with painted face was made to wear actual baby clothes.

A very large hand painted doll — but not a “lady doll.”

Lady dolls and fashion dolls, on the other hand, were not intentionally childlike. Like a 20th century doll with a stylized woman’s figure, the whole point of a lady doll was that girls could dress her in grown-up clothing, This fashion doll even wears a corset:

This fashion doll from the Barry Art Museum collection is also described as a lady doll. 17 inches tall, French, circa 1880-1885.

I have always been amazed by the details on Fashion Dolls, and the patterns Butterick sold for lady dolls would require painstaking craftsmanship, especially if the doll was only 16 inches tall!

Lady Doll patterns fit dolls from 16 to 28 inches in height (including head).

This fashion doll is just 17 inches tall. Look at the detail in her ruffles and lace!

French Fashion doll circa 1875, from Barry Art Museum Doll collection.

So I guess it’s not surprising that the clothing patterns for lady dolls assume considerable sewing skills to make such realistic outfits.

A “Yachting costume” for your lady doll. A yachting cap pattern was included.

Butterick doll pattern for cape, December 1899.

This doll cape pattern is very similar to a Butterick pattern that was available for women:

Woman’s “golf cape” with optional hood, Delineator, November 1899.

A similar cape pattern was available for Misses and girls:

A cape pattern in Misses’ and Girls’ sizes. December 1899, Delineator.

I was delighted to find that a lady doll could also wear a Cycling outfit:

Shirt-waist, Bloomers or Knickerbockers, and gaiters, for a lady doll, resembling the clothes a lady might wear while riding a bicycle.

They are very similar to these real patterns for cyclists:

Butterick pattern 3083 for women’s knickerbockers, Delineator, August 1899.

The knickerbockers would be worn under a cycling skirt. This one is for women:

Woman’s cycling outfit, Butterick 3131 from Delineator, Sept 1899. The skirt is shorter than a normal adult lady’s skirt and has a deep pleat at the back.

Cycling suit for ladies, Sept. 1899.

Because the skirt is shorter than a woman’s walking skirt, buttoned gaiters (here called leggings) prevented legs from being exposed — or splashed with mud.

Gaiters or Leggings covered the rider’s legs to the knee.

Bloomers (or Knickerbockers) and Leggings (or Gaiters.)

Can you imagine finding doll buttons that small, and making those doll-sized buttonholes? The lady doll’s cycling jacket is also rather elaborate:

Lady Dolls’ set no. 227 Consisting of a 3 piece Cycling Skirt, Eton Jacket, and a Tam 0′ Shanter cap. for Dolls 16 to 28 inches. December 1899, Delineator.

Of course, a lady doll’s complete wardrobe would include underwear, a nightgown, a robe, petticoats, etc.

For dolls 14 to 28 inches. Notice her tiny waist and generous bottom!

Lady doll’s nightgown, Delineator, December 1899.

Above, a doll’s robe or wrapper, to be made of flannel.

Lounging-Robe and petticoat, chemise, and drawers for a lady doll.

In 1899, evening and ball gowns often consisted of a separate bodice and skirt. For formal affairs, the neck and arms could be exposed; for  dinner parties or formal afternoon events, a separate guimpe was worn under the bodice and provided a high collar and long sleeves.

 

The combination of bodice (waist) and guimpe would supply 2 different formal looks for a lady (or a lady doll.) Butterick patterns from Delineator, December 1899.

Evening waist, Butterick, September 1899. (Talk about giving women an unrealistic body ideal! Also, those tiny tyrannosaurus hands and forearms are typical of fashion illustrations in the 1890s.)

In a series of articles about jobs for women, Delineator interviewed doll dress maker Ernestine Pomroy in December, 1899.  She makes it clear that lavish doll wardrobes were a high-priced luxury item for the children of the wealthy. Considering the details on the patterns above, it makes sense that this was a job for the professional seamstress, especially in an era when many women who could afford it also chose their own dress patterns and took them to a professional seamstress to have them made up. 

The Interview:  “Miss Ernestine Pomroy, looking around for some way whereby she might earn a living, was impressed with the expensiveness of dolls’ cloths [sic] as sold in the New York stores. She made several complete outfits, took them to one of the leading toy merchants and asked for orders. That was her beginning, just a little more than two years ago. To-day she employs four assistants regularly, and in the Autumn, before the holiday season, is forced to employ twelve additional ones for several weeks.

When visited in her work-rooms on East Ninth Street the other day, Miss Pomroy, speaking of her work, said: “Of course, I am not the first person who ever made doll clothes for the New York trade, but I believe I am the first person to make it a profession and devote one’s whole time to it. I began just as you have been told, by making a few gowns for children dolls, that is, dolls which are dressed like little girls eight or ten years old. Now, we make them for all ages, though I still prefer to make for dolls of that age.

“While most of my clothes are made to fill orders from the large toy dealers, I have many regular customers among children. They have parents who can afford to humor every whim, and their dolls are brought to me and the season’s outfit ordered,  just as its little mistress is taken to the tailor and modiste. In such instances our charges are proportionately large, as no two of the garments are alike, and often the mother of our little customer wishes exclusive designs and will pay for such privileges. This is, as a rule, the case only where the pet is a “lady doll.”  Then  the costumes of exclusive designs are wished for parties, dinners, weddings or some child’s entertainment. In these outfits we are expected to furnish every article of apparel from their shoes and stockings to their hats. The shoes we buy ready made, or, I should say import, for there is no factory for dolls’ shoes in America; but the hats are made by our milliner and copied after the latest French models.

“Doll’s gloves, rubber capes and mackintoshes are made by regular factories in this country, so I have nothing to do with them beyond supplying them to our customers, though in some instances I have designed them for the manufacturers.

“I think there is an opening for such a business as mine in every large city, and I have certainly found it remunerative. It requires, in my judgment, about the same qualities that make a good dressmaker; but I selected it because I found that while one field was over crowded the other was untouched. The result has been highly satisfactory, as my work is both pleasant and profitable.”

Barry Art Museum Doll Collection, “Parisienne” doll, back view, circa 1868.

If you are interested in dolls, I highly recommend a visit (online, unless you live nearby) to the Barry Art Museum in Norfolk, Virginia. On the campus of Old Dominion University, the Doll and Automata Collection is only one of the museum’s collections. Other departments include Fine Arts and Glass. If you can’t visit in person, visit the Doll Collection online here.

 

 

 

 

Loungewear, Hostess Gowns and Negligees, 1926

Left, “Hostess gown or Negligee” 6627; Right, negligee 6568. Butterick patterns in Delineator, May 1926.

What could a woman wear at home during her moments of leisure in the 1920s? AllWays in Fashion recently offered very good advice (for these weeks when we are “socially isolating” ourselves): Even if you don’t leave the house, get dressed. I’m a retiree whose arthritic knees have been complaining a lot recently, and it’s much too easy for me to stay in pajamas all day. (I do put on my medical compression hose, but loose, casual trousers and pajamas feel better over them than the static-prone, dressier fabrics I’d wear to a lunch date.) But I really ought to make more of an effort to dress nicely for my spouse!

Butterick negligee / robe 6568, from January 1926.

Negligees from Butterick patterns, May 1926. Left 6197, right, 6828.

Hostess gown (or negligee) 6393 from May 1926.

These 1926 robes or negligees  and “hostess gowns” are a little surprising. Some are descendants of the “tea gown,” but a little too much like sleepwear for me to wear while greeting invited guests! Let’s just consider them as robes or pajamas (but I’ll include their original pattern descriptions….)

These pajamas are rather fun, with their bias bound, pointy hems:

Pajama 6031 is easy to imagine on a beach….

The bottoms of the pants don’t have to be gathered — they have a pointed hem like the pj top.A bit like a masquerade costume is this Asian-influenced pajama set:

Embroidered “French pajama-negligee;” Butterick 6093 pictured in May 1926.

This “hostess gown” was featured repeatedly. It is actually a robe with a side-closing (“surplice” style.) I imagine a few concealed snaps down the front would be necessary!

No. 6627 from Delineator, March 1926.

No. 6627 illustrated in March 1926.

Left, No. 6627 illustrated in May 1926. Right, Negligee 6568, in sizes up to 52 inches!

Text for 6627, from April 1926.

One of my stranger 1926 discoveries, also featured in more than one month, was this “dressing sacque,” Butterick 6558.

Dressing sacque from Delineator, May 1926.

Dressing sacque 6558 from Delineator, April 1926.

Description of No. 6558 from May 1926.

The illustration below gives a good idea of when you’d wear a dressing sacque:  you’re dressed except for your dress and shoes; now’s the time to put your sacque on over your underwear and slip, and do your hair, powder your face, and apply mascara, eyebrow pencil, lipstick, and rouge, keeping your dress free of powder spills and stray hairs. Click here for an 18th century painting of two ladies, one dressing and one dressed.

Dressing sacque 6558 from Delineator, January 1926.

In previous centuries, women might own a “combing jacket”  or “peignoir,” [from “peigne,” the French for “comb”] worn while putting up their hair (or having their hair powdered in the 1700s.) Sew Historically posted about a lovely Edwardian combing jacket. Click here for an 1887 dressing sacque. “Negligee” is another word borrowed from the French; it’s come to suggest a fragile or see-through boudoir garment, but originally a lady might receive guests while “en negligee,” meaning she was dressed informally, rather than dressed to go out. In this painting by Hogarth, the lady of the house is having her hair styled, en negligee,  while entertaining a room full of visitors:

“The Toilette,” by William Hogarth, from Marriage a la Mode, circa 1743. National Gallery, Via Wiki Media.

 

 

More Christmas Doll Patterns from the 1920s

A Butterick pattern for little boys, plus two Butterick doll patterns. Delineator, December 1924. His shorts are attached to his shirt with buttons.

I haven’t figured out why this is a “Deli-bear.”

Deli-bear pattern 10271 looks like a sailor bear to me.

The same doll pattern was featured again in 1926:

Deli Bear pattern 10271 from Delineator, May 1926.

To my eyes, this Puss in Boots doll from December 1924 isn’t nearly as appealing as the Deli-bear. (I had a real black cat, who was very handsome, unlike this doll.)

I’m deducing that this is Puss in Boots. Butterick Toy animal pattern 10200, from December 1924.

This toy animal dolls pattern was shown in two places in the same issue.

Butterick doll pattern 10302, in a color illustration from Delineator, page 28, December 1924.

On another page, the toys seem to be photographed, rather than drawn, so we can see the nice effect of using a textured fabric on the rabbit:

Animal dolls pattern 10302 from page 40 of the December 1924  Delineator.

Patterns for “baby dolls” (some almost as big as real children) were also on offer.

Whole wardrobes for purchased dolls were available to make for Christmas. Left, Butterick 424.

[More than twenty years later, clothes for dolls and little girls didn’t look much different from these 1924 illustrations as far as dress styles and doll sizes went:]

Toddler and very big baby doll, circa 1947. The shapeless dress (with room to grow) was still around.

A little girl with a doll dressed in Butterick 425.

The doll’s clothes are as detailed as a real girl’s. Butterick 425.

As a child, I appreciated doll clothes that were like mine — including underwear and pajamas or sleeping suits. (If I had to wear itchy, frilly undies, so did my dolls.)

Little girls sometimes wore “Romper” suits, and so does this doll from 1926:

Butterick doll’s romper and sunbonnet pattern 426.

This doll wears Butterick 427. Delineator, May 1926.

Butterick doll 10192 has yarn braids and does not look like a baby (more like an older sister.) I love those tiny appliqued birds! Fast, easy blanket stitch trims the girl’s collar and cuffs.

DIGRESSION: Since the holidays are approaching, I’ll slip in my yearly reminder to get out those old photos now, and get some names and stories penciled on the back when relatives gather. Suggested questions: What was the best toy you ever got? What were your favorite books (or games) when you were a child?

Witness2fashion with home-made Raggedy Ann and her store-bought “brother,” Raggedy Andy. Raggedy Ann (made by a friend of my Grandmother) had real, black shoe-button eyes, and I almost dug a hole in her chest by trying to feel her candy heart with “I Love You” printed on it.

McCall pattern from the 1950 needlework catalog. My Raggedy Ann looked exactly like this one, with a dotted Swiss apron and bloomers. Raggedy Ann and Andy stuffed doll pattern, McCall 820.

As the only child of parents in their forties, I didn’t have much contact with other children until I started school. Aunts and uncles deluged me with baby dolls, but I never wanted to be a mother. Dressing and undressing dolls was not my idea of fun. My favorite dolls were Raggedy Ann and Andy (I begged for Andy, and finally got a store-bought Raggedy Andy to go with my beloved, home-made Raggedy Ann.)

A book that survived my growing up, many moves, and growing old.

There was a series of books about Raggedy Ann and Andy. They had adventures. ***  Those dolls were not my “babies,” they were my friends.

Too much of a good thing,

I actually didn’t know enough names to name all the baby dolls I was given, so I took to naming them after the person who gave them to me. I am probably the only child ever to have a baby doll (in a lacy bonnet and a long white christening dress) who was named “Uncle Ole.” (I just recognized “Uncle Ole” as the doll in a frilled bonnet at top left! At least “Uncle Ole” wasn’t too big to carry!)

*** All too often, their adventures involved cookies and candy….

College Wardrobe for Women, 1929

Essentials of a perfect College Wardrobe; Delineator, September 1929.

It’s a bit late in the year to be planning an “off to college” wardrobe, but Delineator devoted several pages to this question in September, 1929.

Administrators at Vassar, Wellesley, and Smith colleges shared their observations on what college girls were wearing in 1929. Delineator, Sept 1929, pp. 29 & 104.

Administrators at three prestigious East Coast women’s colleges contributed their observations in an accompanying article, which was later quoted in the Butterick pattern descriptions.

In addition to Butterick patterns, several “college clothing” illustrations were sketched from clothes being sold at Lord & Taylor.

These “College Requirements” could be purchased at Lord & Taylor. Delineator, Sept. 1929, page 28.

At all three colleges, sportswear — rather than “city” clothing — was said to dominate.  (Vassar was literally “in the country.” In the case of Wellesley, Freshmen lived in the nearby town, so clothes suitable for walking and bicycling to campus were necessary.) Dressing for dinner usually required a change, but not into evening dress.  However, dances and Proms called for at least one formal evening gown.  [I attended a women’s college in California in the 1960s, and we often loaned or borrowed evening gowns for off campus dances, so having only one wasn’t a real problem. Our dates saw us in a different dress each time.] I also appreciated reading about a dorm at Smith where the girls grouped together to rent a sewing machine! All three writers agreed that sporty, casual clothing — home made or purchased — dominated the college wardrobe and to some extent erased class distinctions. (In the late Twenties, Vassar had 1150 undergraduate students, Wellesley 1500, and Smith 2000.)

Laura W. L. Scales, Smith College. Delineator,  Sept. 1929, page 29.

I’ll start with college clothes available from Lord & Taylor in 1929:

(A) A fur coat was practical on campus in snowy winters, but wool coats were equally acceptable.

(B) is an afternoon dress, suitable for formal daytime events (teas, concerts) or as a dinner dress at college.

Wool knits, jersey, and tweeds were practical and traditional “country” looks; most of these colleges were then in the country a few miles from big cities, although urban sprawl has changed that.

“Simulated suede raincoat”? Interesting.  Augusta “Bernard” and “Louiseboulanger” were top Paris designers,

A warm robe, pajamas for sleep and dorm lounging, plus “sports” underwear (J): the top and bottom are buttoned together. 1929.

Formal evening wrap and dress from Lord & Taylor. September 1929. The coat is short; the gown has a long dipping hem.

Note those stretchy bias diamond pieces at the hip of the gown. Pearl-covered handbag.

Butterick patterns for the young college woman, September 1929:

Butterick patterns for college women, Sept. 1929, p. 30.

This dress really is easier to make than it looks. The full, scalloped skirt is cut on the straight grain, lined with “skin” colored taffeta, and has a dipping hem because it is attached to a dipping bodice.

Intimate apparel for college girls:

The slip at right has built in panties, to save time while dressing ….

“No brassiere is necessary,” but some girls do “make this set with a bandeau brassiere instead of a vest.”

Fall and winter weather was another good reason for wearing sporty wool clothing with low heeled shoes and wool, instead of silk, stockings on campus.

Wool fabrics were suitable for campus or weekends in town:

More sporty patterns for college women, 1929. Butterick patterns, Delineator, page 31.

A tweed suit suitable for city or country, a chic two-toned jersey dress, and a princess line wool or jersey dress with flared panels. Butterick patterns from Delineator, September 1929, p. 31

A sporty tweed dress with laced trim (very popular in the 30s), a pleated wool dress with Deco lines (“staircase pleats,”) and a fur-trimmed tweed coat. Butterick patterns for college women, Delineator, Sept. 1929, p. 31.

It’s sad to realize that these attractive 1929 styles would be out of fashion just a year later — although many women would have no choice but to continue wearing them as the economy crumbled in the early nineteen thirties.

 

 

Hostess Pajamas & College Pajamas, 1930

These pajamas, Butterick 3554 and 3551, can be “beach pajamas,” too. I’ve probably written about them before, but I just found the pattern for No. 3554 at the Commercial Pattern Archive. Besides, I do love pajamas!

Hostess pajamas (left) and “college pajamas,”(right) 1930. Both Butterick patterns appeared on page 82 of Delineator magazine, December 1930.

The hostess pajamas are made with a yoke and have very full legs.

Hostess pajamas 3554 are a three piece set.

The pattern envelope (at CoPA) shows options for sleeves on the bolero and a sleeveless blouse.

Information from the pattern envelope. CoPA.

That’s quite a lengthy list of possible fabrics, including linen, pique, and [silk] shantung for beach wear, and light weight velvets or metallic fabrics for “lounging.” I do wish yardage estimates were included, because these trousers need a lot of fabric:

The trousers for Butterick 3554 have very full legs, attached to a close-fitting yoke. Pattern pieces for “inside bands” explain how the waist was finished.

The yoke on 3554 is close-fitting and buttons at the side.

Here, the luxurious hostess pajamas have decorative tassels on the V-neck. The pattrn illustration shows a bow of bias matching the sleeve and neck binding.

Delineator magazine description of Butterick 3554. A 44″ bust meant 47.5″ hips, as a rule….

“College pajamas” as the magazine referred to Butterick 3551, did not have such voluminous trousers.

“College pajamas” 3551 have a longer robe/jacket and less extravagant (more practical) wide-legged trousers.

For beach wear or late-night philosophical discussions, 3551 would be just the thing. For decorating your dorm room, Butterick provided this 30 inch “sailor trou” doll pattern (on the same page as the other pajamas.)

Delineator, December 1930, page 82.

It’s not too early to start planning Christmas gifts — or too late for “back to college” pajamas. More inspiration: Molyneux offered these velvet hostess pajamas with sheer jacket in 1927. Why don’t I dress like this while binge-watching? (Well, mine would have to be washable, but this sleeveless PJ with sheer above-the-knee top isn’t a bad idea!)

A sketch of Molyneux’ luxurious velvet and chiffon pajamas for entertaining at home. Delineator, November 1927. In black chiffon and vermillion [red-orange] velvet, with [vermillion?] poppies and green leaf embroidery. The tight ankles are unusual.

Less Familiar Designers of the 1920s, Number 1: Jenny (Part 1)

Evening dress by Jenny (Jeanne Adele Bernard Sacerdote) as sketched for Delineator, January 1926.

Some leading designers of the nineteen twenties have names that still sell fashion. Chanel comes to mind. Others were famous before and after the Twenties, like the House of Worth. Having a successful perfume brand helps: “Joy,” by Patou is still available. This is the first in a series about once-famous 1920s designers who are no longer well known.

Jenny (born Jeanne Adele Bernard, later Jenny Sacerdote) was ranked with those big names in the Twenties, but is not as well known today. I’ll be sharing a few of her designs, with links to help you find others.

These are merely a few of the designs by Jenny that were sketched for Delineator, *** and I do not have photos from every year between 1917 and 1930. Her ability to adjust to changes in fashion is admirable.  Born in 1868, she became famous in her fifties, showing 300 pieces in her collection of 1918.

Two sketches of couture by Jenny (Jenny Adele Bernard Sacerdote ) shows her ability to move with the times. Delineator, 1917 and 1927.

Left, a gown with a “tonneau” or “barrel” skirt — a fashion innovation from 1917. Right, a bare, narrow, fringed and beaded evening gown from 1927.

Jenny in 1917

Jenny was already being copied in 1915. The V&A collection has several color sketches of Jenny designs. London dressmaker Elizabeth Handley Seymour sketched hundreds of French couture gowns and coats which she was prepared to duplicate for her customers. She included this coat by Jenny, this evening gown, and this elegant afternoon or evening gown.

Jenny was such a “star” in 1917 that even her underwear collections were featured in “Reports from Paris.” She’s notable for her use of bright colors and print fabrics (!) in her lingerie:

This frothy undergarment was “sulphur-yellow ‘gaze’ trimmed with lace.” Delineator, August 1917.

On Jenny’s pink satin knickers, cream yellow lace is outlined with little roses or ‘cocardes’ [sic] of satin ribbon:

Doucet was a very well-established design house; Jenny is treated as his equal. Delineator, August 1917. Note the ribbon straps.

Print fabric lingerie by Jenny, 1917. Sketched for Delineator.

Jenny used “Flowered muslin in a quite indescribable design of white flowers outlined with pink on a blue background” for her pleated chemise, 1917. I remember how new and exciting print underwear was in the 1960s!

This pink chiffon Jenny dressing gown would have been called a “combing jacket” in an earlier era. (See “Peignoir.”)

A dressing gown by Jenny in Delineator, July 1917: “ruched pink chiffon over a pink satin skirt.”

Other Jenny designs from 1917 show that she had a sense of humor. She named this dress, amply trimmed with fur, “My hairy one.”

Jenny called this model “Mon Poilu” –“my hairy one.” Sketched for Delineator, December 1917.

However, her velvet skating dress seems a little impractical:

Jenny described this as a skating dress. Delineator sketch, December 1917. The tassels would be flying!

The coat below is actually sleeveless, worn over a matching gray silk dress. The geometric trim is stitching in green thread.

Short sleeveless coat over matching gray silk dress, green stitching. Jenny, sketched for Delineator, September 1917.

In June, 1917, Delineator showed a page full of couture designs which featured the new “barrel” silhouette. This was one from Jenny. Page 56.

Delineator claimed the barrel silhouette was chiefly the influence of Jeanne Paquin:

The barrel or tonneau skirt, sketched by Paquin’s own artist. Delineator, March 1917, p 56.

They look better to me when the model is sitting down.

Jenny created this dress for 1917. Delineator, March, p. 56. “Blue serge dress with eight box plaits over each shoulder. The square line at the neck appears in many of the new dresses.”

Left, a design by Jenny — in black satin under white chiffon embroidered with flowers — appears next to a design from the House of Worth. Delineator, March 1917.

I’m sure you could find many more Jenny designs: try searching for Delineator at Hathi Trust; select Journal, then choose a year, and search within the volumes you find. 1922 for example…

*** Note:  Butterick Publishing Company had offices in Paris, giving their pattern makers a chance to follow the very latest trends, which were reported on several times a year, often illustrated by Soulie. All the illustrations I’ll use in this “Less Familiar Designers” series come from Delineator‘s coverage. Caveat:  Pattern companies could sometimes buy couture items and copy them, but designers were not happy to be copied without any payment, so sketch artists attending fashion shows had to be quick and furtive, and sometimes had to work from memory. Read Fashion is Spinach, by Elizabeth Hawes for a sketcher’s real inside story.

Next: Jenny in the 1920s.

Tennis dress by Jenny, sketched for Delineator by Leslie Saalburg, February 1927.

Bolero Jackets 1930-1931, Part 1

This nearly-timeless jacket came with many pattern variations.

The 1920’s bolero was not always above the waist in length, [click here to see several examples] and this pattern is from the early Thirties.

Alternate views of Butterick bolero pattern 3224. Fronts could be curved or squared (see dotted lines,) open or closed with a bow. Delineator, May 1930.

Delineator, May, 1930, p. 113.

I was initially struck by how modern this “little jacket” looks. If I found it in a thrift store, I would have guessed it was much more recent than 1930. I can imagine it worn with skinny jeans or a knit dress.

Butterick’s Delineator magazine showed many bolero jackets during the transition from low-waisted Twenties’ to natural-waisted Thirties’ dresses. Oddly, the bolero was recommended as a way to camouflage the natural waist for women who felt insecure about showing their figures.

Butterick 3413, September 1930.  “The Reason for Boleros” was that they distracted from the new waist line.

“Designed for [ages] 4 to 18 and for 32 to 44 [inch bust.]” Frankly, any woman whose waist looked like that illustration was probably not too worried about it. However, the design does avoid having a belt at all.

“Boleros and Blousing Are a Great Help.” Boleros were recommended for women self-conscious about the new, defined waist. Delineator, September 1930, p. 104.

Butterick 3409, Delineator, Sept. 1930, p. 105. “The shaped bolero makes it an easy frock to wear….”

Butterick 3435 has a false bolero effect, with the bolero in the back only.

Butterick 3174 (at left) has a bolero over a sleeveless dress, while 3177 (at right) has a matching jacket. Delineator, April 1930.

“The bolero makes the normal waistkine possible for any figure, for it conceals that difficult line at the back. [I didn’t expect that reason!] This bolero is detachable….”

Left, evening dress 3020 has a sheer bolero over a simple princess-line dress; far right, 3074 has a strip of fabric pretending to be a bolero. Delineator, February, 1930.

“Peplums and Boleros Give Youthful Lines.” Butterick 3020 has a “tied, sleeveless bolero” that falls far below the waist in back. Butterick 3074’s “corsage flares partially concealing the narrow belt in front make the high waist-line  more wearable.”

Another “bolero effect:” Butterick 3529 is recommended for a sewing beginner! “The bolero effect is obtained by a stitched-on band” decorating an otherwise simple dress.

Another “not-really-a-bolero-jacket” is part of Butterick dress 3391; “Bolero fronts, bloused back.” Delineator, September 1930, p. 31.

The dress below, with a short bolero, was featured in the same issue of Delineator as the longer, ruffled bolero at the top of this blog post.

Butterick 3006 appears to have a separate, short bolero in front, which may or may not dip below the (new, high) waistline in back. Delineator, January 1930, page 29. The sleeves of the bolero “flare in three-quarter length over those of the frock itself.”

The bolero — real or suggested –remained in fashion through 1931 — more about that later.

MunsingWear pajama ad, Delineator, 1931. The One Piece Bolero Pajama.

Remembering 11/11/18: Red Cross Patterns

The appalling carnage of World War I is often given in statistics; these Red Cross patterns and instructions for volunteers — making hospital gowns, bandages and wound dressings, surgical masks and gowns, etc. — also remind us (and those Red Cross volunteers) of the suffering it caused.

Women’s magazines like Delineator and Ladies’ Home Journal published government information as well as encouraging volunteer work. The patterns above are for operating room personnel.

A surgical gown for doctors and two kinds of pajamas for hospital patients. Delineator, Nov. 1917.Red Cross patterns were available for sewing groups or individual volunteer stitchers.

Operating room gear — like surgical gowns and sterile shoe covers — could be made using regulation Red Cross patterns. Pajamas for patients were also in demand. The “taped” pajama below opens so the injured soldier need not be moved for his wounds to be inspected and dressed.

Red Cross regulation “taped pajamas” for the wounded and socks for injured feet; Ladies Home Journal, Dec. 1917.

Making these garments must have reminded civilians that soldiers were receiving terrible injuries.

Women and children were encouraged to knit Red Cross regulation sweaters, socks, and even “helmets” that kept heads and faces warm.

“Knit Your Bit for the Navy” article, Delineator, August 1917. “Every man in the fleet must be kept warm if we are to win — will you help?”

Delineator, November 1917.

Red Cross volunteers also made:

Not just knitting: List from Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. The same information ran in several women’s magazines, but each magazine formatted it differently.

Many women imagined themselves doing “glamorous” war work, like nursing or ambulance driving. (They had no idea of the horror those women faced daily.)

However, “In war more men die from exposure and illness than from wounds. Every hour that you waste, you are throwing away the life of one of our soldiers.” “Don’t say you are too busy to knit — it isn’t true.”

Items to Knit for the Red Cross, LHJ, October 1917.

Initially, there was such an outpouring of knit garments — many totally unsuitable for the Front — that the Red Cross used women’s magazines to explain why regulation colors and instructions had to be imposed.

A poorly knitted or fitted sock could have a serious impact on a soldier. Blisters and foot infections sent many to the hospital. LHJ, Oct. 1917.

The front and back of a knitted “helmet.” LHJ, Oct. 1917.

More disturbing knitting supplied the operating room:

Knitted Wipe for Surgical Use, LHJ, July 1917.

Some volunteers chafed at the Red Cross rules, so regulations had to be explained and justified — repeatedly.

LHJ, October 1917. (Laparotomy is an abdominal surgery procedure.) Sterile dressings needed to be made in supervised rooms, not at home.

LHJ, October 1917. Even a loose thread could cause infection.

Children were also encouraged to knit for soldiers and sailors:

Article recruiting members of the Junior Red Cross, Delineator, November 1917. Even beginning knitters could manage to make mufflers and wristlets.

Junior Red Cross war work suggestions. Delineator, Dec. 1917. “Uncle Sam needs a million sweaters NOW. There are twenty-two million of you [children.] If you work, every soldier under the Stars and Stripes will have his sweater.”

The United States didn’t enter the war until April of 1917. French and British soldiers had been fighting the Germans since August of 1914, and supplies were being exhausted.

LHJ, August 1917.

LHJ, October 1917. All these “boxed” images are from the same article.

The Armistice treaty which concluded “the War to End All Wars” came into force at 11 a.m. Paris time on 11 November 1918 (“the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.”) — Wikipedia.

About 8,500,000 soldiers had died. Over 21 million were wounded.

Ladies’ Pajamas from 1920

These pajamas were featured in an ad for Rit Dyes. Delineator, April 1920.

I found several images of women’s pajamas (or pyjamas) in this April issue of Delineator. Only one was a Butterick pattern; the others appeared in advertisements. They all had this in common:

These pajamas from 1920 are gathered at the ankle.

Constriction at the ankle must have been a “thing” that year. (It wasn’t new….)

Butterick patterns for April 1920 include the “pajamas or lounging robe,” center, No. 2055.

This pajama pattern was sized for misses and for women up to 44 inch bust measure — so it was not aimed at teens and college girls only.

One-piece pajamas, also sleeveless, were shown in an ad for Dove Undergarments and Lingerie.

An empire waist nightgown or pajama could be purchased from the Dove lingerie company. Delineator, April 1920.

A one-piece pajama, April 1920. Dove ad.

Another stylish pajama can be seen in the upper right corner of this fabric ad:

These college girls are wearing print kimonos and lounging pajamas in an ad for Serpentine Crepe. Delineator, April 1920. The wall is decorated with pennants from East Coast universities, including Smith, Wellesley, and Radclifffe — women’s colleges.

Serpentine Crepe was made by Pacific Mills, in Lawrence, Massachusetts. That’s their circular logo on the wall, below.

Pajamas, detail of ad for Serpentine Crepe, 1920. I do like the pattern of flying birds.

Gathering around the ankles was not new; I’ve seen it in 1917…

Butterick pajamas from 1917. No. 9433 for girls or women.

… and in new patterns issued as late as 1925 and 1926.

Lingerie for Christmas, Delineator magazine, December 1925. Pajama pattern 6031 is lacy and ruffled, and gathered at the ankle.

Butterick pajama 6947 is scalloped, with gathered ankles trimmed in Valenciennes lace. Delineator, July 1926.

The sleeveless, V-necked 1926 top is similar to the 1920 pajama pattern No. 2055.

In 1920, there was considerable variety in the pajama tops.

The high-waisted top of this one-piece pajama has a square neckline and short kimono sleeves.

The long top of these lounging pajamas is rather like the tunic dresses of the nineteen-teens. The bands of trim look like fagoting or insertion lace.

This sleeveless pajama top, Butterick 2055, looks cool and summer-y. [Notice the very different hairstyles on these women!]

But the alternate view of 2055 shows a version with sleeves and collar variations — and pajama bottoms that hang straight and loose at the ankle.

Alternate views of Butterick “pajama or lounging robe” No. 2055. Delineator, April, 1920.

It’s possible to imagine this sailor-collared pajama venturing out onto the beach — eventually.

Butterick 5948, pajamas from April of 1925, can be worn as beach pajamas. Delineator.

When did women start wearing pajamas? The Vintage Traveler wrote about that question here. Sweet dreams, everyone!

 

Vacation Needed

Illustration from Delineator, 1925. This rural schoolteacher was tired out.

I’m not quitting — but after more than 500 posts, I do need a vacation!

I started writing witness2fashion in 2013, partly inspired by my discovery of more than 400 bound copies of Butterick’s Delineator magazine in storage at my public library. I was stunned by the color illustrations, and fascinated by the pattern illustrations and the advertisements. Very few of these magazines have been digitized or microfilmed — the latter is a blessing, in a way, because so many color magazines were preserved in black and white and then discarded by libraries during a wave of microfilming that took place just before digitization in full color became possible. That seems incredible, but…. [Recommended reading: Double-Fold: Libraries and the Asssault on Paper, by Nicholson Baker.] 

Hikers. Color illustration from an ad for Ivory Flakes soap, Delineator; October 1928.

Because of my interest in “everyday” fashions and working class clothing, Butterick’s “middle-class,” Paris-oriented Delineator would not have been my first choice — I was hoping to find McCall’s magazines. I used to own a few from the 1930’s, so I know they had color illustrations. But my last inquiries — assisted by a reference librarian — didn’t turn up any actual bound volumes of old McCall’s within 200 miles of me (and I am surrounded by universities!) The Los Angeles public library seems to have some from the 1920’s — but whether they are actual, bound magazines or black and white films, the librarian couldn’t tell me — and I’d have to take a vacation to visit them.

Delineator cover by Dynevor Rhys, 1933. Who knew green and orange could look so sophisticated?

So, it’s time for me to spend a few weeks visiting the bound periodicals I love so much right here in San Francisco — a working vacation, but overdue.  I particularly want to research and document the sudden transition in styles between 1929 and the early thirties — but if you have a favorite year between 1900 and 1920 I could dip into, I do enjoy a bit of variety! Please use the comments section for suggestions (no promises, but….)

Meanwhile, Oldies but (I Hope) Goodies

Five years ago I found those magazines were full of things that really excited me, so I shared them — not just patterns, but articles and ads about everything from breast flattening corsets to family budgets, and new items like Knee-High stockings (1930s) and paper towels (people had to be taught what to do with them!) If you’re curious about a woman’s clothing budget in 1924 and in 1936, click here. For a family budget in 1925, click here. From the Great Depression year of 1936, I found a budget and related items about “Living on $18 per Week.” Click here.

I’m hoping that new followers (bless you, every one!) will enjoy getting links and brief introductions to some of those blog posts from the past — so I will post a group of links regularly instead of writing entire new posts for August. I’ll try to group them by topic.

For a start, here are a few posts that highlighted the unexpected color combinations of the 1920’s:

A Lament for Bound Periodicals  (posted in February, 2015)

A bridal party in shades of orange, 1924. Delineator magazine.

Orange and Blue in the Mid-Twenties  (posted in December 2015)

Blue and orange are complementary colors — they make each other look more intense, as in this illustration. Right, orange and black are combined in a young woman’s dress; Delineator, February, 1925.

1920’s Orange and Black: Not Just for Halloween   (from October 2014)

Colorful Fashions for April, 1926  (from April 2017)

The Colorful Past  (from February 2014)

And so to bed…. Do you dream in color? I do.

I’ll have many new images to share by September!