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.

“Service Suits” for Girls, Boys, and Women in 1917

Military uniform for boys aged 6 to 16. Butterick pattern 8070, August 1917.

“In these times, boys of all ages like to be ready for service.” He is “ready to do ‘his bit.’ “

Butterick pattern 8070 for a boy’s “military suit” from 1917 was part of a trend: “service suits” and military dress for civilians.

Butterick 9334 for girls, September 1917. Delineator. This girl has long, “Mary Pickford” curls.

Right, Ladies’ Home Journal “military dress” pattern 1067 for girls 6 to 14, October 1917.

Butterick “military suit” pattern 9365, September 1917. For girls 10 to 15 years old.

Butterick coat pattern 9315 from August, 1917. Delineator. Sized for young girls  and adult women, it was “sometimes called the trench or military coat….” For “active  service.”

“Service suits” and a military dress for women from Butterick patterns, August 1917. Delineator. For more information about these patterns, click here. The blue and tan dress, like the tan suit, has “service pockets.”

Butterick offered so many variations on “Service uniforms” for adult women, I worry that some women spent more time making an outfit to wear while volunteering than they actually spent doing war work.

Three out of four patterns on this page are “uniforms” for civilian women aged 14 to 19. August 1917, Delineator, page 50. “When Johnny comes marching home he will find his sister all turned out in a new military suit.”

The phrases used to describe these outfits use plenty of military jargon.

It’s not surprising that young women heading off to college expected that they would spend time aiding the war effort in some way.

A traveling suit that is also a service suit, for college-bound women. Butterick coat 9324 with skirt 9374. Delineator, Sept. 1917. Pleated “service pockets” came in large, practical sizes and in sizes that were purely “fashion.”

“So many women are doing relief work of all kinds, and they drop into restaurants for tea and luncheons in this type of suit.”

Right, a Butterick military-influenced suit uses coat pattern 9324 with skirt 9309. August 1917.

Left, Ladies’ Home Journal patterns 1059 (jacket) and 1099 (skirt), November 1917. The majority of patterns were less military looking.

The military look was a new fashion option, among more traditionally feminine styles for women. Left, Ladies Home Journal pattern 1061; right, LHJ pattern 1050. October 1917.

Even Chanel showed a service suit:

A service suit designed by Gabrielle Chanel, illustrated in Butterick’s Delineator in October 1917.

That is not to say that women were just playing dress-up. The “women’s magazines” were an important channel of communication for official government notices, from food conservation to Red Cross needs and instructions for volunteers.

Knitting for sailors; a form from Delineator, August 1917. Those who could knit — or learn to knit — were asked to do so; those who couldn’t were asked to donate money to buy wool yarn.

Knit Your Bit for the Navy. Delineator, August 1917.

From a Red Cross article about knitting for servicemen. It appeared in Delineator, November 1917. The Ladies’ Home Journal printed similar articles by the Red Cross so that readers could volunteer to make everything from “comfort kits” to hospital gowns, bandages, and hot water bottle covers.

EDIT 9/10/17: Synchronicity/serendipity brought me this link via Two Nerdy History Girls to a fine article at “Behind Their Lines” about women knitting for the war effort.

The Butterick Publishing Company received such an outpouring of knitting for the troops that it briefly became a problem, before standardization of size and color was imposed.

Sweater pattern 9355 from Butterick, August 1917. It was sized for boys or men. A short time later, the Red Cross issued standardized patterns for the military.

Nevertheless, the patterns for “service uniforms” for children seem to me to be a little silly. (I certainly didn’t wear my Girl Scout uniform every minute I spent earning badges….) On the other hand, now that even young children carry a cell phone to school, some big “service pockets” on school clothes would come in handy!

Maternity Patterns from 1907

Top of a full page article about Maternity styles from Ladies’ Home Journal, Jan. 1907, top of page 60.

Since Mother’s Day is approaching, this 1907 article about maternity fashions from the Ladies’ Home Journal seems appropriate. I accessed this article through ProQuest. The images were very faint and the text hard to read, so I have enhanced them.

A surprise on the same page was this 1907 advertisement for a “book” of maternity skirts, from Beyer and Williams Co., which could be purchased “made to order.” Lane Bryant is usually thought of as creating this niche market.

Ad for Fine-Form Maternity Skirt catalog, Ladies’ Home Journal, Jan. 1907, p. 60. “If not in need of a maternity skirt, remember our famous B & W dress and walking skirts….”

Back to the maternity patterns and advice available from Ladies’ Home Journal:

Since pregnancy was not mentioned in polite society, and was usually concealed as long as possible, 1907 maternity clothes looked as much as possible like current fashions. Ladies’ Home Journal patterns 2914 (bodice) and 2915 (skirt.)

The bodice was “designed by R.C. Pond,” the skirt by E. L. Phelps, and the drawings were by Anna W. Speakman. [Sometimes the ProQuest search terms are yellow-highlighted so thoroughly that the word is obscured.]

 

Back view of 1907 maternity bodice and skirt; LHJ patterns 2914 & 2915. [Here, “girdle” means belt or sash.]

Maternity clothing should be “inconspicuous in color, dark blue and black being preferable.” “Albatross” fabric could be worsted or cotton.

The bodice was adjustable:

The drawing shows the laced-up under-bodice and the hook and eye, side front  closings of the fashion fabric. [“Waist” is another word for “bodice.”]

The inner lining or foundation was tightly fitted, but laced up on each side of the front, so it could expand as needed. The fashion fabric was pleated and it also expanded. How it was possible to maintain the fashionable S-curve silhouette is not discussed.

“Maternity waist [i. e., bodice]” LHJ pattern No. 2914.

At left, an illustration of the expandable waist of the ten-gored skirt, LHJ pattern 2915.

Although the pattern was sold in waist sizes from 24 to 30 inches, the skirt could expand as much as fourteen inches at the waist and more at the hip.

Undergarments were also important; there is an emphasis on light-weight fabrics, since the usual layers of ruffled petticoats of 1907 could be heavy enough to cause a backache, even if the wearer was not pregnant.

Maternity undergarments, Ladies’ Home Journal, January 1907, bottom of p. 60. Tucks running around the petticoat and drawers could be let out as the front hem was pulled up by the baby bump.

Petticoat pattern 2913 description, LHJ, January 1907.

LHJ pattern 2913 for maternity undergarments, designed by H. C. Routery. 1907.

As an expanding abdomen lifted the skirt in front, the entire flounce could be lowered. From what I have seen, this problem was completely ignored by maternity dresses in the 1930’s.

Description of maternity corset cover pattern, LHJ 2911.

A maternity corset cover and maternity drawers (underpants), LHJ patterns 2911 and 2912 from 1907.

Description of maternity drawers pattern 2912, LHJ, Jan. 1907, p. 60.

There is the expectation that, after the baby is born, its mother will want to continue wearing these garments — they can be returned to her pre-baby size. Of course, most women probably did resort to wearing a “wrapper” housedress during the later months.

 

100 Year Old Kodak Camera Ads from World War I

“The Parting Gift — A Vest Pocket Kodak.” Ad in Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917.

We take small, portable cameras for granted. But one hundred years ago, Kodak was putting pocket sized cameras into the hands of people who never had them before — including the men and boys who volunteered to fight in World War I.

Kodak Vest Pocket camera ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917, p. 51. “It is monotony, not bullets, that our soldiers dread…. In the training camps and during the days of forced inaction there are going to be some tedious, home-sick days — days the Kodak can make more cheerful…. There’s room for a little Vest Pocket Kodak in every soldiers’ and sailor’s kit.”

When the United States entered the war in April of 1917, training camps were still being built — including Camp Fremont, in what is now Menlo Park, California. For teen-aged girls like my mother’s older sister and her friends, it was both a patriotic duty and a pleasure to meet homesick young men from all over the country. And, judging from the photos I inherited from my aunt, “the boys” did enjoy sending pictures of their daily activities to family and friends.

My aunt, in her school uniform, with Walter van Alyne. The back of the photo says, “aged 20 years,” and it was apparently mailed to her when Walter was “Somewhere in Fra …. chelles.” [writing not legible]

Here she is with Wentworth Prescott  Gann, in 1918:

Wentworth Prescott Gann and my aunt, 1918.

Pictures reassured soldiers’ families, and were also a pretext for corresponding with new friends. (“I’d love a copy of that photo with you….” or “Here’s a copy of that picture we took at the beach….”)

Wentworth Prescott Gann, posing with artillery and a friendly dog, 1918.

Three soldiers posing for a picture to send home — or to sweethearts. The one on the left is Gaston Popescul; “Columbus (?) GA”

Clarence Turpening, probably at Camp Fremont, 1918. Sitting on two garbage cans, he is the picture of military camp tedium.

Because Camp Fremont was still under construction in 1917,  many of the soldiers who trained there did not get sent overseas. However, some unfortunate members of the 8th Division were sent to Siberia after the Russian Revolution of 1917. They were on active duty for months after World War I came to an end.

This photo of a luckier group was made into a postcard — probably everyone in it sent a copy home. I believe it is a group of bakers, with my uncle Holt (the soldier my aunt eventually married) leaning against a post in the center. I’m sure a picture like this would reassure worried families that their menfolk were safe and well. And perhaps, a bit bored….

A group of Army bakers or cooks, military camp in U.S.A., World War I photo.

“Snap-shots from Home” enhance morale for soldiers in World War I. Kodak ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, September 1917, p. 91.

Text of “Snap-shots from Home” ad, Kodak, Sept. 1917. Ladies’ HOme Journal.

Even schoolgirls like my aunt took (and sometimes printed) their own photos.

This typical photo from 1917-1918 fits easily in my hand. It’s about three inches high. The soldier’s name is Philip Wilson.

I was always puzzled by how tiny (about 2″ by 3″) many of these old photos are.  Finally, I found a full page ad in the Ladies Home Journal that gave me a hint: to save money, many people used their contact prints — made directly from the negative — but never bought enlargements. (In my aunt’s case, she made her own duplicate contact prints for friends.)

[Not Actual Size] Top of a full-page ad for Kodak, showing Vest Pocket photos in two sizes. July 1917, LHJ, page 79.

The contact prints, made by putting the negative directly on the photo paper without using an enlarger, were actually about two by three inches. The paper used for contacts feels flimsier than normal photo prints.

Bottom of full-page Kodak Vest Pocket camera ad, July 1917, page 79. Not actual size. “You don’t carry a Vest Pocket Kodak, you wear it, like your watch.”

I was not able to photograph the magazine page at actual size, so I took a photo of the whole page and then made this “relative size” image of the contact print and the enlargement.

Relative size of a contact print and an enlargement, 1917. The small contact prints — the same size as the film — were meant to be used for selecting the enlargements you ordered, but people who couldn’t afford 15 cents per enlargement made do with the contact prints themselves. And duplicate contact-sized pictures could be made by amateurs who didn’t own an enlarger.

Different cameras used different sized film, so those little contact prints came in a range of sizes.  A roll of film for the Vest Pocket Kodak cost twenty cents in 1917 and made eight exposures.

Although most people on the home front, especially in the U.S.,  had no idea of the horrors of the First World War, a tone of sadness, or at least, of solemnity, affected even Kodak’s Christmas season advertising  in wartime.

“Kodak knows no dark days.” Top of a full -page ad for Kodak cameras, December 1917. Ladies Home Journal, p. 104.

The ad was referring to taking pictures indoors, but a reference to “its allies” in the text is a reminder of the war.

Text of a Kodak ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, December 1917, page 104.

“With its allies, the Kodak flash sheets and a Kodak flash sheet holder….” As in fashion writing, allusions to the war crept in everywhere, even when it wasn’t mentioned specifically.

And here, as our dessert, is that lovely pink silk dress in better detail:

A young woman poses in a party dress in this Kodak ad from 1917. Ladies’ Home Journal, Dec. 1917, p. 104. It’s not a full color ad, which would have been more expensive, but probably printed using just black and red ink.

Red and White Print Dresses, Vogue Patterns, 1936

What’s Black and White and Red All Over?

Vogue patterns 7251, 7253, and 7252, from Ladies’ Home Journal, February 1936, p. 25.

Perhaps Valentine’s Day inspired the Ladies’ Home Journal to illustrate these Vogue patterns in black, white and red, back in February, 1936. In the 1930’s, the LHJ didn’t use as much color illustration as the Woman’s Home Companion. When the LHJ stopped selling its own patterns, it began to feature Vogue patterns, just as the WHC had begun selling “Companion-Butterick” patterns in the thirties. (Butterick’s own magazine, Delineator, suddenly ceased to exist in 1937.)
For a while in the twenties, Delineator had abandoned full color illustrations in favor of using black, white, and just one color.

Butterick patterns 1419 and 1417, illustrated in red, black and white by Lages, Delineator, May 1927.

(I wonder if Edward Gorey had a stash of 1927 Delineator magazines?) Here are closer views of this illustration:

“French frocks in America.” Butterick 1419, Delineator, May 1929. Notice the flashes of red in the pleated skirt.

A print scattered with red hearts or leaves. Butterick 1417, Delineator, May 1927. If you want to know how those top-stitched pleats were done, click here.

These Vogue dress illustrations from Ladies’ Home Journal use the same method, but in a less distinctive drawing style. What’s black and white and red all over? These pattern illustrations.

Vogue 7251, illustrated in a foulard print with either a dark ground or a red ground. Ladies’ Home Journal, February 1936. The alternate view, which appears later in this post, shows a very interesting yoke and shoulder.

Text accompanying Vogue 7251. This dress could be made in dressier versions, using “crinkled satin” or “beige heavy sheer.” a “foulard” design was often used in men’s neckties.

Vogue pattern 7253, for a dress and matching jacket. Ladies’ Home Journal, February 1936. The fabric is illustrated with either a pink or dark ground.

Vogue 7253 pattern information. 1936. LHJ suggested that you make the dress  in a floral pattern for a young woman to wear to school, and for a mature woman in sheer navy with tucked sleeves on the jacket.

Alternate views of Vogue 7251, 7253, and 7252. LHJ, 1936.

Vogue 7252 from Ladies’ Home Journal, February 1936.

Pattern description for Vogue 7252, 1936. “The dress itself is slim and simple. The jacket has shaped lapels and a diminutive peplum…. in bright red and navy.”

You can see the dress without its jacket in the alternate view, above. (And the text reveals a shortcoming of black and white illustrations: the fabric is really red and navy blue.)

Butterick suggested print dresses for February 1936, too; left, a solid sheer; and right, a sheer floral print.

Butterick 6630, shown in sheer dark fabric, and 6634 in a sheer floral print. Delineator, February 1936, p. 37.

Butterick print dresses from 1936. Left, pattern 6668; right, pattern 6634. The dress in the middle is Butterick 6605. All from Delineator, Feb. 1936.

We can get an idea of what 1930’s dresses looked like on a real woman from this photo:

Her husband approves of this red and white print outfit, which the young woman made on her Singer Home Sewing Machine. Butterick 6593. Singer ad, Delineator, Feb. 1936.

This evening dress, in a large-scale butterfly print, is Butterick 6666.

Butterick 6666, a print fabric covered with large butterflies. Delineator, Feb. 1936. It is trimmed with triangular dress clips, which are jewelry, not buttons.

Elsa Schiaparelli showed a large-scale butterfly on this bathing suit in 1929 …

A Schiaparelli swimsuit and hooded coverup illustrated in Delineator, July 1929. “White wool bathing suit embroidered in black.”

… and made butterflies even more popular in  1937:

Elsa Schiaparelli butterfly evening dress, 1937. Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum Costume Collection.

I’m all a-flutter! And I seem to have strayed from red and white and black prints.

P.S. In the nineteen fifties, the answer to the children’s riddle “What’s black and white and ‘red’ all over?” was  “A newspaper.”  Gee, I’m feeling old today.

Home-made Halloween Costumes for Teens, 1936

Personal Note: I’m going to be spending the rest of October with my oldest friends — two women who have been putting up with me and making me laugh since 1957. New Blog posts, written ahead of time, will keep appearing at witness2fashion, but I won’t have internet access, so I may not be able to respond to comments right away.

Meanwhile, I’ll be sharing some fashions from Octobers long ago.

Costume advice for “sub-debs” by Elizabeth Woodward, Ladies’ Home Journal, October 1936.

“… Produce weird and wonderful outfits for this year’s masked parties.”

A masquerade party, with the teen-aged guests wearing creative, home-made costumes. Ladies’ Home Journal, October 1936.

I can’t sincerely recommend any of these costume party ideas for “sub-debs,”  even aside from the fact that costumes made of paper are not fire-safe. (Crepe paper costumes were shockingly common back in the days when a party was usually held in a room full of lighted cigarettes.)

Suggested costumes made from hatboxes and a graduation gown. 1936.

I’m not sure what the hatbox costume represents. Any guesses?

This costume is seriously cuckoo.

A candy cane is menaced by a spider. Suggested party costumes, 1936. (If those are slashed black tights or leggings over red ones …. I’ve seen those while riding the bus.)

A robot dances — rather awkwardly — with the Empire State Building. 1936. Chaperones would not need to worry about this couple dancing too closely.

I hope the prizes are awarded early, before the robot realizes he can’t eat or drink — or kiss a girl.

Some guests have made costumes from sewing patterns — like the clown and the colonial lady:

A clown costume and a “Colonial Lady” (or possibly Southern belle) costume. These patterns could be purchased from Butterick or other companies. In the background a man wears a sombrero.

Butterick pattern 4006, clown costume, Delineator, October 1925.

In the background here, we can see a lady in Tudor or “medieval” dress (right), another cone-shaped clown hat center), and a top hat on a curly blonde head — is it Harpo Marx? Or a lady in a riding habit?

Masquerade costumes, Ladies’ Home Journal, 1936.

The author’s suggestion that “Two of you might go as London Bridge” reminds me of a fraternity house costume party I heard about in the 1960’s. Six of the “brothers” went as a six-pack of their favorite beer. The costume was a prize winner, but it seriously undermined their ability to pick up girls. Or  dance. Or visit the buffet (only two were facing out). A visit to the men’s room was quite a challenge, too.

Perhaps the author favored these costumes for teenagers because they definitely minimize opportunities for close contact. I bet the clown and the colonial lady had a much better time than the robot, the cuckoo clock and the skyscraper!

 

Home Made Hats, 1917; Part 1

Collage of hats from Delineator, Sept. 1917, p. 62. These are not home made hats, but give an idea of the current styles.

Collage of hats from Delineator, Sept. 1917, p. 62. These are not home made hats, but give an idea of the wide range of styles.

I started to collect images of ladies’ hats from 1917, and discovered that I have far more material than I realized. The Ladies’ Home Journal ran a series of articles on home-made hats in 1917; women were encouraged to waste nothing, as part of the war effort. Similar make-your-own hat articles ran in September and November.

July 1917: Smart Hats From Ten-Cent Foundations

“Smart Hats from Ten Cent Foundations,” Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. Top of page.

In July, women were encouraged to make their own hats as a patriotic duty:  “As the call for recruits arouses the fighting spirit of the men, it also stirs the inherent thriftiness of the American girl to prove her preparedness to make many of her own clothes and fight the high cost of living.” [At Envisioning the American Dream,  Sally Edelstein has been sharing wartime ads and posters aimed at the American woman in 1917. Click here for Part 1 of her series.]

Hats to make, Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. A rolled brim hat trimmed with bird wings for a married woman, a picture hat trimmed with tiny apples, and a pink and white gingham covered hat.

Notice the military phrase: “ready for active service in town or country.”

Hats to make, and a buckram frame foundation; Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. The hat on the right is a “mushroom hat” with braided straw under the brim.

“The frames on which the hats on this page are made are of light buckram like this [bottom center above,] and cost 10 cents each.” Several of these hats have cloth covering the frame on top, but their brims are “faced with straw.” The straw hat braid was bought by the yard and stitched together to fit the shape of the brim. Lynn McMasters shows how it’s done here.

A pre-formed hat frame or foundation like this can be ordered online, but it won’t cost ten cents any more.  There’s a decent selection of wired, buckram frames at Hat Supply.com. You can buy wired brims separately.

These are the last two hats from the July article:

A pink linen sailor hat and a hat with a quilt-pieced crown. Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. The “quilt” hat’s brim –on the right — was faced with yellow [straw] braid.

If you are at all tempted to make your own hats, I don’t know of a better book than Denise Dreher’s From the Neck Up. She has a website, www.hatbook.com where you can order the book and/or find links to millinery supplies galore. It’s worth visiting several  suppliers — the range of styles and prices varies a lot.

September 1917: Hats You Can Make From Patterns

In September, The Ladies’ Home Journal wrote about “Hats You Can Make from Patterns.”  The LHJ sold its own sewing patterns, but you had to write to the appropriate editor and ask for the pattern by number, enclosing a 4 cent stamp for each hat pattern.

“Hats You Can Make from Patterns” in Ladies’ Home Journal, September, 1917. Middle of page 85. Hairstyles were also illustrated. The hat in the center is a Tam.

The Ladies Home Journal offered patterns for these hats. Sept. 1917, top of page hats.

The black velvet hat on the left is trimmed with tight spirals of white soutache braid.The black velvet hat on the right has a “top crown of white Georgette crepe, trimmed with a white worsted cockade.

Hats from Ladies’ Home Journal patterns, Sept. 1917. Images from middle of page.

Left:  “In these war times, the designers cannot overlook the [military] fatigue-cap crown, as copied on this wide-brimmed hat of blue satin with appliqued red roses.” Right: A blue satin hat with a white satin facing, trimmed with a white tassel (which seems to be falling from the top of the crown.)

Hats from Ladies’ Home Journal patterns, Sept. 1917. Images from middle of page.

Left:  “This is what may be done with red and blue ribbon and a national emblem.” Right:  “Beaded pins still make a point of trimming smart hats, as you can see by this tall velvet-crowned, satin brimmed matron’s toque.” [A toque is defined as a hat without a brim. Fashion writing was as inconsistent 99 years ago as it is today.]

There was a strong military influence on women’s fashions during World War I. Pattern companies offered military insignia for trimming women’s dresses, hats and bags. The hats below were illustrated in Delineator magazine. Not only were the military cap (top left) and the shako (bottom right) popular, Napoleonic era bicorns and tricorns reappeared.

Women’s hats, Delineator pattern illustration, May, 1917. Military influence on women’s hats: An officer’s cap, a tricorn, and a shako.

Hats in fashion illustration, Ladies’ Home Journal, Nov. 1917. A shako at the left, a bicorn at the right.

The Ladies’ Home Journal also encouraged readers to make hats from unusual materials:

A hat made from the wool braid that used to be used for facing long skirt hems, and a hat covered with coarse-woven sacking. Ladies’ Home Journal. Sept. 1917. Pg. 84.

Fashionable women’s hats, Delineator, October 1917. These are not home-made, but the toques, tassel, asymmetrical rolled brim, and the shape at top left share some elements with the LHJ’s home-made hats.

Coming up:  Part 2. In November, 1917,  The Ladies’ Home Journal buys $25 hats and copies them for much less.

 

Butterick Fashions for August, 1917

American women had been reading about the active wartime roles of women in France and Germany since 1914. Here, a few months after the U.S. entered the first World War, softly feminine (although thick-waisted) styles appear beside clothes that look like uniforms.

Fashions from Butterick’s Delineator magazine, August 1917.

During World War I, patterns for pseudo-military uniforms appeared for women who wanted to wear them while volunteering for war-related charities. (The Red Cross and other agencies soon prescribed their own — official — uniforms, with strict regulations about wearing them. Click here.) I’ll show these dresses and their descriptions in detail later in this post; first, here is the second full color fashion page from this issue of Delineator:

Another page of fashions from Butterick’s Delineator magazine, August, 1917.

Some of these outfits are one-piece dresses, but often what looks like a dress turns out to be a blouse (sometimes called a “waist”) pattern with a separate skirt pattern. That allowed a great deal of customization, and I always enjoy seeing illustrations of the same skirt with several tops, or vice versa.

Starting at top left of the first color plate:

Blouse pattern No. 9311 with skirt pattern No. 9318. Butterick’s Delineator, August 1917.

Butterick’s description of 9311 and 9318; Delineator, Aug. 1917.

“It has the popular wide collar and large pockets…. A very good design for misses [i.e., teens] as well as women.”

Left, in pink:  blouse 9330 with skirt 9073; right, coat 9324 with skirt 9318. Butterick patterns, Delineator,Aug. 1917.

Blouse 9330 with skirt 9073, Butterick patterns in Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick 9330 and 9073, Aug. 1917. Delineator.

What makes this a “Russian Blouse?” I have no idea. Research project for somebody….

Coat pattern 9324 with skirt 9318, Butterick patterns in Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick patterns 9324 and 9318; Delineator, Aug. 1917.

” ‘Who goes there?’ The answer — a new suit with smart military cape and pockets receives a salute from Fashion. . . . The cape is removable. . . The suit is a splendid design for misses [i.e., ages 15 to 20] as well as women.” This same skirt, No. 9311, was also shown with the long, dotted blouse No. 9311.

Butterick blouse pattern 9311 with skirt 9318. 1917.

Butterick patterns 9317 and 9320, Delineator, Aug. 1917. “The coat has the popular large collar, [No kidding!] with two new outline possibilities….”

Description of Butterick patterns 9317 and 9320; Delineator, Aug. 1917.

The pattern descriptions page included two more contrasting styles, a loose embroidered dress beside another version of the piped coat with military pockets and insignia:

Butterick dress 9326; coat 9324 with skirt 9309. Delineator, Aug. 1917.

This is the same military-influenced coat, No. 9324, that was shown above in a tan, caped version.

Description of Butterick coat 9324 and skirt 9309, Aug. 1917.

“It is a splendid model for the woman who wants something newer and more picturesque than the severely tailored suit.” [Top it with a Rough Riders hat?]

Description of dress 9326, Butterick’s Delineator, Aug. 1917. “The deep pouch pockets and long narrow sash-belt are popular parts of the one-piece look.”

The one-piece dress above, No. 9326, has big, triangular, embroidered pockets something like this one, shown in color:

Description for Butterick dress pattern 9335; Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick dress 9335, Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Dress patterns 9323 and 9331, Butterick. Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick pattern 9323; Delineator, Aug. 1917. “The modern woman buckles on her armor . . . .”

Alternate views of Butterick 9323 and 9331, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick pattern 9331, Aug. 1917.

It’s interesting that the blue dress, No. 9323, is described as appealing “to the woman who does not care for the one-piece frocks.” But it is a one-piece frock, with several sleeve variations.  The checked dress, No. 9331, has a more complicated cut than you would think from the color illustration. This issue of Delineator had a separate article about gingham dresses.

Butterick pattern 9321, Delineator, Aug. 1917.

This blue and tan dress is worn with an exaggerated military cap; Butterick also sold embroidery transfers for military insignia like the one on this dress’s sleeve.

Description of Butterick patern 9321 from August, 1917.

“The attractive military lines . . .  military pockets and collar  . . . maintain the martial spirit. . . . It is pretty for a young girl. . . . Sizes 32 to 44 inches bust measure.”

Two more black and white illustrations appeared with the descriptions of the color images on page 43.

Both are waist and skirt combinations, and both outfits use the same skirt pattern, No. 9316. When the folds are buttoned together, as on the left, it is called an “envelope effect.”

Left:  Butterick dress patterns 9340 and 9316. Right:  waist 9350 and skirt 9316. Delineator, Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick waist [blouse] pattern 9340 and skirt 9316, above on the left. Aug. 1917.

Description of Butterick waist pattern 9360 with skirt 9316, illustrated above on the right. Aug. 1917.

It’s possible that the Delineator magazine was especially militaristic, but this coat ad from the Ladies’ Home Journal also shows a military influence on women’s ready-to-wear:

Ad for Hamilton coats, Ladies’ Home Journal, Oct. 1917.

 

Hats from the Ladies’ Home Journal, 1936

Cover of the Ladies’ Home Journal, October 1936.

The Ladies Home Journal offered advice on chic hats and wardrobe coordination in its October issue, but it also offered a hat pattern — for three cents — for ladies who might want to make their own summer sun hat out of a bandana.

Calico Madcaps, 1936

” Calico Madcaps” from Ladies’ Home Journal pattern No. 1282, August 1936.

“Calico Madcaps” to make from bandanas; LHJ pattern No. 1282, Aug. 1936.

“Madcaps” designed by Marian Hagen Scherff, LHJ, Aug. 1936. “The theme for this year’s play clothes is American, so into your sunbonnet and slacks and off to the shore!”

My dermatologist would approve of those wide brims. [A lesson learned the hard way:  don’t forget to put sunscreen on the tops of your ears. Or wear a hat, not just a visor.] The squarish bonnet that shades the sides of the face would cut down on glare (and peripheral vision.) The cloche-like hat with turned-back brim looks more twenties than thirties, but it echoes this hat being worn the same year:

Two off-the-face hats, 1936.

The hat on the right is from an ad in Woman’s Home Companion, November, 1936.

Hats with Coats, October 1936

“Watch Your Headline over the Collar of Your Coat.” Fashion advice from Ladies’ Home Journal, Oct. 1936.

In order to show the hats in detail, I’ve divided these two illustrations into four.

Top Left:

“Red-brown felt hat, brown velvet applied bow . . . . The new high crown with curling feather.” LHJ, Oct. 1936.

The red-brown felt is worn with a “red-fox-collared green cape.”The red high-crowned felt hat is worn with a gray Persian lamb coat.

Top Right:

Left, a “Brown brimmed hat with blue ribbon,” Right, “Bright quills on a green felt hat with swooping brim.” LHJ, Oct. 1936.

“Upstanding collar on a leopard coat suggests a brown brimmed hat with blue ribbon. . . . Bright green quills on a green felt with swooping brim — above a coat of beaver-like fur.” [At least “beaver-like” fur acknowledges that not many women would be buying leopard in the depths of the Great Depression. But fashion is always about fantasy.] 

Bottom left:

Left, a “black corded-felt deep turban;” center, a “raspberry velours toque with flying birds;” right, a “black velvet deep toque with feathers.” LHJ, Oct. 1936.

“A bright tweed coat with Persian-lamb collar takes a black corded-felt deep turban. . . . Raspberry velours toque with flying birds tops a silver kidskin tuxedo collar coat. . . . Black velvet deep toque with feathers — with black kidskin coat, almost collarless.”

The words “toque” and “turban” seem to be used loosely; the “black corded-felt turban” above does not have the wrapped or draped look of the green ” velvet turban” below.

Bottom right:

Left, “black velvet deep toque with feathers;” center, a “velvet turban with quill and veil;” right, “a rust felt with high crown and tricorn brim.”LHJ, Oct. 1936.

Center: “Black Persian coat with turnover collar takes a velvet turban with quill and veil. . . . ” Right, “A rust felt with high crown and tricorn brim tops a black Alaska-seal swagger coat.”

You’ve probably noticed that some of these hats give a nod to Elsa Schiaparelli.

I can’t resist showing a couple of hats from an ad for Dodge cars:

Fashion reporter endorsing a car. Dodge ad, Woman’s Home Companion, January 1936.

Lilly Dache hat from an advertisement for Dodge cars. WHC, January 1936.

“Big Money,” indeed. As Elsa Lanchester once said of a fellow actress, “She looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, or anywhere else, either.”

 

Schiaparelli Hat Influence

When I woke up one morning this week, I remembered a woman’s voice — kindly, humorous, possibly my Girl Scout Leader —  saying, “Why, bless your pointy little heads!”

Elsa Schiaparelli in one of her hat designs. From the book Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

I must have been dreaming about the hat worn by Carole Lombard at the end of the movie Now and Forever (1934), which I had just watched on Turner Classic Movies. It was one of those cone-shaped felt hats that comes to a point on top, like this one:

Story illustration, Woman’s Home Companion, May 1937.

Pointy hat by Elsa Schiaparelli, 1933-34, photographed by Man Ray. From Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

Elsa Schiaparelli seems to have been the source for many of the silliest hats of the 1930’s and 1940’s; she didn’t necessarily design all of them, but she had a genius for publicity. Dilys Blum’s massive book on Schiaparelli, called Shocking, printed a page of hat sketches from Schiaparelli’s studio notes:

1930’s Schiaparelli Hat sketches pictured in Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

I’m amazed by how often very similar designs appear in Butterick publications, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Woman’s Home Companion — and that’s not counting Vogue and other high fashion magazines.

Schiaparelli was close to the Dadaist and  Surrealist art movements; she had Dali design fabrics for her, and she even made a suit like a dresser, with pockets that were actually drawers. Not to mention her “shoe” hat:

Schiaparelli Shoe hat, winter collection 1937-38. Photo courtesy of Metropolitan Museum.

The notebook sketch for the shoe hat shows it with a bright red sole, anticipating Louboutin by 70 years or so.

There’s a reason her perfume (and her biography) was called “Shocking;” shocking people generated publicity. The magazine Minotaure published a contemporary article written by her friend, Dadaist Tristan Tzara, and illustrated with photos by Man Ray, in which Tzara claimed that Schiaparelli’s 1933-34 hats with holes in the crown, or shaped in a series of oval ridges, represented female genitalia.

Hat from Schiaparelli’s winter 1933-34 collection, photographed by Man Ray. From Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

Hat with a hole in the crown, photographed by Man Ray, modeled by Elsa Schiaparelli. Winter 1933-34 collection. From Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

That’s the kind of article (however firmly the writer had his tongue in his cheek) that gets your hats talked about. If Tzara was right, then the shocking artworks of Judy Chicago (see The Dinner Party, from 1979) were  . . . old hat!

For that matter, in the nineteen thirties and forties (and fifties) the chairs that lined the counter of a diner always had a clip at the back for holding a man’s hat while he ate. Imagine the shocking display of fedoras at lunchtime!

Pointed hats by Schiaparelli. 1930’s. From Shocking, by D. Blum.

The conical, pointed hats had variations in the thirties which allowed them to be folded over at the top, or squared off, or open, or dented in at the top, and there were many versions of the exaggerated — and frequently dented — fedora, like the ones at top in this sketch.

Hats from Schiaparelli sketchbook. From Shocking, by D. Blum.

Pointed hat, magazine pattern illustration. March 1934.

Conical hat with blunt tip, Jan. 1936.

Woman’s Home Companion, coat ad, Nov. 1937. Conical hat, squashed.

Delineator, Feb. 1935. Dented crowns, a la Schiaparelli.

Women in an ad for Ponds cold cream, WHC, Oct. 1937.

Knit hat by Schiaparelli, 1937. Photo courtesy of Metropolitan Museum.

Women in an ad for B.F. Goodrich rainboots, WHC, Nov. 1937.

Hats shown with clothing from Mainbocher, Worth, and Molyneux. Feb. 1936, WHC.

Schiaparelli hat sketchbook 1930s. From Shocking, by Dilys Blum.

Butterick fashion news, May 1938. These hats could be made from a Butterick pattern.

Butterick hat pattern No. 7858. May, 1938.

Butterick Fashion News, March 1938.

I think the one on the left owes a nod to Schiaparelli:

Schiaparelli’s “double slipper” hat, Spring 1938. Photo courtesy of Metropolitan Museum.

Bless her pointy little head.

Elsa Schiaparelli in one of her hat designs. From the book Shocking, by Dilys Blum.