#the 1959 wool dress project

[f-sews-whatever]

project update

I'm happy to report that the dress is finally done! 🎉

The skirt portion is less exciting in terms of construction, just four panels with some tucks on top. I chose to leave it unlined.

I, once again, added in some personal touches: a pair of big pockets and some facing (22cm wide) at the hem to make the skirt flare out more.

(p.1: the finished pocket; p.2: the hem facing)

It's my first time sewing pockets in this style. I'd say they turn out pretty good for a completely improvised pattern. I contemplated putting only one in, because the zipper closure is also in the side seem. I'm glad that I faced the challenge head on, because I have two giant pockets now (sorry for mentioning it again. I'm just so happy to have them XD), but figuring out their composition was quite tricky.

(I was surprised that the pattern doesn't include pockets. A skirt I made with a 1943 pattern doesn't have one either. Did dresses stop having pockets in the 40s and 50s already? What's their excuse? The skirts have plenty of room underneath!)

I then eased and combined the bodice and skirt. The same allowance is pressed upward towards the bodice. The pattern instructed me to add a strip of straight-grained binding on the inside of the waistline to keep the seam from stretching. I had some cotton tape laying around, so I used that instead.

I still didn't have a matching zipper and a belt buckle at this point, so I searched three fabric shops in my local area. None of them carried belt buckles, and only in the third shop did I find a zipper in the right length and color. Fabric shops always seem to be crammed with all kinds of fabrics and sewing supplies ----You'd think they have everything one could possibly need in there!

I opted instead to order a buckle online and covered it with the fashion fabric. It's probably not the best way to do it, but here's some photos taken in the process, for future reference:

Then comes the scary part: installing the zipper. I used the method taught by Kenneth D. King on Youtube. His tutorial was very helpful.

And voilà! The dress is finished!

It has many flaws that could be improved: the elbow dart sits a bit too low; the pointy edge of the collar didn't turn out perfect, etc. However, I'm proud of myself for finishing this project on time (end of September), and I'm extremely happy to have another versatile piece in my wardrobe. I have plans to make some detachable collars and cuffs for this dress in the future, but for now, I'm content.

(possible collar designs for this dress)

Special thanks to @seraphichana, who's the only one engaging with this blog at this point lol. Thank you for the likes! It gives me a little bit of motivation every time :)

I'll make sure to post some pictures of me modeling the dress when I get some good lighting. It rained quite a lot in the past week.

Thank you for coming along with me on this sewing journey! Bye for now :D

[alcalavicci]

(Disclaimer: Treat 1950s articles like they’re RPF/fanfiction)

Photoplay- December 1959

Millie Perkins engaged to Dean Stockwell: SHE NO LONGER HAS TO PRETEND

By Jane Ardmore

Millie Perkins is an ordinary enough name. Millie Perkins was an ordinary enough girl until January of 1958, when - against odds of 10,233 to 1 - she won the role of Anne Frank. She'd only tried for the part when 20th Century-Fox insisted she at least TRY. She hadn't wanted to be an actress, and she didn't care if she won or not. But she had won, and in February she'd gone to Hollywood.

With only one suitcase, she'd stepped off the train. A thin girl in a rumpled blouse and skirt, with dark knee-socks, she'd peered nervously and near-sightedly around her. There were so many people hurrying around the station; so many strangers - and they all seemed to know exactly where they were going. She wondered if she'd ever know just where she was going. What am I doing here? she asked herself. She didn't know what it all meant - what it would mean. And, of course, she had no idea that here was where she would find herself as a person, that here was where she'd finally find love . . .

Later that day, as she ran across the studio lot to have her first stills taken she felt even more bewildered. "Bring six changes," the voice on the telephone had said, and Millie'd laughed nervously to herself. Since she'd just arrived on the Coast that morning, she didn't HAVE six changes. So she was going, dressed just as she'd been on the train that morning - in her white blouse, her favorite ribbed wool socks, and a loose-fitting green corduroy jacket.

It was a clear gray day with a gentle wind and a hint of rain, that made her think wistfully of home in Fairlawn, New Jersey. In a day like this, she would lean out of her bedroom window and see the birch and maple trees, the Chinese fruit trees, and watch the breeze ruffling the branches. There was always so much going on at home, she thought nostalgically, and she was always a part of it. She remembered how her sisters - Janet, Christine, Anne Marie, and Cathy - were always cooking and sewing, how someone was always at the phone or the piano. She remembered, with affection, all the excitement when Papa, who was a first mate with Bull Lines, came home from sea - all of them rushing to welcome him.

But the sky was higher here, there was no scent of fruit, and she was running between great square cream-colored concrete barns she'd been told were sound stages. Hollywood! And she was alone for the first time in her life.

"Hi, Millie! Been to wardrobe already? You look pretty good in those Anne Frank clothes!" It was George Stevens Jr., the associate producer, a nice-looking fellow with a friendly smile, who'd hailed her and was now falling into step beside her.

She smiled impishly at him. "These aren't Anne's clothes, they're mine. They're the kind I always wore in New York."

He looked at her in surprise. "But you were a top model, Millie!"

"That doesn't mean I wore fancy clothes. The photographers were only interested in my face." It was only an accident she'd been a model anyway, she remembered. A friend of Christine's had taken some pictures of her one night, and sent them to a modeling agency. And from then on, she'd been one of New York's busiest models. "I didn't like modeling too much," she went on, beginning to feel very much at home with George. "It was too hectic. I need some quiet" - she tried to explain - "I like to know who I am."

"And you've come to Hollywood!"

The exclamation hung in the air.

"I must stop in make-up," she said softly, running away from George Stevens Jr., who belonged here and wasn't a bit afraid.

She edged into the room so quietly, no one heard her.

"Hello, Mr. Nye," she blurted out, climbing quickly into the high leather chair as if she were about to have a tooth pulled. Ben Nye, the make-up man, studied her for a moment. Dark hair pulled back and tucked out of the way, enormous gray-green eyes, thick black lashes, and a small, pink mouth.

She eyed herself uncertainly in the mirror. IF HE TRIES TO MAKE ME LOOK GLAMOROUS, I'LL JUST LOOK SILLY, she thought in dismay.

But she was relieved at the appearance of director George Stevens in the mirror beside her. A big man with a quiet voice; he made her feel at ease. "She looks just fine, Ben," Mr. Stevens said. "We picked Millie, in the first place, because she looks like a fourteen-year-old girl." Then, turning to her, he said, "Leave your hair down for the cocktail party, Millie. When we start rehearsing, we can try it both ways."

The cocktail party! She didn't know how she'd get through it. She stood there next to Mr. Stevens. He had invited all the press to meet her. And what on earth could she ever say to them?

The press began asking questions. She found the first question easy. "No, I'm not at all sure I want to stay in Hollywood. In fact, I'm not at all sure I want to be an actress." Everyone laughed. This disturbed her. She wondered whether she should have said it.

March: I'll never be able to act, Millie thought despairingly. She virtually lived on the set these days.

"You have expressive hands, Millie, wonderful hands," Joseph Schildkraut told her one morning. The great Schildkraut! she thought. And for the next few days she was so self-conscious of her hands, that she didn't use them at all but held both arms awkwardly straight at her sides.

Ed Wynn helped. He'd take her and Diane Baker and Dick Beymer aside and tell them stories, funny stories, while Nina Foch talked of such mysterious new things as calisthenics, relaxation, and control. "Control, technique," she would say in her beautiful voice, "is what frees the little angel in each actor to express freely." But Millie would only feel all the more lost and bewildered and answer: "But I'm not an actress."

"Every girl is an actress," Director Stevens would tell her. "She's just got to loosen up and perform."

So she'd try. But after long, hard hours of rehearsal, she'd cry exasperated, "I can't even get across the room without bumping into a chair. I'm just a CATASTROPHE."

"You're not fat enough to be a catastrophe," Stevens would answer genially.

But still the feeling persisted. She felt like a scared little girl when she started the scene with Dick Beymer - the one in which she was to ask him if he'd ever been kissed. But she was surprised. The scene wasn't so hard. She could understand the part . . after all she was a teenager herself and she'd dreamed about romance just as every girl did. She relaxed a little more, too, when she found Dick Beymer was almost as scared as she was.

The day George Stevens took the crew in to watch the rushes, she'd been in agony, wishing that she could do each scene over again! She'd sat unhappily through the discussion of the scenes. Then she'd walked away from the projection room fast, eager to get home and get away from it all.

"Hi, Garbo," George Jr. called out, slowing down his car and opening the door. "Come on, I'll take you home."

She slid into the front seat, fighting back tears.

"You're coming along, you know," he said sincerely. "Really beginning to unfold."

She looked at him gratefully. He'd been such a good friend to her. He makes me forget all my problems, she thought.

April: I'm so lonesome and homesick, Millie thought achingly. It was a Wednesday evening in early April, and she'd curled up in a big chair with "The Sea Around Us." Her hair was in curlers and she still had cream on her face and her dinner was cooking in the kitchen. But she couldn't put Anne Frank out of her mind.

It's the old problem again, she said to herself. She knew that she wasn't a good actress yet. Director Stevens had been patient. He was saving the big scenes, she knew that, waiting for her to grow to them. But would she be able to? There was one scene she'd dreaded most of all - one with Ed Wynn - where, because of her hate and resentment toward him, she had to fight and cry. Hardest of all, it was to cry. She had tried it so often, but the tears wouldn't come. Should she try it again?

She got up and got the script from her bedroom. A letter from her father fell out from between the pages. Slowly, she picked it up and sat down again, re-reading the words for the dozenth time.

"Millie, if you can't eat a great deal, at least sleep," Papa'd written worriedly. These were the first letters she'd ever received just for herself from Papa. Always before, he'd written to Mama, with a line or so to each child. But now he was writing to her as if she were all grown-up.

He'd tell her how the stevedores were so interested in her career, bringing him the news items they'd find in the papers, and that he'd seen her picture in a magazine in the Honduras. And always news of the family that she was so hungry for. News about Janet and the four children in Georgia and about Christine's marriage and about how delighted Anne Marie was about expecting a baby. He'd write that Cathy wondered how it felt to be a movie star. And he'd tell her that Jimmie was going around pretending that he wasn't a bit impressed that his sister Millie was acting in a movie - even though he was secretly so proud of her.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts.

"Who in the world knows where I live?" she said half-aloud. Then seeing her face in the mirror, she realized she still had the curlers in her hair and the cream on her face. She couldn't answer the door looking like this. But the bell rang again. She had no time to fix up.

"Millie, we want your autograph," they chorused - a dozen teenagers, bubbling with good spirits.

"How about a picture, Millie?" one ponytailed, blonde girl asked her, holding up a camera.

"Looking like this?" she gasped, pointing to the curlers. They laughed, too, at this. She wrote her name in each book, and with choruses of goodbyes, they left her.

Closing the door, she leaned against it. They'd asked her for her autograph. They thought she was somebody. They believed in her. She couldn't let them down now.

Settling down in the chair again, with the script-book in front of her, she thought, They'll never know how much they've helped me. Then, through eyes misted with tears, she started to read again, the beginning words of the scene.

And the next day, she played the scene almost easily. George Stevens told her she was fine, so did Joseph Schildkraut, and Nina Foch said, "Why don't you come home to my apartment for dinner? I feel like spending the evening with a few people I especially like."

Millie started to shake her head. The only times she REALLY wanted to go out, was when nobody asked her, and she was all by herself at home. But then she caught a look of disappointment in Nina's face, and she said, "I'd love to."

It was a very small, spur-of-the-moment supper party, but still Millie felt a little awkward, a little shy. She ate, and a moment later she couldn't have told herself what she'd eaten. Then, after dinner, a boy she'd noticed across the room, came over to her and smiled. "Hello," he said, "I'm Dean Stockwell."

"I'm Millie Perkins."

"I know." His voice was very soft, very low.

Why, I think he's shy, she thought, looking at him and wondering why. Because, certainly, he was very handsome. She had recognized him – he was a "little person," as she called someone without pretensions, someone simple and open and direct - and almost as quiet as she herself was. I LIKE him, she decided, I really do.

But then the party was over and the night was over and she was back at work on the set, working as hard as she knew how to get Anne just right - to BE Anne. She almost forgot about the quiet, dark boy she'd met the night before.

But he hadn't forgotten her. She was washing her hair under the faucet, when she thought she heard the phone ring. Why does the phone ALWAYS ring at times like this? she wondered, as she lifted her head to listen. It was the phone, all right.

Wrapping a towel around her hair - with the shampoo still in it – she walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she said.

"Hello! Isn't it a lovely day? I thought you mightn't be home at first, when you didn't answer right off. This is Dean Stockwell."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say, and so neither one of them said anything for some moments.

Then: "Would you like to go for a drive?"

"A drive? Why - why, I think I'd like that," she said. "But you'd better not come for an hour or so. I can't be ready till then." And she added quickly, "I've just washed my hair, you see," so that he wouldn't think she was one of those girls who primped and everything.

And so they drove off into the Hollywood hills, looking for signs of spring. It was a lovely afternoon. It was the first time Millie had really been happy in Hollywood, and after she was home alone again, she wondered why she'd been so happy.

Maybe it's because he's so quiet, so nice. Or maybe it's because music seems to be one of the biggest things in his life; music and books and nature. Then looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled. Maybe it's because he's like me, she admitted, and she smiled even more.

[haydennation]

Return Engagement

After taking a break from making movies Hayden Christensen is back. He’s a partner in a new production company, just finished shooting his first movie in three years, and in November sees the launch of a menswear collection for RW&CO. By David Livingstone (Fall 2013) It’s a trick performed by the Ontario countryside: It makes people disappear. You can go for miles driving by houses without catching sight of anybody in them.  On an afternoon in late July, riding through Uxbridge Township, which is just an hour or so outside Toronto, even the houses vanish as you travel over a narrow, hilly highway walled on either side by jubilant trees that have obviously benefitted from a rainy summer. But human society comes back with a big bang when, turning onto a dirt road, you approach a big barn and encounter a hive of big-town types. A photographer, someone from his agency, the stylists, the publicists, the marketers, all busy making arrangements for the next day, when they will shoot the campaign for a collection of menswear produced by RW&CO., in collaboration with Hayden Christensen.   It would be easy to think that Christensen, famous for the two Star Wars prequels in which he plays the character who becomes Darth Vader, has really gone over to the dark side now that he’s become involved in fashion. But he navigates his way around two crews--the second being a smaller but equally urbane bunch from Men’s Fashion who have come to take his picture for our cover—without fuss or affectation. The barn belongs to Christensen. He built it on property that he bought almost seven years ago and he thinks of it as “a way for me to try and do something sustainable, sort of a back to basics and good for my soul.” And apparently he has one, which is evident in his eyes and those of his dog, who never leaves his side.

By itself, the idea of celebrity fashion may be more specious than soulful, but Christensen brings plausibility to the enterprise. When I first met him in April at the Montreal headquarters of RW&CO (a division of Reitmans), he was going over samples of the 20 piece collection due to arrive in stores across Canada on November 7. He never pretended to be a designer, but he did lay claim to a point of view. Referencing the double breasted overcoat, at 249, it represents the top end of the line, which starts at 20$ for a peaked wool cap—he speaks of it as ”a favourite cut.” And that’s not promotional jive: Christensen has been in such coats both onscreen and off. In a 2009 movie called New York, I Love You, he wears one on the streets of Manhattan, walking next to co-star Rachel Bilson. He wore another one in May on the streets of Cannes with Bilson, his girlfriend, at his side. Not only consistent, Christensen is also specific in his taste. In the RW&CO showroom, he and Joe Fezzuoglio, the merchandise manager for menswear, discuss the placement of pockets and buttons. Attention is paid to the way the hood sits on the hoodie and the precise degree of twist in the seams of trousers in stretch cotton. “I’ve always had a real interest in design,” says Christensen, explaining why he chose to work with RW&CO. “I have a passion for it. I’ve spent a lot of time designing pieces of furniture and plans for houses.” The claim too is supported by facts. Inside the barn in Uxbridge, Christensen maintains a large workshop equipped with all the tools for working with wood. It’s being used as a facility for the restoration of Christensen’s second farm, which is located about 10 minutes away and includes a 19th century house and a barn for animals, among them sheep that, since Christensen acquired them, have inspired him to stop eating lamb, in the same way that his pet pot-bellied pigs have persuaded him to give up pork. Even when that workshop becomes a wardrobe department, Christensen appears quietly content. From his collection hanging on a rack, he makes choices easily, and dresses without need for tips from fashion professionals. Comfortable in the clothes, Christensen has been less content with the fit if his career. Talking about its highlights, he describes the Star Wars movies as life changing and cites Life as a House-which won him nominations for Golden Globe and Screen Actors Guild Awards—as the film that informed him of the medium’s potential. Christensen was 19 when he made it. Today at 32, the Vancouver born actor still believes that “filmmaking is really an endeavor that has incredible possibilities,” but he adds that there are also “lots of misses.” Feeling disenchanted, he stepped away from the business for a few years. But having not released a movie since 2010, Christensen says, “Now I’ve got the itch again. I want to have real control over my future. Sometimes as an actor, you can feel a little like a prop. I’m trying to get involved with projects where I can contribute more than just my acting services.” And so it was at the Cannes Film Festival in May, Christensen was way more than a wayfarer in a great double breasted coat with a beautiful companion. (Assuming they’re talking about Rachel here?) .He, his older brother Tove and their Russian partners announced the launch of Glacier films, a film production and finance company with offices in Los Angeles, Toronto, and Moscow. Earlier on the day of the cover shoot, Christensen had flown in from New Orleans, where he had been filming American Heist. A Glacier production directed by Sarik Andreasyan, a Glacier partner, it’s a remake of The Great St. Louis Bank Robbery, a 1959 film noir starring Steve Mcqueen. Mcqueen, Marlon Brando, James Dean—Christensen has been compared to them all, but it’s not easy to name an actor, past or present, that he is exactly like. “It’s hard to place him,” says film critic Jason Anderson, who points to Shattered Glass, a 2003 movie based on the story of Stephen Glass—a disgraced journalist who presented fiction as truth—as perhaps best representing the “nervous energy and intensity” of which Christensen is capable. In contrast, his foray into fashion provides an opportunity to witness at his most cordial and compliant. He praises the RW&CO team for being “unusually nice people.” About working with them, he says, “It’s been a real pleasure for me, because for some reason, these guys really trust me.” Watching Christensen in action on set, it’s understandable why they would: He’s as nice as they are. What’s more difficult to figure out is how he manages to be the centre of attention and yet seems almost as invisible as those people unseen in their houses on country roads.

[f-sews-whatever]

(my makeshift tailor's ham)

I needed it for french-seaming two ginormous pockets.

I honestly don't know what I'm doing here lol. I have only ever made and installed victorian pockets, not the modern flat ones, so this might go horribly wrong. Again, this is not on the 1959 pattern, I am improvising it all on my own.

Why do I always do this to myself...

Also, I cut out the pockets out of the fashion fabric. This is the height of luxury lmao. Who am I? Marie-Antoinette???

[f-sews-whatever]

project update, or, the magic of pressing

The neck facing is stitched onto the bodice around the neckline, turned, pressed, and finished via slip-stitches, the seam allowance clipped and stitch down to the facing. All the curves and corners around this area are pretty finicky, so most of the steps are done by hand.

As I turned the bodice the right side out, it's apparent that the finishing stitches around the facing, caught onto the outer fabric at some places, are somewhat visible (see p.2). Just as I was contemplating if that bothered me, it occurred to me that some ironing may help. And, wouldn't you know it, the ripples were completely gone after some pressing (see p.3)!

The sides of the bodice are stitched together, the left side left open under the bust plead for the eventual adding of a zipper.

Then came the part that took me the whole afternoon: attaching the sleeves. The outer and lining layers of the sleeves are only attached around the cuffs, so I was able to flip out the lining layer and only secure the outer layer to the bodice. This, of course, involved pinning, easing, basting and ultimately, machine stitching. Somewhere along my much frankenstein-ing of the pattern, something must've happened, because there were way too much sleeve on the top part, resulting in some slight gathering which I'm pretty sure wasn't in the original design. Well, more shoulder room can't hurt.

More pressing ensued (the seam allowance is pressed towards the sleeves). The sleeve linings were then flipped inside, before the seam allowances at the sleeve heads were press down, of course, so the edge can be hand finish, covering the raw edges at the armscye.

It's worth noting here that, according to the pattern instructions, one should combine the bodice and skirt first before adding the sleeves. I haven't cut out the skirt pieces yet, so I just finished my job on hand. My guess is that the changes will make installing the zipper more difficult. I can't worry about that yet. I haven't even bought the zipper in question!

Also, the elephant in the room: how would I finish the side seams. The answer is: probably with a herringbone stitch, or not at all. The wool is a bit scratchy, but I'd wear a slip underneath anyway. There shouldn't be a problem.

Next up: the skirt!

(apologies for the photo quality, again. I'm always compelled to take progress photos at night for some reason)

[f-sews-whatever]

project update 22. sep. 2022

I secured the interfacing onto the facing pieces with sneaky running stitches (you know, the kind that shows more on one side than the other side. Is it called prick stitch? Anyways). The three pieces are then basted together in preparation for machine stitching.

The interfacings may look a bit weird. That's because I improvised them... They weren't on the pattern, but I thought the neckline would need more structure. I don't know how these will look in the end. We'll see.

Before bringing out the sewing machine, I basted the sleeves layers (fashion fabric and lining) together at the cuff. They will now be treated as one piece. The sleeve cuff facings are pasted into two loops as well.

I'll need to finish the bodice this weekend if I want to complete the dress by the end of the month, as I previously planned. Oh boy, the time's tight.

[f-sews-whatever]

update on my 1959 dress:

I've pinned the two bodice layers together to get ready for basting & treating them as one piece from now on.

Every dart and seam is sewn except for the two side seams. I don't think I'll finish the side seams of the two layers separately. It'll make size alterations in the future easier. I've folded in the seam allowance of the lining at the center front split. It will be sandwiched between the outer layer and the neck facing.

Sorry for the poor photo quality (they look like they were taken in the early 2000s lol). The bodice looks a bit weird on the hanger, but strangely, it fits me. My only concern is that, I may have shorten the waist too much when I altered the pattern two years ago. I was VERY inexperienced back then.

Alas, I've decided to put some faith in past-me, and it's too late to change my mind anyway. Wish me luck!

[f-sews-whatever]

Hey, long time no see. I swear I've been sewing. I just haven't put all the projects in the past year on this blog.

I made a 1943 playsuit set (a shirt-romper and a skirt with buttons on the front) in chartreuse for spring & summer, a man's button up shirt with the same cotton fabric for my dad, a rayon crêpe summer dress (ended up not too fond of it) & a white rayon slip. I've also moved city, thus leaving the unfinished yellow banyan project behind. Sorry, it won't be done this winter. We'll see if the new ofmd season will reignite my passion.

I'm currently on a 1959 woolen dress project. I've got the original physical vintage pattern for a couple years now, but I never made it exactly in the intended style, so I'm excited to really follow the patterns for the first time. I'm making it with a dark gray suiting wool in my stash. I got it on a good deal, because it was the last 3.3 meters of the roll. It's 100% wool and supposedly imported from Japan.

(a pic of the pattern I'm working with. I'm making it with three-quarter-sleeves & a flare skirt for this autumn.)

I've decided to be patient and do all the "good practices" with this project: tailor's tacks, basting, under stitching... all that jazz. Man, how I'm already regretting it!

(All the tailor's tacks I took out tonight. I think they're quite pretty in a tin.)

I'm also improvising a lining for the bodice portion. It's not in the pattern instruction, but I can't see how the dress could get away with seldom washing without a lining.

Wish me luck!