This one, with the lace on the collar and sleeves. |
In Felicity-ballgown-blue polyester silk and trimmed with black lace with beads. |
I got together with Mom to continue working on the gown. I put on the corset, stunned to find it still fit after a solid year, and put on the skirt and bodice, which had seemed a mess of issues last year. The skirt was still messily too long and needs to be hemmed, which will be a bit complicated as Mom is turning out to be a big perfectionist about this. We decided to try for a little bit of trim along the bottom edge as well. Then we turned our attention to the bodice. It still didn't seem to be fitting right. I stood still as Mom examined it. Suddenly her face cleared a bit, she reached out to the edges of it, gave it a firm yank down around my waist, and everything magically fell into place, right where the sleeves and collar and waist were supposed to lie. Jeez.
So we aren't as far behind as expected. Good. Great.
My next step became clear. I needed to start working on the closures for the bodice. To be accurate, the historical closings are corset-like lacings through hand-stitched eyelets. We would have just cut corners and done modern grommet placements, but our local store did not have black grommets. So I get to do this by hand, like they did in the 1850's. Great. Fifteen eyelets on each side, 3/4 inch apart, 3/16 inch around. Thirty total.
Thank God I have two more weeks, these are going to take gorram forever.
My first two. |
My workstation (the keyboard of my laptop) is kind of a mess right now, anyway. |
My scaling tools. |
Either way, these two are actually still smaller than they're supposed to be. I don't know how I keep shrinking them! Ah well. I'll just use the yarn needle to help pull the lacing ribbon through when I go to put the sucker on.
But remember how I said these eyelets are small?
That's the whole edge of the bodice on my lap. |
Can you see where I was working? Two down...twenty-eight to go. Whoo boy.
(I should be grateful though, in the end. Chelsea over at "A Sartorial Statement" came in at sixty-six eyelets for her 18th century maternity stays. Yikes!)