The kimono sleeve came into fashion for ‘Western’ women’s clothing towards the tail end of the 1940’s when the exaggerated shoulders which had previously been fashionable began to evolve into a more natural silhouette. As women’s fashion entered into the 1950’s, the fashionable silhouette for shoulders continued to move away from the large padded ‘Power’ look of the 1930’s/40’s towards the extreme opposite. A trend for petite and slopping shoulders emerged, alongside the nipped in waists, waspy hips and doll-like everything else, as a reflection of the demure and ultra-feminine stereotype to which society largely expected women to adhere. The kimono sleeve often fitted the bill for this look, as its construction method emphasises a continuous line between the neck and arm, subduing rather than highlighting the shoulder.

Also known as the grown-on sleeve in some pattern cutting books, basically it is formed by creating the body of a garment and the sleeve from the same continuous piece of fabric rather than separate bodice and sleeve pieces with a seam line running along the top of the sleeve as well as underneath to join the back and front. A close fitting kimono or grown-on sleeve variation may also include a gusset panel under the arm. This is a diamond shaped piece of fabric which allows for ease of movement.   

The kimono sleeve style became incredibly popular throughout the 1950’s and into the early 1960’s. Garments and sewing patterns featured a variety of lengths of kimono or grown-on sleeves, from the tiniest cap sleeve variation, to ¾ lengths and longer, with and without the underarm gusset; and as you can see by these images certainly looked a million miles from what many would imagine a garment with ‘kimono sleeves’ to look like!

This type of sleeve has re-appeared in women’s fashion but has never achieved the same level of popularity since that mid-century period. Because of this, I have always associated this sleeve style with that period which is also the era of dress I am personally most drawn to. Therefore, it has become one of my favourite vintage features and an element I look for when hunting for vintage patterns on eBay. Some sewers dislike this type of sleeve as the look and feel when wearing isn’t often as ‘tidy’ as a regular set-in sleeve. Personally, I love the smooth and elegant effect these sleeves achieve across the top of the bodice or blouse, particularly when combined with a high straight neck and dipped back.

As I say, I’m a fan. I recently deployed a vintage pattern that featured grown-on sleeves to create my Rockabilly tribute dress (pictured below). Gertie made a stunning job of a kimono sleeved blouse pattern by matching the gingham fabric perfectly along the sleeve seam. What are your thoughts on this type of sleeve or silhouette? Any successes or failures to report? Any fit issues that arose? We’d (well, I’d) love to hear!

I just came across this pretty paisley dress at croatiavintage and was really taken by the little fans along the front placket. Wouldn’t this be a darling application for a button placket on a silk dress? I think it would look amazing in a knock-out solid color.

They look extremely easy: just strips of fabric that are gathered at one side to create a fan shape.

Flicking through a 1970 edition of Golden Hands magazine recently, I discovered this image of an awesome appliqué panelled dress. The caption reads:

‘This enchanting evening dress with its pretty floating sleeves and attractive appliquéd bodice panel was designed by Adele Cooper, a fashion student at Hornsey College of Art. The dress is made in cream rayon crepe with satin and crepe appliqué in dark green, pale green, pink, blue and cream, machine sewn with a zigzag stitch. The appliqué panel shows two little birds perched at the edge of a lake surrounded by trees, with soft pink clouds above. The appliqué pattern is embroidered by hand with satin stitch and French knots.’

Well, I hope Ms Cooper received a good mark for her fantastic creation. Interesting also, how the author of the cation described the colours even though it is a full-colour image, I guess that was a hangover from an era where not every page of a publication would be printed in colour.  

When I saw the picture above, I was instantly reminded of a book from the early ’80′s on pictoral appliqué similar to this one which I found in my college library when I was about 17 that became the inspiration for a series of floral appliqués projects for my textiles course. It was time consuming and tricky, especially because I had decided to use satin for the small applied shapes, but the effect was impressive. So, aside from smaller and much simpler shaped applied to bags and skirts, why haven’t I tried anything similar since? One person who does do so, is the seriously talented and evidently very patient Michelle from Naughty Little Epoch, who creates some stunning appliquéd panels. I think these picture appliqués blur the distinction between sewing and art. The materials and techniques are common to garment creation, but the questions of composition, colour and texture seem more akin to the processes of painting.  

What are your thoughts on picture appliqué? Have you ever tried it? Do you have any ideas how, aside from a bodice panel or basic A-line skirt, they could form part of a garment?

I am so in love with this linen dress from Dear Golden Vintage. Since it’s not my size, I did what I always do to make myself feel better when a lovely vintage piece is too small or large or expensive or holey: I think about how I’d satisfy my lust for it with sewing. Do you do this too? I think it’s just a way to console myself, but it seems to work.

I’ve been wanting to try some cording techniques like this for a while now, I just love the way it looks. I think the Sencha pattern is going to be my base for a few such yoked looks come summer. But the peplum (and bow, and perfect color) really make this dress special.

If you can’t have the dress, at least take the inspiration, right?

According to an article in an edition of Golden Hands magazine from 1971, ‘Fine Tucks Make Fine Fashion’, and who am I to disagree?! Especially when confronted with evidence as convincing as these fantastic illustrations. The article suggests that tucking ‘gives a well thought out, expensive looking finish to any garment, and lends itsef particularly well to simple, easy to make patterns, transforming the design into something special’. The article goes on to offer advice on how to prepare and include tucking details when constructing a dress pattern at home.

The illustrations are actually interpretations of Vogue and Butterick patterns available in 1971, into which Golden Hands have shown how tucked panels can be applied. Personally, I love how tucks can bring added interest to a plain fabric garment, but also how fun it can be to add tucks to a bold print fabric resulting in an abstraction of the print design.  

Tucks are made with the grain line, and tucking on the bias grain is almost impossible (which I can attest to, by finding out the hard way!). It is also important to choose a fabric that is easy to press and will form a sharp crease line. The width of the tucks you make is related to the fabric which is being tucked. Any width of tucks may be used for fine fabrics but it is advised to be careful with heavier fabrics, they may only be suitable for wider tucks. Fine tucking should only be applied to short runs such as on bodices, yokes, sleeves or insets. For longer lengths, such as on the length of dress fronts and backs, use wider tucking.

When deciding on the width of your tucks, it is a good idea to test on a scrap of your fabric by making several rows of tucking in different widths. Press the tucking and then decide which is most suitable. Tucks must not interfere with the fitting of a garment, so mark out the darts and end the rows of tucking before you get to any darts.  

While considering the area and depth of the tucking you must also decide on the distance between the tucks. Once again, it is a good idea to test different widths on a scrap of fabric. Tucks can be evenly spaced, grouped in two or threes or more, or created ‘flush’ with no visible once pressed. For evenly spaced tucks, start making them the same distance apart as they are deep. Press them and if they appear too wide apart try creating them closer together. However, be warned that of they are too close together they will not lie flat after pressing and will tend to lift a little. Happy tucking! 

The origin of buttons is difficult to establish, but the word itself probably stems from either the French bouton for bud or bouter to push. The French were passionate about the potential of the button and by 1250 had established the Button Makers Guild. The Guild produced beautiful buttons with great artistry, much to the delight of the aristocracy. The peasants, however, weren’t allowed to join this button fest, even if they could afford it. The aristocracy passed laws to limit buttons permitted for common usage to thread- or cloth-covered buttons.  

Jump seven centuries to the twentieth century, and fabric covered buttons hit great heights in popularity, particularly self-covered buttons. In the garment industry, the term ‘self-covered buttons’ refers to buttons that have been covered in the same fabric as the main body of the garment, whereas in haberdashery terms, it generally alludes to the kits you can purchase in order to make fabric covered buttons at home yourself. I believe self-covered buttons reached their zenith of popularity in the 1960’s, particularly on women’s outerwear (jackets and coats) and dresses.  However, over the last four or five years (in the UK high street at least) self-covered buttons have regained popularity and presence. I find it interesting that what once begun as a lowly fastening for peasants, became used to create a polished, sleek and subtly elegant finish to a garment. In fact, from my experience working in clothing companies, including fabric covered buttons to a garment design adds a fair amount to the total costing of its manufacture, as standard plastic buttons are way cheaper.  

When home sewing is concerned, I don’t know about you, but I find adding a detail that aids the polished finish of one of my creations is no bad thing! There are two choices out there if you are interested but haven’t as-yet indulged. You can either find a company that will produce covered buttons in your own fabric for you, or you can buy a kit and DIY. If you are choosing the latter DIY approach, you should find kits to create basic domed fabric covered buttons in a variety of sizes easy enough in your local haberdashers, on eBay or other online suppliers. They consist of a dome shape and a backing that has the shank, and can come in metal or plastic. Personally, I have had mixed results using these kits, but I would heartily recommend using Gertie’s how-to tips for a successful outcome. Her stunning Sencha blouse, pictured above, looks so neat and well crafted with its row of DIY self-covered buttons.

If you chose to go the professional route, you will need to either find a company that you can physically visit (like the amazing DM Buttons and Buttonholes in Soho, if you live in or near London, for example) or a company that you can post your fabric to and will send back the finished items (like Gertie did for the self-covered buttons for her winter coat project). From my experience of dealing with DM Buttons, you get more choice in terms of size and style (DM Buttons offer Dome, High Ball, sew-through or Marigold styles) and slicker results. This is not to say that I have not been pleased with the outcome of the DIY kits, on my yellow jacket pictured above, for example.

Of course, there’s no rule to say that you must stick to self-fabric when covering (or getting covered) buttons, in precisely the same way that there is no need for your buttons need stick to the garment base colour at all if you decide otherwise. You could pick out a solid colour for the buttons for a garment made in a busy print, or vice versa. And lots of fun can be had if using a novelty printed fabric (see my attempt above).  If you fancy the look of contrast buttons, but don’t have either the fabric or inclination, there are many fantastic handmade options available from etsy, like the super-sweet bird set pictured below available here.

When I was little, Sunday afternoons always seemed to feature a film in black and white about the Second World War playing in the background because my dad was pretty partial to watching (read: falling asleep in front of) them. To me, most of these films were more or less just background noise, except for the odd few films that featured brave and glamorous French characters who portrayed members of the French Resistance which piqued my interest.

For those who may presently be in the dark about the subject, the French Resistance is the collective name used for the small groups of French men and women who fought against the Nazi German occupation of France and the collaborating Vichy Regime during the Second World War.

The French Resistance participated in a variety of activities that included running a clandestine press, providing intelligence to the Allied forces, and even sabotage and guerrilla warfare tactics. The risks that they ran from their actions being found out were immense. Although sources suggest that the Resistance movements were generally anti-feminist with many male members discouraging active female involvement, many women did participate in both supportive and active roles. One such woman was Lucie Aubrac who, alongside her husband, fought in the resistance in Lyon and helped run the underground newspaper, Libération. Aubrac, pictured below, became the subject of an eponymous biopic in 1997.

Ultimately, the films I was exposed to were the product of a post-war society in the UK which relied upon and glamorised an image of French covert heroism. However, there is no doubt that these people and their undertakings occurred, and somewhere between the seductive screen version and gritty reality I find a great source inspiration. So, how to translate this inspiration into a physical and wearable manifestation for today?

In terms of colour palette, I feel navy blue, black, beige, cream and red (but not a bright cherry hue, something more subtle with more depth) would translate the look best. Arguably stereotypical, a form of trench coat would be a must, but perhaps the Lady Grey coat in beige twill would form an interesting alternative, creating a juxtaposition between glamour and functionality. Other understated, tidy, wearable but sleek pieces could be created from the Rooibos dress or the Sencha blouse tucked into high waisted wide-legged trousers or a 40’s style A-line skirt. Accessories could include a beret or other neat vintage hat, a tidy leather handbag and neck scarves which are a must. Sally Jane, who I think is a master of French Resistance chic, shows us in the image above how effective the addition of these accessories can be. Or what about a fake newspaper clutch bag like the one below? Perfect for transporting secret information whilst avoiding detection! Is there anything you would add if trying to create a French Resistance infused look?

Somewhere along the line, I became a button collector. Or maybe “hoarder” is a more appropriate term. I am partial to glass, and I particularly like to scoop up the types that go with almost anything I make: clear glass, glass pearls, black glass, or rhinestones. But I also love early plastics like Bakelite.

But I have a lot of lonely buttons that don’t belong to a set and I never know what to do with them! Well, here are some suggestions courtesy of the always-delightful Millie Motts.

This seems to be an ad for La Mode buttons. Some of these ideas are cute, and some are… wacky. Like covering a bolero in gold buttons? Not for me, but I’m sure someone can pull off that level of bling.

What do you do with extra buttons? Any ideas?

I’m a wee bit obsessed with the scallop detail with this Du Barry dress on ebay. Even though it looks to have been shortened considerably, I’d still buy it in an instant if I could fit into its 24 inch waist (ha!).

But I can still be inspired by it. Check out the rows and rows of scallops on this beauty! I’d love to see what the inside of this dress looks like.

Normally, I can break down those wonderful vintage details into something fairly simple, but I do believe taking on something like this would be firmly in the advanced category, if only for the amount of time it would take.

Ooh la la. This navy dress from salvagelife is really lovely.

I really love how the taffeta contrasts with the crepe of the dress, the way the leaves fan out from the waistline, and how all the appliques are fairly flat so they don’t add bulk at the waist. Anyone have any ideas on how you would create those leaves? I like the look of them!