I never learn: vintage Vogue 2853 shirt

80s Vogue patterns are made for people with matchstick wrists. I know this. And yet I always forget to adjust the wrists when making old patterns. This time I’d got as far as sewing all the buttons on my shirt before trying it on…and promptly had to cut off the sleeve ones and sew them on again at the very edge of the cuff in order to be able to move my arms. Luckily I was able to get enough extra wrist circumference to make it wearable, because this was a project and a half. So here it is.

The pattern is the shirt from vintage Vogue 2853 by Claude Montana, from 1982. It looked fairly simple on the illustration but the the pattern description says “Loose-fitting, pullover top has standing shaped collar, wide shaped button band, side hemline splits and full length, two piece raglan sleeves pleated into buttoned cuffs. Narrow hem, top-stitching and edge-stitching” which should have warned me that this pattern is a lot. They haven’t even mentioned the inset corners in the raglan seams. It took me over a month to sew.

Vintage Vogue 2853 from 1982 pattern envelope

There is some interesting construction on this one and some of it makes sense and some of it not so much. The bands, collar, and cuffs were attached backwards from the way I’m used to, but this is one of the things that turns out to make sense. With pieces whose function is to finish edges, such as collars, bands or cuffs, I’m used to sewing what’s going to be the outside layer of the band to the right side of the garment, then catching the edge of the inside layer of the band down by either top stitching or stitching in the ditch on the outside. This pattern reverses that so that the inside layer is sewn to the wrong side of the shirt first and the outside layer is top stitched down. And in fact this turned out to be a very good thing when sewing the front bands. There are square inset corners under that fancy curved and pointed end, and they frayed appallingly when I clipped them. Sewing down the outside edge last let me fudge things enough to cover up the mess. The corners aren’t beautiful on the inside but I don’t think they’re going to disintegrate now.

The inside of the bands, never to be seen in public again

Despite the extra help from the construction method I think the moral is that if your fabric allows it, add interfacing to the shirt body around that opening on this one. Or choose a tightly woven fabric to start with. Alas my fabric, a translucent and wriggly ivory cupro, failed on both counts.

The curved and pointy end of the front band is not stitched down to the shirt body, which surprised me. I don’t know for sure why you’d want a tab flapping about loose there, but flap it does. The main purpose I have found for it is that a sharp yank on the tab helps the whole garment sit properly when putting it on, but I doubt that’s the real function. It was a pain to sew. The pattern instructions leave top stitching round the tab edge to the very end of the band sewing process, so you’re left trying to stitch along the edge of the tab right up to that very weak inset corner, while folding the shirt front out of the way in order to avoid catching the shirt body, No wonder my tab has little dimples at the junction with the shirt body, I’m amazed it’s come out as well as it has. I’m sure it makes more sense to top stitch the closed edges of the front band before attaching it to the shirt, but as I doubt I will be making this again I won’t be experimenting with the method.

The pattern envelope shows it worn buttoned up, but I find it more comfortable worn open and I also think it looks better like that. Luckily the messy bits don’t show.

The rest of it was fairly straightforward but complicated by the unstable fabric. Here’s the back view, not that there’s much to see on this one.

I wish I’d made the sleeves longer. I normally lengthen sleeves but the last Montana shirt I made ended up with comically long sleeves, so I carefully measured these in advance and decided they’d be long enough as is…which they are not. I think I lengthened the body 5cm, which is normal for me. There is plenty of length to tuck in, which is good because the hem isn’t great; the wriggly cupro shifted while I was sewing it (yes I should have basted) so it’s a bit ripply.

I’m wearing it here with the trousers from vintage Vogue 1492, which are remarkably similar in style to the trouser pattern that comes with the shirt pattern: the pleats, the welt pockets, the turnups, and the overall shape.

Funnily enough despite all the fitting issues I enjoy wearing this shirt, but I think the fabric is doing a lot of the work; it’s very soft with a lovely drape and a slight lustre. It’s an ivory cupro twill from Croft Mill, which appears to be sold out now. Uncharacteristically I bought 4m so I have enough of it left for another shirt. I was originally thinking I’d also make the shirt from the Vogue 1476 Issey Miyake pattern but now I’m not so sure.

Thanks to my husband for taking the photos.

Victory over the Sun: Burda 102-02-2026

I love this outfit, and I’m frustrated that I can’t trace the inspiration for it back to the source. A while ago Susan wrote a review of the catalogue of an exhibition dedicated to the Canadian fashion company Parachute. I loved the look of the clothes and I got the book for Christmas this year. After reading the whole thing I immediately started hankering after a boxy bat winged top. To my surprise I didn’t seem to have a suitable pattern despite having subscribed to Burda for years. I initially considered trying to knit one and spent a while trawling Ravelry for suitable patterns. But given that my knitting output to date in 2026 is a single uncomplicated sock, it’s probably as well that February’s Burda contained a pattern for exactly the shape I was thinking of. The picture is of style 102-02-2026 ; there is also style 101 from the same issue which is the same shape but without the cuffs and bands and longer sleeves and body to compensate.

Burda 102-02-2026 model photo, burdastyle.uk

Next I needed fabric. I had my heart set on green and Croft Mill have a merino wool fleece in a very nice forest green, but it’s fairly narrow at 143cm and priced at a level that is a definite splurge by my fabric shopping standards. It is also quite thick and I wondered if it would had the right drape. But the colour is perfect and Burda’s fabric requirements said this pattern would fit on 140cm wide fabric so I went ahead. I did not look at the cutting layout while planning, which was my first mistake.

Having got the fabric I started tracing, and this was when I realised that Burda’s layout places the front and back pieces on the crossgrain of the fabric, ie with the direction of greatest stretch running vertically not horizontally. This seemed wrong. I measured the pattern and discovered that I could just fit the pieces for style 102 in my size, with its shorter sleeves, on the straight grain of my fabric.

I traced a mixture of the two patterns, taking the body length from 101 and the rest from 102. This meant I didn’t need to add my usual bodice length adjustment length as putting the 102 waistband onto the 101 body is equivalent. I also made a neck facing because I didn’t think turning and hemming the neckline as in the pattern instructions was going to look good in such thick fabric.

I’d normally lengthen the sleeves on a top but that wasn’t possible because of the limited fabric width; I figured I’d just make the cuffs a bit longer instead. And if you’re thinking ‘hang on, there are no cuffs on the green top in her photos’ you’d be right, read on.

I started sewing it up. I had the perfect colour thread in stash and a size 100 ballpoint needle that was only lightly used, so the sewing gods seemed to be smiling on me. It doesn’t get much simpler than this pattern: sew the fronts to the backs along the top of the sleeves and down the sides, finish the neckline, attach bands and cuffs.

I made a terrible mess of attaching the waistband because I wasn’t paying attention and started attaching it like a shirt cuff with all raw edges enclosed, instead of folding it in two and seaming both layers to the body. I had to attach the inside edge by stitching in the ditch, which then stretched the seam out. It looks passable from the outside but I know it could be better. The inside is another story. And the cuffs didn’t happen at all. You’re supposed to gather the ends of the sleeves into the cuffs, but the fabric was far too thick for that ever to work. In the end I gave up and made a lazy hem on the end of the sleeve by turning the seam allowances under and stitching it down. Luckily the fabric doesn’t fray. The cuff pieces went in the bin.

I’m a bit annoyed at myself because I could have done a much better job on this if I’d gone more slowly, but I was so keen to wear it that I rushed. And in the end it hasn’t mattered much because I really like the garment and it’s super warm. Sadly I suspect it’s not going to wear well in the long term because the fleece is pilling already. And there has also been some dye transfer on anything white I wear under it. So while I love the shape and the colour I think this is more of a wearable toile than a long term wardrobe resident.

Why the post title? Something about the blocky shape of it irresistibly reminds me of Victory Over the Sun.

Thanks to my husband for the photos as always.

Vintage Vogue 1492 trousers and shirt

I’ve posted this shirt and trousers individually before; they are both from vintage Vogue 1492 by Claude Montana. But now I have pictures of them worn together for the full vintage effect. I have spared you frosted lipstick and brightly coloured eyeshadow though.

Here’s the pattern envelope. No photo of the trousers, just a sketch. I had my doubts about the accuracy of the representation because having made the shirt I know for a fact the collar does not sit nicely like that when worn open. But the finished trousers are actually pretty close to the picture.

One difference in my version is the addition of a self-fabric belt. The trousers are meant to be worn with a belt but I don’t have a leather one that works with them. But they sit a lot better with something to hold them up so a belt is not optional; perhaps I would be better off with a smaller size. But it’s hard to tell. I measured this pattern before cutting and thought it was about right for me as drafted; then throughout the making process I was certain it was coming up far too small; and yet the finished garment is roomy. The pleats and the split back waistband might have something to do with that. For what it’s worth patterns from this era have a lot less built in ease than modern Vogue patterns do and this one is my true size according to the measurement chart.

The back view is unusually plain but the notched waistband is just visible here. There is a lot of fabric in the back, but I think that was the intended style. And the very drapey fabric probably isn’t helping. It’s a Donegal tweed from Stone Fabrics, 100% wool but with a really soft and silky hand.

The pockets are roomy; I made them larger than the original pattern pieces in order to fit my phone. Unfortunately actually putting a phone into them tends to cause the waist area to pull out of shape – the facing creeps up and starts to show on the outside. I should probably do some strategic catch-stitching to hold it down. Or just wear tops that hide it, as I am here.

I added a bit to the leg length on the pattern, probably just my usual 5cm but it’s been so long I can’t remember. Despite that they’re definitely shorter than I’m used to. I’m quite enjoying this slightly shorter length for now.

I’ve got one more garment from Vogue 1492 left to sew: the long straight wrap skirt. I have the fabric for it but right now I need tops more urgently than anything else so that one is a while off yet.

Thanks to my husband for taking the photos.

Fiddly trousers: vintage Vogue 1492 details

These trousers looked deceptively simple. No waistband, no back pockets, a couple of pleats and some darts on the back. For anyone thinking they’re very 80s, you’re right: the pattern is from 1984. Specifically, Vogue 1492 by Claude Montana.

Vintage Vogue 1492 from 1984 pattern envelope

I think in terms of sewing content for pattern spend this might be the best value pattern I’ve ever owned; there are three very detailed garments in the packet and it was a reasonable price for a second hand designer pattern from eBay – certainly less that we pay for an in print Vogue pattern in the UK. The shirt took up most of my sewing time in January and the trousers have taken the whole of February. As I write this I have literally just finished the hems and by the time I publish it, it will be March. So I don’t have any modelled photos of these yet, but I can at least show off the details.

First up, the pockets. Unusually shaped welt pockets seem to be a feature on Montana patterns. Parallelogram-shaped pockets abound in the ones I own, but this one’s got no symmetry at all. The pattern piece for the welts looks like a fan. But at the end of the day they still go together like their more rectangular siblings. While we’re looking at the front, the belt loops are unusual. They’re super wide and stitched down about two thirds of the way down with the bottom bit left free to form a tab. Why? I have no idea but it’s another interesting detail.

The back waist has a split. The two sides are even in real life I swear, I don’t know what’s going on with the photo. The purpose of the split is slightly mysterious to me. I think this feature normally goes on men’s trousers that are to be worn with buttoned braces…but there are no attachment points for braces here and I think the clip on ones would look odd.

The fly is super secure with a trouser hook as well as buttons. I’ve recently taken to putting lightweight interfacing around the fly area on lighter weight fabrics and it really does help with getting a good finish. And it helped that the instructions were good. I have a preferred way to sew a fly, and if I don’t like the pattern method I swap my version in, but it’s nice when that version is what the pattern does anyway and I can switch my brain off and follow it.

Once I’ve worked out how to style them I’ll post some modelled photos. I haven’t found any runway photos of the originals so no help there. My next project is a jumper that’s intended to pair with these and I may want to find some different footwear than my usual chunky boots, so it might take a while.

Somewhere between chef and Lagerfeld: Vogue 1492 shirt

This may be a little too much shirt even for me. It is, of course, from the 80s: 1984 to be precise. The pattern is vintage Vogue 1492 by Claude Montana. The pattern envelope art is below. Those are some truly humongous shoulder pads on display: the notions list specifies a thickness of 1”/2.5cm.

Vintage Vogue 1492 from 1984 by Claude Montana envelope

And here’s me, shoulder pad free but otherwise styled very similarly. It’s certainly a Look, and one I could probably pull off on the right occasion. But I don’t think I’ll be wearing it like this down the shops. (The photo had to be flipped to match the pattern envelope pose; clearly I don’t know my right from my left when posing, as my long suffering photographer would likely agree.)

It is more wearable for every day without the black ribbon. Below I have substituted a folded and stitched strip of the shirt fabric with a finished width of 2cm, which tones it down. The fabric is 100% cotton sheeting from Croft Mill in ivory. It’s double width which meant it was excellent value but took a lot of wrangling when cutting out. I used Vilene H180 interfacing and stuck to only putting it on the outside collar and cuffs as directed by the pattern.

There are a lot of details in this pattern. The back has a pleat and a hanging loop. I doubled up the yoke as is normal for a shirt, but oddly the pattern didn’t call for this. It’s been years since I bought a RTW shirt, but do they ever have single layer yokes?

More details: there are keepers on the collar for the tie; very pointed fold back cuffs; huge pockets with a curved top edge, an applied band, and buttons; and an extra-wide concealed button placket. The buttons are shell, 12mm wide, from eBay.

The button placket is interesting. There is one visible buttonhole at the top right, worked through all the layers of the right front placket, and the rest of the buttonholes are concealed. The instructions are like nothing I’ve ever seen before for this type of shirt placket, and if followed correctly provide reinforcement for the sharp square corner where the stand collar meets the shirt body. There is a point of weakness in garments where the collar ends short of the centre front, leaving a gap in the middle: I’ve had two Burda designs with similar collars rip right across the front starting from that corner. This pattern cleverly extends the collar a little way into the placket to avoid it. A bit of the top seam allowances of the placket is left sticking up for the collar to attach to, and as there are five layers of placket there it’s pretty strong.

But I didn’t follow the instructions correctly and was left with no seam allowance on the top of the placket to sew the end of the collar to. Luckily I was able to fudge the collar attachment to compensate by stitching the collar on a bit lower.

The sleeve plackets are truly things of beauty with a slanted top edge to match the pointy cuffs below, and were straightforward to make. That is unless you don’t follow the markings and end up one placket 2cm further from the sleeve edge than the other…the difference has been hidden by adjusting the three enormous sleeve pleats and I can no longer tell which one is wrong so I think I got away with it.

I made more adjustments to this pattern than I usually would. Vogue patterns in the 80s were single size. This one has patterns for trousers and a skirt as well as the shirt, which made it awkward to know what size pattern to look for. I’d normally want one if not two sizes bigger on the hips than bust. As it happened the first suitable copy that came up on eBay was the largest size in the range I needed, so I’m all good for the bottoms but had to scale the shirt down somehow. I did this by the unscientific method of folding about 2.5cm/1” width out about halfway along the shoulder seam on the front and back pieces, thus reducing the circumference by 10cm/4” in total, which is about two Vogue sizes. This is of course the wrong way to do it because it doesn’t account for things like neck circumference and so on…but I find the 80s Montana patterns are always built for ladies with far more slender necks and wrists than I, and because the shoulders are dropped and the whole thing is oversized anyway doing it this way was good enough. Don’t try it at home, or not on good fabric anyway.

I then added my usual 5cm to the body length, and while on autopilot also added my usual 5cm to the sleeves, which in this case I had originally planned not to do as I was hoping it would compensate for not using shoulder pads. And I was right, the sleeves are far too long.

I’m still not sure what the best way to tie the tie is. The white one looks better with a tie knot but the black one looks a bit like school uniform unless tied in a bow. Maybe I’m better off with no tie at all, although I can’t wear the collar open as it reveals my terrible finishing on the top of the placket. The instructions said to slip-stitch the edges together and then top stitch. I can normally get away with skipping slip-stitching by using a few pins and then going straight to the top stitching, but this time the edges shifted and it’s all a bit messy on the inside.

I think this one needs a bit more time in the wardrobe before I can make my mind up about it. I’m not at all sure how wearable it will prove, and it doesn’t help that it’s currently the middle of winter and so I want to be wearing things which will layer, which this does not. The finishing is also poor even by my non-exacting standards. I haven’t even mentioned the buttonholes I made in the wrong end of the right cuff, cut open before I noticed, and then had to darn shut.

I’m planning to make the other two pieces from the same pattern though, so will report back how this has worn because it’s amazing what a little time does to hide the flaws.

Thanks to my husband for taking the pictures.

Top N of 2025

Time for the review of the year. This year I only made nine completed garments for me, and two bags. There was also a costume, an apron, and a couple of zipped pouches for my son. But despite the low rate of production I think this was a successful year. I didn’t have any massive fails, possibly for the first time ever – the first time I can remember anyway. But I always like to do a list of hits and misses, so here we go.

My favourite projects of the year are my silver mac and 80s trousers.

The silver mac makes anything into an Outfit, and it performs its primary duty of keeping the rain out adequately too. Worth all the pain of sewing with the awful fabric. I hope it lasts a good long time.

These Montana trousers from a pattern published in 1984 were worn on repeat all summer, and work with long boots for cooler weather. They are a very 80s style with a high waist and a lot of pleats. Despite this apparent datedness (is that a word? Autocorrect thinks not) they go with pretty much every top in my wardrobe. I love them so much I have repaired them more than once; my inability to sew buttons on in such a way that they stay in place is a real liability for this style.

Least successful: my yellow Factotum bag. The pattern is fine, and I loved the finished object, but the fabric showed the dirt very quickly and because the leather strap can’t be removed it’s difficult to clean it. And then I got a huge sticky stain on it that I haven’t been able to get out at all. I’m not even sure what it was now; possibly ice cream or juice. The grey oilskin version I made of the same pattern is much more practical and has been used a lot. And it has a detachable strap.

The yellow bag when it was new. Sadly it is not this colour any more.

My goal for this year was to make outfits rather than wardrobe orphans, and on the whole I succeeded. I made a whole suit, and have worn it few times, although I wear the suit trousers on their own much more. The full suit tends to get a positive but puzzled reaction, as my workplace is very casual. But it’s been enough of a success that I’d consider making another in future.

The separates I made all go with at least one thing I already own. The two most awkward to style are a 1980s Montana jacket and a printed silk blouse.

The jacket is very cropped so looks odd if there’s any visual break in the outfit at the waist level because it gives the effect of a second waistline; in practice this means it only works over jumpsuits, dresses, or completely monochrome combinations. Or indeed the trousers above, which are so high waisted the jacket hem falls over the trouser waist as seen below:

The jacket and trousers are both from the same vintage Vogue pattern so it’s not surprising they work together, but I don’t have a lot of other options for pairing with the jacket. It is usually too warm when combined with a jumpsuit, I generally don’t wear dresses, and most of my trousers aren’t quite high waisted enough. It’s very frustrating because I love the shape of it.

I also need to add some poppers to the closure because it tends to gape. I have even acquired a card of suitable ones, just need to sew them on. Or maybe I need to make it again in a different fabric; I don’t think being made from denim is helping with the styling conundrum.

The printed blouse is a bit delicate and fussy and so I haven’t put much effort into styling it; I should try harder with that because the print is fabulous. And the fabric is surprisingly warm, so much so that it’s wearable on a mild winter day over a vest, which I didn’t expect. After starting to write this post I was inspired to wear it to work one day with my black wide legged trousers which was a success…so there’s hope for this one.

Aiming to sew outfits worked well, so I’m going to try to continue with that next year. I also very much enjoyed sewing the 80s vintage Vogue pattern for the trousers and jacket because it had so many interesting small details. I’ve been slowly collecting vintage Montana patterns from eBay and I would like to sew up more of them next year. There’s one that particularly speaks to me at the moment, Vogue 1492 from 1984, which has three garments: a voluminous shirt, a straight pleated wrap skirt, and high waisted trousers with a shaped waist and interestingly shaped welt pockets. It’s not really obvious on the picture but the pockets are wedge shaped.

I remember that skirt shape being the absolute height of fashion when I was at school (at least it was amongst my tweenage peers in the mid 80s…I don’t remember what the adults were wearing). The goal was to have the longest and straightest skirt, paired with long slouchy socks which were artistically arranged in folds around the ankles. As soon as I saw this pattern I was reminded of my very favourite skirt from that time.

Given I’ve had quite a lot of success with Montana patterns I’d like to make all three pieces from this one as a mini wardrobe. I’ve already started on the shirt, which is the least risky of the three. Whether I actually get to the skirt and trousers and how wearable the skirt really is remains to be seen. I admit I am a little dubious about the wrap closure.

Apart from the Montana pattern I want to make some very practical things: a bag for work, because I’ve completely failed to find a suitable replacement for my disintegrating laptop bag in the shops, and a pair of jeans. These should be achievable as I already have suitable patterns for both, I just need to find fabric.

Here’s to 2026!

An apron from scraps

I made this a while ago but it never made it onto the blog. I have a collection of denim leftovers from garments I’ve made over the last few years, none of them big enough to make any sort of adult sized wearable garment, but too big to throw away. I hadn’t managed to do anything with any of them until earlier this year when my son needed a painting apron for art class. Enter the offcuts of my grey Blanca jumpsuit.

I have an adult sized apron for cooking that works well, so I took a few measurements from that and drew out a scaled down version of the shape on paper and added hem allowances on the edges. The allowance on the top edge I made much deeper than the rest, as it was on the original apron. Not sure why it’s designed that way; maybe it makes it hang better?

The apron is constructed by basting the ties to the raw edges then turning the edges under twice and topstitching, catching the ties in the stitching. Very quick and easy. The top edge has two rows of top stitching.

The fabric scrap wasn’t quite big enough so it ended up cut on the cross grain. It’s 100% cotton denim and very stable,

One unexpected problem was that the proportionally scaled down neck strap turned out be too small to easily get a head through, so I had to make it longer. Although at least I thought to check the length on the recipient before sewing it all down firmly. The longer strap means the top of the apron is a bit lower on the body than I’d like. I considered making the neck strap adjustable, but decided it was too much faff for a child to adjust.

I added the astronaut patch because it had been knocking about in my sewing box for ages and my son liked it. He also picked the rainbow tape.

I put d-rings on one of the waist ties to make those adjustable to a degree, but I also made them long enough to tie in a bow.

I was quite pleased with this when it was finished. But it’s been living at the bottom of my son’s school bag ever since and I don’t think it’s been worn even once as it’s still suspiciously spotless. Anyway, it’s one less scrap in the stash. We will not talk about the fact that I now have half a roll of leftover rainbow apron tape to find some sort of use for.

Ready for winter: vintage Vogue 1253 coat finished

I have finally finished my winter coat. This is vintage Vogue 1253 by State of Claude Montana from 1993. Boringly I made it up in pretty much the same practical colour as the sample, just with silver buttons and trim instead of gold. A winter coat needs to go with everything. I’ve completely failed to find any other contemporary images of the style so the pattern envelope is all I’ve got to go on for the original look. It’s a striking image, but lacking in detail. According the pattern the top collar of the coat is made in synthetic leather, but I can’t tell. Mine is made from the same fabric as the shell.

Here’s the back view. All my photos had to be considerably lightened because it was chucking it down with rain on the one day we had a chance to take pictures, so we had to do indoor photos. But anyway there’s not much to see on the back except the vent, which ends high enough that I could probably sit on a horse in this without it rucking up. And the creases, which are the result of sitting not on a horse but on a bus. The coat has been worn to work a lot lately, because winter has arrived in the UK.

The shell fabric is a dark navy wool twill from Croft Mill. It’s almost black, so much so that my navy thread looked far too light against it, and I ended up using black. The fabric is very thick and heavy, probably a little too heavy for the style. It’s ok to wear but sewing it was a challenge. I had aching hands after sewing the collar and facings on.

The lining is a sort of greenish brownish grey with a tiny triangle pattern. The colour was described as ‘olive’ and I think it was intended for waistcoat backs. It was originally bought to line an entirely different coat project that never saw the light of day. It went well enough with the shell fabric that I didn’t need to go out and buy something new, and it all helps with the stash reduction. What you see here is actually the wrong side of the lining fabric, which is duller and more grey than the right side. I wish I could say that using the wrong side was the result of careful planning. It is true I did originally think about using the wrong side because it was a slightly better colour match for my trim, but then I decided that would be confusing and who sees the lining anyway, let alone compares it to the trim, and resolved to use the right side. But the pieces for the back lining are cut as a pair and then one is trimmed back to make the asymmetrical vent opening, and of course I went and trimmed the wrong one. I didn’t have any more of the lining fabric so at that point it was use the wrong side or buy new lining fabric.

I didn’t make a lot of fitting adjustments: just adding my usual length increases (5cm between bust and waist, 5cm on skirt, 5cm on sleeves). I sort of regret the additional 5cm on the skirt because although it looks good it means I have to be ever so slightly careful with steps when wearing flat shoes. I don’t think my version is any longer on me than the model’s is on her though. Size wise this is my usual Vogue size, which is to go one down from whatever the size chart says, but this style is so roomy that I could easily have gone down more.

I made quite a few small pattern adjustments to make the sewing easier. My guide for this as always is Pattern Scissors Cloth’s RTW Tailoring Sewalong, which I can’t recommend enough. Sheryll goes through where to add ease and turn-of-cloth allowance to the pattern pieces to make things sit nicely, and how to cut the lining for bagging out by machine. I followed her advice about taping the roll line and sewing the facings in such a way to make the lapels behave themselves and it all worked very well.

She also has a clever method for sewing the facing/hem/lining junction, which I’ve used successfully in the past, but this time I went with a different method I got from Kathleen Fasanella. The series of blog posts that explains it has long ago succumbed to link rot and all the images are missing, which is a shame. The difference between the two is that with the Pattern Scissors Cloth method the lining ends up caught down as far as the hem at the facing/hem junction point, and with the other method it ends a bit further up and you can see the join between the hem and the facing. The first is much simpler and faster to sew, but I think the second looks slightly nicer because the lining edge ends up parallel to the hem edge all the way round instead of dipping down at the junction. Based on the second method I managed to put the lining in entirely by machine, including around the vent, which I normally chicken out and hand sew. I did catch stitch the hem by hand though as I doubted it would stay up if only tacked at the seam allowances.

I also added a coat chain. I find they’re essential in a heavy coat and I don’t know why patterns don’t ever include them. I always write a note on the pattern instructions for sewing the facings to remind myself to do it.

Here’s me trying to do the other view from the pattern envelope, with the collar up and the left lapel unfolded. I think the collar looks quite good this way and it’s warm. I might put a hook and eye in to catch that lapel in place for wearing on windy days.

The pockets were the cause of much agonising (see previous posts, I won’t repeat it here), but now they’re done I can forget about them. They’re roomy and at the right height. Can’t ask for much more.

I’m very glad to have this finished at last and delighted with how it came out. Thanks to my husband for the photos.

Coat progress

Well it’s been a few weeks and I’ve been working hard (by my standards) on my coat project, but until two days ago no actual sewing had taken place. Pattern alterations; three rounds of cutting out (shell fabric, lining fabric, interfacing); fusing all that interfacing on – which took literally hours – have taken up the time. I’m making vintage Vogue 1253 from the 1990s, and it is huge.

I had a last minute change of heart about pockets. The original design has angled double welt pockets with a purely decorative pocket flap applied below the pocket and stitched down around the edges. It has a button sewn on to add some extra detail. I didn’t mind the fake flap but wasn’t sold on the shape of it, which is an ornate double curve that didn’t seem to go with the simple design of the rest of the coat. I was going to replace the original flaps with a parallelogram shape with rounded corners. Then Brewerbarbara commented on my last post that the original pocket flap shape is likely a military reference, which is in keeping with the rest of the design. And I went to an exhibition of 20th century British menswear where I noticed double curved pocket flaps on the military uniform. So I decided to go with the original style after all but make a sample in my fashion fabric, as the fancy flap had proved somewhat tricky to sew in my calico toile.

The sample was distinctly unpromising, below. This is after much resewing and pressing, and it’s still distinctly lumpy and uneven. But if I switched to the other style I’d need to make yet another sample, and at those point I’d been working on this project for several weeks already with nothing to show but a pile of fabric pieces.

So with much misgiving I forged ahead, marking and sewing extra carefully. This is one of the actual pockets, and it’s better than the sample but it still won’t win any prizes. Luckily the fabric is a very dark navy; much more so than it appears on the picture below. Once the coat is made up and the button attached I will probably stop noticing the flaws.

The other thing that has been taking longer than anticipated is finding suitable trim for the sleeves. I want it to look military-inspired rather than like cosplay. Hours of scrolling the VV Rouleaux website followed, but nothing seemed quite right. I then found some blue and grey striped grosgrain ribbons on eBay which seemed promising in photos, but when they arrived the colours were lighter than I’d expected (seen here with the buttons I’m using, which came from stash and are the only part of this project that hasn’t involved tremendous analysis paralysis).

There was another colourway of the striped grosgrain available with reddish brown, pink, and grey stripes (second from left). Better but not perfect. Nothing else I found online even came close. My local John Lewis had nothing suitable in stock. And then I happened to be in Ely, which has a small haberdashers, and they had a dark grey grosgrain with a satin stripe (second from right).

This was the first one I’d seen that made me go ‘yes’. It’s double sided so could be used with the satin either in the centre (left) or at the edges. I’m thinking satin at the edges.

I may actually sew a construction seam or two next week. Watch this space.

Vintage Vogue 1253 coat toile

This pattern is the top contender for my winter coat, vintage Vogue 1253 by State of Claude Montana from 1993. The envelope photo is very appealing while managing to obscure almost all the important details at the same time: top fashion photography there, Vogue. But as the line art below shows, it’s a very simple A line style with raglan sleeves. The pockets are curious. The fancy pocket flaps are just for decoration as they’re attached below the actual pocket opening and are top-stitched to the coat body all the way round. The pocket itself is a standard double welt pocket.

I have made a toile, as there’s no way I’d risk making anything based on that photo alone. This one is my usual ‘one size below what the size chart says’ for Vogue, with my usual adjustments of 5cm added to the body and 3cm to the sleeves. Now I see the photos I don’t think I needed anything extra on the sleeves at all, but I’m toying with adding more to the skirt length as I preferred the look before I hemmed it. Funnily enough it looks longer in photos than it did in the mirror. But given Vogue drafts for a height 10cm shorter than me, I can easily justify adding even more length.

The collar seems to be sitting much flatter on me than it does on the model but maybe that’s the fabric. The original collar is done in leather. It’s a sophisticated draft; there’s a separate collar band piece which makes it roll into place very easily, and it’s drafted with separate top and under collar pieces with a generous allowance for turn of cloth.

It could do with shoulder pads, but I didn’t have any to hand. But I think some of those drag lines on the back are just where the fairly lightweight calico has caught on my back.

I’m slightly dubious about the pocket flap shape. Below is the shape as the pattern has it; I’m not super keen on the curved, pointed flap which to me seems at odds with the rest of the design; more Western style than military. Also it was tricky to topstitch.

Here’s an alternative flap shape pinned on in paper.

Still undecided as to which to go with. If I do make this it’ll be in a dark navy wool twill coating I have, so they’ll probably be mostly invisible anyway. And then there’s the colour of ribbon for the sleeves and the buttons to decide on.

Catherine Daze's Blog

sewing my own clothes