A couple of years ago, I embarked on a journey to learn how to draft and create a bodice sloper―or block if you prefer―based on the flat pattern method. I wanted to have this template to use to design my own patterns. I learned a lot through the Craftsy course I took with Suzy Furer, an excellent on-screen teacher. I was happy with it and used it, but I was never satisfied with the fit of armscyes. So, this year, in preparation for some new designs, I decided to take a different approach and create a new sloper (after all, a few years and COVID have happened. Could it be that I might not be precisely the same shape?). The different approach I chose was to use Vogue‘s pattern block.
Before I get to that, though, just to be clear in case you’ve forgotten: a sloper (or block) is a foundation pattern created as a perfect fit for one specific body from which more complicated patterns can be designed.
Have you ever used this one? Vogue isn’t the only pattern company that offers these, but I like Vogue patterns, and it seemed to be what I was looking for.
It’s Vogue pattern #1004. I had always wondered about this dress “shell” pattern. Now it was time to see what it could offer me.
The first thing I notice is that there are twelve pages of instructions. Most of these are not instructions on how to put the thing together. They are primarily instructions for fixing the various fit problems that will inevitably plague you as you go along. After all, the whole purpose of this exercise is to have a template the fits to perfection. You can then use it to design, but even more useful in my estimation is that you can use it to alter commercial patterns.
One of the pieces of information on the instructions that I found particularly useful is the illustrated guide to varying degrees of ease added to fashion patterns to create a variety of silhouettes. This illustration will be handy for me as I develop those new patterns.
I washed and dried my muslin to soften it, then cut out the pattern roughly, leaving generous seamlines. I didn’t need to cut along the cut lines anyway since I would be marking the seam lines, which is more accurate in any case.
I used my large waxed sheets of marking paper that I bought on Susan Khalje’s website a few years ago. I don’t’ know why, but I love this part of the process. Well, that’s just the nerd in me coming out!
After the wax marking, I thread-traced so that I’d have most of the markings on both sides. Doing this makes putting it together so much easier and more accurate.
This shell has a waist seam as well as double darts at the waistline. I think this is complicated in a sloper. Since I didn’t want that seam line at the waist, and I wanted single darts, I had to make some adjustments. I made the first one at the pattern stage by omitting one of the waistline darts and adjusting the pattern at the sides. I knew I’d have to make some other changes (such as moving the darts) after putting it together for the first time. That’s why I sewed it together with the longest stitch my machine makes. There was a lot of picking out and resewing. I was prepared for this because that’s how these things go.
When I finally got the fit I liked, I had to adjust for removing the waistline seam, then was ready to cut apart the muslin and trace it out onto paper for final adjustments.
The last step was to transfer it to Bristol board, notch the darts and other important seam thingies, and awl punch the holes in the darts. All of this is so that it’s easier to trace it off onto paper whenever I want to make a new pattern.
All in all, I’m happy with the final product. Let’s see now how it works for my flat pattern-making for the summer!
Let’s get one thing straight up front: I wear pants almost every day of my life. I didn’t always. I, however, love the idea of wearing dresses. And I love to wear a dress to a cocktail party, a wedding (although I have been known to wear a beautiful ivory crepe pantsuit with a silk blouse), and on a hot summer day.
The fact remains that the dresses I have in my closet – of which there are probably too many – don’t get nearly enough wear except when we’re on a cruise somewhere wonderful. I love the freedom of pants. Why then, do I not make them? I make dresses but I don’t make pants. The answer can be summed up in one word: fit.
As far as I’m concerned, pants (trousers for anyone in the UK) like all other pieces of clothing, should fit well. No gaping waistbands, no baggy seats, no draglines. After years of trial and error, I’ve discovered several brands that fit me well. And the idea of making my own jeans? Not ever going to happen. I have found my jean heaven.
Paige jeans fit me very well and although they’re expensive, I’m sticking with them. However, I do like the idea of adding a few pairs of well-fitting pants to my personally-designed and sewn wardrobe. I’d like to take a crack at designing some interesting pant styles. With this in mind, I decided to do some research on different pant styles for women over the years. And those years don’t go back as far as you might think. Women haven’t always worn pants.
Even as recently as 2019, a school in North Carolina (USA) declared that their female students would no longer be permitted to wear pants citing “traditional values” as the reason. Apart from how obnoxious this is on so many levels, it does point our the fact that the wearing of pants by women and girls hasn’t always been acceptable – and still isn’t in some cultures. Historically, pants have been male attire and evolved to meet a need for simple practicality: horse-back riding, ease of movement, warmth in cold weather. These, of course, are all reasons that women wanted to wear pants as well. And let’s not forget comfort and how terrific they can look when they fit well.
You might recall how the Greeks and Romans have always been portrayed in terms of their dress. Everyone, men and women, wore some version of a tunic, or a toga. These were simple garments from a construction perspective: usually swaths of cloth wrapped artfully around the body or in the case of a tunic, a square-shaped piece of cloth with an opening for the head that fell between the waist and the thighs. Sewing would have been so simple in those days! (If it had existed at all.)
The first historical evidence of pants emerging tells us that they were initially developed in China around 3000 years ago to make it less cumbersome to ride a horse. We have to jump almost 3000 years to the nineteenth century to find women wearing pants. Rebellious women in both Europe and North America would take to wearing trousers when they could get away with it, however, it was illegal to do so. And it has to be said that the men made the laws at that time.
The fight for pant-wearing started in earnest in the 1850s – not that long ago. In the 1930s Marlene Dietrich sported pantsuits and got away with it although she was occasionally denied a restaurant table because of her attire. The second World War made pants a practical alternative to skirts in many occupational fields that women had to take up at the time.
Pants didn’t really ever appear on fashion runways until French couturier Paul Poiret designed what we would now call harem pants in 1911. Although that predated Dietrich and the second world war, only very bold fashionistas wore them.
When Christian Dior pioneered his “New Look” in the 1950s, pants lost their new-found prominence that had emerged during the war. He set pant-wearing among women back several decades.
It was the rebellious 1960s when pants came to the fore and we never really looked back (save for those cavemen running the aforementioned school in North Carolina and others like them).
These days, most of us couldn’t function in our daily lives without them, not to mention having the choice to do so. Which brings me to my current project. The perfect pant block upon which to base some future well-fitting designs.
Two years ago, I thought I’d developed one. There were one or two details I was never really happy with but since I’d used the traditional approach to developing it and put the work in, I kept it. But never used it.
Since then, I’ve wanted to copy a pair of comfortable Eileen Fisher pants that I wore to death and are long since gone from my closet as a result. So, I thought I’d revisit the pant block. This time I started with a simple commercial pants pattern that I thought I could adapt.
So, I did some initial tissue fitting then cut them out from a left-over piece of rayon-blend ponte fabric from a dress (another dress) I had recently made. I started by sewing them together completely with a 5 mm stitch in red thread – my all-over machine basting. After the first try-on, it was clear that they were miles too big everywhere but this is where the fun began.
I then started taking them in, one seam at a time starting with the crotch line. Then I tried them on again. Another tweak, this time with a different colour of machine basting until they were darn near perfect. Of course, by this time I had really wide seam allowances which I left in place until I took out the machine basting.
I did the permanent stitching along the final basting lines. Before I removed the basting lines, I transferred all the seam lines to the pattern I had traced out. These seam lines would be the dimensions of the sloper. Of course, I then removed the basting, serged the seams, lowered the waistline (which I then transferred to the pattern) and added a wide, inside elastic band to finish them I generally dislike anything with an elastic waistline but this is wide and subtle and after all, these are really yoga pants. As far as I’m concerned, they’re still a bit wide for ponte knit but this width should work well in a woven. I can always remake the pattern for a narrower stretch fit.
The final step was to transfer the pattern (without seam allowances) to poster board. I then measured for the high hip, low hip, thigh, knee and centre front and back, measurements I’ll need in future pattern-making. When I compared this block to the one I created using the more conventional measurement-to-math-to-pattern approach I learned two years ago, it was close. This time, though, I had corrected the issues I’d had with the original one.
I was anxious to make them up in leftover woven material to check the fit and tweak the back darts but the piece I planned to use wasn’t big enough. I guess I’ll just have to wait until I can pick up a piece of fabric from one of my favourite fabric stores. I just hope they’re still in business when all this COVID stuff is over. Not long now!