u/2NursesWhoSew

These are the stays I’m making as the foundation for my fantasy Rococo-inspired Bride of Dracula costume for Halloween, and I’ve officially reached the “why did I do this to myself?” stage. 😂

I made the stays from 320 GSM cotton coutil and used plastic boning. The plastic was an experiment for me, partly out of curiosity and partly because of the cost. It has worked, but so far I think I still prefer synthetic whalebone.

For thread, I’m using Gütermann Sew-All for construction and Gütermann metallic thread for the decorative stitching.

Now I’m applying liquid silk organza over the stays, somewhat like the fashion fabric over the structured foundation of a robe de cour bodice.

And this organza is testing us.

Our first mistake was forgetting just how aggressively it frays. We remembered pretty quickly once the freshly cut edges started unraveling. 😂 Thankfully, I had left a full 1-inch seam allowance at both the top and bottom, so we had room to work with.

Once the fraying started, we decided to sew a very narrow seam around the edges to keep it under control.

Then we discovered the next problem: the organza moves CONSTANTLY.

When we tried zigzag stitching it, the machine sucked the fabric in. We ended up cutting a very narrow strip of coutil and putting it underneath the organza so the machine actually had something substantial to grab onto.

The next challenge is going to be attaching all of this slippery fabric smoothly over an already constructed, boned, three-dimensional pair of stays without introducing wrinkles or uneven tension.

And after we accomplish that, the organza and stays still have to be enclosed together with bias binding.
I low-key hate myself for deciding this was a good idea. 😆

But if it works, I think it’s going to be worth it.
For anyone who has mounted particularly lightweight or slippery fashion fabrics over stays or corsetry before, I’d love to hear what worked for you.

These were the first pair of stays I made, and I made them as the foundation for a 1780s zone front gown.

I used Karmaxylia’s Comtesse pattern, which is drafted for 1780s stays. I chose it because the gown was from the same decade, and I wanted the correct foundation garment to create the proper silhouette underneath it.

For materials, I used cotton coutil, silk jacquard, and reed boning.

This project taught me a lot about how important consistent tension is when sewing boning channels. You can see that some areas are smoother than others and that a few sections have more rippling. I was still learning how the layers behaved while stitching the channels, and the inconsistencies became much more visible once all the pieces were laid out together.

I also learned that I probably would not use rattan cane or reed boning again. It snapped frequently and was difficult to insert into the channels. I’m glad I tried it because it was a useful experiment, but in the future I’ll stick with German plastic boning or synthetic whalebone. I found both much easier to insert and more reliable to work with.

Making these stays gave me a much better understanding of how much the final shape of an eighteenth-century gown depends on the structure underneath it.

One of the things I learned while making one of my first pair of 18th-century stays is that nearly every design choice has a purpose—including the lacing.

Modern corsets are typically laced with “bunny ears,” which let you tighten the waist first to create the fashionable hourglass silhouette.

Eighteenth-century stays were built with a different goal. Rather than emphasizing a dramatically cinched waist, they create a smooth, conical torso, support the bust, improve posture, and provide the rigid foundation that 18th-century gowns were cut to fit over.

That’s why spiral lacing makes so much sense. Instead of concentrating tension at the waist, it distributes tension more evenly from top to bottom, making it easier to tighten the stays gradually while maintaining that conical shape.

As someone who only ever associated corsets with bunny-ear lacing before this project, I thought it was a fascinating example of how construction follows fashion. The more I make these stays, the more I appreciate that they really aren’t just “old corsets”—they’re a different garment designed to achieve a different silhouette.

I’d love to hear from the more experienced costumers here: are there other historical construction details that completely changed how you thought about these garments?

Hi everyone! This account originally started to document another passion of my best friend and mine—historical sewing. Together we recreated an 18th-century robe de cour, traveled to France to attend the Fêtes Galantes at the Palace of Versailles, and afterward my partner and I spent a few wonderful days exploring Reims, where we completely fell in love with Champagne.

Since then, we’ve enjoyed learning about different houses, vintages, and production styles, and we’re even considering taking a Champagne-focused sommelier course to deepen our knowledge.

Some of our favorite houses so far are Pol Roger, Pommery, and Vranken. We also love Veuve Clicquot Vintage and Veuve Clicquot Extra Old Extra Brut. There’s still so much to learn, and that’s what makes this hobby so exciting.

Pictured is a bottle of Château de Bligny Grande Réserve Brut that we’re enjoying while watching the World Cup, accompanied by our very opinionated tasting companion, Sir Harry Winston Churchill. 🐱🥂

I’m looking forward to learning from everyone here! I’d love recommendations for favorite grower Champagnes, lesser-known houses, books, or educational resources that helped you along your own Champagne journey.
Cheers! 🍾🥂

I accidentally sewed my boning channels for my 1760’s stays like my 1670s stays—all vertical—before realizing this bodice needs the channels to angle outward toward the tabs.

Time to spend some quality time with my seam ripper.
I’m going to trace the channels with transfer paper before sewing them again. It’s a little extra work now, but it’ll save me from making the same mistake twice.

(Also yes, I look exhausted—I just woke up from a brutal ER night shift 🥲)

We started by studying Sofia Magdalena’s robe de cour from Patterns of Fashion 5. We quickly realized that simply enlarging the pattern wasn’t going to work—Sofia Magdalena was much smaller than I am, and I have a full bust.

Instead, Rebecca (my best friend and an incredibly talented seamstress) wrapped my torso in plastic wrap and masking tape. She marked my landmarks directly on me and drew the bodice shape on the tape. We carefully cut it off down the center back, separated it into individual pattern pieces, and started refining the fit.

Because of my bust, we had to split the front pieces and add a dart so everything would lie flat. We built in a 2-inch waist reduction, added 5/8-inch seam allowances, and drafted all of the boning channels.

The angled boning channels across the front were by far the trickiest part. If I were making this again, I’d either use boning caps or take the extra time to round the ends of every piece of synthetic whalebone. We were racing the clock to finish before Versailles, so some shortcuts won out over perfection.

A commercial stays pattern wasn’t an option because this bodice needed to lace completely closed and have the dramatic elongated front point typical of an 18th-century robe de cour.

Once the foundation was finished, we used it as the pattern for the outer fabric. The silk blend jacquard/brocade from Mood Fabrics was thick and forgiving, so we didn’t have to worry about the internal structure showing through. We hand-tacked the outer fabric to the stays, and because the lacing would have been hidden historically, we extended the center back edges of the brocade so they overlap and conceal the lacing.

If I were making this gown again, I’d also change how the outer fabric closes. I’d probably add hook-and-eye closures—or even an invisible zipper—to the gold fabric itself so it would stay perfectly flat over the lacing while still giving the appearance of a seamless back.

This was my first time making an 18th-century bodice, and I learned more from this project than I ever thought possible. Looking back at these construction photos makes me appreciate just how much work is hidden underneath the finished gown.

The train is made from French silk brocade using Mettler thread throughout. It’s constructed from two fabric panels joined together at center back. Because the brocade has such a large repeating motif, I spent quite a bit of time pattern matching. I used fusible web (Stitch Witchery/Wonder Under-type interfacing) to temporarily hold the seam together while I aligned the motifs, then stitched the center back seam normally.

For the shape, we studied reference photos of Hedvig Charlotta’s wedding gown and used Patterns of Fashion 5 as our primary reference. Rather than drafting the train flat, we draped it directly over the grand panniers and petticoat, experimented with where the fullness looked best, and then hand stitched the pleats and gathers into place.

The train itself has a standard narrow hem.

To attach it to the gown, I sewed coat hooks onto the back of the bodice with matching eyes sewn onto the inside of the train. Historically, the train would have attached to a cord inside the bodice, but when we tested that method it pulled the bodice in a way we didn’t like. The hook-and-eye method distributed the weight much better while remaining completely hidden.

If I had more time, I would have refined the way the train meets the back of the bodice for an even smoother transition. Unfortunately, we were literally finishing this the night before my flight to Paris. We pulled an all-nighter, finished the train just before I left for the airport, packed the gown, and hoped for the best!

I’m really happy with how it turned out, especially considering it debuted just hours after coming off the sewing table.

This is a self-drafted, Rococo-inspired robe de cour created for the Fêtes Galantes at Versailles. While inspired by mid-18th century court dress, it is not intended to be a strict historical reproduction.

Pattern/Drafting:
Bodice/stays and grand pannier were drafted using references from Patterns of Fashion 5 by Janet Arnold (School of Historical Dress), then extensively modified to achieve my desired silhouette and design.
We wrapped my torso in Saran Wrap and masking tape and drew the bodice outline on me, cut it off, cut the pieces and accounted for a 5/8th’s seam allowance and 2 inch reduction.
Additional draping and fitting were done directly on the dress form.

Fabric:
Main gown: silk brocade (silk blend jacquard/brocade)
Foundation garments: cotton coutil
Boning: synthetic whalebone
Petticoats: cotton
Trim and embellishments applied by hand.

This was my first 18th-century gown, and with the help of my best friend, a seamstress, I learned a lot about historical sewing while making it.