9 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Making Historical Outfits

Fair warning, this post is long, but I hope it helps you make the historical clothing you’ve always dreamed of.

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Mourning Dress, 1867, Met Museum, NYC

When you’re about to make an outfit from history, how do you start the process? How do you make your choices? Most of us, when we start working with historical clothing get really excited about the opulent, amazing, fancy, courtly clothing of times past. We run to the fabric store and find anything that we deem “historicky” (Thank you Dr. Mbaye for pinning that term into my brain). We buy said fabric and we may, or may not do enough research to know what goes beneath it, supports it, what the underwear is etc. We just want to dive right in, fearless and naive and play dress up. There is no shame in this approach, though there are many people out there who will still look down their noses at it. We all start somewhere, we all make beginner’s mistakes. We all tend to wade quickly through the easily accessible information and work our way towards deeper accuracy, the longer we study. If the passion really “catches” in you and the fire burns bright, you might spend DECADES studying just one tiny era of history.

Let me just say….THIS. IS. FANTASTIC.

When we get to dive in, chew up the data, watch as new things are discovered, we become part of vibrant community of people all working to understand the culture and clothing of the past. Moreover, there is hope that while we are doing so, we are looking at history square in the face and at least knowing the more unpleasant parts and quietly filing them away in our minds to do better. But while we do that, we also make things and have fun and get to look fabulous.

To make sure you’ve got a leg up on looking fierce in your upcoming historical clothing, here are 9 questions to ask yourself before you dive in.

1. What is the fit?

   Fit is the way the garment behaves on the body. It is how it sits, how it moves, where it is looser and where it is tighter. Fit varies a lot depending on the garment, the era, the economic level of the intended appearance and the work that will be done while wearing it
   
   Fit is one of the most important aspects of historical dress because without the right fit, you’re not going to get the right idea of the world in which these people lived their lives nor will you look quite right. If you’re truly into history like I am, then you will most certainly have some kind of framework in the back of your mind about how YOU as an individual might have lived your life in the era. Without that, you’re setting yourself up to miss a key ingredient to accuracy and may inadvertently end up making a costume rather than clothing. The semantic difference between the two is not meant as a judgment, but as a self-reflective barometer to figure out what you’re making and why. Clothes that are made for stage and screen are, so often, fit extra tight to eliminate wrinkles which might otherwise cause harsh shadows and ruin the look for the audience. Regular clothes don’t work that way.

2. Where should the clothes wrinkle?

   This is one of the most important parts of figuring out historical clothing. In regular sunlight and indoor lighting, honestly, we don’t notice how much wrinkling really goes on in our clothes. Next time you’re getting dressed though, just look at the totally normal wrinkling in what you’re wearing. We automatically know what wrinkles are normal and which ones mean we should probably stop wearing that thing that hasn’t fit properly since about 20lbs ago. Understanding what wrinkles are “correct” for the period in terms of movement ease and what wrinkles indicate a flaw in fit can be the difference between making an item of clothing that looks like it stepped through a time machine and making something that feels okay to the eye, but ultimately doesn’t give that “oo-ah-history” sensation. Wrinkles are real. Wrinkles are part of understanding fit. They’re important. Modern costume requirements for stage and screen have taught us that historical clothing should be completely wrinkle free. However, when you look at historical clothing critically and see that the clothing being worn in paintings, portraits, photos, and sketches is full of life and reality and wrinkles, you begin to connect with historical clothing in a much more direct way, by perceiving it as part of a closet of clothes…not a one-off costume. It becomes something you would put on to be the better version of you, not something you wear to become someone else who doesn’t exist.
   
   The main photo of this post is a great example of a BIG wrinkle that is essential for a good fit. The dropped shoulder and the backward sloping shoulder seam combine to create the big wrinkle behind the arm. Without it, you don’t have the right look of the period, nor do you have the freedom of movement to go about your life, unencumbered.

3. Where should the clothes be smooth?

   Just as important as the wrinkled bits are the places where you can see, intentionally, that it was kept tight to the body or the undergarments. It would be hard to conceptualize a corset that wasn’t tight…but they don’t need to be so tight as to truly restrict movement or breathing. Those kinds of assumptions are based on corset critics of the period as well as attitudes that come from 19th century literary erotica. These are not the standards of a well fitting corset, but represent extremes that were worth of a different level of critique. Being open to seeing where garments are smooth can drastically change how the clothing appears and can, when done properly, add to the appearance of accuracy and change the way a person moves and lives in the clothes that they make. 

4. Where is the waist?

   I have obsessed over this in past blog posts (and I know many other bloggers and YouTube experts have lamented this too), but it bears re-stating that it is important to know where the waist level falls on the body in relation to the time period that is being portrayed. After all would Regency women’s fashion look right if we put the waist too low? Absolutely not! Would late 17th century and 18th century menswear look correct if we didn’t drop the waist to the low level that is correct for the period? I don’t think so.
   
   For this reason a critical analysis of the waist level for the era that you are trying to convey is of the utmost importance. Without the correct level, once again, you end up making a facsimile of historical clothing instead of “real” clothes which represent the period. Now, of course there would have been some natural variance of the levels according to who was wearing the clothing and their personal tastes. For example, it is likely that older people would favor the levels of the previous decades while younger folks will likely dress to impress and perhaps push the boundaries of the current fashion trends so they don’t appear sloppy or dated in fashionable society.

5. What are the correct materials?

   Here lies one of the better known elements of making quality representations of clothing. Choosing the right weight, fiber content, and pattern of fabric can make all the difference in whether you are portraying a costume or an “outfit” that could have come from a historical closet. 
   
   Knowing all of the correct layering of these materials is important in giving your clothing the right appearance. For example, it is unlikely that any jacket, male or female bodied, made in the early 17th century would have been created without an interlining except certain very heavy wools or pieces that were home-made by people with no guild training. In fact, there are some legal records which detail the regulations that the government imposed on tailors for making certain kinds of garments. For example in Spain, in the early 17th century there was a regulation that stipulated a silk doublet of average class should be made with “three linings” That means that there was a layer of silk on the outside, another layer of silk beneath that followed by an interlining layer of linen and a linen or silk lining. In our modern conception, these layers each have their own name but in the era, they were simply labeled as “linings.” From the outside in, most shops refer to these layers as follows: exterior/fashion fabric/self fabric, underlining, interlining, and lining. Four layers to make up a doublet. Indeed there are many extant garments which show this layering. However, there are many which do not adhere to these standards. They are likely from different countries which had different standards of execution or no regulation at all.
   
   This takes me, once again, to the Mourning dress in the main photo (Sigh…I really love this photo). The sheer black fabric laid on top of another layer with a bit of sheen gives a depth and texture that a single layer of fabric could not. The tucks that are in the sheer material, cause a darker stripe to appear. This could be misconstrued as applied trim were it not for the close-up photo from the museum. Find out what layers are needed. Study how the materials are utilized for different effects. Assume you might not understand how it all works and be open to seeing the clothes as they really are, not how you expect them to be. Make samples. Test out theories. If you just want to dress up and have a good time, do it! We aren’t going to judge you! If you’re trying to resurrect history and that excites you, then do the work and practice and dig, dig, dig for the ideas that bring your work to life.

6. What is the right underwear?

   This has slightly more bearing in womenswear than in menswear for most of clothing history because of the prevalence of women’s corsets and stays, but there are many times throughout history when men wore them as well. From the 18th century onward, it is possible to see many styles of men’s dress that require a corset or waist stay to create the right look. To ignore this reality in favor of perceived comfort or modern conceptions of gendered dress is to completely deny that you are trying to create an accurate historical look in the first place. When we make historical womenswear, it is easy to see how the look of the garment suffers without a corset. Why then do we think nothing of leaving the well defined waist out of menswear? In some parts of history, mens waistbands and waistcoats were made to cinch the waist. In other parts of history the waist was cinched with an actual male-bodied version of a corset. Starting in the late 1700’s and following through to the 1860s and even into the 1880s, men of a certain level of vanity were cinching their waists. We have surviving examples of under-belts, corsets, pinchers and girdles for men of every size. Even today, male actors of a certain age or size often wear Spanx (TM) under their clothing to create the look of a slimmer, more fit body. Never underestimate the things that go beneath the clothing you’re trying to create for without them, you are likely to miss the mark.

7. What kinds of pads did they use?

   Pads, pads, pads…I can think of no other, more under-utilized hero of historical shaping. How else might you create the best possible silhouette for any period? Pads to modify, accentuate, smooth and distort the figure are a CONSTANT companion to the cut of the clothing throughout history. An 1880s bodice will not look right unless the proper pads are used in the armpit and front armhole to make a very round bosom. The hang of the skirt from the same period will be wrong if the pads or bustles are not in the right place. A man’s 1860s vest and jacket will not look right if the chest area isn’t padded out into the fashionable pigeon breast shape, nor will a man’s 1580s doublet look right without the tremendous distortion of the padding for a peascod shape. Can you imagine how terrible it would look if someone tried to recreate the 1980s without the copious use of large shoulder pads in men’s and women’s clothing? You just couldn’t achieve it! The short answer is that there is simply no way to convey the proper historical silhouette without taking time to understand the padding standards of each era. Make no mistake, they ALL have their own unique padding styles. From the moment clothing shifted away from long tunics and needed to be formed, tailored, and shaped, pads have been in use. If you want to succeed in creating the right look, take the time to learn about the padding and use it.

8. In what order should I make the pieces of the outfit?

   This is an interesting question and there is no single correct answer to it. I find that most people, when they’re making historical clothing tend to begin with the upper body garments. I think this has less to do with traditions and more to do with the fact that the upper body garments are more interesting to make and are more exciting to look at. However, for most time periods, the upper body garment needs to fit OVER the lower body garment. For example a woman’s skirt, through most of the 17th and 18th centuries needs to be held out over padding on the hips. Add to that, the different methods of gathering skirts onto waistbands which take up thickness and you suddenly have a waist level that is much higher than you originally thought. And how would you trust a 19th century coat to fit well if you hadn’t made the vest and trousers over which it will be worn? To this end, I suggest that one of the best questions you can ask yourself at the beginning of a project is what order to make the garments. In fact, I might even say that you should NOT make the upper body garments at all until you have perfected the lower half. Of course, you will need to have made the corset first for 19th century womenswear since nearly everything goes over it…but what about the undergarments over which the corset is worn? There are many choices to be made, but thinking from the skin out and bottom up is a good general method to be sure you’ve thought throughly about it. For womenswear, you should also have created the petticoats and under layers over which the outer skirt will be worn, It would be odd to work form the outside in and simply guess at how the under layers will interact with the over-skirt. You might need to have hoops in many periods, or perhaps you need to have ruffled layers of under skirts with pads and bustles and all sorts of extra stuff just to have the right silhouette for the era. Without thinking carefully about your under-layers and bottom layers, your upper-body garments will need be considerably altered and adjusted. This can become a waste of time that could be otherwise spent in more satisfying parts of the process. If you blaze ahead and make the upper garments first, and then find that you need to modify the waist level, you may be stuck with something that doesn’t function well. What if your skirting layers thicken the waist and you haven’t left enough seam allowance to let out your upper-body garment? You’re forced to “make it work” and because of the corner you backed yourself into and the battle to make it function at all, you might never be satisfied with the fit. In the end, a fantastic outfit that could have been your pride and joy will be tainted with the memories of “I should have done it differently.” No one should have to suffer that sadness about so much work.

9. In what weather will these clothes be worn?

   I know this sounds like a bit of a no-brainer, but it is an essential part of figruring out what you need in terms of materials, layering, looseness or tightness as well as gapes, slashes, openings and styling. without a clear understanding of where these clothes will be worn, you could be setting yourself up for discomfort and possibly physical harm.
   
   One of the best ways to figure out what to choose for your textiles and layers is to try and find extant clothing from a region with a similar climate to where you are. I mean, if you’re spending all of your time in the desert, why would you build a set of clothes that is fit for winter in norther Europe? You wouldn’t. The biggest mistake people make when choosing textiles for their historical hot weather clothing is that they make choices based on what MODERN dressing conventions believe is more comfortable for hot weather. This leads to a series of misconceptions and potential wrong turns which can have you making clothing that is uncomfortable and which doesn’t represent hot weather clothing of the era. The end result could also be potentially dangerous to the wearer if the proper hot climate considerations aren’t addressed. In the same vein, clothing for cold wether regions needs to be layered properly and should also take into account the actual thermal qualities of the material rather than old assumptions about what is better to wear and what isn’t. Wool can be amazing hot weather, but in today’s world, it’s typically perceived as a cold-weather material. A loosely woven wool lined in linen, is exceptionally comfortable to wear in a hot humid climate. In contrast a silk lined in linen might be misery, it might not, depending on the quality and type of weave and finish. There are too many variables to count so my best suggestion is to look at what people wore in the same climate as yours. I have many personal examples of this, but nowhere is this more clear than with hot weather historical clothing. Modern people typically believe in removing as much clothing as possible to maintain a cool temperature and avoid feeling hot. In a historical context, this is most useful in a humid climate and only if you have enough shade to allow your skin temperature to drop for an extended period of time without the sun heating up your skin. From a historical perspective, this would be a last resort tactic to lower your body temp. With very humid climates being the exception, a good way to think about handling the heat is to have layers on your body which PROTECT your skin from the sun and the ambient temperature. Assuming the outside temperature is above about 90°F think that you’re carrying your own shade around with you. One of my early personal experiences with this came when I lived in the Arizona Desert. I would wear a fully layered outfit consisting of doublet, breeches jerkin and topcoat. Yes, I won’t lie, it was warm (after all, it was about 110°F that day), but certainly not faint-worthy or dangerous. Meanwhile I watched other people at same events observing modern concepts of heat management (like taking off as much as they could) nearly passing out from discomfort. At the time, the fashion was to wear “rustic” linen or raw-silk tunics in hot weather with nothing beneath them. Not only does this go against what we know of how people dressed in the period, it puts VERY little distance between the skin and outer temperature. When sunshine can get to the skin, it can get extremely hot as it absorbs the rays. As I would pass these poor, suffering souls, they would look at my full, heavy Spanish clothing and just exclaim “oh my god! Aren’t you dying of heat stroke??” to which I would look meaningfully at them…as though they just asked me the most ridiculous question, and then I would remove my hat and ask “do you see a single bead of melty sweat on my brow?” The answer would inevitably be no. Of course, being sassy was part of the fun, but I would sit down, share a drink with them and explain how I thought about dressing for heat. Even with proof and solid logic, they just decided I was inhuman just a little “touched.”

This post was long. It has gone deep. It is a bit preachy…sorry for that. My point is that there are good questions to help shape the approach to making historical clothing more accurate and more interesting. These modes of thinking will also help you avoid mistakes which could really throw you off course and make a joyous, exciting process feel like walking through glass.

I want you to have fun. I want to create the best possible maker’s experience before, during and after the garment has been brought to life!!

As always,

Happy Stitching!