Diane H. Morris

I Never Met a Gusset I Liked: Sewing a Regency Chemise and Stays

Diane Morris | Thursday, March 10th, 2016 | Regency clothing | 8 Comments

After giving a presentation in character as the opinionated 18th-century baroness Lady Purvis — I was the guest speaker at Ossoli Circle, the oldest federated women’s club in the South (founded in 1885) — thanks, Ladies — I am relieved to find that my homemade Regency chemise, stays and gown all held together.

Finding Patterns for Regency Clothing

To plan for my presentation I browsed online for patterns and soon discovered those made by Jennie Chancey, owner of Sense and Sensibility Clothing. Her Regency gown pattern is based on a few gowns she studied in museum collections in Virginia and Denmark. The gown has a high empire waistline that sits right below the bust, a fairly slim skirt, and considerable fullness in the back. I ordered her patterns for the Regency gown and the underthings (the chemise and short stays). Good thing I ordered them nine months before my presentation.

A True Confession

I sewed when I was a teenager. I once made a lovely Vogue A-line skirt where there were no side seams but rather two back seams, each running right down the center of a butt cheek. (I don’t know how else to say that. Buttock, maybe?) Anyway, one of those butt seams had a zipper, so at one point in my life I was comfortable cutting out fabric, sewing in zippers and linings, adding waist bands, hemming and the like. Since then, however, my sewing has been confined to making the odd quilt — I quilted a small wall-hanging in honor of America’s Bicentennial in 1976 (it’s tucked away in a box somewhere) — and the occasional set of curtains. In short, I had a rudimentary understanding of basic sewing principles before I began this project, but I had not sewn anything more complicated than a straight seam for more than forty years. I had never sewn a gusset.

I Met My First Gusset Sewing the Regency Chemise

I knew what a gusset was when I started this project: it’s a piece of fabric sewn into a seam to provide a little extra room. Every woman who wears pantyhose or tights understands this. The gusset in pantyhose is that piece added to the crotch seam that makes for a better, more comfortable fit.

The Regency chemise pattern also called for a gusset — two, in fact: one on each side. See that triangular piece under the sleeve? That’s a gusset.

It was the devil to sew. If you stand back and squint, my chemise doesn’t look too bad, although Jane Austen would cringe to see my hand stitching. Even so, the inside of the chemise is lovely. All the seams are flat-felled, as per the instructions, and I did quite a bit of hand sewing as well. Even so, no respectable historical reenactor would accept my chemise as “true to the Regency period” because most of the seams were sewn on my sewing machine and not by hand.

Twelve Gussets Made Me a Grumpy Cat

After finishing the chemise, I approached sewing the short stays with some confidence, believing my sewing skills had advanced since starting the project. I had not reckoned on having to sew twelve gussets on the stays. Yikes! The photo at left shows the front of the interlining fabric and the positioning of the gussets on the backside. I basted everything before sewing.

I was a grumpy cat while sewing four gussets on each of three layers. I think I got better as I moved along, but I sometimes wrestled with the corners at the bottom of the gusset. And not until I began to assemble the three layers — the outer lining, the interlining and the “fancy” fabric on top — did I realize the challenge of keeping all of the layers in the proper position.

Check out the photo at right which shows the short stays in progress: a dog’s breakfast if ever there was one! Can you see the four gussets on the top “fancy” layer? Note, too, that I bought the cheapest fabric I could find: last year’s Christmas fabric on sale. Yes, that is a holly leaf pattern.

Eight Eyelets Caused a Storm

The instructions for the short stays called for using a sharp awl or ice pick to punch a hole in all three layers fabric at once. After making a hole I had the option of hand-stitching the eyelet hole or using a sewing machine to finish the eyelets. I’m embarrassed to admit that I spent a week swearing while struggling with awls and various implements for piercing the three-layered fabric. Nothing worked well. I watched several YouTube videos. I read various blogs. I tried using little embroidery scissors to get a good, clean hole before hand-stitching the eyelet. Along the way I made an important discovery: my buttonhole stitch is awful and would never hold up to wear and tear. So, I did what any entrepreneur would do. I found a tool to do the job right: I bought an eyelet hole punch at Jo-Ann Fabric and Craft store. After days spent muttering cuss words — “Oh, hen!” as my mother used to say — I drew on my husband’s vise-like grip on the punch and placed the eyelets in about fifteen minutes. A lovely time-saving device that gave a professional look.

The Final Products

So … after struggling with gussets and eyelets and plastic boning, who would have thought it would all come together?

I think the final products look surprisingly good. Note that the stays are meant to be worn over the chemise, as shown in the photo. The chemise functions like a modern slip, while the stays work like a modern bra. The stays are comfortable and do the trick. Not bad sewing for an old gal who was forced to learn a few new tricks. I still never met a gusset I like, but I feel proud, amazed even, that I sewed right to the bloody end.

 

Tags: clothing, Regency era