Learning from Failure

After last week's great success, let's talk about failure. I think this fabric may be cursed. It's been intended for a variety of projects, none of which ever made it out of the planning phase.

It isn't the fabric's fault. It is beautiful and billowing, yet crisp with a nice sheen.

I finally cut into it not long before the pandemic. A sewing circle started up near me and I wanted a hand sewing project to bring. For the first meeting, which ended up essentially being the last, I cut out the bodice pieces for the 1790s round gown from the American Duchess Guide to 18th Century Sewing. Back in 2018, I made the sacque gown from this same book - and had always intended to make another project from it. Once the meetings stopped and the pandemic started, I abandoned the project.

(Where I left it - the first few pieces basted to the lining.)

Last month I planned to pick this dress back up and finish it, but I ran into one problem after another. My first issue was that I didn't have enough fabric - I'd misremembered the width - but the skirt fullness is fungible, so I did some calculations, settled for a slimmer skirt, and moved on. Then I started to run into issues with the fact that the sizing and instructions in the book are unclear in places. Assuming I just didn't have the right historical sewing background to fill in the blanks, I purchased the American Duchess Simplicity regency pattern - but the bodice construction is too different to be helpful.

You can see the pattern drafted from the book laid on top of the Simplicity pattern pieces and next to the corresponding pieces from my trusty Laughing Moon pattern below. (It isn't really comparing apples to apples - different seam allowances, different size charts, and different construction methods.)

But the biggest sticking point for me wasn't the underbodice, but the overbodice. The Simplicity pattern (and the Laughing Moon one) have a gathered overbodice which covers the full front like the fashion plate below on the right. What I wanted - and what is shown in the AD book - is a crossover gathered bodice like the one in the fashion plate on the left.

(Image on the left from Dames a la Mode, the right from Candice Hern.)

But the AD book doesn't have a pattern for this piece. Presumably one drapes the piece to pattern it, but I simply don't have those skills - and am working with a serious fabric deficit. So I looked elsewhere for some idea of the shape.

This dress, held in the Danish National Museum, has a crossover front and the museum has helpfully provided a pattern in PDF format.

I did print the pattern out and cut a test panel to pin onto my dressform, but by this point I was running out of enthusiasm for the project and was loathe to cut pieces from my last scraps of fabric and have it not work out. So I agonized and then I packed it all away with notes and an expiration date.

I hate to leave things unfinished. I hate even more to admit I am not able to finish something. I feel like the message is often that if you can't finish something it's because you gave up or because you didn't persevere enough. That it's some sort of moral failing not to finish something you've started.

I sew as a hobby. When a project passes from challenging to frustrating, it is no longer fun for me. It no longer relaxes me. And if my hobby is stressing me out and making me unhappy, what is the point?

A friend of mine recently shared this image with me.

(From @LizandMollie.)

And it really resonates. Even though I eventually packed it up, I learned so much from this project. Hand sewing is so much easier and my stitches are so much more even. I learned a whole bunch of historical hand stitches. And despite the fact it has come too late to be useful on this project, I understand a great deal more about how these early Regency bodices are patterned and constructed. Because I failed on this project, the next one will be easier.