For ladies, what was fashionable during the 14th Century was the swayed-S figure, with slightly protuberant, hopefully pregnant belly, slim breasts and arms, and flowing skirts-- in a nutshell, the cotehardie. This is a princess-line gown fitted snugly from the shoulders to the waist, also with fitted sleeves, often buttoned closely to the wrist and first knuckles.
No, moans the beginning seamster, I can't do that....
Here are some of my favorite methods for achieving the cotehardie... heh heh-- I ruined at least five lengths of fabric at varying levels of expense to hit on these methods.
Medieval artists are notoriously fickle on the details shown on the garments they portrayed. Modern costume historians are equally as fickle in interpreting these paintings and the methods that various books on the subject show range anywhere from the excellent and clear to the obscure and wildly inaccurate. The garment and method I describe is basically a more modest version of Queen Jezebel from the Bible of King Wenceslas, yet a little racier than the wide (but not low-cut) neckline of the 1340's. Since I happen to like a cotehardie that fits to the upper part of my hips (popular in the 1360's), you're at the mercy of my predjudices and opinions. I will touch on some other options, however the intent of this article (diatribe?) is as the title states.
My idea of a cotehardie takes a lot of fabric, compared to your basic T-Tunic. The gown has a full circle skirt (if not more), touches the ground at a bare minimum length, and has a one piece sleeve.1 The sleeves are snugly buttoned on the arm, with a cuff over the wrist, and can even extend to a draped cuff to the base of the fingers. In fact it looks a lot like the picture! see illustration
I also happen to enjoy the use of mundane patterns. In the last ten years, I've pored over just about every new book from the aminstream companies with great interest, in search of The Perfect Cotehardie Pattern. I've never been one for doing vast alterations to semi-satisfactory patterns, hence the search. This last summer there were a number of them, which also spurred me to write this (see the listing in the bibliography). I will assume you have some sewing skills sufficient to do basic alterations for fitting, since word count prevents me from going into great detail on these skills. (see the bibliography for recommended text on alteration and other sewing stuff...).
I am five foot six. For a gown that satisfies my notions of fullness in the skirts, I use eight to nine yards of 60" fashion fabric (without nap) or 12 yards of 45" fashion fabric, also with nap (this does not include extra fabric for superfluous gores for even more skirt). A field cotehardie should just touch the ground when one's shoes are on, so I cut mine conveniently enough from selvege to selvege **see illustration and thus get a lot of bang for the buck, so to speak. Napped fabrics cannot be cut in this manner, since they will end up looking weird... I once made a particolored gown from two differently colored six foot lengths of 45" wide satin... very slinky, and somewhat dangerous to dance Kill the Piper in, since the skirts were six inches longer than me.
Anyhow, I have a pile of patterns close beside me, so let us begin.
Butterick 3932 is a very mundane dress, when one looks at it. On first glance, the bubble-ish skirt in views A and B are hideously "Eighties", but View C might have possibilities... The illustration on the envelope shows the shoulders well exposed, at least one and a half inches below the collarbone level, with a small dip in the center front neckline. It has eight panels with control seams that go straight up into the shoulders rather than the armseye--easier to fit and infinitely more graceful a garment than a four panel dress see illustration.
The pattern is marked average as a level of difficulty-- my immediate reaction to that was "yeah, ri-i-i-ght"2 after looking at the tricky little piece of elastic holding up the top of the sleeve. Naaah, sez I, we'll just leave that out, and I did. More on that anon.
Grabbing my length of fabric out of the closet before it all fell out on me,3 I laid it out on the living room floor (both cats promptly went to sleep on it as new-project christening) and ironed my pattern pieces.4 For me, nine yards of non-napped 60" cut single piece at a time laying neck and hem to each selvedge leaves about a yard left over for a heartshaped headdress and a pouch-ish thingie. As of this writing I haven't decided what to do with the scraps other than re-stash them. I hate throwing fabric away.
The method is rather simple-- I left all the skirt pieces in the envelope, and followed the instructions otherwise, with two exceptions. According to Butterick the bodice on the mundane dress is completely lined, with the lower edge of said lining blindstiched by hand to the skirt/bodice seam, thus providing a finish. I overcast the raw edge of the lining and let it hang, while lengthening the exterior bodice pieces to floor length. I also left out the little pieces of elastic by fitting the sleeve caps snugly to the upper arms, which you can do, too, by carefully taking in the upper portion of the seam in the armscye. I followed the boning instructions exactly as written, though I also boned the center back instead of using (faugh) the zipper. If you paid attention to my comments on plastic featherboning in my last TI article, disregard them now. Besides, you can throw the dress in the washer, provided your fabric's washable.5
On closures-- there are several options here. You can draft out the slight dip in the front of the bodice, though your lord may complain! I made one cotehardie with about eighty working buttons up the front from floor to neckline, and hated the 'gaposis'. A skintight gown will pull in embarrassing places both front and back, and if it's a dark colored dress and you're an original member of the Fishbelly White Club like me... well, you get the picture. Placket! One can work buttonholes on either side of a BONED center back (my preference-- the eighty buttons are now merely decorative), work rings on the wrong side of a BONED front opening and lace it up on the interior like Agnes Sorrell, etc. Boning keeps the edges from buckling unattractively; grommets will pull out quickly under the strain (reinforcing sufficient to the demand of grommets ends up looking wrong on a light-weight gown) and are not period since they were invented in 1810.
The off-the-shoulder gown did not have bell cuffs and buttons, though it was fitted snugly as required. When working buttons (the bell cuff requires some kind of wrist fastening), there are two methods of placing the buttons: across the top of the arm, or under the arm where the modern normal sleeve seam is. Both have drawbacks-- the first method has your buttons and messy buttonholes out there before the Known World and everybody6, the second clacks against your belt, your guitar, the table-- you name it. Pick your poison.see llustration You must make your decision before you cut out your sleeves-- but you knew that, right? And, a placket and bridal loops made of elastic work quite nicely in sleeves-- especially when one fluctuates up or down a five pounds or few with the phase of the moon... thread loops will break at the worst possible moment and metal buttons wear through thread ("Oh, Ciorstan's wearing that one again, just follow the button trail.."). All minor annoyances, really.
Construct it up to the point of sewing the facings around the neck, then stop. Finish the closure, either front or back, and do your final fit. This is Very Important! Doing piddly alterations through the facings is the Pain Royale. This means you will have to hand-futz (mitre carefully) the edge of the facings around the closure, but it's worth the lack of hassle when doing the final fit.
Hem the thing, slink out to your nearest revel and enjoy!
Nothing is more frustrating and infuriating to the average SCAling than when someone (usually Mistress Laurel Seamchecker, the Demon Laurel from Caid-- thanks, Goldwyn!) inspects one's garment and says "WHY did you do THAT this way, when THIS way is so much more accurate-- witness all the unpublished research I've done!" Hah, I say-- rather than drawing your dagger and putting the boor out of your misery or tearfully throwing the gown away, just smile sweetly and say "But it fits!" And proper fit is the best revenge, heh heh heh...
Simplicity 9505, copyright 1980. I have a half-size copy, for ladies 5'2" to 5'3", acquired as a gift. Narrow drape to the skirts (uck), three differing necklines and two sleeve lengths.
McCalls 8096, only up to Misses 14. Your basic cheerleader pattern. Copyright 1982.
Simplicity 5598, the old faithful, also copyright 1982. It's called that since a version has been around since dirt was invented... Junior Miss sizes up to 15/16, and I've never noticed Miss sizes. Just as an aside, my order of preference in patterns goes in a specific order: Vogue, Butterick and McCalls are neck and neck, then Simplicity. Yes, Simplicity's garments are more easier to make as a whole, however once done they also blatantly look like "homemade". Vogue and Butterick are two divisions of the same publishing house; Vogue will give you the best looking garment and carefully walk you through the process in the instructions (though they won't tell you WHY a particular method is used over a different one), and is thus worth the extra money. Once Mom and I were both cutting out versions of the same cowl neck: hers was Vogue and mine Simplicity-- her cowl neck piece was on the bias, and mine wasn't. I hated my dress, and envied hers-- 'nuff said. The most common error in SCA costuming is NOT ENOUGH FABRIC USED IN THE GARMENT7, so I believe you see my point.
McCalls 3398, copyright 1988. This is the best one I've seen in a while, since it is a straightforward, jewel line (even a small collar!) dress. Lose the side seam pockets, though. Since I have a very short waisted torso and less than eight inches difference between my bust-hip and waist measurements (the sausage look), I will not wear a high necked cotehardie since it makes me look very dumpy. I made this discovery after I finished a jewel necked gown-- bleah. I put it on, marked and cut away anything that didn't look like a good neckline, then bound the resulting raw edge with black bias tape since I'd foolishly tossed all my scraps. The bias tape wasn't a bad idea, for it was the aforementioned Black Field Dress with Many Buttons-- remember, Awful Catastrophe can strike someone who should know better since she's been sewing for eighteen years. The pattern goes up to a size 20.
Bridal Elegance pattern 1886 is a mitten/glove/pointy sleeve variation thingie very useful for turning into a long bell cuff over the wrist and knuckle. Copyright 1981. Only the above comes in the envelope, so don't think you're buying an entire wedding gown just for the mitten.
Hill, Margot Hamilton and Peter Bucknell, The Evolution of Fashion: Pattern Cut and Style from 1066 to 1930. Drama Book Specialists, 1967, 1978. The pattern diagrams are for women's size twelve, however I do not like the looks of a four piece cotehardie for reasons discussed above. This is why I do not cite the Medieval Miscellanea Cotehardie pattern-- which makes a perfectly good garment, but not to my personal taste. See commentary on this book in the aforementioned Complete Anachronists.
Holkeboer, Katherine Strand, Patterns for Theatrical Costume, Prentice Hall, 1984. This book is along the lines of Hill and Bucknell (EoF), though longer and more detailed in scope. It has the same drawbacks as the above volume, and perhaps she copies a few of her patterns from EoF. There are two sideless surcote patterns, of which I've seen the wider plastron version made up (very nice and graceful)-- I really like the look of the other one (which is also on the cover) though my copious amounts of spare time hasn't permitted experimentation with it yet.
Houston, Mary, Medieval Costume in England and France. Black, 1931. Reprint of the 1939 edition. Drool.
Lubin, Leonard, The Elegant Beast, The Viking Press, 1981. Note Madame Brown Fink on page 9 has a black cotehardie under her houppelande. This book very limited in scope, very funny, and rather accurately painted except for the choices in color. True, period people would use any color combination that occurred in nature (green and pink, bleah), but not this intense in hue. Chemical dyes were not invented until roughly the 1830's.
Yarwood, Doreen, European Costume, 4000 Years of Fashion, Bonanza Books, 1975. The drawings are a tad on the vague side, but gives one a relatively good survey over the years. I admire the 'look' of figure 219 on page 52, but hate Jeanne de Bourbon on page 59. Dumpy.
Reader's Digest COMPLETE GUIDE TO SEWING, Eighth Printing 1981. Prepared with technical assistance from The Singer Company. Excellent, and not as pricey as the complete line of Singer how- to books, which are also excellent. This is the standard text in the Advanced Tailoring classes at the local Community College.