It occurred to me, as I struggled to wrap my brain around all the things I’d planned for Bichette’s lingerie trousseau, that she might desire a corset. And at this point, why not? What’s one more piece in the great big scheme of things?
I set to work translating the French instructions for the LSDS 1907 #4 version, which were charming as usual, but full of confusing revelations.
First off, the fabric called for isn’t cotton sateen or silk as I’ve often seen them made up, but “plain or striped ticking”. If choosing a solid color, white is more elegant according to Tante Jacqueline, but gray stays cleaner longer.
I dug through my stash and found a piece of antique cotton which looked enough like miniature blue and white striped ticking to make me happy (and it matched the embroidery at the bottom of the drawers). I also managed to find three tiny antique buttons perfectly suited for lingerie.
Onward I went!
The next unexpected bit of information concerned the straps. They’re evidently designed to be crossed in back before bringing them to the front, and the instructions are very specific about this:
Side A of each strap is fitted with a buttonhole which attaches to button A on the front, but on the opposite side. In other words, the straps cross in the back; the one that starts from the right shoulder attaches to the left; the one that starts from the left shoulder coming to attach to the right.
I’ve never seen this pattern made with crossing straps in back, but this wasn’t the biggest surprise. The directions for closing the corset easily win first place for most gasp-worthy moment:
A corset is laced, usually using a silk or cotton lace that passes through the eyelets. But, for a doll’s corset, it’s an unnecessary complication. It is better to use snap buttons, which are extremely easy to install, or simple porcelain or mother-of-pearl buttons through which the buttonholes will pass . . .
You could have knocked me over with a feather when I read this.
Snaps? On a corset???
In 1907???
And Tante Jacqueline wasn’t done challenging my thinking, because her next words sent me from wide-eyed with shock to perplexed head scratching. When it comes to finishing the raw edges of the corset, the translated instructions read:
We have lined the entire edge of the upper part and at the bottom with a small favor on horseback or with a lace of it which we stitch with the small machine of Bleuette, if you have one; if you don’t have one, make a front stitch or a side stitch and don’t torment your mothers so that they give you an object which, with skill and patience, you can do without.
I tried half a dozen online translators in an effort to figure out what the word faveur meant in the context of underwear. One possibility is support, which first caused me to wonder if the edges were meant to be stiffened in some way. However, neither of the two GL corsets I own have anything like this. They’re not even lined! And then there’s the further suggestion by Tante Jacqueline that the faveur might be replaced with some kind of hand stitching.
Which probably rules out the idea of faveur meaning support.
Another option is that faveur means act of grace. Perhaps, in 1907, d’une petite faveur meant something along the lines of with a graceful decorative flourish of lace or . . . ?
As for the part about the faveur being on horseback I thought I might be on to something by picturing a rider on a horse, which brings to mind the notion of a binding wrapped over—or sitting astride—the raw top and bottom edges (which is how the lower edges of my GL corsets are finished). On the other hand, the drawing of the corset doesn’t appear to have edgings of any kind.
And if you’re developing a headache at this point, you’re not alone.
One last ditch effort to solve the faveur riddle sent me searching for ribbon history. Because deep in the corners of my brain where old movies hang out together, is a memory of a queen showing favor to a knight by handing him – you guessed it – a ribbon. And sure enough, there’s even recorded evidence of the word favour-ribbon being used as a noun (in 1762).
So what does this mean for Bichette’s little corset? Your guess is as good as mine.
The bottom line, as usual, is that sewing with LSDS patterns requires patience and a certain amount of creativity.
And possibly wine.
Here’s hoping I can find enough of all three to get me through!
To follow along as Bichette’s entire wardrobe grows, click HERE.
Or to view just the posts for her lingerie trousseau, click HERE.