Themes arising from the garment

Home Dressmaking – Things to Make and Do at Home

Home dressmaking pre-dates fashion as a system (which really emerges in the 19th century with the development of fashion houses). Historically, home dressmaking, or the making of clothes at home, co-insides with the wearing of clothes, particularly for the poor, but as a fashion-led occupation, really took off as a result of the Industrial Revolution and the development of advanced printing and publishing techniques which resulted in the birth of the mass print media.

Instruction in home dressmaking through access to fashionable patterns was central to its continuation amongst the population. Largely, patterns became available through women’s magazines, often offered as free gifts or as enticement to potential consumers.

Regardless of readership of women's magazines from the 1870s onwards, the model of fashion was distinctly Parisian, centring on exclusivity and luxury[1] which was seemingly democratically disseminated through the availability of patterns suitable for home construction. Of course, there was nothing really democratic about access to such styles, which were intended for a leisured elite. Nonetheless, access to the world of fashion through magazines, patterns and such like, were viewed suspiciously by the bourgeoise, seen as the disillusion of class-based dress codes[2]. This view continued into the first four decades of the twentieth century, with home dressmaking as seen in women's magazines, viewed as an extension of the luxurious and fantasy world of couture[3].

The figures surrounding the activity of home dressmaking is notoriously difficult to determine. This is particularly so in the early 20th century, with authors expressing opposing views relating to its popularity. On the one hand, design historians suggest that as patterns became more readily available and increasingly simplified (a product of mass printing techniques) it became easier to make 'quality' garments at home[4]. Alternatively, statistical evidence relating to the consumption of materials (fabrics etc.) shows a decline[5]. One might suggest, as Burman does, that the praxis at which decline meets incline is a result of a changing social and cultural demographic involved in home dressmaking, as the period witnessed the rise of cheaper ready-made clothes[6] which serviced an increasingly employed working class negating (to a certain extent) their reliance on the home made, whilst it is possible that patterns became the remit of more middle-class or leisured women, who made clothes at home as a hobby. Indeed, Catherine Horwood states that:

The growth of mass production did mean that many women no longer expected to make most of their wardrobes themselves or, depending on their income, to have them made. In spite of the enduring popularity of fabrics from specialist stores such as LIberty's, the sale of 'piece goods' - that is, fabrics bought to be made up at home or by a dressmaker - had plummeted since before the First World war and departments selling ready-made items replaced those selling rolls of material. For example, after the First World War, Lewis's department stores "placed far less emphasis on yardage and far more on taste" [7]

The emphasis on middle-class involvement in home dressmaking can be seen as largely a response to new forms of social mobility and the widening of the middle class in general.

Indeed, Horwood continues by noting that Vogue during the inter-war period frequently offered advice on dressmaking and re-styling, addressing the middle class readership 'struggling to maintain social standards'[8] Similarly, the availability of cheaper ready-made garments to working class consumers enabled them to rise above the shame of wearing home made or customised clothing, which were largely viewed, as Burman acknowledges, as a 'badge of poverty' [9]

The most widespread way in which home dressmaking entered the lives of the population, particularly women, was through education. Feminist art and design historians, i.e. Roszika Parker[10], Pat Kirkham[11], Christina Walkley[12], Cheryl Buckley[13], Penny Sparke[14], and Barbara Burman[15], all outline the significance of needlecraft in the education of girls, for both employment and leisure. Needlecraft was seen as a means of teaching a ‘useful’ skill, but also as a means of instilling discipline and obedience. These activities as taught in schools therefore had a rich heritage, and were often determined by social and cultural definitions of gender, educational ability and future role in society.

 

Make-do-and-Mend

The impact of the war had far reaching effects, influencing every member of the population. Life was largely controlled and mediated by the government, and whilst the majority of young men were called into active service, women were encouraged to engage in war work on the home front. For those not engaged in civilian or military occupations, daily life too became restricted as a result of the introduction of rationing on clothing and food, which seriously conflicted with pre-war experiences. Hugh Dalton, president of the Board of Trade, wrote to the women of Britain in 1942:

If every single garment in the homes of Britain, every pot and pan, every sheet, every towel is used and kept usable until not even a magician could hold it together any longer, the war will be won more surely and quickly [16]

This approach was not only intended to be uplifting and patriotic, it also established a culture of thrift and making do which characterised the war years.

In 1941 clothes and textiles rationing was introduced, although clothing prices since the onset of war had increased and were already in short supply to ordinary women. However, clothing rations were allocated equally amongst the population, which to a limited extent redressed the balance, destabilised as a consequence of the earlier price escalation.

Rationing was metered on a coupon system, which in relation to clothing and textiles included wool and dressmaking supplies (although threads and materials required for mending was not rationed). At the onset of rationing each adult was allocated 66 coupons per year, but as the war progressed, this number was decreased to 48 in 1945. The type of garment dictated the number of coupons needed for its purchase, so a woman’s cotton dress would require 7 coupons, whilst one made of wool needed 11. Clothing rationing ended in 1949, although this didn’t mark a return to pre-war affluence by any stretch of the imagination.

Rationing, a necessary measure, was intended to be an equitable one. Unfortunately, although the same number of coupons were issued amongst the population, money was still needed to buy goods, and poorer families suffered as a consequence.

Even with the onslaught of rationing and short supplies in materials, new clothes were still needed and in an attempt to address this need, the Government introduced the Utility Scheme, which was effectively an application of new sumptuary laws. The scheme covered the manufacture in terms of price and quality of British cloth which initially encompassed 50% of the total, but increased to 85% shortly after [17]. Tighter controls were introduced in 1942 with Civilian Clothing Orders, which specified clothing restrictions to be applied during wartime. These largely exercised an emphasis on lack of wastage, so un-necessary details were to be removed and fabric was to be used sparingly.

In the UK in any case, the raw materials and the labour to create fashionable dress just weren’t available. The clothing and textiles industries were being pushed by the Government towards production for export in an attempt to earn money for the country to pay for the war. This resulted in less clothing and textiles for the domestic market.

The Government continued the squeeze on the textile and garment trade in 1942 with the launch of the Utility scheme, a series of stringent specifications, again designed to save valuable and scarce material and resources. Journalist Anne Scott James detailed the Utility restrictions for day dresses:

By the latest set of regulations, no dress may have more than 2 pockets, more than 5 buttons, more than 2 inverted box pleats or 4 knife pleats, more than 160 inches of stitching, any tucks except for fullness, any ornamental stitching, any embroidery, appliqué, braid, quilting, beading, sequins, drawn thread work, a tiered skirt, epaulettes, capes, turn back cuff, imitation pockets, buttons for ornaments or more than 2” of turned up hem[18]

Fashion, by its very nature is other-worldly; it offers an escape into a world of glamour distant from the everyday experience. In this respect it is different from clothing, which really is just a practical and functional cover for the body. In times of instability and fear, one needs an opportunity to escape, and fashion is one way of doing this. The Civilian Clothing Orders seemed to promote a meanness, an austerity completely at odds with the notion of fashion, and as a result would not act as a morale boost, as fashion would do. The Government were aware of this and addressed the problems in two ways; firstly through the ideological promotion of the scheme, and secondly, through the fashionable status of garments it included.

The scheme’s promotion challenged a notion of what fashion was; it questioned its frivolity and slavishness. This ingenious approach promoted the stripped clothing as liberating, functional and accessible to all, as it was now possible to look smart if not fashionable. Of course, as the war progressed, and rationing became more severe, to dress in a showy manner was considered by some to be ‘unpatriotic’.

Although needlework had been a large part of the school curriculum for girls, less women than might be expected were able needlewomen. The Government’s advertising campaign featuring ‘Mrs Sew-and-Sew’ spear-headed the Make-do-and-Mend drive, offering handy hints for customising and adapting old clothes and household linen into ‘new’ garments for the whole family. Men’s suits could be transformed into women’s-wear and children’s clothes, or blankets made into coats, for example. In a culture of make do and mend, sewing and clever needlework was an aptitude required by every household, and in order to address what was perceived as a lack of ability, under the guidance of the Government, the Women’s Institute and other groups such as the Townswomen’s Guild offered classes for women to update and improve their dressmaking skills. These classes were composed of women from all social backgrounds, and the sessions emphasised innovation and aptitude. Likewise, for members of the Women’s Institute, dexterity and creativity were marked and measured by displays of the best work, sometimes at a national level, rewarded with prizes [19]. Motivation here was not just an expression of clever and industrious approaches to difficult wartime circumstances, but acted as a clear indicator of a new valorisation of what was ostensibly ‘women’s work’.

Home dressmaking certainly underwent a revival during the war years, primarily as a necessity rather than a desire to exert creativity or as a quest for a ‘bespoke’ garment. To a certain extent, home dressmaking continued during times of post-war affluence[20], and girls were still taught to sew in schools until the 1980s.

[1] C Breward, 'Patterns of Respectability' in B Burman (ed), p. 23

[2] C Breward, ibid, pp.24-25

[3] F Hackney, 'making Modern Women, Stitch by Stitch', in Burman (ed), pp.74-75

[4] E Wilson and L Taylor, Through the Looking Glass: A History of Dress from 1860 to the present day,1 London: BBC Books, 1989, p.95, referenced in Burman (ed), p.6

[5] Stone and Rowe, The Measurement of Consumers' Expenditure and Behaviour in the United Kingdom 1920-1938, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966, pp. 6-7, referenced in Burman (ed), The Culture of Sewing, Oxford, Berg, 1999 p.6

[6] Burman (ed), p.7

[7] Horwood, Keeping up Appearances: fashion and class between the wars, Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 2005, p.21. See also A Briggs, Friends of the People: The Centenary History of Lewis's, London: Batsford, 1956

[8] Horwood, ibid, p.22

[9] Burman, 'Made at home by clever fingers', in Burman (ed), p.37

[10] R Parker, The Subversive Stitch, The Women’s Press, 1996, pp.187-8

[11] Pat Kirkham, ‘Women and the Inter-war Handicrafts Revival’, in Judy Attfield and Pat Kirkham (ed), A View From the Interior, p.177

[12] Christina Walkley, The Ghost in the Looking Glass, Peter Owen, 1981, pp.3-5.

[13] Cheryl Buckley, ‘Made in Patriarchy: Towards a Feminist Analysis of Women and Design’, Design Issues, Vol. III, No. 2

[14] Penny Sparke, As Long as it’s Pink, pp.151-152

[15] Barbara Burman, ‘Made at Home with Clever Fingers’, in Barbara Burman (ed), The Culture of Sewing, pp.44-46

[16] Letter from Hugh Dalton, 1942, quoted in Reynolds H, ‘Your Clothes are Materials of War: the British Government Promotion of Home Sewing During the Second World War’, in Burman B (ed), The Culture of Sewing, Oxford:Berg, 1999, p. 327.

[17] McDowell C, Forties Fashion, p.89

[18] Scott-James A, Picture Post, August 1942

[19] Andrews M, The Acceptable Face of Feminism, London:Lawrence & Wishart, 1997, p.110

[20] Fogg M, Boutique: a 60’s cultural phenomenon, London:Mitchell Beazley, 2003, pp.134-151