Yes, yes, yes…I know I’m ending the title with a preposition. But bear with me. I have a sinus headache so I’m not writing at one hundred percent. In fact, this article will be shorter than I originally intended. We’ll stretch silk out to next week, too.
“Mommy? Where does silk come from?”
“A stork carries it and puts it in a basket on our doorstep.”
Wouldn’t that be nice if that were the truth? Unfortunately, the truth is not glamorous and many people have sworn off silk because of it. Don’t read this while eating if you don’t have a strong stomach (don’t say I didn’t warn you).
As we learned last week, sericulture is the production of cultivated silk. Silk begins its life when a silk moth lays eggs on a specially prepared paper. When the eggs hatch, the caterpillars (or larvae) are fed fresh, young mulberry leaves and are as happy as can be. After about 35 days and four moltings, they decide that they really should get their own digs because they’ve outgrown the home place (they are about 10,000 times the size they were when they were hatched), so they start spinning cocoons on specially constructed straw frames that are placed on the silkworm trays (you’d think they would start getting suspicious, no?). They spin their cocoon by moving its head in a figure eight. The silk is produced by two glands and the liquid silk is forced out of the spinnerets (openings) in the silkworm’s head. The silk is coated with sericin, a protective water-soluble gum. When the silk comes in contact with the air, it solidifies. The silkworm is focused on getting this cocoon built and spins about a one mile of filament silk in 2-3 days. Then it sits back, fully encased in the cocoon and waits for the metamorphoses into moth thing to happen.
Only it doesn’t. At least, not for most of them.
Silkworms are usually killed with heat (stifled) before they reach the moth stage.
Silk is the only natural filament fiber. To make a wool thread that can be woven, they have to spin a whole bunch of short fibers together to create something long enough to weave. Not so with silk. The silkworm makes our nice long thread for us. After the worm has been stifled, the cocoons are sorted for fiber size, fiber quality or defects, and then brushed to find the outside ends of the filament. After that, several filaments are wound together on a reel (referred to as reeling). Each cocoon gives us approximately 1,000 yards of silk, creating raw silk. Several of these filaments are combined to give us yarn that can be woven (remember, yarn used here is not the same as the yarn you find at the craft store).
Silk noils is also known as silk waste. Remember that the next time you see a silk noils dress being advertised in a fancy-schmancy catalog. Essentially, silk noils is created from cocoons where the filament broke or the moth was allowed to mature. The resulting fiber needs to spun just like any other staple fiber. Spun silk is less expensive, less durable, more likely to pill, and of lower quality than its filament counterpart.
Silk shantung
Wild silk is exactly that…wild. Production of wild silk is not controlled. The silkworms feed on oak and cherry trees in the wild and the cocoons are harvested after the moth has matured. Because the filament is broken, the silk must be used as spun silk. Tussah is the most common type of wild silk; tasar is a wild silk from India. Beware: “Raw silk” is often used incorrectly to describe wild silk.
Finally, Duppioni silk is created when two of those crazy silkworms decide to shack up and spin their cocoons together. The result is that the yarn has a thick-and-thin appearance. It is used to create a linen-like fabric such as shantung.
No, no, no…an epaulet is not a euphemism for a curse word although I’ve seen some that deserve to have curse words associated with them (the silver lame’ top with epaulets comes to mind…).
French Republican Guard, Bastille Day, 2007
Truthfully, I’m not sure why an epaulet (also seen as epaulette) would be listed as a type of sleeve. Perhaps it is because an epaulet was a shoulder decoration that originally hung over the sleeve to indicate military rank. Over the years, the epaulet evolved into the strap we most often see on military clothing with bars, stars, and other insignia attached to the strap to indicate rank.
General Ann Dunwoody receiving her fourth star
In the fashion world, we most often associate epaulets with trench coats. Since trench coats are descended from the military, it isn’t surprising that the epaulet remained a design feature.
According to fashion-watchers, military-inspired clothing was supposed to be making a comeback. Perhaps it is in other parts of the country, but I’m not seeing it here in Los Angeles (someone correct me if I’m wrong). I’m also not really seeing it in the catalogs either. Go figure.
I discovered a juicy little tidbit while researching this article: It seems that the army was not prepared to provide uniforms for the women joining the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. The quartermaster’s office had patterns created for the women’s uniform by men’s tailors! Naturally, since these guys weren’t used to having to create garments that go around curves, the uniforms were quite ill-fitting. Later iterations were better but the army was still futzing with the design of the women’s uniforms clear to the end of the war.
Today’s Friday Find from the Sewing Cabinet is a darning egg…I think. It is 7 1/2″ long and 1 3/4″ diameter at the larger end.
The darning egg is made of wood and the end has little scratches that look like they could be made from a needle.
Now, here is the thing I learned about darning a hole. I used to think it just meant bringing the edges of a hole together and whip-stitching them shut. But I was wrong. Darning actually entails weaving new “fabric” to fill in the hole (and sometimes adding fabric to strengthen the newly woven piece). Click here to watch a video on how to darn a sock.
Unless they’re hand-knitted, it seems that people don’t really darn their socks and sweaters anymore because they are relatively inexpensive to replace.
What do you think? Am I correct that this is a darning egg? Do you still darn your socks and sweaters?
These are the envelope/file things that I put most of the components of my projects in so that they are all in one place and easy to schlep around:
And, of course, I have to have to include this photo of Baby Alice that was taken this morning (she is 16 pounds now, which you will learn is significant when you listen to the podcast).
Don’t forget to share your tips on how you deal with non-permanent sewing spaces in the comments section!
I’ve given Grandma’s Sewing Cabinet a new look and enabled comments subscriptions. As with the Modern Retro Woman blog, there is still some futzing to be done but the general bones are in place.
One of our most luxurious fabrics is formed from the secretion of a caterpillar. It’s a good thing that silk is unlike any other fiber–dry hand, a unique natural luster, good moisture absorption, beautiful draping, and high strength–or else I think we’d all be grossed out. To be more accurate, silk is produced by the larvae of a silk moth.
Chinese legend has it that the cultivation of silk (called sericulture) began in 2640 B.C. when a cocoon fell into the tea cup of Empress Hsi Ling Shi the fourteen-year-old-wife of the ancient Emperor Xuanyuan (some accounts call her Lei Zu and a concubine). The cocoon began to unravel in the hot liquid and she discovered that it was composed of a delicate thread. This piqued her interest and she learned how to reel the thread so that it could be woven into fabric. Because of her efforts to weave the silk thread, China’s silk industry was developed.
Although silk culture eventually spread to Korea and Japan, then westward to India and Persia, and finally to Spain, France, and Italy, China basically held a monopoly on silk production for about 3000 years. The Silk Road was developed, among other reasons, so that merchants could get their hands on the highly coveted Chinese silk to sell to their customers. Several attempts at sericulture were made in the United States without success. According to Textiles (10th ed.) by Sara J. Kadolph, the major producers of silk are China (54%), India (14%) and Japan (11%).
We probably have silk to thank for the development of manufactured fibers. Because of silk’s high cost, manufacturers have been trying to replicate its beauty and wonderful hand. Rayon, the first manufactured fiber, was called “artificial silk” when it was first developed and you can occasionally find that term on older vintage patterns.
We’ll learn more about manufacturers’ attempts at duplicating silk’s properties when we get to manufactured and man made fibers but the most successful are the fibers with a triangular cross section that are extruded from a gizmo called a spinneret (similar in concept to pushing Play Dough through one of those plastic shape templates).
Next time we’ll learn about how silk is produced and some terms associated with silk. You might be surprised at how the various silk is produced!
I have a love-hate relationship with puff sleeves. Done well, they add width to my shoulder (making my waist appear smaller and balancing out my bustiness) but too often puff sleeves can be big, poofy, and too “young” for a woman my age. And don’t even get me started on the sleeve band that always seems a bit too small, digging into my upper arm and emphasizing my “arm swag.”
According to a fashion industry directory, a puff sleeve is simply a short set-in sleeve that is gathered at the armhole and most commonly found in children’s and bridal clothing. It is also frequently gathered into a band at the bottom of the sleeve although an elastic gathering to create a little flared is common, too.
Cinderella had the ultimate puff sleeved dress. And I think that succinctly summarizes the danger of adults wearing puffed sleeves.
Ah, to be young again. If I were young and had a Singer Young Budget Sewing Machine, I, too, would gracefully dance around my house fantasizing about all of the things I could make with my sewing machine for just pennies! But, alas, I’m firmly planted into middle adulthood and when I fantasize about things I could make with my sewing machine, it doesn’t usually involve transforming a plain table into something lovely.
That said, I do enjoy this commercial from the Singer Sewing Machine Company. It is a nice reminder that we can create amazing things and we don’t have to have a fancy-schmancy machine to do it.
Does angora wool come from a goat or a rabbit? What the heck is quiviut (besides a great Scrabble word)? In this last installment on wools, we will answer those questions and provide lots of interesting information that you can throw about at your next cocktail party.
Basically, specialty wools are from the goat, rabbit, and camel families. Because they are produced in smaller quantities, they are more expensive. But, just because it has a specialty wool name on the label, doesn’t necessarily mean that you are getting luxury quality. Just like everything else, specialty wools vary in quality. One thing they have in common, though, is that they usually require dry cleaning.
The fibers we use in clothing come from the soft, fine, undercoat of the animal. The courser outercoat is used in some coatings but is most often used for interlinings or upholstery.
Angora Goats
Mohair
Mohair comes from the angora goat. Although angora goats have been around since Biblical times, they are now currently raised primarily in Texas (my childhood pastor would call Texas “The Holy Land” so perhaps it is appropriate), South Africa, and Turkey.
The goats are sheared twice per year in the early spring and early fall. Adult goats produce about 5 pounds of fiber. Kids (baby goats) may also be sheared but their fiber only represents about 12% of total production.
So, what’s the big whoop about mohair? It is more resilient than sheep wool, the fibers are more lustrous, and they can handle dye better.
(Anyone else hear Elton John singing “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit,You know I read it in a magazine, B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets” in their heads right now?)
Angora
So, now we know that mohair comes from an angora goat, so that must mean that angora comes from the rabbit, right? Yes.
English Angora Rabbit
Angora rabbits are produced mostly in Europe, Chile, China, and the United States. The first thing you notice right away is that English Angora rabbits are kind of hard to distinguish from tribbles. Other breeds aren’t quite as fluffy but they all produce between 8 and 30 ounces of fiber up to four times per year through shearing or plucking. Of the four breeds of Angora rabbits, the most common are the English, producing a fine silky fiber, and the French, producing a courser fiber. Of course, we have to take into account the health of the animal when considering the quality of the fiber it produces.
Captain Kirk inundated with tribbles
Angora fiber is very fine, fluffy, soft, slippery, and fairly long. Anyone who has every worn an Angora sweater knows that the fiber is not very cohesive. It loves to shed. And those Angora sweaters are often in pastel shades because the fiber doesn’t dye well at all. Because of its orneriness, Angora is often blended with wool to make it more manageable.
What to watch out for: If the label says “rabbit hair,” it means it is from the common rabbit and not the Angora rabbit. If it is from the Angora rabbit, it will say “Angora” on the label.
Camel’s Hair
I remember watching old movies from the 1940′s growing up and seeing these beautiful coats. Oh, they were gorgeous! As I got older, I discovered that they were camel’s hair coats. I decided that I wanted one. Until, of course, I saw the price tag. Then I wondered how those shop girls in those old movies could afford to wear such gorgeous coats! Seems to me that a cloth coat would fit the character better.
But I digress.
Camel’s hair comes from the two-humped Bactrian camel. This camel is found in Turkey east to China and north to Siberia. The reason camel’s hair coats are so prized is because the hair is an excellent insulator, providing lots of warmth, but it doesn’t weigh very much. A camel produces about five pounds per year so the fibers are often used with sheep’s wool (which is then dyed to match the camel hair).
Cashmere
Is it just me or does it seem that cashmere sweaters are showing up everywhere for dirt cheap prices? I think cashmere’s sudden proliferation at even The Mart Brothers-type stores are a perfect example of our need to be careful about buying quality and not being sucked into a purchase of poor quality goods with a luxury name.
Cashmere is produced by a small goat raised in China, India, Nepal, and New Zealand. During molting season, the hair is usually combed by hand with the coarse outer coat and the downy inner coat being separated during the dehairing process. The downy fine fibers make up only about 1/2 pound per goat.
Fabric made from cashmere are warm, are buttery in the hand, and have beautiful draping characteristics. But cashmere is also more sensitive to chemicals than wool. Pashima is cashmere fiber from northing India, Kashmir (which gives cashmere its name) and Pakistan.
The reason cashmere is able to be sold cheaply is because a lot of it is fake or illegal. A common practice is to blend cashmere with sheep’s wool. Now, this isn’t a problem if it is properly labeled. But, all too often the producer “forgets” to include that it is a blended fabric. Even more disturbing is the use of shahtoosh, a fiber harvested from slaughtered Tibetan chiru antelopes, in place of cashmere because they are so similar. The chiru is on the endangered species list.
Make sure you are buying cashmere from a reputable source. If the price seems too good to be true, it is probably because it isn’t 100% cashmere.
Llama and Alpaca
The llama and alpaca are the South American cousins of the camel family. The fiber from their coats is 8 to 12 inches long and is known for its softness, fineness, and luster. Because the alpaca fiber is soft, it is used for clothing but it doesn’t take dye very well. Llama fiber is course and is used more often for outerwear than the alpaca fiber.
Vicuña and Guanaco
Vicuña and guanaco are rare wild animals. They are also part of the South American camel family. Unfortunately, in the past, they were killed to obtain their fiber. Now they are protected and sheared similarly to sheep.
Vicuña is the softest, finest, rarest, and most expensive of all textile fibers. As of 2006, it is illegal to bring any items containing vicuña into the United States because of the Endangered Species Act.
And finally….
Qiviut
Aside from being a word that will get you lots of points in Scrabble, qiviut is a rare and luxurious fiber from the underwool of the domesticated Alaskan musk ox.
Qiviut resembles cashmere in hand and texture but it is much warmer. The fleece is shed naturally and removed from the guard hairs as it becomes visible. It is quite expensive and is used to produce handcrafted items by fiber artists, Inuit, and other Native American people.
We don’t watch television as a general rule but the other night I caught the tail-end of the famous “puffy shirt” Seinfeld episode at my in-laws’ house. Most assuredly, that puffy shirt was just awful which is why it was such a funny episode destined for “instant classic” status.
Not to get technical, or anything but I would actually classify his shirt as a “bishop shirt.” But that, of course, wouldn’t produce the same sort of snickers and laughs.
A bishop sleeve is a long sleeve that is wider at the bottom than at the top and gathered into a cuff. While the top of the sleeve is usually akin to a set-in sleeve, it can also be gathered or slightly puffed. The primary difference between a puff sleeve gathered into a cuff and a bishop sleeve gathered at the armhole is that a puff sleeve is short and the bishop is long.
Bishop Sleeve Illustration Courtesy of CatsMeowCollectables on eBay
An easy way to think about the construction of a bishop sleeve is to imagine a sleeve in the shape of a bell. But I imagine that homemakers quickly discovered that the bell-shaped sleeve got caught in everything so they started putting them into cuffs to retain the general shape but to provide greater control.
Past Pattern #212
Being away from home, I don’t have access to my usual resources but my impression is that this type of sleeve first became popular in the mid-19th century and reached its fullness apogee (isn’t that a great word?) at the end of that century. It became popular again during the mid-20th century. In old movies, you can see the starlets wearing garments featuring this sleeve made from gauzy-like fabrics.
Do you have any patterns/garments that you would classify as having bishop sleeves? Have I left out any important information?
As we learned last week, sericulture is the production of cultivated silk. Silk begins its life when a silk moth lays eggs on a specially prepared paper. When the eggs hatch, the caterpillars (or larvae) are fed fresh, young mulberry leaves and are as happy as can be. After about 35 days and four moltings, they decide that they really should get their own digs because they’ve outgrown the home place (they are about 10,000 times the size they were when they were hatched), so they start spinning cocoons on specially constructed straw frames that are placed on the silkworm trays (you’d think they would start getting suspicious, no?). They spin their cocoon by moving its head in a figure eight. The silk is produced by two glands and the liquid silk is forced out of the spinnerets (openings) in the silkworm’s head. The silk is coated with sericin, a protective water-soluble gum. When the silk comes in contact with the air, it solidifies. The silkworm is focused on getting this cocoon built and spins about a one mile of filament silk in 2-3 days. Then it sits back, fully encased in the cocoon and waits for the metamorphoses into moth thing to happen.
whole bunch of short fibers together to create something long enough to weave. Not so with silk. The silkworm makes our nice long thread for us. After the worm has been stifled, the cocoons are sorted for fiber size, fiber quality or defects, and then brushed to find the outside ends of the filament. After that, several filaments are wound together on a reel (referred to as reeling). Each cocoon gives us approximately 1,000 yards of silk, creating raw silk. Several of these filaments are combined to give us yarn that can be woven (remember, yarn used here is not the same as the yarn you find at the craft store).
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