Way back in February, I put together a red dress based on this pattern. The only exception is that I added small gussets, based on past experience. If I understand correctly (having heard this second or third hand) this pattern is a simplification of some of the Herjolfsnes finds, which date to the 14th century, and have shaped, inset sleeves. Translating those garments to straight rectangular construction, if it's loose enough, the gusset is maybe unnecessary. But to make it a bit more fitted through the shoulders (one of the benefits I see of this pattern) the gusset becomes necessary. I could also be totally off base about the origin of Meistara Vigdis's pattern, but one way or the other, if you want it close fitting in the shoulders, add a small gusset. (The shaped armscye and sleeve head offset the need for a gusset, but doesn't completely eclipse it, in the Herjolfsnes finds.)
Anyway, I got it all put together, and then it sat in my sewing basket while I worked on other things, and then just didn't work on anything for a while. I've finally finished the seams on it! And I want to talk about seam finishing just a little bit. First off, the raw edges of fabric should always be dealt with in some fashion or other. This could be as simple as running a wide, machine zig-zag stitch over the very edge of the fabric, after cutting, before construction. It works. It keeps the edges from fraying in the wash. A step beyond that would be to use a serger, if you have one. You might notice in my Sew-Along posts that some of my edges are serged. Those were serged for washing the yardage the first time around. Those edges will still get finished as though they weren't serged.
Period methods of seam finishing are sort of fascinating to me. (I'm a NERD.) But part of what I find interesting is the overall consistency, and the fact that several of the finishes that we can document as having existed for centuries, and maybe even millennia, are still used today in couture sewing, in commercial sewing, and in regular old home-ec sewing. We've made more efficient machines to accomplish it it, but the ways in which the fabric is manipulated have stayed substantially the same. And I love that. Flat felled seams, French seams, and hemming with catch stitch (occasionally indiscernible from herringbone embroidery stitch) can all be found, in some iteration, in modern clothing, and those same stitches are found in scraps of clothing hundreds of years old.
When working with linen, I choose to finish my fabric in ways that are documentable to linen. Even if the garment I'm making would maybe have been made out of a different fabric (wool or silk, which are sometimes sewn differently). This website very handily shows various historical seam treatments for linen, with archaeological evidence cited. Yay! Most of those examples use a selvage edge (or two), or linings. Since I'm working predominantly with cut pieces in a single layer, I almost always flat fell my linen seams. Occasionally, when it works better with the garment pattern, I'll run and fell (that's where you press your seam allowance open, fold the raw edge under on each side, and stitch each side down separately--seen in a linen Coptic tunic from the 7th century, not cited at the above website, but I read about it separately). But flat felling offers additional strength and reinforcement to the garment seam, so when I can, I choose that method. The "Seam with applied binding" method shown on that site is intriguing, but I haven't used it yet.
My baseline goals with garb are to 1) make comfortable, flattering clothing that I enjoy wearing; 2) make clothing that's well detailed, so that it will withstand much wearing and washing, and not wear out quickly; 3) make clothing that is, at least from the outside, as close to accurate as I can make it, without expending too much time, money, or energy on any single piece. Of course, if a piece is particularly special, for a special occasion, or meant to be submitted to competition, there are different goals in play. But for my regular clothing, that pretty much sums it up. And of course, my understanding of "accurate" is a topic that's ever growing and developing, and I hope will continue to do so over time.
And frustratingly, after the red dress was completely done, I discovered that the sleeves were uncomfortably small. Note: If it's been six months since you made a thing, and you know you've gained weight, try it on before spending a week and a half doing handwork on it. Six hours later, new sleeves and gussets were installed and re-finished, and I did a tiny bit of very subtle embroidery based on the Oseberg ship burial finds (not an exact replica). I'm quite happy, though mildly frustrated with myself.
One of these days, I'm going to post a photo of how I style this, and the other cut. The picture above just shows you that this is not at all fitted. But that's okay! I can belt it on its own, and put on a headcovering, and I'm quickly done. It can also easily go under a Viking-style apron dress, or another 10th century over-dress. I had sort of thought I might be able to wear this under the blue dress, but I really need to try it all on together once it's all done. I think the colors might clash in a bad way. But we'll find out!
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