Fantastical Fantail

I didn’t technically NEED to make the Scroop Patterns Fantail skirt.

I mean, let’s not get too deep into the definition of “need,” especially when discussing costuming.

The Fantail is an 1890s-1900s five gored skirt pattern. Which is also totally wearable as an everyday skirt… at least if, like me, you’ve strayed far down the garden path of “WTF is she wearing?”

So wearable, in fact, that I have several others almost exactly like it. The Edwardian Walking Skirt (Folkwear pattern) that my mom made back in the 80s or early 90s, for one. (And yes, i still have the tissue pattern she traced off the original she borrowed from the library.) The grey gored skirt I made a couple of years ago that I wore like crazy last winter, for another. And three or four more long, gored skirts of various iterations.

But it is also a skirt style I wore constantly last winter and, well, winter is coming. And I had purchased the Fantail back in the spring when Scroop had a big sale to raise money for some unexpected expenses. And then one of my Victorian Sewing buddies was destashing some this gorgeous twill “denim” (not really denim, it’s fairly loosely woven and very soft. But it does have a twill weave, and white threads in one direction.) And it just really needed to be this kind of skirt.

So, just before my birthday, I got the pattern printed out. I didn’t actually get to work on it for my birthday, but not too long after I started poking away at the project.

This kind of skirt is really, really simple, and it went together quite quickly. As per the instructions, I graded between my hip size and the waist size I wanted, and I’m glad I did as it meant I didn’t have to fuss with adjusting the perfect pleats to fit a different waist size

The fabric wasn’t overly wide, and I wanted to use it as efficiently as possible. This style of skirt straddles the evolution of grainlines from the gored skirts of the 1880s where it was standard to have one edge of the gore on the straight grain and one on the bias, to something closer to a modern, centred grainline, to allow the fabric to hang better. Maybe I should care more about the hang of my skirts, but as the pattern says, grainlines are suggestions. So I angled my side and back gores so that they fitted best on the un-folded fabric. No regrets so far. It’s not zero waste, but the amount of waste is minimal.

It took me a bit to figure out the instructions for the back placket, and I did manage to cut one of the facings wrong way round (though it’s on the inside so I didn’t bother to recut it). It isn’t hard, or even unclear, particularly, but everything is very side specific and there are some acronyms in the instructions that aren’t instantly comprehensible. Once I understood what they were getting at it was fine.

Other than that? Easy peasy. And those back pleats? To die for.

I did use some very modern construction shortcuts: overlocked seams, machine blind-stitched hem, leaving the selvedge exposed on the inside of the waistband.

We were (are) in the process of moving the whole sewing room, so I didn’t have a lot of bandwidth for authentic detailing.

I also couldn’t find the heavy-duty hooks and bars I bought specifically so I would have them around next time I made a skirt like this, but hopefully these two traditional (and vintage) hook & eyes will do the job. I was waffling a bit about adding a touch of topstitching to the skirt, just as a nod to the denim look of the fabric, so when I realized that topstitching was an integral part of the placket, I just went with it, a little line along each vertical seam (except the centre back.)

To hem, I used my favourite trick (when I don’t feel the need to be historical) and cranked up the differential feed on the serger while finishing the bottom edge. This gathers in the lower edge for you, which makes folding up and easing in the hem super easy. Unfortunately (?) I was doing it on the new-to-me serger handed down from an amazing reader, and the differential feed on this machine is a lot more effective than the one on my old serger, so it wound up gathered in a bit too much, which took some massaging. But it made the machine-blind-stitched hem super easy!

One thing the pattern lacks is a pocket. I’m honestly not sure how common they were in this period, with the narrower skirts clinging over the hips, but there’s still room to tuck one under the pleats in the back, so I did. I used the same method I always do, which comes from an 1887 sewing manual—so potentially a bit dated for this skirt’s era but not unreasonable. I didn’t manage the tidiest insertion (particularly when trying to topstitch along that seam) but it’s tucked around back where I don’t have to look at it so it doesn’t bother me at all.

I did forget a couple of little touches I wanted, including the tape that is supposed to go from the top of the pocket to the waistband, and hanging loops under the waistband. So I will have to go back and add those.

I serged off about 1/4” in length and then did a 2” hem, and I’d say the length is an excellent walking length for me, though I perhaps wouldn’t mind an extra inch if I were going for a more formal historical look.

While I was intending this skirt to fit over a corset, it turns out I can also still wear it without, though it doesn’t lay quite so nice and smoothly over the hips. It does mean it’s another thing I can and will wear to work this winter, though, which has me thrilled to bits.