How the Inspired by Jane Collection Began

            In the very early months of Covid in 2020, everything shut down. There were no places to go because almost nothing was open. However, being stuck in the house presented plenty for keeping busy, including going to the storage room for a big job of sorting and discarding. On a bottom shelf I found a big box that held the handmade dolls I had made in the past. As soon as I took out a doll previously dressed as “Little Bo Peep,” I was reminded of Jane Austen. This doll wasn’t particularly pretty, but she looked intelligent, and she had fuzzy yellow hair (soon changed to brown) arranged in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing little black slippers that looked like the tiny feet depicted in Regency fashion plates. I immediately knew that she needed a dress to become the person she truly was meant to be. And so began this project that has lasted more than three years.

Dolls, Sewing, and Research All Came Together

My interest in dolls:

            The first doll was the doll my mother made for me in 1945 for my fourth birthday. I named her Serena, and she has always been with me. I knew she was special; she made me a “doll person.” My dolls were few because growing up in the 1940s, I got only one new doll a year, from Santa until I was 10 years old. So, each of these dolls was special. Very early on, I learned how to be a mother to a doll from the Raggedy Ann books by Johnny Gruelle, where Marcella, the mistress of so many dolls, was always washing their clothes and hanging them out to dry. None of my dolls ever had an extra dress or a nightgown.

            In second grade, I was friends with Esther Ann, only because, if I were invited to play at her house after school, her mother would give us pieces of fabric to sew a doll dress. Neither of us got any further than cutting out a square, threading a needle (challenge!) and learning to take a few running stitches to hold two pieces together. Then it was time to walk home before it got dark. At this early age, “dolls” and “sewing” were planted in my brain.

How I learned to sew:

            I grew up in a rural town in Iowa (one flashing stop light). There were 29 students in my grade. Most of us started together in kindergarten and ended together as high school graduates in one school building. That’s how small the school district was. In 1955, as freshmen in high school, all girls automatically took Home Economics I; there was no other choice. Mrs. Cling was the teacher with a reputation from many years of teaching Home Economics. In sixth grade, we were calculating if she would be retired by the time we were in high school. No such luck. The first semester was sewing, and we had to label the two hundred parts (that may be an exaggeration) on the outside and the inside of the electric sewing machine before we could even sit down in front of one. We were required to make a sampler of five different kinds of buttonholes stitched by hand with red thread on yellow fabric. Every buttonhole had to be lined up perfectly. For our first garment, a skirt, we “applied” a zipper over and over again before we could proceed to the waistband.

            Mrs. Cling was meticulous. Any deviation more than a quarter of an inch in the depth of a hem meant that the whole hem was ripped out and done over – by hand, of course. We moaned and groaned mightily. But now, how I wish with all my heart that I could tell Mrs. Cling that learning to sew was one of the two most important things I learned in high school. It is a skill that I have carried with me all these years. (The other skill was typing). “Thank you” is not a big enough word for what she gave me.

Researching Fashion in History:

            A third big interest of mine has always been observing what women have worn in the different historical time periods. I have a hard time with vintage movies from the 1940s and 50s because I’m so distracted by the way historical costumes were so obviously influenced by the current fashions when the movie was made, such as skirt lengths and hair styles. I realized that the costume designers were missing this most important detail. In the 1970s, my daughter had few commercial dolls because I could not give her the dolls that were focused on glamour, trendy fashion, and lots of makeup. I didn't want her playing with adult-looking dolls when she was still a child, so the fashion dolls of that period, their mini-skirts, go-go boots, and heavy makeup, were not an option. She never had a Barbie, although her grandmother and I made outfits for the dolls she did have.

            Then in 1986, too late for her, Pleasant Company began The American Girl Doll collection, with dolls dressed in historically correct clothes. I was thrilled because now I had an excuse to get a doll – for me! My husband gifted me my first choice of American Girl Molly, because she is 10 years old in 1944 – my own time frame. When I retired from teaching, my mother gifted me Addy, a 10-year-old escaped slave in Philadelphia in1864. Now I had an excuse to sew doll clothes for my dolls that validated what I had learned from observation and reading.

            Later on, after retiring and moving from the city to farm country, I discovered that I could enter all the categories in the Doll Division in the Crafts building at the famous Sandwich (DeKalb) County Fair for just one entry fee and collect premium prize money for ribbons awarded. I did this for five years, very successfully. I was playing with dolls, sewing, and using my accumulated knowledge of fashion in history for a purpose.

            This is how my three interests came together, unexpectedly, for my Inspired by Jane collection.

Blue Portrait Dress

          When I decided to dress my doll as Jane Austen, this is the image I had in mind.

I could not go shopping for the exact blue I wanted because the stores were closed due to Covid, so I had to sort through my stash of fabrics.

            The next step was to research Regency dress. I learned that the bodice construction in gowns was quite unique during this time period. The back of the bodice was pieced with gussets at each side. There was no shoulder seam placed as we know it today. Instead, the front fabric extended over the shoulder down to a point a short distance above the side gusset seam. This assembly allowed the fabric to mold across the shoulder blades to give the dress, what seems to me, to be an elegant line. No slouching!

            The high-waisted skirt could be cut as rectangles, or as shaped gores that reduced the amount of fabric gathered around the waist and allowed the skirt pieces in back to form a small “train.” Ruffles and trims were placed around the bottom of the dresses. I used a length of pleated trim edged in blue from my lace collection. I think it looks like vintage 1930s, but that’s all I had.

            Guided by the picture, I made Jane’s sleeves without any fullness, her neckline straight across, and used a ribbon for a belt at the high waist. The fichu serves as a décolleté and is separate from the dress. It opens at the back and is gathered at the neck. The dress closure was down the center of the back. Since I wasn’t sure how to do this detail and couldn’t find much information at that time, I winged it by using three of the smallest buttons in my collection:  one at the neckline, two at the waist, held closed by loops of embroidery thread.

            Her cap is a large circle of fabric gathered onto a dark band that is trimmed with a dense wide ruffle. I chose to use a pink velvet ribbon only because I liked it better than any dark ribbon in my ribbon scraps. Plus, I had read that a pink ribbon was mentioned in a letter between the sisters. Everything else was pretty close to the portrait. I was having fun and no one would know anyway.

            Then four years later I am reading Jane Austen’s Wardrobe by Hilary Davidson, pp. 68 - 71, about the c.1805 - 10 Portrait Gown, and learn that everything about this dress and cap depicted by the artist, that I copied diligently and did not think to question, is wrong!

Night Dress and Cap

            The night dress and night cap are made of plain white cotton. White cotton could be washed and bleached often, while dyes weakened the fabric fibers and were not colorfast, so color was impractical. Any decoration would have been white on white including lace, pleats, tucks, and embroidery. The pattern is basically a T shape, with square gussets set in under the arm to provide free movement of the arm. It wasn’t until I had finished assembling the side seams and inserted the gussets, finished off the neckline and front opening with details using lace and buttons, that I discovered I had made a big mistake laying out the pattern. One-half of the back piece was missing about five inches above the hemline right down the middle of the back. I had spent too much time having fun deciding on trim and opening details to start over, so I cut the back piece short and inserted a gathered skirt across the back, not at all authentic. I decided not to tell anyone. (Shhhh!).

            Her night cap is copied from a fashion plate of a night cap. I enjoyed making the ruffles! The back of the cap is very full to hold lots of hair, and has ties to go under the chin to hold the cap securely on the head in case of tossing and turning.

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Jane Austen’s Silk Pelisse (Pronounced /pəˈlēs/)

‍ ‍           After sewing a few doll dresses, I came across, quite by chance, a reference to a silk pelisse that may have belonged to Jane Austen. I didn’t know exactly what a pelisse was at first, but basically, it’s “a coat-dress.” A Google search led me to the Hampshire County Museum Services and Archives where the original pelisse has been held since 1993. The museum website had some information that proved to be most helpful.‍ ‍

            In 2007, because the original pelisse had been determined to be too fragile for display, it was decided that an exact replica would be constructed for the public. The original pelisse was carefully studied, measured, and documented. This detailed documentation included images of the individual pattern pieces of the coat. I knew that I would be able to enlarge these pattern pieces so the pelisse could be sewn to the exact size needed for my doll. Years ago, I had made a doll-sized copy of my mother’s wedding dress. I would use that same technique.‍ ‍

            But there were some problems. My impression was that the original fabric was orange silk, with a striped pattern of brown oak leaves. (Wrong!). The lining was of white silk. It was impossible to find a substitute fabric with a pattern of tiny brown leaves suitable for a doll. Both fabrics needed to be substantial but not thick, and with a little more body than cotton. We live in rural Illinois where fabric stores, even in 2020, had become few and far between. And now, due to Covid, stores were not open for business anyway. There were many challenges to overcome, and I was so impatient to get started with this project.‍ ‍

            Then our vacuum cleaner needed attention, and amazingly, the dealership was open. Pulling up in the parking lot, I noticed right next door to the Dyson store, a Salvation Army thrift store, and it was open! The guard at the door admitted me because I was wearing a mask, and directed me to a hand sanitizing station. Then I headed straight to the rack of men’s shirts and found only one shirt that was orange. It was patterned with a twill stripe in the weave. The fabric was neither too thick or too thin. What more could I hope for? So, I grabbed it. At home the shirt went into the washing machine right out of the plastic bag and then into the dryer on the hottest setting. It came out of this severe laundering just fine. I could finally get started sewing Jane’s pelisse!‍ ‍

            Once I had the pattern pieces sized to fit the doll, everything went along, until I got to the sleeves. I fussed and fussed to get them set in the armhole. Finally, I solved that problem (well, for the moment). A lining of silk would have been a problem, slipping and sliding around, so I was glad that my lining of white polyesterdidn’t do that. I added a belt because I had read that tiny holes in the fabric in the original coat indicated that a belt had been attached. This makes sense because the pelisse, when worn, needed to be held closed in the front.‍ ‍

            I hand-sewed in the lining, completely joining the coat and lining together, which seemed to be the case in the photographs of the original pelisse. I was taught that the lining of a garment is left free at the hem from the outer layer to avoid the coat and lining pulling against each other.‍ ‍

            Later, when it was time to take photos, the pelisse didn’t go on Jane easily, and that’s when I discovered that I had inserted each sleeve backwards! The only solution was to open the lining seams to have access to the stitches around the armhole so I could remove each sleeve. Then the sleeves were switched, sewn, and the lining seams joined by hand. Fortunately, in this doll pelisse, I deliberately did not line the sleeves to avoid bulk, so although the sleeve correction was time-consuming, it was not difficult.‍ ‍

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Jane’s White Dresses

            I didn’t have much information at the time I was sewing these white dresses. I knew that white dresses were very popular and I knew that the fabric should be very fine and flowing. This was going to be a problem even with fine batiste cotton fabric because a doll’s dress is just too small to allow cotton to “drape.”

            So again, I carried on with what I had in my stash and had fun looking in my collection for laces and ribbons that didn’t look too “modern.” After making the first dress with short sleeves, I came across the information that Jane had written to Cassandra in 1814 about her gauze gown with long sleeves. This was my excuse to sew another white dress with long sleeves!

            I wear my gauze gown today long sleeves and all. I shall see how they succeed, but as yet I have no reason to suppose long sleeves are allowable. Mrs. Tilson has long sleeves too, and she assured me that they are worn in the evening by many. I was glad to hear this (9 March 1814).

            Hilary Davidson writes about “Jane’s 1801 White Gown” on p. 55 in her book Jane Austen’s Wardrobe c. 2023.

            Then just last month, a friend with an antique shop passed this book, Fashion in Costume 1200-1980, by Joan Nunn, on to me as a gift. The book provides this information on white dresses:  In the early 1800s, white dresses were very popular for day wear and for the evening as well. Fashions of the time reflected the French Revolution and the current discoveries of artifacts from ancient Greece and Rome. In France, white gauzy dresses of “muslin arranged in an ‘antique’ manner’ were almost transparent.” But in America, as well as in England, referring to portraits and fashion plates, “it is fairly obvious that opaque petticoats were worn under the thin muslin and that, as in England, the general effect was more muted than the extreme French fashions” (pp. 112-113).

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At the time I sewed this dress, I didn’t know that it should have had slits at the sides of the skirt to access pockets worn under the dress. Fortunately, I had anticipated that Jane would need a large bag to carry a scarf or shawl, as well as her most valuable hand-copied manuscript that, if lost, was not backed up with a copy on the computer back home - disaster! She has a hand-knitted reticule (small purse) to hold necessary items. ‍

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Jane’s Hats, Hatboxes, and Accessories

Here are bonnets, hat boxes, and accessories that Inspired by Jane acquired along the way.

Small accessories in a pink box with pressed flowers on the lid:

•         Knitted mitts - Jane’s fingers are flat and joined, so gloves are not possible, but she has a set of knitted mitts (and an extra one when a mitt was lost, then found).

•         Knitted “reticule” - This bag could hold smelling salts, an almanac, a small coin purse, and, perhaps, a fan.

•         Pink silk scarf - The perfect scarf was in my closet and I thought hard if it was important enough for me to cut this up for Jane. I found the scissors - and did it - and felt satisfied after it was done.

•         Shawl - This shawl is made from a length of very old lace, which I pieced together, then added silk fringe falling from embroidered silk flowers. Not “authentic” but I enjoyed making it.

•         Two fans - One is from gold-striped fabric, and one from lace panels. Learning how to assemble a fan so it could spread out was not easy.

•         Gold cross on a chain in a gift box – Inspired by Jane had to have one. The actual cross to the real Jane was a gift from her brother Charles, the naval officer, and I’m sure she treasured it all her life. This faux topaz cross, made of seed beads, is held in a tiny gift box. Making this box turned out to be the hardest challenge, and the most time-consuming project, of any other item in this collection.

White caps are in a box featuring the watercolor sketch of Jane by Cassandra.

            Historical images of the small caps worn by women in the house every day show much creativity with fabric, lace, ribbons, ruffles, pleats, and more. I did the same with what I had on hand. I attempted to reproduce Jane’s cap in the pencil sketch attributed to Cassandra, taking the liberty of adding a pink ribbon which was mentioned in one of Jane’s letters to Cassandra. Jane was known for wearing caps to cover her curls so she wouldn’t have to fuss with doing her hair.

Bonnets and Hatboxes

•         Straw bonnet - Cut and shaped from linen tapestry fabric, it is trimmed with pleated striped ribbon, lace, vintage fabric flowers, gold braid, and silk ribbon. The blue leather trunk became the box for this very large hat.

•         Toque - “Turbans and toques were very popular during the Napoleonic Era and there was a general fascination with ‘the Orient’” (AI). This one is made from white satin, trimmed with feathers and beads. The square hat box is covered with patterned grey silk, trimmed with silk tassels, and vintage striped braid.

•         Orange silk bonnet - The bonnet is lined in green silk and is copied from a Regency fashion plate illustrating bonnet styles. The orange-striped hat box with green ribbon is lined in green flowered paper. Of all the items in this collection, I think this is my favorite.

Inspired by Jane is Dedicated to Devoney Looser

          In 2021, when I was researching Regency fashion to sew a wardrobe for the Inspired by Jane doll, my son, Anthony, told me about his friend Devoney Looser. Devoney and Tony were both at SUNY Stony Brook in the late 1980s. (In fact, Devoney introduced Tony to her friend Martha, also at SUNY, and Martha has been my daughter-in-law since 1996!)  Once Devoney learned about my growing interest in Jane Austen, we began to correspond. She sent me a signed copy of her latest book, The Daily Jane Austen:  A Year of Quotes, published in 2019.

            During our correspondence, Devoney urged me to join JASNA. I did, and was introduced to the genius of Jane Austen! I not only read and loved the books, but I became immersed in researching Regency society and costume. Sewing a wardrobe for my Jane doll followed naturally.  

            Then, just as I was finishing up with everything I wanted to make for Inspired by Jane, I happened to watch a video of Devoney being interviewed in her office. On the back wall was a very large, framed, full-figure picture of Jane Austen in her long dress and cap—wearing roller skates! The interviewer asked her to explain. Devoney said that it is actually a hand-painted scarf that was a gift when she was in England giving speeches about Jane, of course. The skates on Jane’s feet were a very clever addition. Anyone who knows Devoney will get the joke:  as well as being a research academic and author, Devoney was skating in women’s roller-derby competitions under the name of ‘Stone Cold Jane Austen’!

            That’s when I decided that my Jane also needed roller skates! The wheels on the skates don’t turn, but my Jane doesn’t know how to skate. Inspired by Jane was finished. Devoney has since retired from roller skating. She’s too busy writing more books.

            The Inspired by Jane collection is dedicated to Devoney Looser because she introduced me to JASNA. If not for Devoney, the display of Inspired by Jane would not have happened at the Tucson AZ AGM,  2026.‍ ‍

The Doll that Became Jane

            In 2012, I decided to participate in the Sandwich Fair. For a $15 entry fee, one could enter a vast number of different categories listed in the 50-page Premium book, including baking, knitting, antiques, flower arranging, the pig or calf you raised – literally anything connected with living on a farm – plus get free entry to the Fair on all five days. What a bargain! And every entry had the chance of earning cash premiums for ribbons awarded in all these categories - $5 for blue, $3 for red, and $2 for white. I looked over the catalog and thought that I could enter almost every doll category without much effort, so I did.

            For the “doll dressed as a character in a storybook,” I needed to make a doll that wouldn’t take longer than a day or two to sew. I remembered that there were patterns for the Little Women characters of Beth, Amy, Jo, and Meg, plus patterns for their period dresses, in a book I had used to make toys for our three young children. It was still right there on the shelf:  The Woman’s Day Book of Soft Toys & Dolls by Joan Russell, published in 1975. My idea was to recreate “Little Bo Peep,” but when I finished sewing the doll, I decided to use another doll for that entry and used this cloth doll to enter in “Historical Fashion.”

            The doll is 18 inches tall. Her elbows and knees are “jointed,” and her shoulders can rotate. She now has brown hair fashioned from a rather coarse yarn that suggests the curls mentioned in Jane’s letters to Cassandra. Recently the doll needed an (obvious!) adjustment to her body shape to wear a corset. Her shoes have always been attached because they are tiny (appropriately so, as observed in fashion plates from the Regency era). The stockings are held up with ribbons that could be tied above or below the knee. I can’t help thinking of what a pain that must have been, to tie them not so tight as to lose circulation, but tight enough to keep the stockings from falling down! What happened when a stocking ribbon came untied while one was dancing at the ball?

            This is how the doll destined to be Jane was originally dressed. Her hat, dress, and shawl, were very much Regency-inspired. What a coincidence!!

Jane’s Underclothes

            When Jane’s first dress was ready for a “fitting,” I realized that she would have to have undergarments to give the dress shape. At the same time, I came across this illustration that suggested more than just a petticoat would be needed. Jane should have stockings, a shift, pantaloons, stays, and possibly multiple petticoats. Later, I learned that she would have worn “pockets” under her dress.

            Instead of using a lightweight cotton, I should have made Jane’s shift from linen because in Regency life the shift was made of substantial cloth since it was worn constantly and laundered often. The shift was worn to protect the dress fabrics from body oils and dirt. Middle-and upper-class women owned a collection of shifts. Shifts were constructed so simply that multiple shifts could be sewn by the wearer instead of by a dressmaker. Each shift was embroidered with the owner’s initials and a number, so it could be counted when it was sent to be laundered and again when returned.

            Jane Austen may have worn the first version of pantalettes, which were two separate “legs” joined together and held at the waist with a drawstring. An anecdote from Susan J. Vincent’s book, The Anatomy of Fashion (2009), recounts how a stylish princess wore her pantalettes in 1811, when fifteen-year-old Princess Charlotte – the rather racy daughter of George IV and Queen Caroline – had adopted them (pp. 97- 132). Information is sparse about pantalettes, probably because they do not show up in archived collections. A few begin to appear in 1830, when the two pieces had become one article of clothing.

            This copy of an early stay is made from linen that is lined, and it laces down the back with just one strand of cord. Down the front, between the breasts, is a long narrow pocket that holds a “busk,” (a long, flat object made of metal, wood, or ivory, perhaps elaborately decorated). The busk prevented slouching and required the woman bending over to do this from the hips, not the waist. (Try that all day, every day!) Here, Jane’s busk is painted with sprigs of pink flowers.

            Her multiple petticoats could have been made from lightweight cotton for summer, heavy flannel for winter, plain cotton for every day, or fine fabrics for special occasions. Petticoats could be attached to a bodice or have straps to hold them high under the bust. Some were worn to be seen as an underlay in the outfit.

            I was totally unaware of pockets, an accessory worn by women for more than 200 years, hidden from view under the dress, until I discovered the book, The Pocket:  A Hidden History of Women’s Lives 1660 – 1900, by Barbara Burman and Ariane Fennitaux, c. 2019. Women were not privileged to own property or have their own money and rarely had a room they could call their own. Because women did not have any means of security other than perhaps a locked drawer, they carried their “valuables” on their body in hidden pockets. These pockets could range in size from small to as large as pillowcases. The pockets were on a cord which was tied around the waist, positioning them over the petticoat. Made to slide along the cord, the pockets were easy to adjust and could be accessed through side slits in the skirt fabric.

            For a much more detailed journey into this only recently researched women’s history topic, treat yourself, or use the library, to read Burman and Fennetaux’s book which is described below.

            In this riveting book, the authors take advantage of the pockets’ frequent survival in textile museums, private collections and family holdings across Britain tracing          their presence in art, literature, political satire, domestic organization and court          records. In the entwining of art, social and material history, few stones are left  unturned. - Roberta Smith’s “Best Art Books of 2019,” The New York Times.

            What particularly interests Burman and Fennetauz is the way in which women of all classes have historically used these tie-on pockets as a supplementary body        part to help them negotiate their way through a world that was not built to suit       them. -  Kathryn Hughes, The Guardian. 

            Jane’s underclothes are stored in a box decorated with images from the Peacock Edition of Pride and Prejudice. Researching images related to Jane Austen and her books and then finding a way to use the images turned out to be another excuse to be crafty (anything to avoid cooking and cleaning!).

Drop-Front Dresses

            Knowing that I would be writing about “drop front dresses,” I searched my brain for the word that would describe how I felt when I first came across a diagram that explained how this unusual Regency dress construction worked. I was flabbergasted!

            This kind of dress construction is incredible. The gown would have been easy to slip on over the head; no other person would be needed to fasten buttons down the back. The ties made the waist completely adjustable, in the case of pregnancy, perhaps. The under-bodice was held closed with straight pins or lacing, another easy adjustment that must have been convenient when breastfeeding an infant.

            The woman wearing this dress would have stepped into or pulled the dress over her head, put her arms into the sleeves, then tied the ribbons sewn to each side of the skirt into a bow at the center to complete the skirt closure. She would have fastened the side pieces of the under-bodice together with pins or lacing, and then raised the dropped front to fasten the two buttons at each side in the front. Doing this would hide the pinned under-bodice. The long ribbons, positioned where the bodice is attached to the skirt, would each go around the waist, one left, one right, to the back, cross at the back through loops to guide the ribbons, and on around to meet again, where they would end in a tied bow at the waist on the outside of the dress.

            Because there were no seams attaching the front panel to the side panels at the top portion of the skirt, openings were created at each side that allowed easy access to pockets. Before donning this dress, she would have already tied her pockets around her waist on top of the petticoat. Now they were safely hidden in the folds of her dress skirt.

            This dress construction could also be known as “apron front,” “fall-front,” and “bib front,” according to Hilary Davidson, which are modern ways to describe these dresses (p. 33). They are not mentioned in Regency sources, so we don’t really know what they were called back then, even though they were common and prevalent in Regency fashion after 1790.

            Mostly this kind of dress construction was used for day dresses, although I did read that some collections have examples of ball gowns with dropped fronts.

    Source:  Davidson, Hillary. 2023. Jane Austen’s Wardrobe, Yale University Press.

            Hillary Davidson also had a problem with the sleeves . . . aha! . . . as well as finding fabric, which I learned is not orange, but actually brown, with the pattern of leaves woven into the fabric with a yellow thread. Because reproducing the original fabric with the woven design detail would have been prohibitively expensive, the leaf pattern in the replica fabric was printed on the brown silk. Upon delivery it was discovered that the pattern of the leaves had been printed across the width, instead of down the length of the fabric, which affected the placement of the pattern pieces (p. 215).‍ ‍

            At that point, I realized that even the experts with professional resources cannot precisely duplicate these very old treasures, in spite of all the technology available today. I was not going to be able to create perfect reproductions, but my two objectives for this project have been validated:  one, to research Regency fashion; and two, to demonstrate what I was learning using my sewing skills using what was available to me from my stash.‍ ‍

To see photographs of Jane Austen’s pelisse (in replica):‍ ‍

https://collections.hampshireculture.org.uk/object/jane-austens-pelisse-1814   Note:  This is not the website I found when I was researching Jane Austen’s pelisse in 2020. Now, in 2025, it evidently has been redesigned under the auspices of the Hampshire Cultural Trust. A search for Jane Austen’s pelisse results in one page which concentrates on the history of the garment. Unfortunately, I did not keep detailed records of my research because I was doing it all just for fun, although I do have a scan of the original pattern pieces that allowed me to sew the Inspired by Jane pelisse.‍‍ ‍

The photo of the reproduced pelisse in 2012 appears in “Reconstructing Jane Austen’s Silk Pelisse, 1812–1814.” Hilary Davidson, the Costume Society.

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Jane’s “Go-to-London” Dress and Accessories‍ ‍

            I decided that my Jane needed to have an outfit to wear when she traveled to London to meet with her publisher. For the fabric, I found a silk in a pattern of soft grey and purples in my stash, thanks to my friend, Robin, an interior designer, who often gives me fabric leftovers. This more formal dress was much more structured than the first blue cotton dress. The bodice is shaped, the skirt in front hangs straight, but the back is full, cut in panels and gathered to suggest a train in the back. The long sleeves are set in with extra fullness coming from gathers in the back. The fullness in the sleeves tapers gradually to fit closely at the wrist. I had learned that decorative trim around the base of the skirt was almost mandatory at the time. How convenient that this dress fabric could be “unraveled” to produce a purple silk fringe to combine with a purple flowered ribbon (unfortunately made from nylon) for this fashion requirement.‍

            The bonnet was made from linen canvas used for needlepoint embroidery. By soaking it, then stretching it across a small deep bowl and letting it dry, it made an acceptable shape, although a bit too large, for the crown of the hat. The brim was cut separately, attached by hand, and edged with a very narrow braid. I had fun deciding on the trim. I had read that women routinely changed the trims on their hats, and the decorations could be quite extravagant. Even though the purple ribbon was a bit too wide, I went ahead because I didn’t have any other suitable choices. The flowers are quite vintage, actually made from fabric - no plastic! Long, green silk ribbons tie under the chin or to the side.‍ ‍

            Jane needed a traveling trunk for her journey. Fortunately, I had a blue leather jacket from a thrift store, price $3, that was such a bargain I had to buy it, without any intention of actually wearing it. Now, here it was, in the closet, just waiting to be cut up! The trunk turned out to be quite a challenging project as I had no pattern to go by, just a period illustration of a stagecoach being loaded. The biggest problem was working with glue that could not be allowed to drip on the leather because it would make a permanent spot. I didn’t have buckles small enough to fasten the straps, so I had to be satisfied with metal buttons.

Half-Mourning Dress

            The end of Jane’s life so prematurely, with her genius was only beginning to crescendo, leaves us to only speculate about what could have been and how much more of her literary brilliance we could have read, cherished, and celebrated. Times of sorrow happened so frequently in the Regency years, so surely the real Jane Austen had a mourning dress in her wardrobe. Family deaths, as well as titled nobility deaths, required those belonging to peerage and down to the landed gentry (Jane’s family qualified through her mother’s line traced back to the aristocracy) to dress in black, a color reserved only for mourning. After a year of full mourning, transitioning to “half-mourning” colors of grey, violet, and lavender was permitted, which lasted nine months.

            To complete the wardrobe of Inspired by Jane, I added a “half-mourning dress” in a purple-shaded, grey silk. The fichu, which is worn as a scarf and tucked into the bodice, is a piece of very old vintage net lace that I found among a bag of odds and ends. It was exactly what I needed. This is an example of why this project has been so much fun! Her brooch represents a piece of memorial jewelry that holds human hair from the person mourned. The necklace of vintage jet-black beads is another example of popular mourning jewelry. Her day cap is trimmed with black ribbon.

Other accessories are in a box decorated with images of surviving letters between Cassandra and Jane:

•         Green wool “spencer” jacket - This jacket is lined in green silk and embellished with braid. “A Spencer jacket is a historically significant, ultra-short, waist-length jacket popular in the late 18th to early 19th century, typically worn by women over high-waisted Regency-style dresses for warmth. Originating from menswear, it was named after George, 2nd Earl Spencer, who reportedly cut off the tails of his coat after they were singed” (Open AI, 2026).

•         Brown wool, everyday shawl - This shawl is knit from a friend’s gift of yarn from her alpaca herd. It is worn crossed in front and held in back with a loop and a bobble, leaving hands free for chores.

•         Large velvet and embroidered bag - A necessity for holding Jane’s manuscript when she traveled to London to meet with her publisher. A tied-up packet holds images of original pages in her script, copied and reduced in size.

•         “India shawl,” also known as a paisley shawl - I cut up a big beautiful shawl to make this small one. The reverse side is a different color design due to the weaving pattern.

•         Brown cotton bonnet - A simple fabric bonnet like this one would have been worn when gardening or visiting a neighbor.

Final Thoughts

As I sewed these dresses and accessories. I realized that

— I would not be able to find the kinds of fabrics with suitable print patterns that would truly represent this time in history; therefore, I would just have to forge ahead with the resources available to me in my fabric stash.

— I particularly regretted not being able to find fabric that would drape and flow, and this wish was exacerbated by the size of the design pattern that had to be small enough to match the size of the doll.

— all the real dresses at that time were sewn by hand. I sewed seams with a machine, which of course isn’t the same as hand stitching. Regency dresses had multiple skirt seams that were long, from a high waistline and down to the floor, and perhaps layered, with multiple trims around the bottom hems. Pattern pieces for the bodice and sleeves were complicated. I wish we had the names of the women who had the sewing skills to meet these challenges. The stitches had to be strong but invisible to hold everything together. How did they do this?

It would be so interesting to time-travel back to watch a dressmaker cut and assemble a gown by hand, and have it ready to be worn at the next scheduled ball, which might be the following week!