Sew-Isolation: The Elizabeth Swann Peach Gown Plans

Pic-heavy post below the cut

And... I can hardly believe it, my friends, but here it is! I’m moving on to planning the final Elizabeth Swann gown from Curse of the Black Pearl!

I have to say, I never thought I’d reach this point. I thought lockdown would be over way before I had a chance to actually finish anything. 

But, for better or for worse, here I am! And plonking all my research photos here for future reference.

This gown was actually auctioned on a Propstore website a while back, so there’s plenty of photos. 

The gown itself is a simple robe anglaise with fine lace ruffles at the hemline and sleeves, and some burgundy braid detail at the waist, neckline and cuffs. Despite the 25 tiny little wooden buttons down the front, those are for show - there’s no buttonholes, and I’m pretty sure I’ve caught sight of our old friend “hidden snap closures” in a couple of screenshots.

There also appears to be a quilted serpentine pattern on both the overgown...

Unadulterated Robing - Gold Gown Progress

Greetings, everyone! Alas, this isn’t the Gold Gown Finale - if I waited until I’d finished it to post pictures, you might think I’d died in an exhausted puddle of fabric somewhere. But the main body of the gown is slowly but surely getting there - once this baby is sewn, its just the sleeves and a bit of trimming, and the Gold Gown is finished!

I’m using the Nehelenia Patterns Open Robe for making this, rather than the Simplicity costume pattern:

Let me start my announcing both my appreciation and my frustrations with 18th century pleating. It is time-consuming and tiring to do, but I can totally see WHY they did it, in an age before disposable fashion when you want to make your clothes last - and by last I’m easily talking 20-30 years for a formal gown you don’t wear very often. There’s plenty of documented examples of daughters and granddaughters altering silk gowns to accommodate the new fashions. Pleating lets you do that and affords you extra material for a bunch of things!

Say your size fluctuates quite a bit (In the 18th century, this would be mostly on account of frequent pregnancy) You need to be able to adjust your clothing rather than spend vital money on new things that will only be worn for a short time.  

The 1700s solution is to have that extra fabric pleated down so you can simply unpick and adjust your gown to fit you, should your body change - which is a really great idea! 

You’ll notice here that Elizabeth doesn’t have pleated robings on her gown (the folded parts at the front) and that’s because it’s a movie costume - made to measure, perfect fit for a period of however long shooting takes.

But if you’re looking at this through a historical background eye, as well? 

Weatherby Swann’s ordered this fashionable gown from London. Even if he sent Elizabeth’s measurements to a London dressmaker, there’d be bound to be a few fitting issues when it arrived, because human bodies be like that. No way would he buy such an expensive dress without there being some leeway on the fitting side. 

 I’ve opted to include the robings on my version of the gold gown. Because I’m a history nerd. And also, if we’re talking perspectives, the Georgians damn well knew what they were doing with gowns and stomachers in flattering your body shape. the triangular shape and the fall of the skirt over the hoops tricks the eye into thinking you have a small, Keira-Knightley sized waist, even if you’re decidedly not Keira Knightley sized!

Shown above, beginning to take shape... still sans sleeves, but that will follow later. Just roughly pinned skirt pleats, but it has that lovely 18th century silhouette already...

Which brings me to the delightful pleated back!  

I really LOVED doing this, weird as it is given my complaints about pleating above. Because when you get the fiddliness of a pleated English gown back right, it just looks so neat and tidy! I mean, have you seen the beauty of the pleat on the orginal gown?

*chef kiss* Artistry, right there.

Now, my version is nowhere near as pretty or as perfect - I’m a hobbyist who just trundles along in her own sewing groove. But I was so, so happy at the way the pleats lined up on this. Best bit of hand-sewing I’ve ever done, and I love the way the seams curve down the back and flare out again. Can’t wait to make more progress on it!

That’s all for now - hopefully I’ll be able to post the REAL finished gown next time once I sort the sleeve and skirt pleats!

Hello again, everyone! This time on ‘Sew-Isolation’, I present to you my research on Elizabeth Swann’s undergarments! (Which sounds weirder than I thought it would, if I’m honest)

I do really love studying the items they used in “Curse of The Black Pearl” though, because they’re fantastically well-made - and quirky, in that ‘history edging on fun fantasy’ way!

Let’s take, for a moment, Elizabeth’s shift:

It’s beautiful, and I love it. The dotted Swiss voile is a great choice for a lady in a tropical climate, and the delicate patterning shows how high-status Elizabeth is in the Port Royal set. But, historically? Those extra gathered casings around the bust line and waist really confuse me.

Typically, a shift is a loose A-line garment pulled in by the boned stays/corset you wear. I’ve looked at a LOT of extant 18th century shifts in my time doing research and re-enactment, and they generally look like this:

This one is an existing 18th century shift from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

So what gives?

The only time I’ve ever seen delicate little ties and channels like that are much, much later on in the 18th century (we’re vaguely in the 1720s-40s with Elizabeth, but don’t quote me on that. The POTC historical timeline is a ball of tangled string) on a chemise a la reine gown:

They were very fashionable and popular in the 1780s, but they’re nearly half a century too late for Elizabeth Swann to be wearing! And not underneath another gown! However, the ‘chemise’ gown was named for its resemblance to a shift/underwear, so it’s entirely possible there were shifts like this out there that haven’t survived - it’s just a quirky little choice that makes the fashion historian in me go ‘?’, and my inner costume designer go ‘yay!’ for how great it looks onscreen.

The Modesty Jumps:

There may be no logic in everyday practicality for this to be lurking beneath Elizabeth’s hated corset, but there’s a very good onscreen reason! You’ll notice the above white chemise fabric is pretty sheer, even when dry. Add the fact that Elizabeth’s just been rescued from the sea and is dripping wet, as well as having her corset removed - and there’s a darn good reason for having something opaque there to preserve Miss Swann’s modesty whilst being threatened by piratical rogues!

It’s also a nice take on an actual historical garment worn in the period, known as ‘jumps’.

This is something you might wear instead of (or over, not beneath) a corset around the home - a sleeveless quilted waistcoat or lightly boned bodice. In colder climates it’s for extra warmth, but that’s obviously not a consideration in Port Royal.

My personal movie headcanon that attempts to make some sense of all this? Elizabeth has been just casually wearing jumps beneath her dresses up until her well-meaning father gave her the fashionable fully boned stays. The combination of the heat and an extra layer she shouldn’t be wearing ACTUALLY made her faint. NOT the damn corset. (Tightlacing is 200 years later, people, ignore the screenwriters)

Research here, my own reproduction attempts will be posted later. Enjoy my research ramblings, people!