In a world of fiction and a time of drama

i can't figure out what this prouvé dress image comes from--for all I know it IS some AI retouching thing--but it could 100% be uncredited work from an academic digital reconstruction project.

as a dress historian and someone who does, to certain extents, reproduce historic dress, i have NEVER seen a digital reconstruction project (as of 2026) that I think actually advances knowledge or supports public understanding. the technology simply isn't there--and it's paired with a lack of serious sewing/textiles knowledge, specifically of the historical variety, in its technicians (ex. for Clo3D).

This has become more common in recent years with digital projects meant to resuscitate unwearable historic clothing and show it in movement, etc. Common arguments in support:

We can't get that fabric anymore to make a physical reconstruction

Digital work is much faster than physical, especially mockup/pattern/fit tests

Virtual products can be disseminated to a global audience

Ex. Empress Shōken's evening ensemble;

and the Refashioning the Renaissance doublet project that the School of Historical Dress--who are excellent when it comes to physical reconstructions--advised on:

Etc.

So! You know what can also be disseminated digitally to a global audience? Photographs and videos of physical reconstructions! (Ex. the entire BBC A Stitch in Time series.)

You know what does not behave or look like actual fabric? Digital fabric! Ever.

You know something really crucial to many items of historic clothing that separates it from modern clothing? It is often meant to shape the body--meaning that 'draping' or 'fitting' it digitally to a natural-body-shaped avatar (or, as I have seen, one with a modern bra/shapewear silhouette) is pointless.

Check out the difference between the physical and digital reconstructions of the RtR project:

There are worse and more recent examples to point to as well, but I'm not feeling mean enough to drag them out right now.

In addition to physical reconstruction, you know what a really good and more reliable method of showing, say, the hidden guts of a garment is? Illustration. Really good, loving line drawings of the type that Janet Arnold and Nancy Bradfield specialized in.

Patterns of Fashion 2 (1972) / Costume in Detail (1968)

I'm not saying that physical reconstruction and traditional illustration methods are perfect. But in my relatively well-informed opinion, digital reconstruction is nowhere near the point where it is actually useful in any capacity and I would appreciate if people stopped acting like it is.

The technology and its attending parts (pre-loaded fabrics, textures, avatar bodies, etc) are designed for modern clothing, and imo they aren't even very good at representing that realistically. They absolutely cannot be ported over and used for historic clothing. This has been discussed in the field; the last conference I went to had a whole panel on the topic. But people keep trying anyway, and they continue to argue for the method's utility.

If you actually care about furthering knowledge and public understanding, put the digital tools down and funnel that money towards physical reconstruction and actual, experiential understanding of material, fit, and result. Having to rely on a worse-quality linen IRL does not actually screw up the overall effect to a serious degree, even though it might change the making experience as well as wear patterns and strength of the ensemble. Using modern linens still provides useful information to researchers ("If this fabric doesn't do the right thing, what would the historical version have needed to look/act like in order to accomplish that?") and certainly gives a better and more realistic visual experience for audiences.

Now, there are a couple things that are very 100% correct about this critique:

The reconstructions shown suck ass

There is minimal ability to recreate historical fabrics in Clo (will touch on this later)

It is nearly impossible to recreate the fine details of construction in the program itself, I had to use external programs and a lot of trickery to mimic real construction techniques

Using the default models for draping rather than custom-making a historically accurate sillhouette is a great way to make a bad reconstruction (just like with real ones!)

However, I would argue that these examples shown are just... missing the point of Clo/Marvelous. The dress appears to be a render of the model using Clo, and I guess it's fun to see the work in progress but that doublet is way too low poly to take advantage of the physics engine.

The purpose of Clo3D is to make sewing patterns. It models fabric relatively realistically and can preview what a garment might look like. The renders are just that, a preview. They might be used by a designer to show their concepts or to pitch a pattern, but they aren't the intended output of the program. MD is a little different, since it is intended for use in games and animation, it's a jumping off point for creating realistic-looking clothing for digital characters, as opposed to modelling it all by hand.

All of that is to say, these tools are made to be tools, not a final product. In the example I gave above, I did detailed research into the original sources, miniature (physical) reconstructions to get a feel for the layering and stitching, created a custom model with the proportions and shape I wanted the corset waist to have, and then after modelling and posing the basic garment I moved it to a digital sculpting program to add fine details. Even then, it doesn't look as realistic as the physical reconstructions I based it on! At the end of the day, it's a digital sculpture and the best it can be is as good as the time spent and the references used.

Clo could absolutely be useful in certain historical reproduction contexts! For example, it can (in skilled hands) be used to turn a single real historical pattern into a range of sizes to make printable patterns. If one were to scan themselves wearing appropriate undergarments and turn that into a rigged model, it would be possible to fully pattern a historical reconstruction piece in Clo and reduce the time needed in making mockups and fitting.

There are some nitpicks I have as well, really catty 3D modeller nitpicks. The constant use of the default model, ew. The polycounts they're using for simulation are very low, which is why the fabric doesn't look realistic. Trying to recreate such a heavily embroidered garment in Clo is silly, Clo can't do that. At least they used multiple layers, but I don't know if I would agree on their material properties.

Speaking of material properties! This is what I talked about earlier with fabrics. Believe it or not, Clo is capable (if you have insane processing power) of recreating the behaviour of fabrics shockingly well. The low polycounts shown in those videos are used to make it easier on the computer while draping, but ideally you'd ratchet up the polycount to a million and use the Crazy Realism Mode on the simulator before export and it can recreate fabric folds gorgeously. And specifically, it can exactly recreate the material properties of real fabrics.

If you browse the Clo-set store (yes that's what the store is called), you can find hundreds of fabric companies posting samples of their fabrics, and those are all real, accurate recreations of those fabrics! Companies use specialized machines to record different physical properties, and then those can be plugged into the program's physics engine. All of this is used by real companies to make real clothing- I can guarantee if you own any mass-market clothes made in the last 5 years (which, to be clear, you probably shouldn't) they were probably patterned in Clo3D.

I'm afraid to say the corset sculpture does nothing for me as a visual (texture aside, it still appears that the corset is molding to the avatar body, for example, by the way it's lit, which gives an incorrect impression of the fabric and the garment's purpose)--I hope you won't be too dismayed by that, having read my original post--but given that you've stated the purpose was to follow draft within the program and that it succeeded, clearly that wasn't the goal in the first place. I'm glad you were able to accomplish your goal, though I am curious what the purpose of being able to follow said instructions digitally is? (genuine question) Since you've stated you also made a physical reconstruction, if in miniature, it's clear you had other goals with the digital version. Also, what drafting instructions are you following? I'm not familiar with any from the period for corsetry and I would love to know.

If I recall properly, in the panel I heard I'm pretty sure panelists admitted that Clo3D and similar programs are obviously not designed for the work they wanted to do and that they were simply making do with what they had on hand in pursuit of their goal. Hearing your commentary and experience just reinforces my question of "why is this so important to do anyway"?

Patterning, especially in size ranges, is unfortunately not a common goal of this kind of work or in the field generally, which sucks because that would indeed be a fab use of this technology that would enable more diverse reconstruction projects!!

I'd be really interested to hear your fuller thoughts on the RtR project work--the paper on it is available open access here, if you haven't read it. This is an example of doing more than just using the single dressed visual, of course, but it still was done with the goal of providing a visual (in this case, a video of the layers and construction), and I was baffled to read that they had to screw with the layers etc. as they went in order to get the final video to work at all. I suppose it's useful as a WIP publication for how one can use the tech??

These bottles were created and used as unguentaria (otherwise known as balsamaria) which are ancient vessels that were typically filled with scented oils, cosmetic powders, balms, or ointments. Unguentaria could be crafted from ceramic, glass, or stone, and they came in various shapes and sizes, but dove-shaped vessels made of glass were especially popular during the second half of the 1st century CE, when they were produced and distributed throughout the Roman Empire.

Above: a dove-shaped unguentarium with residue from the original contents still visible inside

Each bottle was crafted from blown-glass that was carefully modeled into the shape of a bird; the inner cavity was then filled with perfume or cosmetic powder, and the tip of the tail was reheated and compressed, effectively sealing the vessel.

Above: dove-shaped vessels that were opened and emptied long ago, c.50-100 CE

As this article explains:

The vessels were produced with glass blowing pipes by so-called "free blowing," and are for this reason extremely thin-walled, with body thicknesses significantly below 0.1 cm.

After the containers had been filled, the tail feathers were sealed airtight by reheating to protect the contents from moisture. Parts of the containers, such as the head or tail feathers, had to be broken off in order to access the contents of the vessels, which means that they were disposable packaging.

Above: vessels with the tips of their tails broken off

Most of these bottles were made from clear or pale blue Roman glass, but some were crafted with a dark blue, green, purple, or yellow appearance instead:

As cheap, mass-produced goods, the packaging consisted mainly of the conventional thin-walled and transparent Roman glass with an unintentional light blue colouring. Specimens made of intentionally coloured transparent glass (e.g. dark blue, dark green, violet or yellow) are less common. This may also have to do with the fact that the pink or white contents could be visually better distinguished and marketed if the vessels were made of the conventional Roman glass, which offered more transparency to the beholder than the intentionally coloured glass.

Above: a sealed unguentarium that likely contains scented oils and cosmetic residue, from Rovesenda, Italy, c.50 CE

Research suggests that many of these bottles were filled with powder, including pink substances that have been described as "blush" or "rouge," while others were filled with liquid.

Above: more dove-shaped unguentaria from the Roman Empire

Vessels with this design (which is also known as Isings form 11) have been unearthed at Roman-era sites located throughout Europe:

Evidence shows that these glass containers were widely marketed in the Roman Empire. The main areas of distribution are the central and northern Italian regions of Campania et Latium, Venetia et Histria, and Transpadana, along with the northwestern provinces of Gallia Belgica, Gallia Lugdunensis, Germania inferior and Germania superior [in what is now Italy, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Austria, Switzerland and the Netherlands].

There is also evidence from the Balkan and Danube region in the provinces of Dalmatia and Pannonia, and also from the eastern Mediterranean in the provinces of Achaea, Creta et Cyrenae and Macedonia. The distribution in the western Mediterranean seems to be limited to Hispania Tarraconensis.

Above: the severed heads of two bird-shaped unguentaria

Sources & More Info:

Glassware and Glassworking in Thessaloniki: 1st Century BC-6th Century AD: Bird-Shaped Inguentaria (Isings Form 11)

The Austrian Archaeological Institute: New Finds of Bird-Shaped Glass Vessels with Residues of their Former Content

The British Museum: Roman Perfume Bottle in the Shape of a Bird

Società Friulana di Archeologia: Glass Doves and Globes from Thessaloniki: North Italian Imports or Local Products?

Analytical Chemistry for Archaeology and Cultural Heritage: Compositional Analysis of Greco-Roman Unguentaria Residues

and then on the wedding day, it's not Bertha's brother who shows up

it's Bertha herself

she got out of inpatient treatment two years ago- not that her husband checked -and she's been diligent about taking her antipsychotics. she doesn't really care if Edward wants to marry the 21-year-old au pair, but he's doing something to hold up the divorce, out of a misplaced sense of obligation. it's all one to her- she doesn't do committed relationships anyway, let alone marriage; her father and brother railroaded her into it so she'd be someone else's problem

I have several pet peeves about historical costuming. While I try not to get too annoying about it (cough stop calling the straight front corset an "S bend" cough), it's time to get on my soapbox about boning.

My credentials: I am a published dress historian specializing in 19th-century Western womenswear. I have handled and studied hundreds of bodices of varying qualities, from Maison Worth couture right down to cheap, home-made clothing. I have also made these things myself and understand how technique affects results.

There is a tendency when sewing bodices to bone every single vertical seam, as it keeps them taut and reduces wrinkling.

But it's a massive fucking drag and sometimes you still get wrinkling! (And, if you're using steel boning, it weighs a ton.) So, consider going without.

--Hey, what??

Yes. Here is an interior shot of a c. 1897 bodice that has boning in every seam. Theoretically, the standard to which we aspire--right?

This used to be in my collection (KL 24.26) and the pattern is available here. It has since passed into new hands.

There are fifteen bones in that bodice. You can tell the maker wanted it to go as fast as possible, so they used a catch/cross-stitch to whack it all on.

My soapbox message today is that actually, proper fitting is FAR more important than boning every single one of your goddamn seams. Also, no boning is accurate too. See exhibit B:

This is a c. 1890 bodice. There are zero bones in it.

This is still in my collection; KL 26.5. Haven't contemplated patterning it yet.

Boning is, to some extent, a practical consideration (see above note about tautness). Equally, it is a mark of quality, expense, and time period. What do I mean by this?

Quality and expense: Bodices by better dressmakers, who charged higher prices, tend to have finishings that go above and beyond and represent a serious labor commitment. These two bodices are a good comparison for that; you can see that the blue one (which is silk, by the by) has the seam allowances pinked (the zig-zagged edges) while the tan one's raw edges were fully bound (a royal pain in the ass and major time sink, but looks fantastic). Equally, you'll sometimes see very nice, expensive bodices lined in china silk, while the cheap ones get lined in cotton.

You don't really need a silk lining or bound edges for something to be functional or even beautiful. The pinking did the "preventing fraying" job just fine. Equally, adding boning can sometimes cover up a bad fit job. Throughout the period, some bodices do not have any boning; some have partial boning, and some are fully-boned, and the correlation is very much [more expensive] 🤝 [more boning].

Time period: Boning is temporal--meaning that amounts increase as the century progresses. I have found that even by the 1880s, it is somewhat rare to find fully-boned bodices anywhere outside of couture establishments. Before that period, it's almost unheard of. But in the 1890s, you start to see a lot more boning at all levels of making! This might be a result of increasing availability (of boning in dry-goods and department stores; of pre-cased boning; and of different, cheaper varieties of boning) and also of changing sewing culture, with sewing books and magazines telling the reader to add boning to every seam.

Up through the 1830s, it's rare to see any boning.

From the 1840s-70s, the general rhythm is to bone the main pair of darts; sometimes both sets; sometimes sides; sometimes center backs. Usually not everything at once, and often the bones are quite short and just target the waist area. I *frequently* see bodices with no boning even in the 1870s, especially day bodices, and it's also common to just see 2-4 bones total, maybe 6 if they were really fierce about it.

With the long cuirass basques of the 1880s, boning helps to get around the wrinkling that comes with bad fitting and big hip spring from small waistlines. The 1890s took that and ran with it, and bodices in the 1900s are frankly over-engineered in every way, so of course they have it too.

Anyway, all this is to say that you don't have to go hard about boning bodices. Bone the closures if it's a lace-up situation, certainly, and boning can help if you don't have the skills to fit something perfectly. But in the long run, perfecting your fitting work (and wearing the right corset) will mostly obviate any need for boning.

See:

"Whalebones may be used, if desired, in all the seams, except the curved seams in the back, where they should never be placed, though some dressmakers put them in every seam. If a dress is properly fitted, and worn over a well-fitting corset, whalebones are not really needed in any seam." S. T. Allen, "Dressmaking at Home," The Woman's Book, vol. 1 (NY: Scribner, 1894), 256.

This post is directed at a dear friend of mine who likes to judge me when my makes don't have any boning in them.

See below: there is no boning in this bodice. The fitting was decent enough that it just didn't need it!

Bodice pattern is @mimicofmodes' Peacock Bodice, which is taken from an original (though I do believe the OG has some boning, lol). A very fun make from 2020. :)

Dress

1907

Paul Poiret

Guys

The magnificent saucebox that is 10-year-old Jane

"he accused me of breaking his nose. to be fair, I had in fact punched him in the nose"

And also

"Hell is where you go when you die if you were bad. How will you avoid going to hell?

"not die"