Jackets and Tams: a Selection of Knitting Patterns from 1910-1919

This is the second post in my series on twentieth century patterns (you can read the other existing posts here), and it will cover the years from 1910 to 1919. This post was, as I expected, far easier to write than the post on knitting patterns from the years 1900 to 1909. There were far more patterns available for the time period and they are far more wearable by today's standards. In the second decade of the twentieth century women began wearing sweaters instead of sacques and shawls, their hemlines rose from the ground, and their hats evolved from the bonnets and towering confections of the past decades into the simple shapes and tams that have never really been out of style since. I was still not able to find any menswear that I cared to include in this post. I did see lots of sweater men's patterns, but they were either really basic items that are readily available, or so very conservative and plain in style that I couldn't imagine any contemporary men wanting to wear them. I hope better things for my post on knitting patterns from the 1920s.

This quilt, or afghan as we'd call it now, is made of six-sided blocks with a raised leaf pattern. Each hexagon is knitted in the round from the outside in. No gauge is given, as is typical of antique patterns, but that hardly matters in an afghan as the pattern could be knitted in any yarn with appropriate-sized needles. This pattern was published in The Queenslander newspaper in Australia in 1910, and is available for free.

This women's jacket is actually crocheted, but I liked it so much I just had to include it. It appeared in Fleisher's Knitting and Crocheting Manual, Tenth Edition, published in 1912, and a reproduction of the book is available from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $21.95. It's a 205-page book so you do get a lot of other patterns for that price, though you may find it a little difficult to stomach the, er, ethnic doll pattern pictures also included in the book. We've come a long way in the last 101 years, thankfully, and no longer include "black mammy" dolls in pattern books.

This is a child's sweater with a nice little shamrock motif. It was originally published in the Priscilla Wool Knitting Book in 1912. A reproduction of the book is available from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $16.95.

This knitted drawstring bag would make a nice evening bag for today. It was originally published in The Mail in 1914, and is available for free.

I quite like this little girl's jacket. This pattern originally appeared in Leach's Child's Knitted Woollies Number, published in 1915, and available as a reproduction from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $9.95. The pattern for the hat isn't included in the book, but it wouldn't be hard to whip up a matching tam.

This child's middy jumper pattern, size 24 months, was originally published in The Lion Yarn Book in 1916. Franklin Habit rewrote the pattern and wrote an accompanying article about the history of Lion Brand Yarns for Knitty, where you can find the pattern and article for free.

This knitted Norfolk Coat was originally published in the Priscilla Sweater Book: Including Hats, Caps, and Other Accessories with Directions for Working in 1917, and is available for free. I must say I like how they've posed the model against a mirror to give us the back as well as the front view of this sweater. Why don't more of today's knitting magazines use this trick?

This vest was published in Needlecraft Publishing Company's Handbook of Wool Knitting and Crochet in 1918, and the pattern is available for free.

This pattern is called a "serviceable sweater", and it is indeed. It's sensible, warm and guaranteed to never go out of style. Like the vest above, this design was published in Needlecraft Publishing Company's Handbook of Wool Knitting and Crochet in 1918 The pattern is available for free.

This tam was publishin in the Bear Brand Blue Book, Volume 18, in 1918. A reproduction of the book is available from Iva Rose Reproductions for $18.95, and I will say I quite like a number of the hat patterns in it as well.

Coming up: Look for the post on 1920s knitting patterns within the next two weeks, and look for part one of my review of Rowan Knitting & Crochet Magazine 54 tomorrow morning!

Petticoats and Ribboned Slippers: a Selection of Knitting Patterns from 1900-1909

When I wrote a post on Mad Men-inspired knitting projects back in May, my original intent was to proceed to write similar posts about my two of my other favourite period dramas: Boardwalk Empire and Downton Abbey. But when I began to research those posts the results proved so discouraging that I soon gave up the effort. There just aren't that many knitted items in Boardwalk Empire that anyone would even want to copy. Aside from a few sweaters that Margaret Schroeder Thompson wears, it's mostly very drab menswear. There are some supposedly Downton Abbey projects out there, but honestly, despite the designers' claims that they are "Downton Abbey-inspired", they're mostly quite contemporary-looking items that bear no resemblance to anything any of the characters have actually worn on the show.

However, that research wasn't entirely fruitless, because during the course of it I did get inspired with a concept for a series of posts that I'm very much looking forward to researching and writing and that I hope you'll all enjoy. I'm going to do a series of ten posts, each of which will feature a selection of ten authentic (or at least accurately rewritten) patterns from each decade of the twentieth century. This post is the first in the Twentieth Century Series and covers the years from 1900 to 1909 (yeah, yeah I know there was no "zero year" and it should be 1901 to 1910, but whatever, get over it).

I'm predicting this post will prove the hardest to write of the ten. My criteria for selecting these historical knitting patterns is that a) the patterns must date from the decade I'm writing about, b) the patterns must be readily accessible to my readers, and c) the patterns must be attractive and usable and at least somewhat distinctive by modern standards. As it happens, authentic and accessible Edwardian knitting patterns are pretty thin on the ground, or at least on the net. I could find only a few web sources, and some of those were mislabelled as being from 1900 when they were really from, say, the 1920s. For that matter sometimes patterns were labelled as Victorian patterns when they were actually Edwardian. (A number of antique pattern web curators don't seem to understand that the Victorian era ended in 1901 with the death of Queen Victoria.) There are a number of genuine Edwardian knitting pamphlets available on eBay, but I don't consider those readily procurable for my readers as they are are always in very limited supply and I can't count on any specific item still being listed in even a month's time, although individuals who are interested in authentic Edwardian patterns may have some success with shopping on eBay.

Then, many of the Edwardian patterns that do exist are unwearable or useless for today's knitters — I mean, I'm assuming you don't want leading reins for your toddlers or a frilly bonnet for yourself. There are quite a number of patterns available for plain and practical items, but I don't see why any contemporary knitter would want to struggle with the vagaries of an antique pattern only to wind up with a very basic pair of ribbed socks or gloves that are indistinguishable from something that could be made with a run-of-the-mill modern pattern. And there were some unforeseen difficulties. I had hoped to find some sharp knitted waistcoat patterns for men since those could perfectly well be worn by today's men, but it seems the common practice for knitters of men's waistcoats in Edwardian times was to knit only a patterned square and then to take the piece to a tailor to be made up into a waistcoat.

However, now that my excuses are made, here are my best findings, which I hope you at least find interesting to look at. The posts will get better as I go through the 20th century, because there will be a much better selection of patterns available. At least until I get to the 1980's, when everything was ugly.

This is a "Baby's Openwork Jacket", which can be found at page 28 (on the sidebar; actual booklet page number 23) in The Book of "Hows": or what may be done with wools in every home, published in 1900 and "edited by Miss Loch, needlework examiner to the London School Board" (which, by the way, sounds like an awesome job for a woman to have in 1900). The Book of "Hows" is a part of the Richard Rutt Collection, and may be viewed and printed off for free. I've written about the Richard Rutt Collection before. This baby's jacket looks pretty standard by today's terms. Baby clothing can have a very antique look without it looking odd, because things like cape collar dresses and lace jackets with ribbons never really went out of style for babies.

This is the "Oxford Puzzle Jacket or Hug-Me-Tight", which can be found on page 26 of The Second Book of "Hows", also published in 1900 and edited again by Miss Loch, and which is also available for free in the Richard Rutt Collection. I thought this design was very similar to the spencer jackets that are in again now. They're not the easiest thing to wear, but can work on a small-breasted woman and over a empire-waisted dress.

"Lady's slippers", found on page 38 of The Second Book of "Hows", published in 1900. It seems to have been very typical of slipper styles of the era to have ribbons run in around the top of one's slippers. It's a pretty look and it makes it possible to tighten the slippers to a snug fit.

This is a child's knitted petticoat pattern, which appeared in John Paton Son & Co.'s Knitting and Crocheting Book, 3rd edition, published in 1903. You can't buy this pattern by itself but will need to purchase the whole 286-page book from for $21.95 from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions (obviously you get a lot of other patterns in the book for that price — you can view them all at the link provided). In Edwardian times this was a petticoat, but now of course it would be a little girl's knitted dress. I love the beautifully textured stitchwork, and can imagine in it a gorgeous hand-dyed wool. I'm tempted to make this one for my little grand-niece.

Child's cape-collared coat, which, like the petticoat/dress above, appears in John Paton Son & Co.'s Knitting and Crocheting Book, 3rd edition, published in 1903 and available from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $21.95. I love the quaint look of this jacket, though it would only be worth making for some little princess who tends to dress up a lot!

This pattern is for a woman's petticoat, and it appeared in The Columbia Book of the Use of Yarns, Fifth Edition, which was published in 1904 and is available from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $21.95. Some of the best and most usable Edwardian patterns are for what was then considered underwear. Edwardian petticoats and chemises make pretty contemporary skirts and tops (and can make a woman feel pleasantly risqué). In making this one I'd alter the top of the skirt a little to make sure there was no bulky gathering at the waist, but the texture and the scalloped hem will need no tweaking to look lovely.

This baby jacket appeared in The Columbia Book of the Use of Yarns, Fifth Edition, which was published in 1904 and is available from Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions for $21.95. It's a cute jacket but I suspect the pom-poms may be considered a choking hazard in an our era of significantly lowered infant mortality.

This feather-stitch flounce petticoat appeared in Weldon's Practical Knitter, No. 253, Vol. 22, published in 1906. The book is $9.95 on the Iva Rose Vintage Reproductions site, but in this case you also have the option of purchasing just this one pattern for $4.95. This is another petticoat that would make a beautiful skirt. In this case I'd think one would have to do a little more reshaping to make sure the skirt fit well around the waist and hips and the lower pleated part of the skirt wasn't too full.

A baby's silk knitted vest, appearing at page 110 of Pearsall's Illustrated Handbook for Knitting in Silks, published in 1906, also from the Richard Rutt Collection. Again, this is underwear that qualifies as modern outerwear. I love the detail and can picture it on a baby girl with a pretty skirt. Alternatively, if it were made longer and shaped to flare somewhat at the bottom, it could be a pretty cotton dress for summer.

Silk bag purse with snap, appearing at page 199 of Pearsall's Illustrated Handbook for Knitting in Silks, published in 1906, and also from the Richard Rutt Collection. This would need no tweaking or repurposing to be usable in exactly the same way as an Edwardian woman would have used it: as an evening bag. Though the contents would be different: a cellphone and lipstick rather than smelling salts and a point lace handkerchief.

Look for the next post in the Twentieth Century Series within the next two weeks or so. Next time, of course, we'll be covering the tail end of the Edwardian era and the First World War years.

Hitting the Beach With and In Your Knitting

Almost a month ago, I traumatized followers of the Facebook page for this blog by sharing this 1922 photo of a dripping wet Winston Churchill in a knitted bathing suit. I'm including it in this post to make sure all my readers see it, because that's the kind of blogger I am. Now that you've seen it (and can't unsee it), you know how it was that Churchill could vow so stirringly and memorably to "fight them on the beaches". The man knew whereof he spoke.

Slightly more seriously, the sight of this picture got me interested in knitted bathing suits, and after a little research to decide to do a post on knitted swimwear, which of course had to lead with that picture of Churchill. In this post I'm going to stick to the knitted bathing suits of the 1900-1960 period rather than include the more contemporary ones. Although there are plenty of knitted and crocheted bathing suit and bikini and monokini (don't ask) patterns available, believe it or not I found the Google results for "knitted swimsuits" more scarring than the sight of our Winston fighting them on the beaches. Too many of them look like they should be accompanied by a coordinating pattern for a stripper pole cosy, is what I'm saying. Although admittedly there are some really cute ones out there. I might do a post on contemporary knitted swimwear at some later date. But for now, let's delve into the evolution of knitted swimwear during the first half of the twentieth century.

Swimsuits were generally made from wool until the mid-1930s, because wool will keep a swimmer warm even when wet. When swimwear companies began manufacturing some suits out of the then newly invented elastic materials that were the predecessors of lycra and spandex in the thirties, swimwear manufacturers continued to incorporate some form of elastic into wool bathing suits, but the use of wool in commercially made swimwear steadily declined to nearly nil over the next two decades. The Vintage Fashion Guild has a pretty good, brief run down of the history of swimwear if you're interested in the topic.

Let's look at the typical swimwear by decade.





These are typical swimsuits from 1900, or as they would have been called, "bathing costumes". Neither are hand-knitted but both are wool. At the turn of the 20th century, women swam in not only dresses and bloomers but in wool stockings and canvas-soled shoes and also some kind of head covering: a scarf, a mobcap, or a hat. Though today we'd never dream of trying to swim in all that clothing, much less in shoes, these costumes probably seemed freeing and even daring to people used to wearing much more fabric in their daily costumes. At least until they were soaking wet.





A man and two young girls in their swimsuits in 1915. As you can see, bathing costumes haven't changed a lot in 15 years, though the man's pant legs are now past his knees, and for the women, sleeves may be shorter and the skirt is now optional. The black stockings are still required for women.





In 1910 a company named the Portland Knitting Company began producing knitted swimwear on sweater cuff machines and daringly offering them in their catalogues. In 1918 the Portland Knitting Company became the Jantzen Knitting Mills. These Jantzen swimsuits, which likely date from about 1920, look much more practical than any of their predecessors, though even so they could weigh as much as nine pounds when wet. Men's and women's bathing suits looked very similar all through the twenties, with the exception that women were still wearing stockings with their bathing suits well into the twenties, though they were no longer full length but could show the knee. The police patrolled the beaches and measured women's suits to be sure they weren't more than nine inches above the kneecap. Even men could be charged with public obscenity for baring their chests.





Three women's bathing suits from the early 1920s. The swimsuits of the twenties weren't all in black by any means. How cute is that navy and yellow number? I'd wear that now in a slightly longer version, as a dress. All three of these designs could easily be worn today over a swimsuit, as beach cover-ups.

As the twenties wore on, the top of the bathing suit became skimpier and more fitted overall, with lower necklines and thinner straps. The upper part of the suit became cut-away or racer back for the men, and manufacturers began to attach the trunk to the top part of women's suits.

This picture is of Marlene Dietrich and her daughter Maria Reiner on the beach in 1928, with Dietrich sporting the typical 1920s bathing suit. She's carrying it off much better than Winston Churchill, but then she's accessorized her look like the consummate performing artist she was, she isn't soaking wet, and oh yeah, she's Marlene fucking Dietrich.





This is a knitted swimsuit pattern from the 1930s. The skirt has become a "modesty panel" over the legs, and the stockings are finally gone. This pattern is available for free on Ravelry.





During the 1930s, it very gradually became acceptable for men to go bare-chested on beaches. This is a swimsuit from this transitional phase, made with a "topper" that was fastened to the trunks with a zipper, giving the wearer the option of taking it off.





These three patterns are for authentic thirties-era women's bathing suits, republished in A Stitch in Time: v. 1: Vintage Knitting & Crochet Patterns 1920-1949, by Jane Waller and Susan Crawford. You can get a better look at and more details about these patterns on their respective pattern pages on Ravelry.





In the 1940s, men's swim trunks became standard. In women's swimwear, the modesty panel was removed from their suits (though of course it's still possible to buy a panelled or skirted bathing suit even today), and the two-piece bathing suit was introduced. The pattern for the blue and white striped one-piece is available for free on Ravelry. The man's swimming trunk pattern can be bought here in the event that you really want it, but I trust that you don't want it. Knitted swimwear for men just isn't a good idea. I can't be thankful enough that at least that pattern is belted and would have stayed up when wet.





Swimwear in the 1950s didn't look all that different from that of the 1940s, as the one-piece suit had more or less reached the form it still has today. The two-piece suit did gain some ground and become a little smaller, though it wouldn't become the bikini until the sixties. These swimsuits are from the June 1957 issue of Everywoman's magazine which offered the patterns in its pages, and I would totally wear them if I could be sure they wouldn't sag to my knees once they got wet.

If you'd like to try creating your own vintage swimwear, you might like to check out The Retro Knitting Company or Vintage Visage for patterns. There also do seem to be a number of vintage bathing suits, such as those made by Jantzen, on eBay.

I don't believe I'll be knitting anything for the beach but a cover-up or beach dress myself. There's a reason why swimsuits aren't made with wool any more, and as much as I love vintage styles, I expect my vintage-style creations to have the comfort, practicality, and convenience of contemporary clothing design. If you decide to try knitting your own swimwear, please feel free to tell us about us in the comments, though I must ask you to please use some discretion when it comes to linking to pictures of you modelling your creations, fabulous as I am sure you look in them.

The Richard Rutt Collection

If you love vintage patterns, do I have vintage patterns for you. The University of Southampton's Winchester School of Art has put the Richard Rutt collection of antique knitting books online. Who was Richard Rutt? Well, he was one of those people who can't get interested in anything without pursuing it to some esoteric height of knowledge and landmark level of accomplishment. When he was an Anglican missionary to South Korea for twenty years, he became a founder of what is now considered Korean studies, authoring a number of books on Korea and its culture, among them the co-authored encyclopedia Korea: A Historical and Cultural Dictionary. He became fascinated by classical Chinese and published a translation of a challenging ancient Chinese work, The Book of Changes. When spending some of the later years of his life in Cornwall he learned the Cornish language in order to celebrate weddings in Cornish. He rose within the Anglican church to become a bishop. Late in life Rutt converted to Roman Catholicism, and was soon ordained as a priest, then a Prelate of Honour, with the title of Monsignor, and also an honorary canon of Plymouth Cathedral. I won't list all his accomplishments here, but the Wikipedia entry for Richard Rutt makes for an interesting read.





Richard Rutt also had a passionate interest in knitting, and true to form he couldn't just, you know, make a scarf while he was watching TV like the rest of us. He authored a history of the craft entitled A History of Hand Knitting, published in 1987, which is still in print. Rutt was involved with the Knitting & Crochet Guild from the time of its founding in 1978 and was its president at the time of his death in 2011. He also collected antique knitting books and booklets. And now you can see the Richard Rutt Collection collection of 66 antique knitting books dating from 1838 to 1914, which might just make your rumpled collection of Vogue Knitting back issues look much less impressive than you thought.





All sixty-six volumes are online in their entirety and may be viewed in high quality PDFs and printed off for use as you like. You may find them more interesting from a historical and knitting geek perspective than from a practical one. As I discussed during a recent post on Victorian knitting patterns, a lot of nineteenth century patterns can be difficult to follow because they don't include information such as stitch gauge or yardage amounts. Some of the books, such as the 1838 second edition of The Ladies Knitting & Netting Book, by Mrs. Annesley "the Compiler", the cover of which is pictured above, don't have a single illustration in them, which means the end result of your work may surprise you, and not pleasantly.





Moreover many of the patterns won't be wearable by modern standards. You probably aren't going to want to wear the ladies' silk opera cloak above even if you are a woman who regularly attends the opera. But other patterns are useable still. Baby clothing hasn't changed much in the last century or two, and neither have scarves, gloves, hats, shawls, drawstring purses, men's waistcoats (the ladies' equivalent will require either a substantial rewrite or a corset), or socks. At any rate the collection promises the knitting history and vintage knitting pattern lover many a happy hour of browsing. Vintage knitting patterns don't get much more vintage than this.

The Knitting Mania, and Those Who Hate It

It seems that as long as there have been those who are avid knitters, there have been non-knitters who complain about it. One of my exes complained that it made him feel as though "he must not be very important" when I knitted while we watched TV rather than cuddling with him. Sorry, darling. Here's hoping your current partner has two left thumbs. Another pointed out that it was "not cost-efficient" for me to knit when I could earn the money to buy the item in much less time. He also kept quoting Anthony Robbins at me. I'm sure he's still out there somewhere making facile and condescending observations to some woman who, happily, isn't me.

The Hampshire Advertiser & Salisbury Guardian published the poem below on Saturday, December 11, 1847, only a few decades after knitting had become commonplace among English women of all classes. The poet, though he felt he "must speak out his mind", did so anonymously. He was, after all, criticizing an armed camp. I can't help wondering if he got the kind of wife he wanted, one who never did needlework for pleasure but instead was happy to only attend to the necessary sewing and mending and "every duty prize". Because if he did find such a woman, I bet she either developed an addiction to laudanum or decamped with the chimney sweep within a few years.



The Knitting Mania


I really must — it is no use — I must speak out my mind
And wonder how the ladies can delight in knitting find;
Such pointed, pricking, sharp-edged tools, such rolling balls of thread,
Such puzzling over bewildering rules with such bewilder’d head.


My mother and my sisters four are clever in this way,
They knit at morning, noon and night; they knit, in fact, all day;
Their little bags, their pointed pins, are in their fingers ever;
In short, I really do believe, they’ve got the knitting fever.


And, after all, what good results, come from such industry?
It is not comforters, or socks, they ever knit for me;
But pence-jugs, purses, smoking-caps, while over chair and screen
Are knitted clothes of every kind, and newest patterns seen.


We’ve mats for every standing thing, we’ve covers for each dish;
We’ve knitted cloths for bread and cheese, for fruit, and flesh, and fish;
Our rich dessert dish is fill’d up with bobbins starch’d and clean,
We wipe our mouths in d’Oyleys of every pattern seen.


How many a scratch and prick I get! I could not count them all!
How many a time about my feet I get the tangled ball.
And often have I borne away a handsome square of knitting
Which clung unto my buttons from the chair where I’ve been sitting.


Alas! Alas! each stitch of work I now must pay for doing
My sisters they will knit for me, but cannot think of sewing.
No buttons can I get put on; no gloves can I get mended,
All little comforts of my home are now left unattended.


I might get married, certainly — but I’ll not think of this —
I know how much a knitting wife can marr domestic bliss;
There are such things as knitted caps, and robes, and trimmings too,
And many other pretty things the ladies now can do.


No — I shall wait until I find a wife as wives should be —
Who for all taste of fancy work of every kind is free;
One who will gladly make, and mend, and every duty prize,
Which may increase her loveliness in a fond husband’s eyes.

Queen Victoria's Royal Example

Queen Victoria was a lifelong avid knitter and crocheter, and she also spun. Though she probably only did handiwork because she enjoyed it, her taste for it had far-reaching effects. Prior to the early nineteenth century, knitting was a folk art and a cottage industry, something the poor did from necessity and to earn a living. Queen Elizabeth I bought handknitted stockings, but wasn't herself a knitter. In the nineteenth century knitting became something all socioeconomic classes did, partly because of the rise of the popular press and the subsequent availability of printed knitting patterns, partly because of technical advances in the production of knitting needles and the introduction of standardized size needles, but also and in no small part because Queen Victoria elevated the status of knitting by setting a royal example. By the end of Queen Victoria's life every properly brought-up young girl in Western society was taught to knit as a matter of course, regardless of her family's economic status. Queen Victoria probably had a very salutary effect on crocheting as well, as crocheting did not even exist long before 1800, but became a common craft in less than a century. In the picture above, Queen Victoria is show knitting in the Queen's sitting room at Windsor Castle while her daughter Princess Beatrice reads the newspaper aloud.




This crocheted scarf is one of eight Queen Victoria made to be awarded to some members of the British military who had served with distinction in the Boer War in South Africa. The scarves had no significance as a military decoration, but must have had their own very special cachet. Not to mention that I find the whole idea of Queen Victoria crocheting these special scarves for her soldiers hilariously maternal and loving-hands-at-home. Can you picture any modern head of state doing such a thing for members of his or her national military? Would Stephen Harper knit bow ties for members of the Canadian military? Would Barack Obama cross-stitch medallions for his soldiers? But then it's my understanding that this sort of thing was typical of Queen Victoria's character. She did live in a bubble of extreme privilege and could be appallingly out of touch with what life was like for her subjects (she was middle-aged before she realized there was such a thing as train tickets, as she'd always simply walked on board herself), but her tastes and mindset could be very middle class. Queen Victoria enjoyed the circus and a nip of whiskey.





In this photo, Queen Victoria is photographed crocheting. I have read that Victoria, as much as she liked to knit, was not all that skilled in the art. There's a story told that on one occasion, Victoria was visiting a Scottish household near Balmoral Castle and presented her hostess with a pair of socks that she had knitted herself. There was an elderly woman also present who was hard of hearing and hadn't grasped the visitor's identity, and who loudly remarked, "If her man gets no better made socks than that, I pity him." Fortunately, Her Majesty was amused.