Read more from Airship
I hardly know where to begin! My dear von Hedwig and I left our beloved and numerous offspring back on the airship with Nanny and Ulrik last weekend and attended the first Steampunk World’s Fair. We had a wonderful time! At every moment there were 3 things events we wanted to attend, and yet one of the most rewarding activities was doing nothing at all – just promenading about the buildings and grounds admiring all the other Steampunks.
What joy! Not a pair of baggy jeans or sweatpants to be seen in all the weekend. Dapper gentlemen, beautiful ladies, dapper ladies and beautiful gentlemen. And smiles! We were all delighted to be there, delighted to see each other, complimentary of one another’s sartorial and scientific efforts, and clogging the halls taking each other’s 
pictures non-stop. (Which Security was most gracious about, really.) I found my heart swelling with affection at the sight of my fellow Steampunks, which is, in general, not a sensation I achieve when awash with humanity.
We were inspired by our fellows’ gear, accoutrements, accessories, extraordinary facial hair, modified contraptions, hats, corsets, hats! So many Makers! ModVic Renovations! Tesla Coils! Firearms! Backpack devices! Robot arms! My dear von Hedwig locked himself in his Lab the minute we got back to the ship, as his head is so full of ideas!
We met Jake von Slatt, whose Steampunk Workshop inspired von Hedwig to take the plunge and mess about with metal. We met people we have admired over the aether and now know to be actual live humans. We met someone from our deep dark past, and his lovely and talented author wife. We met friends of friends (including Emilie Bush, author of Chenda and the Airship Brofman), imaginary friends (including folks from Brass Goggles and Silver Goggles), and made new friends (including Leanna Renee Hieber, 
who is intelligent and vivacious, and if her fiction is even a quarter as delightful as her conversation, I am in for a treat). We met writers and publishers and reporters.
We met Professor Elemental, and shot him with Gerhardt’s marshmallow crossbow. (He started it by telling me I had “the eyes of an angel, but the cheekbones of a murderer.”) He is even funnier in person than I expected, and my expectations were high. He is also capable of more powerful poetry than his usual hip hop hilarity, as I was lucky enough to discover at the Gaslamp Cabaret.
Speaking of the Professor, we entered the Mad Science Fair and he granted us the Honorable Mention Prize for Madness. Accolades, indeed! We were also honored by General Caled with a “Steampunk World’s Fair 2010 General Caled’s Epic Attire, Apparel and Modified Contraption, Thingamajig or Watchamacallit Competition Winner”
And the music! It wasn’t really a World’s Fair, it was a music festival with a thousand-strong Steampunk social attached. I was looking forward to Humanwine, Black Tape for a Blue Girl, Unextraordinary Gentlemen, and the Clockwork Dolls (I had tea with them; they are charming!), and of course Professor Elemental, and was not disappointed. Even more exciting for me was hearing new (to me), amazing bands like Walter Sickert and the Army of Broken Toys, What Time is it Mister Fox?, and The Emperor Norton Stationery Marching Band, which was both, and rocked the house late into the night, long after the constabulary had politely requested they withdraw. I was, unfortunately, unable to make the JM Renfield & HM show, but I must say that out of hundreds and hundreds of beautifully dressed people, these gentlemen always stood out.
In short, I can’t wait for next year, and desperately wish I could fuel up the ship and charge off to World Steam Expo and Seattle Steamcon to recreate all the fun. And remember, there’s nothing that can’t be done by a man in a top hat and an ape with a monocle!
By Madame vonHedwig on Saturday, February 6th, 2010
Update: Here is the very handsome cap of Mr. Kevin C Cooper Esq, made based on my instructions below. What a dashing fellow!
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This past Yule I made vonHedwig a smoking cap to match one of his smoking jackets. Here’s how I did it.
fabric – I started with 1/2 yard and had loads left over
stiff fabric – I just used a sheet of stiff felt
needle, thread, pins, and scissors
tassel – try the upholstery area of the fabric store. I couldn’t find a tassel significant enough for my husband, so I made my own.
To make your own tassel: yarn, piece of cardboard 2″ wide and as long as you want the tassel to be
1. measure the circumference of the wearer’s head mid- to high-forehead, wherever looks right, and measure or estimate how high you want the cap to be. I made mine 4″ high. It shouldn’t be too high, as it is a smoking cap, not a fez. (besides, a fez is traditionally felted.)
2. cut your stiff felt to those measurements, with 1/2″ or so overlap for seam allowance
3. cut your fabric so that it will entirely encase the brocade (leaving yourself seam allowances
4. connect the ends of your stiff felt and pin. Holding it in the shape of the final hat, lay it on the wrong side of the fabric and mark the top of the hat. Add seam allowance and cut it out.
5. fold the felt into the fabric cut to encase it and sew the wrong sides together along one long end.
6. Pin your fabric-covered felt into a circle, then pin right side of the hat top to the inside of the hat seam you just made, and sew it. 
7. Turn the cap right side out. Fold under the cut edge on one side of the fabric join and hand sew it shut (inside and outside of the hat), using stiches that don’t show.
8. Sew tassel on the top center, and an interesting button on top of that.
To make your own tassel:
Cut a piece of cardboard (just grab something out of the recycling) and cut it a quarter inch longer than you want your tassel and 2″ wide with indented ends.
Wrap yarn from end to end until it’s as fat as you want it.
Slip another length of yarn under one end and tie a knot around the bundle.
Slip your open scissors into the other end and cut the tassel open.
Take it off the cardboard form and return it to the recycling. Tie a second knot an inch or so down from the tied end to make a ball at the top. (you can even put a small ball inside to round it out)
By Madame vonHedwig on Wednesday, November 11th, 2009
It is a vonHedwig family tradition to picnic in a graveyard every autumn. As winter gains strength, frost kills, and wind rattles the leaves off the limbs, Death whispers in your ear. I AM HERE.
Of course, the Cold Man is always here, but he’s easier to ignore while the bee is on the flower. Since it is very much a vonHedwig tradition to face what threatens, we dress in our mourning finest and meet him where he lives. Or rather, doesn’t.
This year we accepted the gracious invitation of other like-minded souls, and joined Those Who Mourn at the lovely Rock Creek Cemetery for a picnic. The weather was unseasonably but enjoyably warm, and we explored, and made friends, and toasted those who have gone before.
Preparations, of course, included new hats. The twins, Annabelle and Mirabelle, trimmed their own.
Alice band
+ hot glue
+ ribbons
+ feathers
+ little black beads
over veil
= appropriate and elegant new headgear
P. Phinneas, usually resplendent in a brown topper, had to find headgear to match his grandfather’s black frock coat. He settled on a grey wool slouch, fitted with an emergency tool stash. The Fearless Fabricator is never without the means of production!
My own topper only needed a bit of trimming to include a veil, and a Día de los Muertos touch.
The cemetery has been in use some 300 years, and has much to delight the senses. We picnicked by the lotus pond, whose brown stems and rattling seed pods reminded us – as I am now, so shall you be.
Chef had prepared a cold collation, which we presented buffet style on a suitably elegant tomb. Then, with apple cider and schloss, we toasted the dead.
We met many fascinating people, some again and some for the first, but I hope not the last, time. More photos can be found on the von Hedwig Flickr photostream.
This entry is part of a series, Construction of Custom Corsets» Part 1 was the custom pre-pattern
Part 3 adding-structure-to-the-back-layer-finishing-and-boning-in-a-corset/
Figure 1
This is part two of a living document on making custom corsets, as it will be edited, revised, have new information and links added as readers post comments. So please post your comments, questions, and tips so that we can learn from your experience as well as mine.
For this step you can you have some options for the pattern material. For years, I used newspaper because it was free. It has many drawbacks, beside the whole smearing ink issue. Notes written on the pattern can be hard to read, it does not hold up well and just ages poorly in general. Pattern tracing paper is another option. The stuff I have found in the fabric stores is wretched stuff, because it is flimsy, weak and hard to write on. Now, I use the pattern tracing paper stocked by the people at Folkwear.com. It’s not expensive and doesn’t have the drawbacks of the other pattern materials. For simplicity’s sake, no matter your choice, I’ll call it “pattern paper”.
If you are making an heirloom, a garment for a paying client, or a single layer (such as an undergarment) corset, coutil is prime choice for corset backing fabric. It is pricey, and Farthingales seems to be the only reliable source of it I have found so far. However, canvas or heavy canvas duck will work just fine for multi-layer or limited wear corsets. You will need about a yard to a yard and half for the under-layer, stay sleeves and grommet re-enforcing.
Corset can be built one layer fabric, two layers or three layers. Common retail is the two layer corset, with a cover layer and a backing layer. For this description we are using a backing layer, a cover layer and sleeves for the boning.
Figure 2
Start by marking some alignment notches, double notches, etc at different levels on both sides of the various seams. Mark the top, grain line and also label the panels (front, front side, side, rear side, rear, etc.) Now cut the duct tape pre-pattern apart on the seam lines you drew on it while it was on the client. Think about how the seam will work as you sew the (eventual) fabric back together. (figure 3 & 4) Make sure to remove the reduction curves from the pre pattern. The individual pieces should at this point lay out fairly flat.
Figure 3
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Figure 5
Now you are ready to make the pattern from the pre-pattern. You can work on the floor, but a table is better. Banish the cat. Lay out your pre-pattern pieces on the pattern paper, leaving about an inch minimal from any edge, and an inch and a half between any pieces. (figure 5) One at a time, press each pre-pattern piece flat while you trace around it. A clever seamstress can shift the pieces a bit to deal with curve in the pre-pattern, however the less experienced should probably trace them as they lie. Transfer notches, tops, label, etc to pattern. Set aside the pre-pattern. You shouldn’t need it again if all goes well, but it can be helpful for thinking your way out of a problem.
Figure 6
Once all parts are traced out use a ruler or a hemming ruler to make a consistent seam allowance around each pattern.(figure 6) For a 5/8” seam allowance I mark a ½ inch, to compensate for tracing expansion from the pre-pattern to the pattern. I use a different color marker for my seam allowance than my pattern tracing to avoid confusion. If the seam allowance overlaps from one pattern piece to another, make sure to mark the area that is going to be a bit shy and try to make it obvious. Transfer your notch marking out to the seam allowances lines. Finally, cut out the pattern on the seam allowance line.
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Figure 7
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Take a moment to look at what you have. Experiment mentally or physically with the pieces just to double check how they will work. For example, in figure ??? I have marked for a seam to end in a dart. For ease of fitting, I have decided to make this into two separate pattern pieces instead. After cutting them apart, because I used quality pattern tracing paper, I was able to sew on some scraps, add seam allowances, and then trim them.(figures 7 & 8 )
You are ready to start on the backing layer. Lay out and pin down the pattern piece on your coutil or canvas, being conscious of how the grain will minimize stretch and straighten the garment. DON’T CUT OUT THE COVER LAYER YET. Remember to include your notches. Once it’s all cut out, you’re ready to sew the pieces together. With contrasting curves you need to pin frequently and to pin a small gather of fabric where the seam will be, if you want a tidy seam.( figure 9 ) If you want to use a busk in the front, heavily but temporary baste that seam to gether. Do not sew the lacing / grommet edges together, however you can zig-zag stitch the edge to minimize fraying. Just keep in mind none of these seams are set in stone yet.
Figure 9
It’s fitting time. These next two fitting step are important to the process, so pay attention.
Step one is the fitting itself, and you are going to wish you had six extra steam-powered hands, and could sew the backing layer on the Client. Try the corset backing on the client. (Client here – as in the pre-pattern, wear whatever you intend to wear under the corset, if anything, and hold still! Or get stuck with pins.) Pin the top and bottom closed at the lace/grommet area. The waist will not stay pinned closed if you are making a corset with any shape to it whatsoever. Use your hands to pull this area closed as you look at the shape of the backing layer.
It should just fit at the top and be a tad loose on the hip so as not to bunch up the Client’s skin or cut in. I use pins when I can to fit, if not I use chalk marks and sewing by matching seams, removing old seams, and refitting, until I am happy. Once the top and bottom are correct move to tailoring the belly. The stomach of a corset should be flat or slightly concave if the client’s body allows. The chest is next, perhaps with some adjustment to get the cleavage where and how you want it, to allow tailoring to keep the desired position.
Then, on to the waist. It is amazing how much one can safely, and with minimal discomfort, compress the side of the waist between the floater ribs and the top of the hips. The floater ribs can only take a little compression and the rib cage itself is best to avoid, unless the client really knows what s/he is getting into. A good rule for corset beginners is, if you can just pull the back closed with your hand, the corset should be comfortable for the client. Ask to make sure.
Step two is to transfer any new seams to both pattern pieces that each new seam affects. ( figure 10 ). Measure new seam allowances off of these new pattern lines, remembering to transfer notches. Trim the pattern on the new seam allowances.
Now, you’re ready to cut and sew the cover fabric to match the backing layer. Lay pattern pieces out on the fabric so the cut out pieces will look their best when sewn, paying attention to grain and design of cover fabric. Also you can clip the seam allowance to help curves lay flat, and zig-zag stitch all the seams on the backing layer down flat, which also helps re-enforce the seams.
Figure 10
In part three I’ll show you how to finish up the custom corset.
By Madame vonHedwig on Saturday, October 31st, 2009
A vonHedwig Halloween Story
“What, exactly, does this holiday celebrate?” Pelinina asked.
“Ummm…” Philomena vonHedwig hesitated, studying the features of her turnip. “It’s sort of … well … Death, I suppose.”
“Americans celebrate Death by carving vegetables?”
“Yes,” Philomena said with conviction. “Sort of.” She sketched a face on to her turnip, the largest one from the bag she had appropriated from the kitchen of the Academy, where she (and every other scientifically promising vonHedwig since the institution’s inception) boarded for school. She and Peli, her best friend and roommate had liberated the turnips, reasoning that if they didn’t leave the school grounds, it wasn’t really stealing, and removing turnips from culinary use would be beneficial to the student population overall.
She studied the face, nodding with satisfaction, and turned to her best friend.
“It’s to celebrate everything you’re afraid of, really. To spend a night scaring yourself and laughing about it. It’s the end of summer -the sun turns pale, the nights are cold, nothing grows on the earth; everything looks dead. Hallowe’en is a way for people to prepare for death – for the death of summer, for the death of the old and sick who will die over the winter, and for our own, inevitable death.”
“What fun,” Peli deadpanned.
“You Brits have a big bonfire holiday, too, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Guy Fawkes Night!”
“Which celebrates what?”
“Umm. Not blowing up Parliament? Executing traitors?”
“Death, in other words.” Philomena exchanged her pen for a scalpel, borrowed from the Moreau dissection lab, and began carving.
“It’s not originally an American holiday anyway, it came from Irish and Scots immigrants; the old Celtic traditions came over, they traded their turnips for pumpkins, their wicker men for bonfires. There’s lots of playing tricks on people, too.”
“Excellent! Who shall we trick?”
“Ah ha!” Philly said, “At last, my peculiar folk traditions interest you! Let us plot while we finish carving these turnips.”
“What, all of them?”
“We can’t have just one!” Philomena finished digging out the center of her vegetable and dropped a candle into it. She struck a match and lit it, turning the face to Peli so she could admire the affect.
“Horrible!”
“Thank you. If we carve them all, we can put one on every grave and tomb in the cemetery on Hallowe’en night. That will be pranking the entire school!”
Most schools do not have their own cemetery, it is true. The Academy is not like most schools.
“Can’t we trick someone into carving all these turnips?”
“If you think of a way while carving, do let me know.” Philomena handed her friend a turnip, and got back to work.
An hour later, they were in the Fabrication Hall, and 5 hours after that, they dragged a steam-powered, belt-driven, scalpel-wielding, turnip carving device up to their room. Peli had done most of the welding while Philomena had cannibalized a disused Babbage engine to make the carver programmable.
“Five different facial features – eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, fangs. Seven types of eyebrows, 8 eyes, 5 noses, 6 mouths, fangs yes or no… that gives us 480 different faces! No one should notice the few duplicates that occur by random chance.”
“That old Engine was an antique,” Peli said, “you probably shouldn’t have pulled it apart like that.”
“Nonsense! There’s a working Engine in the Lovelace Maths wing, and another in the museum. That old thing was abandoned because it didn’t work right. I could tell by looking at it that it dropped a digit every hundred-thousandth decimal place.” She speared a turnip on a carving spindle in the device; it had 6 spindles surrounding the central scalpel array. A coring blade was centered above each spindle. “Besides, we don’t have time to machine our own gears, Hallowe’en is tomorrow.”
Peli stoked the fire, and they waited for the boiler to build up a head of steam. When the coring blades started to spin, Philomena threw the lever that raised the spindled turnips to meet their fate. The immediate effect was spectacular, as both girls were covered in juicy purple turnip pulp!
Peli spluttered, scraping turnip off her face. “Why didn’t I wear my goggles? Can we stop this now? The British Student Association is hosting a bonfire next week; can we just-”
“And they’ll all be talking about the ghostly, glimmering faces that haunted the cemetery 5 days before!” Philomena handed her friend a handkerchief. “Let’s adjust the scalpels, shall we? I think I see the problem.”
*****
Hallowe’en day dawned crisp and cold, with fresh snow on the mountain peaks surrounding the Academy. Philomena woke up tired because she and Peli had been up late perfecting their device and carving their turnips. She had difficulty concentrating in Anatomy lecture, and nodded off during the discussion of cross-species organ substitution, even though that was the most interesting part.
She drank coffee after that, even though she didn’t really like it. It was strong and bitter, so unlike the delicate café au lait Chef used to make on the Schöneluft. She loaded her cup with sugar and cream, missing her family, missing their annual pumpkin-carving contest (Bettina always won by sculpting her pumpkin with explosives), missing life soaring through the clouds. She pushed on to Alchemy, where, nerves agitated by the coffee, she set fire to her notebook.
When she finally made it back to her room after dinner, she was tired, discouraged, and ready to go straight to bed. But as she put her hand to her doorknob, the door creaked open on its own. A soft purple glow pulsed and flickered from hundreds of tiny grotesque faces. She entered, entranced.
She was thinking that the cold purple-white radiance of the turnips was far more eerie than the warm orange glow of pumpkins, when the white glow shifted. The turnips were moving. Grotesque faces floated slowly into the air. The effect was uncanny, but Philomena was a scientist.
“That’s very good, Peli,” she said, “I can’t even see the strings.”
Even though she was sure her friend was there, she could not help but startle when a voice directly behind her whispered, “There are no strings!”
Philomena jumped and dropped her book bag, charred pages scattering, then laughed at herself for doing so. Peli stepped out from behind the door, laughing as well, and Philomena startled again, whirling around to see who was behind her.
She found a thin boy with a prominent adam’s apple and red hair that stuck out at improbable angles. He was looking at the floor, but glanced up at her with a grin, then examined his shoes.
Peli stopped laughing long enough to gasp, “I told you she’d be hard to scare!”
“Of course,” said the boy softly, “she is a vonHedwig.”
“Philly, this is Dietrich Getman,” Peli announced. “I met him in the Verne Library this afternoon. He’s going to help us with the turnips, because three hundred graves is a lot. He can keep a secret, he’s not afraid of ghosts, and he’s clever. He made the turnip heads float with channeled air!”
“No strings,” Dietrich repeated.
“All right,” Philomena said, “let’s blow these out and get moving. But while the candles cool, I want to see how you attained an airstream sufficient to lift a turnip!”
After Dietrich’s device was examined, explained, and admired, they shoved the turnips into sacks and crept outside, staying out of sight.
“What did Peli mean, Mr. Getman, when she said you were not afraid of ghosts? Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Please, Fräulein vonHedwig, call me Dee. I am from Detmold, in the Teutoburger Wald. If you go into the forest on the anniversary of the destruction of the Roman legions, you can hear the screams and clash of battle; you can feel the fear of the invaders who died there. I have done so many times.”
“Ugh,” Pelinina said. “Once would be more than enough for me!”
“Surely such a place invokes romantic ideas, and stimulates your imagination,” Philomena reasoned. “What sort of energy signature could last nearly two thousand years without a source of regeneration? How could the phenomenon only exist once a year? What could explain it pulsing like that?”
“I do not know, Fräulein. I came to the Academy to learn, but I did not expect to learn everything. It is to be hoped that you will have a long and successful career – perhaps you shall discover the answers to these questions.”
They reached the small stone chapel that was the gateway to the cemetery. It dated from the thirteenth century, and had replaced an even older building. It was a simple, squat rectangle, with gothic arched doorways and a peaked bell tower, added much later. Light from the school no longer reached them, although they could see lights from most of the dormitory windows. A pale moon sailed between clouds, and its light made the shadows in the gothic doorways impenetrably dark. Without saying a word, the three conspirators left the path, avoiding the chapel.
“Right,” Philomena said when they reached the first row of gravestones, “we split up here. Get them placed and lit, but don’t get in the light of any of them. We don’t want to be seen.”
Peli giggled. “I’m sorry I complained to much yesterday, Philly. This is too fun! I’ll take the west.” She scurried off. “Meet you back on the path!”
“I will take the area where the sepulchers and monuments are tallest,” Dee said. “You ladies are not dressed for climbing mossy old tombs.”
“Thank you,” Philomena said. Looking at him in the moonlight, he seemed even thinner than he had inside. She could see his collarbones through his shirt, and his cheekbones cast deep shadows on to his face. “Dee, are you quite well?”
He chuckled, though Philomena did not see what could be funny about such a question.
“I am as well as I shall ever be, fair lady.”
He turned and headed towards the tallest monuments, disappearing immediately into the darkness. Philly rubbed her eyes, searching for him in the moonlight, but found nothing but graves. After a moment, a lit turnip appeared on a far sepulcher, and she shrugged, and got to work.
The Academy clock tower chimed 11, and then half past. Peli was right, three hundred turnips on three hundred graves was a lot. Philomena worked quickly, but when the moonlight allowed, she could not help reading the stones.
Erected by Darius Clipper
In memory of his beloved son Edmund
Died 1846 Aged 17 years
–
Here lies Albrecht Sussman
He drank the wrong vial
–
Artephius
93 – 1247 A.D.
She had one turnip left, its face carved in a leering skull. She reached to balance it on a stone, when she stopped, her outstretched hand shaking uncontrollably. Dee appeared beside her, and she jumped back, dropping her turnip. Its light snuffed out, and it rolled away into the darkness.
Dee picked it up. It lit in his hand, and he placed it on the gravestone.
In Loving Memory
Dietrich Getman
1864 – 1880
Philomena’s mind reeled. She knew something must be said, but found no words on her tongue. She looked from the lantern to Dee, who was quite obviously cadaverous now; he had shrugged off the illusion of life, in the face of her realization.
“I was quite a fan of your father, you know,” he said. “My first year here was his last. A group of us younger boys idolized him, aping his fashion and copying his experiments. He was always quite gracious about it.”
He looked at her. She could no longer see his eyes, only dark holes in his skull.
“Oh.” Her voice was barely audible, but she could not help it. She could not move from shock, but stood, trembling, listening to his story, and watching him decay.
“I died trying to recreate one of his experiments, fool that I was.”
He chuckled again, and Philomena found it not only inappropriate, but sinister. She cleared her throat.
“This, um, this wouldn’t be a family revenge sort of moment, would it?”
“No, fair lady. Every man is responsible for his own mistakes. Herr vonHedwig inspired me beyond my abilities, but that is no fault of his. I have waited years for a child of his to come to the Academy. I am pleased to have spent an evening with you.”
The clock tower chimed midnight. On the twelfth note, the bell in the ancient chapel began to peel. It rang crazily, as though sounding an alarm, announcing armistice, and celebrating a wedding all at once.
“It is time,” Dee said. “You and Fräulein Gamble must go.”
“Why?” Philomena said in alarm. “What’s going to happen?”
“Tonight we shall dance. But it is not a dance for the living; you will have time enough for this dance when you are dead.”
“Oh. Good night, then.” She turned to go, concentrating on placing one foot before the other, trying not to look at the pale shapes rising from the graves around her. She was afraid, yes, but also intruding. This was a private function; she was not yet invited. She saw Peli waiting ahead, but she stopped at the edge of the graveyard.
“Dee?’ Her voice was quiet, but he answered immediately.
“Yes, Fräulein?”
“Same time next year?”
His chuckle seemed to sound from her own chest.
“Danke, my friend. It will be fun.”
She nodded, picked up her skirts, and ran back to school, back to the living.
Our dear friends 
