Becoming ANNE BOLEYN: How to Sew a Tudor Gown Fit for a Queen

Anne Boleyn is perhaps the most well-known of Henry VIII's six wives. Her story certainly captivated me from a young age, as evidenced by this very embarrassing picture from an 8th grade school project I did about her, and I have wanted to recreate the clothing seen in this portrait pretty much ever since then. I've already made the kirtle or supportive underdress, and you can watch the making of video by following this link in the corner. Now, on to the gown. This portrait is a posthumous copy of an original painting which is now lost. Even though the portrait wasn't made during Anne's lifetime, it is the most iconic and recognizable of her, and aesthetically it's my favorite. The portrait doesn't give us too much insight into what the fabrics of the gown might have been, other than black. Luckily, there are surviving receipts from William Locke, the King's Mercer, for silk fabrics purchased to make gowns, kirtles, and accessories for Anne from January 1535 to April 1536. Yep, right before her execution. Looking through the receipts, I found a number of references to black gowns made from velvet, satin, or damask. The way that the artist depicted the gown as a solid matte black really made me think that velvet would be the way to go, since satin would be more reflective and shiny, and damask would have a pattern woven into it. The 100% silk velvet used in elite Tudor clothing is prohibitively expensive today, and incredibly difficult to source. So I had to decide between cotton velvet on the left, and silk rayon blend velvet on the right. Since neither fiber content is technically correct for the period, I decided to go with silk rayon blend velvet because it would visually be closer to the depth and richness of 100% silk velvet. With the fabric sorted, I started assembling the skirt of the gown, using similar techniques to those used for the skirt of the kirtle. The skirt is fully lined in a taupe silk taffeta. After the panels of the skirt were stitched together in both the velvet and the lining, I laid the velvet on top of the taffeta wrong sides together, and from here on out I'll treat them as one piece. The hem is finished with a facing of velvet which peeks out below the bottom edge of the skirt to protect the skirt and add stiffness to the hem. This technique comes from a surviving gown documented in Patterns of Fashion by Janet Arnold. I turned up the seam allowance of the skirt and laid it on top of the facing. I then stitched the skirt and facing together from the outside with a felling stitch. And of course, it's really hard to see because I'm sewing black on black, so bear with me. Once the facing is stitched, it's folded to the inside of the skirt and about a quarter of an inch is left sticking out beyond the bottom edge of the skirt itself. A strip of wool gets tucked inside the facing to add stiffness to the hem, which is also seen in surviving gowns from the 16th century and shows up in written receipts from tailors. Everything is pinned in place, and then the top edge of the facing is sewn to the lining of the skirt with a felling stitch. I love the incredibly neat finish this gives 16th century skirts, as well as the slight padding around the hem. There's just something so luxurious about that extra weight. With the skirt constructed, I'm moving on to the bodice. Boning as we think of it today wasn't used this early in the 16th century for stiffening bodices. I'm using an interlining of unbleached linen canvas and a couple more layers of linen in the front of the bodice to provide stiffness, as seen in surviving garments and written records. These layers would usually be pad stitched together by hand, but I'm quilting them together on my machine to save my wrist and thumb since I have chronic tendonitis. I don't need the bodice itself to be too stiff since I will be wearing it over the bodices of both the petticoat and the and all those layers really add up to provide support. The silk velvet is very, very tricky to work with since it likes to move around while you're stitching it, so I'm basting all of the velvet bodice pieces to their respective interlinings and hand basting all the seams together before sewing them on the machine. More basting and more stitching until we have a mostly complete bodice. I like to sew the seam allowances down to the bodice to make things neat, and I also find it adds to the stability of the garment. Plus, it's a period technique. The last step to prepare the bodice for putting in the lining is to sew down the seam allowance of the waistline, neckline, and center front edges. It might seem superfluous, but it really helps create a nice crisp edge when your seam allowances can't move around. The seam allowances of the lining are turned under to match the edge of the bodice, and then it can be sewn around the edges with a felling stitch. Here you can see I'm being really good and wearing my brace, which I should be doing all the time when I'm hand sewing, but you know. Next for the gown are the sleeves, which are large bell-shaped sleeves that get turned back to reveal the separate four sleeves worn underneath. The sleeves are then stitched together, and the silk taffeta lining inserted with a felling stitch. The sleeves are also lined in faux sable fur, since Anne's portrait shows fur sleeve linings. This way I can remove the fur lining if I want in the future and still have finished sleeves. I attached the sleeves to the arm's eyes with a backstitch. Apparently, sleeves required oversight by my producer, who also stuck around when I sewed the lining of the bodice around the arm's eyes to cover the seam allowance. The skirt is pleated into eight large box pleats at the back. Once they're pinned to the bodice, they can be whipped to the waistline, which I did with a strong silk thread. The bottom of the large pleats hangs freely, but they're tucked together to keep them in place. The front of the skirt just gets whipped to the edge of the bodice without any pleats. One thing I completely forgot to film was sewing the eyelets at the center front opening of the bodice. My apologies, but I do cover how to sew eyelets in my Regency corset video, so please be sure to check that out. The last piece of the gown itself is the placard, which covers the center front closure of the bodice and creates a smooth, unbroken appearance. Like the bodice, the placard consists of a linen canvas interlining, silk velvet outer fabric, and silk taffeta lining. I also began sewing together the edging of fur, which not only goes along the top edge of the placard, but also along the neckline and the entire skirt hem. Anne's gowns most likely would have been fully lined in fur, but there's also documentary evidence that gowns in the 1530s could be lined in fabric and simply edged in fur to give the appearance of a fur lining without the expense and the extra bulk, which was definitely my concern. Finally, I wanted a pair of foresleeves that would match the kirtle I already made. Foresleeves don't always have to match the kirtle in period images, but it's nice to have the option. The foresleeves are made from the same black silk damask as the kirtle and lined with taupe silk taffeta. To continue the matching, I used the same metal ooches that go around the neckline of the kirtle to close the bottom of the foresleeves at intervals. A strip of fine linen is sewn into a tube and gathered into puffs to create the quote, pullings out, or false smock sleeve that gives the appearance of the white linen smock peeking out of the bottom of the foresleeves. And with that done, I can get dressed. The first layer against the skin is a linen smock which can be laundered. This helps protect the outer clothing from the soil of the body and was the primary way that early modern people kept themselves clean by putting on fresh linen as often as their finances allowed. Over this is a scarlet broadcloth petticoat with silk satin upper bodies or bodice. Red was believed to be a healthy warming color and was an extremely common choice for inner layers like petticoats, where the color could better imbue the wearer with its protective properties. To better match the portrait, I did blackwork embroidery and silk floss around the neckline of the smock based on that seen on Anne. The next layer is the kirtle which has a particularly stiff interlining of paste buckram to provide support and a fashionable silhouette. The kirtle laces on either side which is helpful for adjusting to changing sizes. It also means the decorative neckline isn't disrupted by center front or center back lacing. Only the parts of the kirtle that will show under the gown are covered in silk damask while a cheaper silk taffeta is used for the rest of the garment. This is seen on an extant kirtle in Janet Arnold's Pattern of Fashion. At this point, I'll put on my French hood because once the gown is on, it's a bit more difficult to put my hands over my head. I did a full video about all of the research and experimentation that led me to this style of French hood which you can check out here. I'm arranging the silk velvet hood over the silk satin cap and folding back the front of the hood to reveal a matching black satin lining. Once the hood lining is folded back, it's carefully pinned in place. Anne's French hood in the portrait is very simply decorated with pearls for the filaments and a gold crespin or pleated frill. Now I can put on the gown. The silk damask four sleeves have already been tied into the sleeves of the gown. This allows them to be switched out for other four sleeves to create different outfits. The four bodies are then laced up to close the front of the gown. This can be laced looser over a stomacher during times of pregnancy or just when a looser fit is desired as seen in the portrait of Sir Thomas More's family. But for now, I'm covering the four bodies with the matching placard which is pinned in place along both sides. These pins can be seen in some of Holbein's portraits of Tudor ladies. A gold and pearl girdle accents the waist. Hmm, something is still missing. There we go. Everyone knows Anne Boleyn by her famous bee necklace although Dr. Owen Emerson has pointed out that she no longer referred to herself as Boleyn after her marriage and coronation as queen but it's iconic and it's in the portrait so I couldn't skip it. I think my 13 year old self would be thrilled with this gown from her favorite Tudor queen and I'm pretty pleased with it too. I love how the gown moves, especially the train. It feels insanely luxurious to wear. I was even able to get some stunning photos of the gown at Agecroft Hall, a Tudor manor house that was moved to Virginia in the 1920s. Thank you so much for watching. Don't forget to subscribe if you haven't already because I'll be back soon with another fashion history video.