This week, I’ve been heavily leafing through Sandy Black’s Knitting: Fashion, Industry, Craft (2012), Black’s collaboration with the Victoria and Albert Museum. I’ve been reveling in the book’s archival colour photos. Lots of little learnings, here: like, that the first European evidence of knit upper-body garments arrives in the 16th century, and that, in the Middle Ages, knitting guilds were male-dominated domains. But also that knitting has long been connected to locality and livelihood, providing extra income for families, and was performed very much on the move by all members of the household. Knitting-belts and skeins-pinned-to-skirts allowed socks to be stitched during field work and market-runs (I’ll remember this the next time I get impatient with my DPNs on a sock-knit). I’ve enjoyed reading, too, about specific knitting traditions: the X O pattern of Fair Isle sweaters (a tradition synonymous with stranded knitting), and traditions of knitting fisher ganseys and Aran sweaters. The Aran’s lanolin-rich fibres made them warm and water-proof, true to their maritime purposes, and their unique patterns purportedly revealed a wearer’s local origins. It was a discovery, too, to read about strange fibres, like the rare byssus, or ‘sea silk.’ Byssus is harvested and spun from gleaming deep golden-fibres made by little mollusks off the coast of Sardinia. How amazing is that?
I came across one garment, though, which I keep returning to in the book: the Jane dress.
The Jane dress is a feat of lacework. Designed by Maria Luck-Szanto and hand-knit in Britain by one Peggy Cole in 1956, the dress is knit in worsted wool worked in a single piece, from the top down. Dress-shaping is incorporated right into the lacework pattern (wow). The entire garment, back zipper included, weighs in at only 6.5 ounces. It’s as though Mrs. Cole had, at her disposal, a troop of nimble-legged lace-making spiders, all spinning away. From the high neckline and radial scallops around the shoulders, to the final scalloped hemline (edged in crochet for reinforcement and definition), this dress is marvelous; the clean, simple contours of the dress are the perfect showcase for its handmade lace wizardry. All I can say is whoa (knitting whoas are far better than knitting woes).
Trained in tailoring, design and handcrafts, Hungarian-born Maria Luck-Szanto is known for being among the post-war UK designers who brought knitwear design into the world of high fashion with Szanto Models Ltd. in London. Rather than treating knit fabric like any other fabric (to be cut, tailored, seamed, etc.), Luck-Szanto saw the special qualities of knitting as an opportunity to rethink traditional clothing design. Her garments could, very often, not be made with woven fabric; fabric-shaping happened entirely on the needles with minimal or no seams, resulting in complex, sculpture-like garments.
Luck-Szanto kept a remote circle of hand-knitters across Britain who, working from home, were able to earn supplementary income by producing her designs. The completed pieces were sent in to be washed, blocked, and finished. A combination of several knitters’ work, the dresses combined warmth, elegance, and durability. “Completely uncrushable and the pleated skirts stay pleated”, one advert reads of the designer’s pleated “Barbara” dress (cited in Black 2012: 92). I’m absolutely crushing on Luck-Szanto’s uncrushable dresses! I’m inspired by the way her designs highlight and develop the unique qualities of knitting to make pieces that were seamless, comfortable, and stunning.
I’m not sure what I’d do with a garment like the Jane dress. My lifestyle seems completely at odds with wearing or owning something like this. I’d probably just hang it by an open window and let the breeze play on the lacework’s magnificent drape.
All images © Victoria and Albert Museum, 2017
More on the Jane dress and other Szanto Models designs can be found on Maria Luck-Szanto’s V&A collections page.
Oh my word, look at that dress! Is it an original from the 1950s, or just one made using Maria’s patterns and techniques? Because it looks like it was knitted yesterday! I’m sure this book has been a fascinating read. The V&A is one of my favourite museums… their collection is immense, and full of truly amazing treasures!
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The pictured dress may be the original – yes, it’s shocking how new it looks, and I wonder how many of these were actually made and ordered. Wonderful to read you’ve visited and enjoyed the V&A; I’m just finding out about it now. It’s definitely on my museum bucket-list!
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Yep, it’s definitely worth a visit (or three)… And the best part is that there’s no entrance fee! Hope you get there someday! 😀
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Whoa is right – that dress in a masterpiece! Yes if I had a dress like that I would just hang it for display! Thanks for sharing the interesting story and photos of the ultimate knitting goal!
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Thanks for reading, Tierney! 🙂 Ultimate goal indeed!
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Wow! Thank you for sharing the Jane dress with us. It’s absolutely captivating. Your point about hanging it in the window makes complete sense to me! 😀
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Thanks for reading, Melinda. 🙂
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One word – stunning.
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Indeed!
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Whao indeed! It reminds me a lace dress pattern in Vogue Knitting issue a few years back, all in sock yarn lace mind you. I’ve often been tempted, but like you, wondering how it would really fit in my daily wardrobe.
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That dress sounds incredible (an entire dress in sock yarn lace!). A knit like that would definitely be a treasure. Thank you for reading, Agnes. Looking forward to more knitting updates. Bonne journée. 🙂
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Beautiful…Just stunning!!!
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Couldn’t agree more! Thanks for reading, Kelley. 🙂
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wow–what a dress! I am with you, though: hang it and watch the breeze and the light play with the lace. Amazing to see and to imagine the crafter who made it!
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Yes, exactly. This dress makes me want to acquire some lacework skills. Until then, I’m happy to contemplate pieces like this. Happy Knitting, and Thanks for reading. 🙂
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Wow, this dress is so pretty! I agree though, perhaps not entirely practical. But if it would make a person happy to create, own, and admire one, why not? I possess shoes that really are just for looking at…!
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Agreed. 🙂 Yes, I imagine there’d be a lot of pleasure in making something like this (provided one wasn’t rushed and stressed out!). Some shoes and garments are just (mostly) for looking at, and that’s ok. 🙂
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It may not be practical but it sure is a stunning dress!
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Thanks for reading, Robin. 🙂 I would like to work more impractical but stunning things into my life. 😉 Happy crocheting!
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