Parallel projects: a new full slip

Let's face it: that drag you feel when your dress binds on your undies is unpleasant. It causes undue fidgeting, and it's just tacky. Cue slip.

I'm a fan of full slips, which seem to be nearly un-American given their near-disappearance from department stores. Prior to my sister's wedding, I did a quick search of my stores and came up empty. There was very little range in styles, and what inventory they did have was pretty picked over. The girdle-y shapewear cousins to the slip are everywhere, but the humble full slip has apparently faded from popularity.

Why not just a half slip, you ask? Generally speaking, another waistband is something I'd like to avoid. Plus, the camisole tends to ride up and bunch up. This combo is what I ended up buying, and severely overpaying for.

Because the bodice fitting for the Red Velvet didn't take as long as I thought it might, I decided to take on the full slip project that's been on the back burner for some time. Plus, with yet another jersey dress in the rotation, I'll want another slip to pair it with.

Long ago, Mom shared a disused pattern from her stash with me. She found one that she preferred that isn't as close fitting, so she wasn't sad to see this one go.

This pattern, copyright 1970, is quite flattering after adjustments. I'm not the pert size 32 that was cut from this pattern, so I graded it to a 40, thinking that would give me room to make adjustments for stretch, etc. It did, and in fact, I should have just gone for a 38, but now I have a range of sizes to share.

I made a length adjustment to the bodice, both front and back, primarily to accommodate my bust. The original certainty wasn't going to work, but that was really the biggest change. After one messy muslin and a bunch of changes to my tissue, I'm ready to cut the tricot I ordered when it arrives.

In the interim, I'm planning to cut a version out of the burnout waffle knit I picked up on clearance to be used as a nightgown.

Now I'm really feeling Red Velvet ready!

Meh. A facing would have been a better idea.

So the dress for my sister's wedding is done. I've not slept well all week, and the dress is largely a result of insomnia-fueled late night activity.

I love the bamboo rayon stretch micro jersey I chose. It has an incredible drape, and it's luxurious. I don't know how else to put that: it's buttery smooth, fine, and it as mesmerizing recovery. It didn't drag or stretch out or otherwise misbehave, even though I gave it plenty of reasons to do so, what with my basting and hemming and un-hemming-in-favor-of-a-different-hem business going on.

I do not love that pattern. Ok, well, let me revise: I do love the final fit of the dress. It's not particularly full, and the structured hem Steph recommends for the Red Velvet worked very nicely here to give it just enough body. The shape of the neckline is flattering. The cap sleeves are cute. Hemming those little buggers is another story entirely, and I'd like to take you there with me.

I had the foresight to cut a neck facing for this dress. I guessed that without one, the neckline wouldn't be much interested in being hemmed. I didn't have that same foresight when it came to the sleeve. What's hard about hemming a sleeve?

Um, right. This is not your average set-in sleeve with a relatively straight hemline. The sleeve cap itself is cut in two from the front and back pieces. The bottom of the armscye is made up from the two side panels. And there are near right angles where front and side pieces meet. Yuck.

I tried a 1/2" hem, as recommended by the instructions using Steam-a-Seam. It created a mess. Luckily, I was able to peel it off because it didn't want to stick to my luxe knit in the first place. I decided to serge, turn the serged edge to the wrong side, edge stitch, and then anchor it with another row of stitching about 1/8" away. I got it wet and hung it to dry when I finished to hopefully reshape it and eliminate some of the waviness caused by over handling the fabric. This morning I stuffed it into my suitcase, and the next time I see it, it will be to wear it, love it, dance in it, not critique its finishes (certainly I'm not ready for anyone to critique my finishes right now as I accidentally missed my last hair appointment).  

To recap, I love the princess seams, the fit, the shape, the fabric, and even the length, but next time I'm going to have to do something drastic about the construction or general engineering of this garment. My neck facing isn't quite right - it still wants to flop to the outside, even after understitching and topstitching. My first thought is to split the back in two so that I can easily fully line at least the top with something like nylon tricot or at least another knit layer. We'll see. That may be equally weird, but I seem to remember having a RTW sundress at one point that had that kind of thing going on.

Now, off to the wedding!

Come out, come out, wherever you are: Cake Red Velvet Sewalong

It's time that I finally fess up to the entire Internets that I sew. It's nearly worse than when I was five and had to tell (and apologize to) the neighbors for picking tomatoes out of their garden and and throwing them at their house. I can still see the seeds dripping from the siding and feel the tears sliding down my cheeks.

Not that sewing is anything to be ashamed of. Certainly it's a heritage skill, and one can, with some effort, determination, mentorship, and acres of fabric to practice on, become a competent craftsperson. One might even fancy oneself an artisan -- I'll let the tunic and bodkin makers out there go wild with that term.

Sewing for me has happened in my basement, away from the eyes of the world*. In fact, I feel like I'm just to the point where I'm able to fool the world by sporting garments that I've made. Heck, one of the patterns I drafted. But, I still don't have a great deal of pride in what I've been able to accomplish, even though by all rights I should be proud. Isn't it funny how things work out: in my 20s I tried so hard to be alternahip, and now that I am actually peripherally part of a small, loosely connected community of amazingly skilled craftspeople, I have nothing to say about it?

That was before I ordered the Red Velvet pattern and vowed (not an epic, dramatic vow, but a conversation-with-the-pair-of-flickers-in-the-backyard-through-the-window-while-doing-dishes kind of a vow) to become more open about the provenance of my wardrobe.

I'm coming out, people, and this sewalong is going to help me through it: 1) because I've published the link to this blog to the Flickr group, and someone could read something I'm writing; 2) because I'm going to have to actually show people what I've made, people who are knowledgeable enough to recognize what's going well and what isn't; 3) because I'm under deadline; and 4) because it's about damn time for me to own it, nay, rock it.

One of my best early projects was when I lurked during the Colette Patterns Crepe sewalong hosted by Gertie. But, I'm not that person anymore, so no more lurking. It's creepy.

So here we are. I'm in Pearl House, and I'm finally ready for others to know that I'm here :)

*Except, of course, for blurry selfies that I send to my mom when I'm requesting fitting help or post here to keep track of what I'm working on

Sharing

I was totally game when my sister-in-law texted earlier this week to say she'd just come across a vintage Sears Kenmore sewing machine and she wanted me to teach her how to use it. She didn't know what she wanted to make, but she wanted to learn to sew. For herself. Because she needs a hobby.
My first question? "What are your thoughts about leggings?"

Friday night she trundled over, machine in tow. It was a steal for 25 clams. The machine runs smoothly, as someone in its past had been liberal with the oil and gentle on the moving parts. After some tension tweaking and some adjusting to figure out how the cams worked on this particular machine, we got a very nice straight stitch and a very happy zigzag.

My mother-in-law jokingly calls herself and her offspring The Tribe of the Stick People. My mother-in-law, my husband, and his two sisters are a lean, long-limbed, beautiful bunch. They don't show their age; there doesn't appear to be a stretch mark or wrinkle among them. With their flawless Mediterranean-ness, I'm sure that each of them has inspired his or her share of swooning.

Not surprisingly, thought, this body type has more than its share of fitting issues. I found as much when I finished the Western shirt for my husband earlier this fall. For my SIL, if something fits in the shoulders or waist, the legs and arms are never long enough. She's a beautiful woman who most of the time looks like a kid who is outgrowing her clothes. She was really excited to learn that we would be able to make her clothes fit if we drafted a pattern from her measurements. It's moments like these that I realize that we all have our baggage -- mine just happens to be carried in my butt.

While my SIL was anxious to get down to the actual sewing bit, I explained how taking her measurements would allow us to get out of that awful and frustrating "but it doesn't fit like it should nor does it look like the envelop" territory for beginning sewists. We traced out Cake's Espresso leggings, cut out a knee-length practice pair from the gobs of weird oatmeal polyester knit I have in my stash for such purposes, and she stitched them together with a wobbly seam. And lime green thread. She was beaming when she emerged from the bedroom after slipping them on.

She popped over today so I could help her cut out a real pair. She chose a stretch microsuede with a laser cut dot pattern, quirky, but very cool. I sent her home with written instructions for the process we followed last night, and she quickly sent me a text with a picture of her new pair. She's on the lookout for a second project, although I think there are going to be more leggings before then.

I'm really glad I could share a little bit of what I know. Now if only I could download my mom's (and posthumously my grandmas' and great aunts') sewing know how. Now wouldn't that be something?

Ack! An occasion! Leggings to the rescue!

My sister is getting married at the end of the month. This isn't a spur of the moment event, but it's been difficult to get much information about the ceremony and reception: is it indoors or outdoors? Is it formal or casual? The bride and the groom are kind of take-it-in-stride types, so this kind of planning, or at least explanation to guests (stakeholders) is rather foreign to them. My mom and I are more concerned with knowing the lay of the land and the specifics of an event such as this one. We even have our suspicions that their lack of forthcomingness is a secret plot to make us crazy (ok, that's just me). I've found myself wringing my hands (well, not literally) in the last week because it occurred to my sister that she'd like for me to do a reading. I'll not just be part of the crowd but instead a participant. The semester is well underway, and I don't have gobs of time to be reflecting on an appropriate Headwaters of the Mississippi themed reading, let alone guessing how I might want to dress myself (difficult for a normal day, but worse because I was looking forward to blending into the crowd).

I just bought fabric (one piece pre-washed and ready to cut, and I'm waiting on another to ship) for this dress M5890 | Misses' Jackets, Top, Dresses and Pants In 2 Lengths | Nancy Zieman | McCall's Patterns because after some alteration, namely a FBA and some adjustments to the bodice length, it's finally ready for prime time. Overall I'm happy with how it went together because it's, ya know, speedy. I wasn't as happy with the sizing as I was muddling through fitting it. Trying to figure out what size to cut took nearly as long as cutting and fitting my two muslins. Yuck. There's a ridiculous amount of ease built into this pattern, and I believe the seam allowances are 5/8, which is just annoying for a pattern intended for knits. Even with carefully comparing the actual pattern measurements to my measurements, I still ended up with a muslin that was more than 2" too big to be at all flattering or hang right. I'm also skeptical of the recommended neckline finish which doesn't include a facing.

But! Now that it's worked out -- and that was really my goal here, to have a princess seamed knit go-to -- it will go together quickly, and I've got a garment design that I'm going to be happy with. And I can stop grumbling about it.

Also, I just worked out a muslin for Cake's Espresso Leggings . It was a fab experiment, and I forsee having a whole drawer full of these things before long, probably in more variations than I realistically have opportunities or need for, but there's something to be said about the satisfaction of making something that's custom and that's generally awesome.

I'd hate to be underdressed for this upcoming shindig, so I'm thinking black knit dress and leggings with a scarf that includes a metallic thread or something else sparkly. I saw a string of pearls that I really liked. I think I'll order something interesting for the leggings, like cream with words or something else nerdy. My sister has made herself a nice cream evening gown, so we'll all be of a color family, and after the ceremony, as a literal extended family.  

This has nothing to do with sewing, but I'm in love with my Wagner paint sprayer

People, I'm in love with my Wagner paint sprayer. I'm most of the way through with painting the ceiling in my guy's soon-to-be man cave. During all of this spraying (primer, paint, and more paint), one has time to reflect. And expand the scope of the project. I see lots of work ahead this winter, people, and it's going to be awesome if time consuming.

This painting part of the project involved a lot of prep that I hadn't counted on -- like removing dead end wiring and moving heaps of junk that had been squirreled away in the far recesses. However, the space already looks lighter and brighter!

I have some drywall work to do, and I have some big (and top secret) plans for additional improvements, including more insulation and drywall. I just need to get my hands on a hole saw and read up a little in the NEC in order to move (and more importantly vent) the dryer. Oh, it's going to be good. Just you wait.

Meanwhile, back to the painting!

Revitalizing a sewing space

My sewing space is in the basement. I carved out this space and claimed it when I moved in with my husband. It has all the charm of an unfinished basement: dim lighting, dust, rafts of dryer lint and dog hair, the incursion of items I have absolutely no idea what to do with, and in the fall, spiders. Ew.

But! The space will be getting a face lift. I'm in the process of fixing up another unused quadrant of the basement for my husband. That space shall be transformed into a man cave, complete with beer signage, and do double duty as storage. After a little work on drywall, some lighting, and lots of paint, I'll be able to turn my attention to my sewing area, where I'll also upgrade the space's lighting and paint, and patch the rough concrete. With a smoother floor and more lighting, I'll actually be able to see and pick up pins and needles that go astray. These are major improvements, people!

It means little sewing for the next month or so, but that's a fair trade if it means more comfort in the long run :)