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 :)  

Muslin time! McCall's M5890

After an armload of t-shirts, I was ready to get going with M5890 | Misses' Jackets, Top, Dresses and Pants In 2 Lengths | Nancy Zieman | McCall's Patterns. I planned to make the top first in order to get ready to make a dress version. I figure a jersey dress travels well, and I have some travel plans. (Woot!)

Last weekend I took some quick measurements (of my body, of my t-shirt pattern, and of the pattern tissue) in order to figure out what size I needed. I went with a 20, adjusting only the length (because I'm not fond of the short top - it just cuts me in two in a very unflattering way) and adding an inch and a half to from bust point to shoulder. I went ahead and made those changes on the front and the back guessing that I would need the symmetry. On my new tissue, the thing looked enormous. Erm, what happened there? Based on the measurements printed on the pattern and the measurements I took, it was supposed to be close, but whatever. First draft, and all.

I was very tempted to just go ahead and make it up out of a sweater knit remnant that I picked up around the time that I bought this pattern. My mom had visited, and when she held up the pieces, eyeballing the tissue against me, she thought it would be close. I decided to be a bit conservative and make a sample out of some very weird oatmeal jersey I picked up for experimentation purposes, and I'm glad I did.

Well, I'm not glad about the oatmeal jersey -- the pins keep falling out of its weird polyester-ness, and it's incredibly hot and sweaty for a tissue-weight knit -- but I am glad that I had some sacrificial fabric laying around to play with.

Anyway, here's the fit.

 

The back is too wide by about an inch, the front is too narrow by about an inch, and overall the thing is about 4 inches too big. I was right! The tissue was, indeed, enormous.

I thought I might be able to squeak by without a FBA. Why would I even think that in the first place? The sample indicates that I do need to make some pretty standard-for-me changes. (I'm a knits novice -- I'm still not sure which rules apply and which rules don't.) I need to reshape that front side piece (both a tuck at the top and a fisheye chunk under the bust curve). I'll need to make the front piece longer to match those changes. The armscye seems quite deep, but I think that part of that will be fixed if I make the front wider and the front side narrower at the side seam. Since I have to redraw the side front piece anyway, I'll keep that in mind.

Also, I discovered I didn't need the extra length for the back , so that's pinned out as well. So much for symmetry! I'm still unsure about the sleeve length. They're about where I would like them to be finished.

I'm going to stitch these pinned bits tomorrow when I have time and then sketch out the changes on the pattern pieces after I've tried that version on. We're close, people!

As a top, this is going to be good. I like this shape, and I'll like having another generic canvas (a princess seam pattern that works for knits). I'm going to take out the fullness at the sides only above the natural waist. That gives it a sort of peplum effect, and it allows me to flirt with peplum-dom without actually succumbing to the trend. I thought for a minute about doing a box pleat to deal with the extra fullness (that's sort of what it looks like when the extra is pinned out), but on second thought, that seemed awfully fussy.

Sweater knit is next!

 

Wardrobe planning

I have these grand notions about wardrobe planning. And then I sigh and do a realistic assessment of my organizational skills. *sigh*

Interestingly, wardrobe planning is one undercurrent in my thinking that's a constant, not that I'm always great at applying it. Here are some of the planning tenets, plus some commentary on them:

• Pick separates that two applications: day/work, casual, and evening/special occasion. (At its foundation, that piece of advice makes a distinction between dress for various events in one's life. In the Northwest, those lines are more than a little blurry, but I've lived elsewhere, so I get it.) 
• Fit your body, not someone else's body. (Woot! Advice we sewists are totally into!)  
• Rely on neutrals (not boring fabrics, but those with widely applicable colors and textures) to anchor a wardrobe. 
• Don't match (as the queen of the purple/red combination, I'm in favor of this advice)
• Accessorize. (I don't do accessories other than pashminas and earrings, so there's some opportunity for growth there.)
• Be aware of color trends and each item's replacement schedule.

This week, I reverse-engineered my wardrobe to these standards with an absolutely ruthless weeding out, What Not To Wear-style. And, boy, was it cathartic.

It all began with finding that one mislabeled box of clothes in the basement. When I became pregnant, my body heard some kind of hormonal starting pistol and morphed more quickly than I had imagined was possible. It was gruesome and demoralizing. In an epic despair, I boxed up all but the stretchiest of my clothes and hid them in the basement. Most of those boxes have since been unearthed and mined for valuable contents. As the boxes reemerged, I donated all the items that I didn't any longer like or feel an attachment to (time does not, as it turns out, make the heart grow fonder of ratty t-shirts and jeans). This last box was a mystery. Why was it not with the others? How had it been mislabeled? WHY IN THE WORLD DID I KEEP THAT??

Clearly, the entire box, with the exception of a few less-than-perfect-but-still-acceptable-for-the-office items and couple of gym-only items, would be bound for the charity drop. Rifling through this box as it sat on the floor in the middle of my sewing area in the basement, I wondered if all my clothes were this tatty. I did a mental inventory. Yep. Most of my clothes are NOT ready for work, nor should they be particularly acceptable for play. Up to the bedroom where I pillaged my dresser, culling the rest of the unacceptable items.

I'm down to bare bones now: a handful of bottoms for work, one serviceable pair of jeans, and tops that will work for office or social occasions. There is a stack of summer-only tanks in there, too, but those will be boxed up as soon as I start back to work again.

What's next? I found that I needed to replace some of my intimates post haste. Accomplished. My next priority is making some things to fill in. I have penciled out a wishlist based on some thinking about coordinates and color trends:

• Two blazers, one shorter and more casual and one hip length and more office-y based on this pattern
• Some tops, either sweater knit or rayon/bamboo jersey, based on the Perfect T-Shirt pattern
• Two woven shirts based on this pattern (because a princess seam is easier to adjust for my ample bustline)
• A jersey dress based on this pattern (again with princess seams, but also with what appears to be a flattering neckline)
• A couple more bottoms, based on the me-drafted pants sloper

Armed with those items, I should be able to ditch the remaining coordinates I can't get rid of until I have replacements: the two dress shirts, the two casual blazers, the dress pants, and the ITY top. 

I would also like to own a string of pearls. Hey, it counts as an accessory. 

Man, this feels amazing. Armed with this plan, I actually feel like I'm in control of what's ahead. 

Romper redux

H was in a generous mood, so I snapped some pics of him in the adjusted romper. I chopped 1.5 inches off each side seam and 5/8 or so off each outside shoulder seam. I also chopped about 5 inches off the leg. The crotch is still gangster-low, but at least it sort of fits for this year. Burda pattern, you're going back to the Goodwill.

Sometimes I hate it that the web is dynamic

The summers are short at this latitude. Our last snow storm is typically at the end of May, and our first snowstorm is typically in October. Jeans are comfortable for much of the time in between. I spend lazy summer days outside when the weather is nice, reading and coaxing the flowers to grow.

It's not that I do heaps of sunbathing, but I do enjoy sunning myself occasionally, and I wanted to make a swim-style suit for this reason. I had a 70's bikini pattern in my stash!

I decided to make it out of a cherry print quilting cotton (the most water that this suit would ever see would be from the sprinkler). The pattern calls for wovens to be cut on the bias. Although this style has long since passed, the bottoms went together and fit pretty well after some minor fitting tweaks. I made several changes to the top in an effort to get it to fit. It "fits" in that it covers me, but it's neither flattering nor comfortable. I didn't like the results, so I decided to dive into (ew, terrible choice of words) working with stretch knits.

I read devoured all the information about pattern drafting for stretch fabrics on patternschool.com. I drew up the one piece sloper, drew a halter top pattern from that sloper, and  I put things on hold for a while to work on other projects. I picked up the swimsuit project last week, enthusiastic to recheck my sloper to see if I had done everything correctly and dig back in to the swimsuit project so that I could finish before summer passed me by. 

PatternSchool was offline! The domain had not been renewed, and I fear this blog is never to be heard from again. GAH! Maybe the pages were cached? Nope, not before the domain expired. I looked for other online resources for drafting slopers for stretch fabrics, and most appear to point back to PatternSchool. *Sigh* So, time to rethink what I'm looking for.

It's not that I want to begin from the beginning. I don't fancy myself a closet fashion student. I don't give two figs for the design-themed reality shows. I don't even claim to be a competent seamstress as I continue to learn more about the actual sewing end of things. I'm a hobbyist, an enthusiast, a curious, bumbling rube. Or at least that's the label that I feel best applies to me after reading Kathleen Fasanella's discussion of patternmaking, blocks, and slopers here: http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/how-we-make-patterns-in-real-life/ Eek. Maybe I should just go home. Er, wait, I am home.

The thing is, there isn't a block (using that term, as Fasanella does, to mean a proven starting point) for every body type. Yes, altering commercial patterns, designed by talented, experienced patternmakers, is a good idea. For a good number of people, that works beautifully. In my experience, though, I end up making enough alterations to just the bodice of any commercial pattern that I invariably feel that I would have spent less time on the iterative process of fitting -- because it's a cascade of changes, not a simple adjustment -- had I started from scratch.

This is not whining. It's a reality, my reality. I am 5'11" (length), I have a large bust (FBA every time, even for patterns including various cup sizes), I have a low bust point (one of the various symptoms of, as Leila at Three Dresses Project puts it, the bewb issue), and I have far from a waspish waist, but I'm not particularly heavy although I have been leaner in the past (I wear around a 14 RTW bottom). I fit the plus size nor the misses range for these reasons.

Further, I'm not frumptastic. As for swimwear, while I'm not interested in micro swimwear, I'm also not interested in granny's swim dress. Yes, I may be at the top of the socially acceptable size range of women rocking two-piece swimsuits, but who cares? I certainly don't, and from the look of the crowd at the mama-and-me swim class at the local pool, I'm not the only one with this self-image and attitude. I am, however, the only one wearing a halter top that I DRAFTED and MADE. I know that not because it looks home made but because I am the only one with a suit that fits my post-pregnancy body. Yes, my pattern and construction techniques could use some work. Yes, I went into the process of making this suit with more enthusiasm than know-how. But, my little swim project isn't hurting anyone, and I'm certainly not planning on entering the commercial arena. Please know, designers and pattern makers, that I am not a threat to you or your occupation. I buy a fair number of commercial patterns, both from the Big Four and from independent designers. I'm just the kind of rugged native of the western US who learns how to frame out and drywall her unfinished basement via YouTube. In the West, we just do that kind of thing.  

Non sequitur: And another thing! After all, my personal sewing (and pattern making) is a hobby, not a vocation. By definition, a hobby is a pleasant time-suck. Who in the world should care enough to scoff at my pride at having drafted a sloper to fit my body?

Back to the point about disappearing resources: After a quick Amazon search, I'm not sold on many of the titles on swimwear and lingerie, which seem not technical enough. I've taken Fasanella's recommendation of Connie Crawford's Patternmaking Made Easy seriously. I've also reread Judith Neukam's  Threads article about pattern drafting (clearly targeted to the enthusiast), and gleaned some titles that I'll likely request through interlibrary loan this fall:
Pattern Drafting and Grading: Women’s and Misses’ Garment Design by Mayer Rohr

Modern Pattern Design: The Complete Guide to the Creation of Patterns as a Means of Designing Smart Wearing Apparel by Harriet Pepin

Patternmaking for Fashion Design by Helen Joseph Armstrong (the book that Fasanella compares the Crawford book to)

Certainly I'm not shelling out the dough for these out-of-print titles sight unseen. I'm enthusiastic and curious, not crazy, people. 

In addition to those, Lauriana at Petit Main Sauvage has talked about Winifred Aldrich's Metric Pattern Cutting for Women's Wear and Metric Pattern Cutting for Menswear. I really like what she comes up with, and from her writing and the other reviews, these seem like very good go-tos, so they're going in my wishlist. 

In the short term, though, because I had good results with Amani Adria's instructions for creating a trouser sloper, I'll likely draft a bodice sloper using her method, but at 88% width as in the PatternSchool method, to work from in order to revisit and hopefully complete my swim project. Neukam's bodice sloper instructions don't appear to account for cup size or bust point variations except as an afterthought unless I'm misreading something.

If anyone has any other resource suggestions for me, I'd appreciate hearing them! 

   

  

The cherry capris are finished!

I've finished the cherry capris! As it turned out, I had an odd red button in my stash that was perfectly matched to this shade of red. I'm not sure where it came from, but I put it to good use here.

I must admit that I wore them for an evening before I did the buttons and buttonholes. They're just that comfy. For the next pair, though, I have a few changes to make to my pattern pieces: back waistband depth, zipper shield length, pocket bags (to extend them the full width of the front including fly extensions), back inseam length, etc. These are not major changes; I'm just tweaking the pattern I drew from my block. I determined after basting that I needed this much ease. I'm rethinking that for the next pair. We'll see how these look after they're washed a couple times.

Next up, a couple more t-shirts and some khakis in this same vein!

Cherry capri progress

LIt's the end of the summer semester, and I have quite a lot of work to accomplish before the registrar's deadline for grades. It's terribly difficult to stay focused. Suddenly it seems urgent that I repot my plants, check the garden and fuss with the sprinkler, clean out the refrigerator, and look for kale recipes. I'm trying to get my work done and THEN sew, but this morning I took advantage of the first part of H's nap.

I intended to assemble and attach the waistband to the cherry capris. I discovered a couple more oopses resulting from transforming my block into a flat fly front pattern: I cut the tab on the underlap side too short by 1 3/8 inches, and I somehow managed to cut the back waistband 1/2 inch too shallow. The underlap is nothing un-improviseable. The waistband is a bit narrow, but we'll call that a design feature for this pair of pants. I will, however, make some changes to my pattern pieces for next time.

I planned to do a little fitting and adjusting later -- AFTER I'd finished my work for today. The last fabric I used for a pattern drafted from this same block had quite a bit of stretch, and the back could have stood to be narrower at the outside seam by almost an inch between the fullest part of the hip and the knee. I'm not sure how the leg width will look in this version as this twill is doesn't have any lycra. After basting (photos below before I put the hem in)I decided that the ease in necessary without the stretch.

Things are a little wrinkly here, but my life is a little wrinkly, so it all works out. 

As for hems, I really like what Sherry at Pattern ~ Scissors ~ Cloth has to say about side seam splits here: Add Side Seam Splits To Your Trousers Too! Last time I did this, I improvised, which was not fabulous. I planned to finish these in this way, as her method looks entirely fabulous. After doing it, I decided a one inch split is a little shallow. I'll post more pics of the finished projects as soon as I do the closure tomorrow!

Sizing for kids' clothes

I really wanted to make H a little suit (outfit, not suit as in formal wear) for his first birthday.

I had found an adorable Burda romper pattern at the thrift store and added it to my stash long ago figuring that either the pattern or a romper made from it would make a good gift.

I made the romper for my niece, who is very close in age to H, for Christmas out of a very soft fine wale purple corduroy. When I tried it on H, he was swimming in it. I figured H would grow into this size for his birthday at the end of May, so I didn't trace off a smaller size, but I did lop off more than an inch from each of the side pieces as H is a slim kid. I picked a denim blue and white striped seersucker, and I planned to use the white plastic snaps my mom sent me for the closure.

I tried it on him on his birthday, ready to see a very cute kid in a comfy new outfit ready for summer fun. What I saw was a kid swimming in an outfit still much too big for him. Sigh. By the time he grows into it, it's going to be too cold for seersucker. Here's the fit

He's currently growing out of his 12m shirts because they are too short. His 12m pants are still a good fit as he's quite slim.  This is the 12m size romper. There's still a good inch and a half of room in the overall length of the body, but the shoulders are far too wide. I think if I narrow the back and front by 5/8 inch at the outer shoulder, chop off another 1 1/2 inches on the sides, and take off most of the leg, this romper will fit for this summer. I'd hate to have wasted it.

Pardner, your shirt now has sleeves

The Western shirt has sleeves!

This was a Sunday afternoon development after I made my guy try on the shirt after I'd attached the collar (and verified that a 40 would indeed still, erm, accommodate him -- it had been two years or so since this project had been put on hold, people).

The instructions for the sleeve had me baffled, and I had a momentary desire to lop them off short for the few remaining weeks of summer weather in order to avoid making them. I was staring at three pieces: the sleeve itself, an underlap, and an overlap. The pattern called for slashing. Slashing! I get slashing with welts, but this was the first slashing I'd done other than for welts, and the instructions (and illustrations) were both terse and cryptic.

Stitch to reinforce, slash; for the underlap, right side to wrong side, fold, press, turn; for the overlap, wrong side to right side, fold, press, turn, topstitch, VIOLA!  Huh? But, I decided to go with it, and like some origami that at the very last fold miraculously results in its intended form, the overlap and underlap turned out nicely. I'm very pleased with learning how to do this.

There was also A LOT of ease in the sleeve front. The instructions called for basting and pulling up the thread to help with the ease. I did, and this also miraculously turned out with only one or two of the teeniest tucks. I'm trying to be much less fussy, and that's making a huge difference I'm pretty sure. Plus, as I mentioned before, this fabric has been nice and sable, if a little heavy.

I did hate this fabric for this shirt, but now that I've attached the sleeves, it doesn't seem so awful. It's kind of growing on me. My guy is looking forward to wearing it, too. It's going to be one of the only shirts in his closet that isn't too big yet has long enough sleeves.

Zippers

Zippers give me heartburn, primarily because I can't seem to remember from one project to the next how they're supposed to go. I'd do anything to get around them, and I have a great sailor-inspired pants pattern (and now that I have a block to work from, I'll be able to turn great into fabulous) that has allowed me to avoid them (more to come on that later). But, one of my goals this summer was to make at least three pair of pants with a fly front zipper and get over this trepidation.

Luckily, there are lots of awesome resources out there to help with the dreaded flat fly front. My favorite video, from Trudy at Hot Patterns, goes a long way toward getting rid of the panic. Trudy, a YouTube thumbs up doesn't cut it; I love your video.

I love that her patterns have the pocket bag reach to the extension, don't you? This is one of my favorite features of some of my RTW pants because it seems to combat any weird pocket distortion from bending, leaning, or random dancing. (I forgot to redraw my pockets for the cherry capris before I cut them. Oops. This was one of many oopses with this project so far.) 

Here's the Sandra Betzina method that Trudy's method was derived from: Video: An Easy, Flat Fly-Front Zipper - Threads

An observation: Trudy's fabulous video results in a fly that opens to the opposite side to what I'm accustomed to, like for menswear. I'll try to remember that next time. This is another one of those things that escapes me, as I have at least one other pair of pants in my wardrobe that have the zipper opening to the left rather than the right.

Here are some stills from the cherry capri project, a visual reference for next time.

Zipper attached face up to zipper extension. I'll try to remember to mirror this for next time so that the zipper ends up opening to the customary side.

I opted to forgo the extra offset from Trudy's video. I think it's weirder to have the zipper so far off center than have it potentially show.

The bamboo turner is pointing to the line of stitching that attaches the zipper shield to just the extension, not to the front. In fact, all the stitching here is to the extensions, not the actual front piece. That's saved for the topstitching bit.

This isn't actually pinned in the right spot - just a reminder of what's next for next time.

Learning! Woot!

Goodbye, cape!

A friend of mine is moving. We've worked together for several years now, and she's honestly one of the most forthright and genuine people I've ever met.

When she compliments someone, she means it. When I learned she was moving, even though it's the middle of summer and a zillion degrees and I wouldn't be able to get it cleaned in time and one of the buttons really could stand to be reattached, I knew I needed to give her the wool cape I made last fall and winter.

My friend loved this cape, which I often wore to work when the weather was nice enough, from the first moment she saw it. She loved the Peter Pan-ish collar. She loved the wool. She loved the buttons. She loved the welts and unusual pocket flaps. I loved this pattern  from the moment I saw it, and I was fortunate to find the wool locally (the fabric store doesn't typically carry jacketing or coating).

The cape was one of two projects I was able to work on and complete when H was new. I finished it in time to wear before the end of the fall semester, and in time to take on the train for a Christmas visit to my parents (this was the goal). A cape is the perfect outerwear for mamas with babies. H and I snuggled and snoozed together under that cape as the train rocked us from one side of the Continental Divide to the other. It kept us warm, but mostly it kept us snuggled up, which is far more memorable.

Tiny, tired H and mama under the cape

When I gave her the cape this past week over coffee, she was only worried that I would be able to make another one. I assured her that I would. I'm sad to see this one go, but it gives me great joy to know that the person I'm giving it to loves it and will wear it, nay, rock it.

For the next one, I might go for rainwear with a Burberry-style plaid lining. Or, I might go for something a little more tweedy. We'll see what I can come up with.

Projects that refuse to wait their turn

I have done myself the service of getting rid of most of the unfinished projects in my life. That is, except the shirt.

The pattern

I promised my husband that I would make him a shirt. That was about one hundred zillion years ago. I had a beautiful vintage Western shirt pattern in my stash that just happened to be more or less his size. (For many, this particular gem, presumably from the early 60s, would be a bit costume-y given the shape of the collar, but my guy is a musician, and this kind of thing works for some of the gigs he works.)

But somewhere along the way with this project, it got lost. Here's as far as it got: yokes attached to front and back, pockets made (but not attached), and most of the rest of the pieces cut (not the cuffs or collar band facing for some reason that I can't seem to remember).

Where things stalled out

Part of what stalled out this project was a lack of any appropriate shirting fabric. I chose what I was able to find that would make a passable first draft. It's something white with a horizontal grey pinstripe, which I thought would be nice-ish since many of the pieces, like the yokes, pocket flaps, and snap placket on a traditional Western shirt, are cut on the bias for contrast. The more I look at it, though, the more I hate this fabric. It's been lovely to work with as it's stable if a bit on the heavy side for a shirt, but I just don't like it. The horizontal stripe, even a pinstripe, and even on someone as lean as my guy, isn't flattering.

As it turns out, men's shirting options are rather limited. Unless the man is quite flamboyant -- given to loud plaids featuring lime, magenta, and turquoise -- or quite conservative -- sticking with tiny blue and white checks -- the offerings at the local fabric store certainly aren't going to work. The closet full of Western shirts that he has are mainly poly/cotton (apparently men who wear these shirts opt for easy care every time) and quite lightweight. Most of them are mostly wrecked, as they were second hand to begin with, but they're all interesting, vibrant plaids that aren't hideous or homespun. Ultimately, for version two, I'd like to find a cotton that I really do like, that's lightweight but with a stable weave. I suppose there's always plain white or black, but that falls short of interesting. I could go with a linen-y blend, but that's not as crisp enough to fit this style. It's a question mark.

Back to today, though. This project has revived itself. I've been doing  a lot of sewing for myself. Lots.Not that it's resulted in much with all the fitting and fiddling, but I've been spending a lot of time doing it, and I've been learning a lot. I think my guy believes I'm hiding out. It's resulted in quite a lot of ribbing recently, so I've been propelled back into action on the shirt. As it turns out, though, all of the learning I've done on other projects is paying off here. I was able to attach the snap plackets on both front pieces and complete the collar without too many problems. (for a first shirt with a traditional collar, I think it's not too bad!) I was also able to go back and revisit some topstitching that was a little too Becky Home Ec-y the first time around. Judging from the pictures, though, it looks like I need to spend some time pressing out those two years of accumulated wrinkles.  

Progress!

Cherry capris underway

The cherry capris are underway. I'm as far as inserting the zipper, and that's a good stopping point. Better to do that bit when I'm fresh.

I'm happy to say that I had great twin needle success tonight on the inseams (after I remembered to adjust the tension). I suppose I did things a little unconventionally. I wanted to use a foot that accepts the guide arm, but the only foot that does so and fits the twin needle is the zipper foot. It worked really well, so I'll have to remember that for next time. This is my first twin needle topstitching experiment, and I'm glad it's working! The hard part will be figuring out which side to serge the crotch seam (can I say CF/CB instead?) so that the topstitching will work out with the fly. Ach, the planning! 

I've also been experimenting with edgestitching foot options (this pattern requires some edgestitching on the pocket facings). The best results so far have come from the edge joining foot (or blind hem foot?) as it has its own built-in guide to keep things tidy.

As I learn more, I experiment more. I yearn to be ninja-like, so all this time on task and curiosity is a good thing.

Tomorrow, zipper. And work on tracing and cutting out the t-shirt pattern for my sister. Right now, though, double dark chocolate gelato is calling my name!

Another slice and dice

When I first drafted my pants block, I had in my head a vision of Mad Men-inspired, slim fit, ankle length pants with a zipper in the back. I had read everywhere that a back zipper is figure-flattering. Naturally, I asked my mom some questions about construction. My mom's only question was, "Why do you want to do that?"

My mom is a visionary in many ways. She's a lifelong sewist with a good bit of training, and she's a very creative person. She knows more intuitively and through experience about both design and construction than the average Jane. Her objection didn't have anything to do with fashion, though. My mom is, above all else, a pragmatist. She told me that I might want to give that fly front a second shot and left me to discover why.

Discover I did. Given two pairs of pants now in my wardrobe featuring the back zipper and fitting the idea in my head, I see the problems. For the first pair, I didn't include a zipper shield, and the zipper both rubs and pinches. Even with adding a zipper shield for the second pair, one's undies regularly catch in the zip (or maybe I'm just that uncoordinated). And how does one handle a zipper, a zipper shield, and a facing where they converge? It's a construction problem that's completely avoidable with a waistband. Plus, that extra attention to one's fanny because the zipper's topstitching is visible below the hemline is unnecessary (if the opening ended above the hemline, the zipper wouldn't be long enough to get the damn pants on). Plus, comparing back zip and front zip items in my wardrobe, both me-made and RTW, I can't figure out what quality would make a fly front less flattering. I'm stumped, people.

So I'm  (re)drafting a pattern from my block featuring a waistband and a fly front.  I tried this once, but my enthusiasm got the better of my thinking, and the attempt resulted in some Bermuda shorts that were a little strange. This version is intended to correct that weirdness. Redrafting the fly front isn't difficult; it just takes some thinking, some measuring, and a little more paper. Luckily, my brain was in the on position last night after the kiddo hit the hay.

I got all my fabric pressed, even the yards and yards of khaki, and I'm anxious to cut out the cherry red twill. Capris, here we come!

On ironing

Summer must be the worst time to begin thinking about pants because pants mean pressing the epic yardage that's just come out of the dryer. But, the back to school sales have begun (already?), so it means it's time to start my back to school sewing projects.

In the coming days, I hope for three new pair of pants, erm, trousers, one red and two khaki, based on the block I drafted this past April using AmaniAdria's tutorial on YouTube:

Ah, the skepticism! I cut the first muslin of this block with nearly two inch seam allowances in case it was a complete disaster. As it turns out, patterns that are made to measure actually result in clothes that are made to fit. Go figure. Lots of seam allowance trimming ensued.

The only fitting adjustments that I made to this sloper or block or pattern or whatever you want to call it were to the leg width (arbitrary), to the back dart length, and to the front rise. (On me as drafted the rise was much more Fred Mertz than Katharine Hepburn. Not rock-able.)  If you haven't yet drafted a pattern -- especially for trousers, which can be miserable to figure out fitting-wise -- I recommend it. It's not really scary. All it takes is a big piece of paper and enough frustration to propel one to action. Yup, that's what frustration does on a good day. I'm not sure how many commercial pants patterns gave me heartburn before I reached that threshold, but the last one, from which I kept only the pocket pieces, certainly got me there.

In my next life, I'm going to become a bespoke tailor. And singlehandedly revive the occupation.

Back to the present, I have some lovely cherry red twill in the laundry basket waiting to be pressed. I'm thinking capris, which will be wearable through at least September. I just love red pants.

The t-shirt experiment

Bodies are totally weird, and it's not all of the self-help-disguised-as-pattern-fitting books I've been reading. I don't have a body problem or a body image problem. I do have a t-shirt problem.

I have come to understand that motherhood is hard on one's wardrobe. When H was very new, there were all sorts of explosive events. I held out hope that my clothes would bear less evidence of this as he grew. As it turns out, I was wrong. Life is beautifully messier for mamas.

I bought three decent t-shirts at the beginning of the summer thinking that I would be able to include these in my Fall work rotation. Wrong. At the same time, my resolve to actually wear things that fit has strengthened. So, here's to learning to sew with knits, choosing and fitting a pattern for a t-shirt, and going from there.

I started with Pamela's Patterns #104 The Perfect T-Shirt. I was drawn to this one because of the dart.

I made it up sans alterations (who knows -- I'm a knit novice, right?) other than sleeve length suspecting that I would need to make some changes to the length (of the body) and dart position. Yep. Here's v1.

Based on where this is pulling, the dart is indeed too high, as is the waist.

Here's v2. Changes include dart position (but not length -- that seems fine), waist placement, and length. I'm quite satisfied with v2, even with the wildly conservative neckline and very odd tissue burnout.

Snug, you say? Why yes! I had an, erm, serger incident: I nicked the bodice front close (but not that close) to the seam allowance, so I took a much deeper seam than I would have otherwise done.

It fits (more or less)! And it's knit! And it took less than two hours from alterations and layout to done!

Luckily, I also bought the companion pattern, #107 New Necklines and Sleeves for The Perfect T-Shirt, so I have some options for v3 and beyond.

This mama is happy - the t-shirt problem is nearly solved.