The Sew Weekly Reunion: My Slytherin Bolero

As I mentioned in my last post, I was in a bit of a sewing rut because of my long break from my machine, so I was ever so grateful for TSWR's guidelines and deadline pushing me to get my act together. I do best when I have some loose parameters (and a semi-firm deadline) -- I know, so INTJ of me -- so I hied me over to the stash to locate a suitably colored fabric. I actually had a length of bottomweight twill in emerald that would've been perfect, but I had had it pegged for a pencil skirt. So? What's wrong with that, you ask? Well, to ease myself back into sewing, I wanted to make something less intensive than a garment that needed to be perfectly fitted to my butt, you know? Even though I already have a pretty good pattern, I decide I wasn't mentally ready yet (have you noticed that lack of mental readiness has been a theme for me lately?), so I decided to make...

...a fitted cropped jacket-y thing in a difficult fabric, with lots of little fiddly details. Tell me how this is supposed to be easier than a simple skirt again? In my defense, I wasn't in love with this "Deep Lichen Green" corduroy fabric, so I figured I'd just quickly slap something together and not care too much if it didn't turn out perfectly. I had just barely a yard of this fabric, and it was a weirdly-shaped piece to boot, so a bolero (or pencil skirt...but let's not go there) was the only pattern I could think of that would fit. It was an untested pattern, too, so I ended up making lots of changes on the fly; I figured it would be a wearable muslin of sorts.

Only problem was, once I sewed up the shell and attempts at a matching lining from stash fabrics pretty much relegated me to black, I realized that this would be perfect for a Slytherin House look if I also used silver buttons. Suddenly I found myself caring quite a bit about making it as perfect as possible. It was too late to interface the front (especially since I don't know which box the nice interfacing is in, plus corduroy has a plush surface anyway) or put in shoulder epaulettes, and I neglected to grade the very bulky seam allowances, but ahh, such is life?

In the spirit of honesty, allow me to say that the design was totally stolen from inspired by this bolero from Black Mirror Design. I didn't have enough fabric to make the neck ruffle into box pleats, nor go all the way around; I settled for knife pleats and made it go as far as I could. I think I like it better that way, since it looks less busy. I also opted not to do the back tab since I got lazy don't want a button bothering me every time I lean back.

Summary:
Fabric: About one yard of mystery-content corduroy, not too heavy...gifted, and therefore free, from the stash of a friend who was moving out of the country. It was pretty wrinkled from being packed and moved up the state, but I was scared of ironing the fabric and crushing the pile, so I ended up steaming the whole thing for half an hour before I started cutting it out. The lining is leftover black sheet from this dress.
Notions: Four metal buttons with a very tiny rampant lion in the middle of the coat of arms...so even though it's Slytherin colors, it's very subtly showing support for Gryffindor? Maybe it's femme-Snape's bolero, since, you know, he was all about his house, but ultimately supported Harry in his fight against Voldemort.  

Pantone Challenge colors: Deep Lichen Green. Okay, maybe it's a bit lighter than that, but just turn down the brightness of your monitor and it'll be fine! I didn't want to buy new fabric for this challenge, so sue me. Actually, these pictures make it look more Emerald than it really is.
Pattern: Simplicity 9091 

Year: 1999...yikes!
Time to complete: Something like fifteen hours? The actual sewing was very easy; the majority of the time was taken up with trying to fit the shoulder/neck area (I ended up cutting off that weird extension that the pattern called for and subbing in the ruffle instead) and trying to figure out how to bag the lining. I sewed the sleeve ends together wrong several times before figuring it out.
First worn: Just for pictures...it's too warm for outerwear still, even if this is fairly light-weight corduroy.
Wear again? Presumably?
Will you make it again? Probably not, since I don't need many boleros in my life. They've always struck me as a fairly impractical garment, since they leave your torso all cold.
Total cost: Only $3 for the buttons! Since both fabrics were stash/free, it was a very economical make. Especially when you consider that the bolero I was knocking off costs over $180!
Final thoughts: I love that my favorite makes usually start out on whims, usually as wearable muslins that snowball into something more. Even though you can't really tell from my expression in the photos (it was the end of a long day, and I wasn't even sure I'd make it back home in time to catch the last bit of sunlight), I really like this bolero, since it hits that perfect sweet spot of not-your-everyday-garment-but-not-too-costumey-to-wear-when-it's-not-Halloween. Mr. Cation's reaction: "What era is it from? It looks French." Before I could protest that French is not an era, and that this was supposed to be a modern pattern, he pronounced it way more wearable than any of my superhero dresses, so I'll take that.

I know this isn't a refashion or a UFO, but this is the only thing I think I can manage for the month of August. I've got a wedding coming up this weekend, and I need to decide fairly quickly if I want to whip up something new, or just go with an old dress. Andrea has already expressed the sentiments that I'm sure many of us feel, so you understand my desire for new and shiny, but at the same time I've already got lots of special occasion dresses that don't get half as many outings as they deserve. #firstworldsewingproblems, am I right or am I right?

Anyway, thanks to the setting sun, we got some artsy-ish photos, you know, like the kind they have in Vogue or Harper's Bazaar. Those photos always do such an awful job of actually showing the garments they're purportedly advertising; models are inevitably hunched up or standing behind distressed furniture or what have you...so maybe these are too normal.

The cat hair on my tank top kind of ruins the whole look. 

Also, my hair is at that weird not-short-not-long stage that I hate. 

And then there are the outtake photos, where I don't know what I was trying to do at the time...

Derp-face while contemplating my wrist tabs and buttons. Maybe I'm wondering if the buttons are too obvious about my support of Harry Potter? Does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stoop to examining his Death Eaters' outfits for clues about where their true loyalties lie? 

The Sew Weekly Reunion!

When I first started sewing, there were four blogs I read regularly:

1. Ikatbag: a blog by an Asian mom with excellent tutorials on both sewing and making things from cardboard...she is everything I want to be should I ever be responsible for SHBs, and it was a total thrill when she commented on my Squidney post.
2. Tanit-Isis Sews: I was agog and aghast (in the best way possible) at her jeans and coat-making, and I might've had a tiny crush on her hair. I never would have thought I'd one day do a Spidey dress throwdown with her!
3. The Selfish Seamstress: I don't think I need to explain how hilarious and awesomely snarky Elaine is; I can only say I wish she still posted regularly!
4. The Sew Weekly: Back when it was just Mena posting her weekly projects, I took to heart the idea of just sewing something, anything, every week. That, more than anything, is what helped me improve in my own sewing. As everyone likes to say, you know, Malcolm Gladwell said in Outliers that you need to put in at least 10,000 hours to be good at something! 

Once The Sew Weekly moved into its second year, I followed along avidly as Debi, Adey, Sarah, and Veronica sewed up their own themed outfits. I loved that Adey was an Asian woman sewing up vintage garments, and I even had the privilege of meeting up with Debi in Edinburgh last summer. And then TSW went into its third year, and I so enjoyed getting to know other bloggers like Meg the Grand, Another Sewing Scientist, and Oonaballoona. I was devastated (okay, not really, but I was slightly disappointed) when TSW didn't continue this year, which is why I was so excited to see an email in my inbox announcing that there's going to be a TSW reunion next month! 

I missed my high school's ten year reunion, but there is no way I'm missing this one. There's something thrilling about sewing up a specific garment and knowing that there are ladies around the globe all doing the same thing. I like having the theme direct my otherwise aimless sewing (which is why the HSF is so helpful to me), and I love the camaraderie that develops in the sewing blogiverse. So if you've missed TSW, or just want the fun of being a part of an international sewing challenge, join us!

I don't know about you, but I can't wait to find out what the theme is going to be! 

Matching Couple Shirts: the Lady Version

After I made up this plaid fabric into a shirt for my husband, I still had plenty left over for a shirt for me. I've never made a real button-down shirt for myself before (the 1912 one hardly counts), and I have dreams of a perfect floaty white blouse to go with my Leonora shorts. In order to make that happen, though, I need to find the right blouse pattern. I figured that this plaid fabric, being only $1/yd and all, would be the perfect muslin fabric, but my pattern of choice, Simplicity 2246, aka the Lisette Traveler Dress, was not the perfect pattern. Boo. Mind, there's nothing wrong with the pattern as it is; it's just not the right pairing for this fabric. The Traveler Dress is meant to be made in a more drapey fabric, I think. Between the plaid and the stiffness of the fabric, my finished blouse reads more cowgirl than anything else. Of course, then I had to take that look a step further and pair the top with my faux riding boots.

Back view: the way the darts ended up, they make a neat optical illusion that there's actually some shaping going on at the waist. Also, ignore my lackluster ponytail. 

(Allow me to say at this point that I don't know anything about cows or what people actually wear to ride and rope them. I'm a city girl through and through; I've never "roughed it" in any way, shape, or form (not even going camping), nor do I plan to, ever. I'm sorry, but I just really like hot showers and indoor plumbing in general.) I guess that means that I did eventually fulfill the Sew Weekly "Worn Out West" challenge in the spirit of its original meaning, and not my geek interpretation...

I didn't bother with the pockets.

Anyway, I was originally clued into the Traveler Dress' existence by Andrea's fab versions, but after reading all the other write-ups on Pattern Review, I really should have figured out that the cut of this pattern was quite loose and shapeless.  Since my cotton shirting doesn't drape, it just looks boxy and weird. I ended up putting in a couple of huge fisheye darts into the back, but even then it's not very fitted. The sleeves are also a little loose, but I do like that that means I can roll them up comfortably. My only other gripe about this pattern is the weird all-in-one collar+collar stand. While it is quicker to sew, the resulting collar also doesn't fold over in quite the same way as a traditional one. Plus, it just looks weird to me that there's no break in the plaid? I don't even know. Also, I was running out of fabric, so I didn't cut a separate button placket on the bias like I wanted; I just extended the center front piece and did the foldover placket technique from Simplicity 7030 that I disliked so much.

See, doesn't that just look wrong somehow?

Summary:
Fabric: 1.5 yards of 60" wide, 100% cotton, blue windowpane plaid
Notions: Six small black buttons from my stash, from before I started sewing, so I don't remember where they're from.
Techniques: Flat-felled seams (I am really falling in love with this finish!), plaid matching
Hours used: Five
Will you make this again? Maybe. There are so many things I would change in this pattern, I'm thinking I should just find another blouse pattern that I like better. But if I ever find a snuggly piece of flannel, I am totally copying Andrea.
Total cost: $1.50 (I'm counting the buttons as free since I've had them for so long)
Final thoughts: I'm not sure if cowgirl is a good (or very convincing) look on me. Honestly, all I can think of is Jerry Dean Campbell from American Hoggers introducing his daughter, "This here my daaawwwter, Krystal Pistol Campbell..." But it looks cute on other bloggers, so I'll give it a try? Besides, this shirt is awfully comfy, probably because it is so loose. And I guess if we decide to, Mr. Cation and I can take the cheesiest Christmas couple photos ever. Maybe I can piece enough scraps together to make Walnut a bandanna, too...oh dear, somebody stop me.

How about I just settle for an awkward collage instead? Unfortunately, I couldn't get the colors to quite match since they were taken at different times and in different locations. 

Sadly, it is still too warm in TCOCC to wear this outfit, really. What is up with you, weather? It's almost November? See, this is why I can't take Sew Weekly challenges (like fall wardrobe colors?!) seriously.

My version of "I don't know what to do with my hands" is "I don't know what to do with my extremely pointy elbow."

Sew Weekly: Into the West

The good thing about unpicking very, very old costumes (circa 2005, before I can even pretend to say I was sewing) is that back then, I had no idea what tension or stitch length were, so I'm essentially picking apart a costume held together with basting stitches.

It's rather wrinkly from being in storage for so long. 

The bad thing about unpicking very, very old costumes is that for some unknown reason, I thought it was a good idea to topstitch seven times in some areas, albeit with a basting stitch.

I would've ironed/steamed it better, except that it's going back into storage to wait for December.
And yes, I'm wearing jeans with it for pictures...not very elven!

The excellent thing about old costumes is apparently, I totally scored on fabric since I picked up 3 yards of very nice 60" wide gray wool in the remnant bin, and probably paid no more than $10 for it.

The hem is longer in the front. I wish I could say it's because I tend to catch hems with my heel and
I took that fact into account, but it's really just because that's how it ended up. 

The sad thing is that I saw fit to cut up that yardage and make into a very poorly constructed and totally unfitted "cape" of three gores. And I mean cape in the loosest sense of the word -- it was really just a large, uneven pentagon that had a necklace sewn to it to make it stay closed. Even then, the weight of the wool was too much for the poor thing and eventually the lobster clasp broke.

Capes are so nice for twirling!

The practical thing about this cape is that since it is wool, it's very warm. And of course, I had the brilliant idea of working on it this week when it was in the eighties. Thank goodness Cecily was available as a body double. As it was, trying the cape on several times was nigh unbearable.

You can kind of see what I mean here about the three triangles sewn together thing. 

The only reason why I brought this cape back out to work on was this week's Sew Weekly challenge: "Worn Out West," i.e. looking to Western wear for inspiration. Well, me being who I am, I had to interpret this in the geekiest way possible: west = sailing across the Sundering Seas = elves in LOTR. So, rather than breaking out the ditsy florals and button-up shirt patterns, I opted to remake my old cape in anticipation of the movie coming out in December. I know, it's The Hobbit, not LOTR, and Galadriel certainly didn't give Thorin's band camouflaging elven cloaks, but I'm going to want something warm to go over my hobbit maid costume (which is done, btw, but I haven't taken any pictures yet) when I line up for the midnight showing.

I think this hood is just the right size for staying on my head, but not looking out of proportion to the rest of the cape.

Like I said before, the first incarnation of this cape was really just three isosceles triangles sewn basted together, with no hem and or collar or anything. It didn't really hang right since, you know, shoulders. It would've worked well had I been, say, a literal beanpole. So, with Cecily's help, I reshaped the top seams and did some creative pleating to help it sit better over my shoulders. I also added on a hood from the remnants that I had thoughtfully saved and carried with me through multiple moves (at least six times, through four cities, over a period of seven years -- that's some serious stashing commitment right there!). I had just enough to squeeze out this hood, and it's not nearly as long and pointy as the ones from the movie, but that's fine. I think those look a little silly, anyway. To close the cape, I cut off the sad necklace and replaced it with a more suitable clasp from Jo-Ann's.

You can see the weird pleat I added to make it sit on my shoulders.
Also, I actually used one of my machine's decorative stitches on the hood!
Annnddd...I just noticed I need to do a better job brushing off that pink chalk. 

Summary:
Fabric: 3 yards of very scratchy, very warm gray wool...maybe I'll get around to lining it one day. Hah! As if, seeing as how this is just a costume cape.
Notions: A clasp
Techniques: None, apparently, since I just winged it the first time around, and even the second time around!
Hours used: The first time I made this, I remember it taking me the better part of a day, probably around eight hours. This time, it took about four hours to undo and fix my mistakes and add a hood.
Will you make it again? No need for more capes like this. But capes not based on isosceles triangles? In all likelihood, if I'm being honest with myself, yes.
Total cost: The clasp raised the price to $13.
Final thoughts: If only it were socially acceptable to wear long, flowing capes on an everyday basis! I love the feeling of having it flapping around and behind me, even if it does make me more susceptible to being sucked into plane engines. And gray goes with everything. And if I were playing hide-and-seek at night on the UCSD campus (which is mostly concrete buildings), this cape would be excellent camouflage.

If only I were standing among the graceful arches of Rivendell, and not just in front of a bay window in my apartment complex!

This cape definitely made for a nice break from knit-stashbusting. Sometimes, you just need to break up the cake-baking with something entirely frivolous! Don't worry, though, I'll be back to real clothing real soon!

The Blue Roses, or Pleurosis, Tee

No fun locations this time; it was strictly an errand-running day.

My mom left school at an early age to work in a garment factory, but that didn't stop her from getting an education. She went to night school to get her GED equivalent in Hong Kong, then continued with community college in SF once my siblings and I had all entered full-time schooling. I remember her taking introductory piano lessons at CCSF when I was just starting piano lessons as a little girl. I loved getting to visit her grown-up piano classroom and plonk away on the keyboard next to hers. My favorite of the classes she took, though, was the intro to American literature course. By that time, I was maybe in fourth grade, and turning into quite the voracious reader. I read every book we had multiple times, always borrowed the maximum number of books allowed at the library, read cereal boxes, my dad's Newsweek and LIFE magazines, and even tried the Wall Street Journal briefly before I gave it up as drier and harder to understand than nutrition facts. I got in trouble at school for always reading under my desk instead of paying attention. My first F ever was on a spelling test, when I turned in a blank paper because I hadn't even realized we were taking a test, I was so engrossed in a book about pirate ships.

Anyway, all this to say, when my mom started bringing home short stories and plays from her classes, I was thrilled to have new reading material. The three things I read that stand out to me the most were William Faulkner's A Rose for Emily, Shirley Jackson's The Lottery, and Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. The first two were definitely questionable reading choices for a nine-year-old, but they were also riveting and short enough that I finished them with no problem. The play, though, was much longer and more boring (even now, as an adult, I have to admit that it can't hold a candle to the drama of sleeping with a preserved body or a mob stoning party), so I didn't get very far. I did remember, though, that Laura's crush had mixed up "pleurosis" and "blue roses."

I didn't take note of any of those stories' titles at the time, so I couldn't exactly look them up later when I wanted to re-read them. As I went through high school, though, I eventually rediscovered each of those pieces, with The Glass Menagerie coming last, in my senior year. Each time was like meeting an old, if somewhat creepy, friend, and I was so excited to finally find out the ending of the blue roses girl's story. Well, it was disappointing, to say the least. To wait all those years, only to find out that Laura never did have a real gentleman caller? And her brother just abandoned her to her overbearing mother?

So this top is my happier ending for Blue Roses. It's another stashbuster, made from turquoise-and-white striped knit, leftover from this top (which has since been retired after an unfortunate laundry mishap), but dressed up slightly with gold rose buttons at the shoulders. Conveniently, it fits the Sew Weekly blue challenge this week! It fills a gap in my wardrobe, too, since it replaces, colorwise, another turquoise-and-white-striped-knit-with-gold-buttons dress that I got last year in Paris, which I promptly spilled beet juice on once I got home. Sucks. Anyway, this top is a more versatile version of that dress, since it's a separate that goes with skirts or pants.

I made it from my Not-A-Renfrew pattern, and it might have taken longer to position and sew and reposition and re-sew the buttons than it did to make the actual tee. It's funny, I never thought I'd sew such "normal" things, but eminently wearable knit tees are just as satisfying to make as quirky dresses. Okay, almost as satisfying. 

Summary: 
Fabric: A little less than 2/3 yard of some mysterious cotton-blend knit from a thrift store
Notions: Six plastic rose buttons, spray-painted gold
Hours used: Two-ish, but only because this knit curls like no other, plus stripe-matching
Will you make it again? Oh, don't you know it!
Total cost: $2.50
Final thoughts: When I wore it today for running errands, my husband thought it was a RTW shirt that I'd just added buttons to. I think that means I win. I also love the turquoise/teal+gold combo.

It just looks so real!

I actually finished this on the same day that I finished my husband-requested maxi dress, which also went together like lightning. I looooove knits and their no-unraveling business. I've got a sneaking suspicion, though, that I'm going to finish stashbusting my knits and then discover that I don't know how to insert zippers anymore. Seriously, between knits, buttons, and bias-cut garments, the last zipper I inserted was almost two months ago! Ah well, things could be worse. I could have a dead body in my bed, or discover that I'm up next for public stoning, or *gasp* not have any gentleman callers. Horrors!

This handsome gentleman is available to call on you, but he's a limited edition only, so call now!

The "Roaring Twenties" Dress and Another Free Pattern

Trying my best to look gamine.

Lion heads! Looking awfully calm and non-predatory, totally
unlike Darth Vader's eyes on Star Wars-themed bedsheets.

Actually, the lions aren't so much roaring as they are quietly staring, but the Quietly Staring Twenties Dress just doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? I thought about calling it the Gryffindor Dress, too, but then I've always been more partial to Ravenclaw and Slytherin myself (if I ever found a fabric printed with ravens or snakes, I would be so thrilled). I also thought about calling it the Meatball Dress, as in lion's head meatballs (one of my favorite Shanghainese  dishes), but then decide that that might be too obscure. Besides, Roaring Twenties invokes the dropped waist look. Although I guess if you ate enough meatball, your waist would drop too.

Back view.

Once again, this dress is a late Sew Weekly Challenge, not quite in time for the Great Gatsby picnic. Not that it matters, since I'm not in the Bay Area anymore! But hey, since I don't need to make a dress that passes muster with any historical authenticity sticklers, I can be as ridiculous as I want -- and that means terrible punning with a bed sheet. When I first saw this vintage lion-printed sheet at the Thrift Town in San Leandro (I'm telling you, that place is a treasure trove! When I was getting this sheet, I also saw a curtain printed with castles, but unfortunately stained, and a duvet cover with fighter jets all over it. I nixed the jets and their dubiously pro-war message in favor of oddly peaceful-looking big cats), I had no idea what I would ever do with it; all I knew was that they were large versions of Walnut, and therefore it had to come home with me. Well, after the Spiderman dress reprise with the drop-waist, I decided that I had to go for a full-on twenties-inspired dress. The lions were an obvious choice, even though they weren't roaring.

I don't know why Walnut was so glum about wearing a lion-print bandanna. After all, doesn't every housecat secretly think he's a lion? Maybe he's grumpy because I woke him up from his nap (on top of freshly laundered beach towels, no less).

A sketch of what I did for the skirt pieces.

I tested my bias-cut bodice pattern again, made some more changes to accommodate the weight of the skirt, and then made my pattern into a printable pdf. I don't have the time or energy (or knowledge, really) to grade it this time, so this will only work for you if you're a size small with a tiny apple dumpling shop, as befits most of the fashion plates of the 1920s. I've also included the swayback adjustment that I ended up making for myself, as well as directions for adding the skirt to the top. Since the lions already put me out of the running for an authentic twenties dress, I didn't try too hard to get the skirt accurate; I just drafted a half-circle skirt like last time, but added diamond-shaped godets at the sides to get the asymmetrical hem. I know the bias-cut top doesn't give the right shape for the era, but I didn't want to go totally shapeless.

Looking at that neckline makes me so happy.

After the blogger meet-up at Canada College, I purchased Lynda Maynard's Couture Sewing Techniques book. The section on binding a V-neck came in very handy! I don't think I've ever made such a perfect-looking one before. The rest of the insides of the dress are either left as is, if it was on the bias, or pinked, if cut on the straight or cross grain. Really, this dress was more of a wearable muslin than anything, so I didn't stress myself out about seam finishing. Besides, it was 90+ degrees and humid in the sewing room, and the thought of standing near my iron for any longer than necessary was unbearable. But don't worry, I still pressed my seams properly!

Summary:

Look at how pretty that corner is!

Fabric: 50/50 poly-cotton blend "no-iron muslin" vintage thrifted twin flat sheet
Notions: None! I used self-fabric binding for the neck and armholes, so no need to dig into my bias-tape stash.
Techniques: Binding a V-neck, mitered corners to finish my skirt hem
Hours used: I sewed for about eight hours straight on Saturday, thanks to three football games and a baseball game keeping my husband occupied all day. Walnut was just about knocked out from the heat, so even he didn't demand my attention.
Will you make this again? I'm toying with the idea of making this again in a "real" fabric (read: not a bed sheet), like chiffon or something luxurious so that I can have a slightly less ridiculous twenties-ish dress, but knowing me, it probably won't happen. I do love this skirt, though, so I may use the diamond-shaped-side-godets trick again.
Total cost: $3 for the sheet
Final thoughts: Despite popular (and probably saner) opinions in the sewing blogiverse, every time I make something from a sheet I get really excited. And, in fact, the more ridiculous the print, the better. I was so happy wearing my lions, and the skirt is so deliciously twirly, and how perfect that I had a long string of pearls in my costume jewelery collection! My only gripe is the black shoes, but somehow I don't have any brownish heels. Or brownish shoes of any kind, actually. Hmm, this is a situation that needs to be ameliorated.

I love how swishy this skirt is even when I'm not twirling and just walking normally.
Also, my foot/leg looks totally bizarre in that bottom right picture.

Anyway, if you want to try your hand at my bias-cut top and skirt pattern, you can download it here:

Pattern (9 pages)
Instructions for sewing the top and making the skirt

For those of you who aren't my size, but are interested in how the pattern compares to a knit tee block:

• The front pattern piece ended up being 1.25" larger at the side seams than my knit block
• The back pattern piece is about two inches larger at the side seams right under the arm, but tapers to nothing at the waist; the center back seam is scooped at the waist and flares out at the hip, meaning that it can't be cut on the fold like a tee-shirt back piece would be

Hopefully that gives you some ideas if you want to try making a bias-cut top from your own knit tee block. As always, if you end up trying this out, I'd love to know! Thanks to those of you who have sent me pictures and feedback about tmy Dolman Sleeve Top pattern; I'll be doing a roundup later this week!

I couldn't resist antiquing a couple of the pictures for a more vintage look!

PROMABALLOONA Dress Reveal!

I thought of so many names for this dress: the Marimo Ball Dress (look, it's also my late inspired-by-nature Sew Weekly challenge! Because the fuzzy green patches look a little like algae, and also prom is kind of like a ball, right? get it get it get it???), the Scarlett O'Hara Dress (it's made from plush green curtains!), the Aggressively Green Like Seattle Dress (for obvious reasons), or Lowest Ratio of Professional Finish to Time Invested Dress (for having used so many couture techniques, the execution is remarkably sloppy). I'll leave you to pick your favorite, or maybe even come up with your own title. At any rate, having dreamed about, planned, and worked on this frock for so long, I'm mentally exhausted enough to just ignore the messy bits for now. Maybe at some future point I'll go back and finish the last two seams, but I just can't stomach the thought at this moment in time.

You can really see the bubbliness of the curtain fabric on the bodice from this angle. Even though I stitched down the middles of all the darts, as per usual for underlined bodices, but they still didn't come out very well.

Close-up of the front of the bodice. You can see how incredibly nylon the sheer net is...its iridescence did not agree with my camera. Also the ostentatiously large locket that my mom said was the sad best of my necklace choices.

The skirt is quite delightfully swishy and full (it makes a splendid rustling like the sound of angels' wings, thanks to all the stiff artificial fibers), which sort of makes up for how much trouble it gave me in the gathering and hemming.

Friends, I really had such high hopes for my Promaballoona dress, but lo! how the mighty have fallen! It started so well: my muslin only required a few adjustments, and I purchased my curtains for a mere quarter at a garage sale a block away. Then it all went to pieces: my lining fabric was fraytastically awful (never let me be bewitched again by $3/yd "habotai" from sketchy Chinese discount fabric stores), I discovered that it was impossible to press the seams on my already warped "fashion fabric" (velvet on the thinnest nylon = ironing nightmare, as the plush would flatten and the nylon bubble and melt), Gummy took a nap and drooled on the skirt lining, and the full, gathered skirt was impossibly puffy. I persevered, though, and more or less completed the dress, even though I'll confess I hated it more and more as I worked on it.

The back is the worst. This is where the lining was the rippliest, the fashion fabric the most heat-damaged,
and my hand-stitching the laziest. But hey, there are pockets!

Since my curtain panel was so sheer, I had to underline it with the aforementioned polyester habotai. It was ridiculously slippery and probably slightly off-grain; this, combined with the bubbly, unpressable sheer piece means that none of my pieces quite matched and honestly, the whole dress looks like sh*t. Friends, I don't like using strong language at all (in case you couldn't tell from the fact that I just called that strong language!), but I have never felt so strongly the need to let loose with some choice invectives. Especially tragic was the discovery that my painstakingly-hand-blind-catch-stitched-horsehair-braid hem looked terrible and needed to be all picked out and and redone without the braid. Thank goodness there were Olympics to watch! I'm not even going to bother showing you the insides of this thing because frankly, they're downright appalling (think: four colors of seam binding, Pochacco fabric facings, the center back seam allowances untrimmed and unfinished, and gathering threads left in because the thought of picking them all out of the velvet was too daunting).

This face pretty much sums up my feelings about the dress. Also, you
can see a hint of my lavender seam binding peeking out at the hem.

Summary:
Fabric: One panel of an IKEA curtain, sheer green nylon net with plush starbursts, that had already been somewhat abused by the previous owner's dryer, as it was all bubbly and weird to begin with; three yards of thin, misbehaving polyester lining.
Notions: 18" kiwi green zipper, grosgrain ribbon, hooks and eyes, seam binding
Techniques used: Center back lapped zipper, waist stay, underlining, catchstitching the facings and hem, patience
Hours: Please don't make me count. If I have to figure out how much time I wasted on this dress that I will probably never wear, I will cry. I really will. I could've made so many other (wearable) things in the same amount of time!
Will you make this again? This pattern, yes (thank you, Jane!). I actually quite like the fit on the bodice. This mistake of using cheap artificial fiber material for a dress? NO.
Total cost: $13. Ugh. That could've been four sheets right there.
Final thoughts: If you're thinking of protesting that it looks just fine in the pictures, let me just say that it's a six foot dress. You know how in kindergarten they teach you about six inch voices? Where you talk just loud enough that you can only be heard from six inches away? Well, this dress only looks normal from six feet (or more) away. If I ever have to make a speech on a dimly-lit stage, I'll wear this dress. Otherwise, people would be able to see my bubbly seams, rippled underlining, unevenly distributed gathers (gathering through the velvet parts was extremely taxing), and weirdo hem. And the tears streaming down my face. Just kidding. I mean, I guess it's not all that bad, and I learned a lot, but gosh, it feels so disappointing to spend so much time making something I don't like very much. I guess I could've stopped and not finished it, but I had already invested in the lining and because Promaballoona guys...I couldn't just show up to Oona's bash with nothing to wear! Oona, consider this a testament to how much I adore you that I powered through on this dress.

A congratulatory twirl for the birthday girl! I know, I know, I should refer to grown female adults as women, but there isn't a good rhyme for woman. And the shadows here make it look like I'm wearing leggings under my dress.

All of these photos were taken near my husband's childhood home in the lovely East Bay hills.
The view there *almost* rivals the view at the reservoir near my home.

I kind of want to wear this dress and go back to the house where I bought the curtains and be like, hey, remember these? Only I don't remember the exact house and I'm afraid that I'll end up standing there awkwardly while the homeowner stares at me and tries to figure out why this girl is standing on their steps in a vaguely formal dress.