Titanically Late Plans

Almost two years ago, when I first found out about the VPLL 1912 project, I got all excited about making an evening gown suitable for wearing on the Titanic. That was when I was at the height of my Downton Abbey phase, and Lady Mary's gorgeous dresses added to the motivation. I went so far as to thrift some pale minty-jade green chiffon drapes and buy some trims, but then life and the lack of new episodes intervened, and the fabric got stuffed into the bottom of a bin, sadly forgotten until now...

The HSF challenge this fortnight is green, and this painting that The Dreamstress posted reminded me about the minty-jade-green chiffon that I had stashed away. While I don't think I'll be able to finish a whole evening gown before the deadline next week, I figured I might as well make some more concrete plans (and release them to teh interwebs for some tenuous public accountability).

Ignore the 43" x 62". It was the dimension of some sheet or other from another project. Can you tell my 1912 sketch was straight off the Sense and Sensibility pattern?

I was torn for a while on what year to aim for. I think the 1916 dresses look so fun and flouncy, but in my heart I knew I wanted the sleeker early-teens look.

I tried more sketches. Obviously I have yet to take the Fashion Illustration course at the college. 

Frustrated by my attempts to draw my vision, I just pulled out my fabrics and trims and started draping things on Cecily.

Attempt #1: so many pins holding everything in place! The chiffon looks blue in all these pictures, but in real life it's more like this green.

Attempt #2: this was several hours later, hence the change in lighting. Not sure if I prefer the crossover bodice or not. 

Closer-up of the beaded ribbon (purchased here). Also, I stole the sash from my Gatsby dress. 

I'm afraid a real evening gown of the era would have a lot more bling...errr, trims and beading and lace, but mine is the poor (wo)man's version, so a couple of beaded ribbons will have to do. Now that I've kind of settled on a year, I "just" need to make a structured underdress, drape and sew the overdress, and figure out where to hide all the layers of closures...

I'm Back!

*haphazard swishing with a feather duster*

Oh hello there, it's been a while, hasn't it? Usually when a female blogger with a steady significant other takes a long-ish break from blogging, I begin wondering if it's because she's pregnant, and then I resign myself to lots of baby clothing posts, but just in case you're wondering, that's not my situation! Rather than finding myself in the family way, I've found myself in an...academic...way? School started and hit me like a ton of bricks this year, especially since, for the first time in almost a decade, I am not only a teacher, but a student as well! But more about that later.

I really wanted to make a quick blog post earlier explaining what was going on, but I had no energy to write and I really didn't want to be one of those bloggers that just posts five times in a row, but each post just says sorry I'm such a bad blogger I promise I'll have more to say soon! So I waited until I had more wherewithal to actually write something of substance. In the meantime, my last few weeks have been absolutely packed to the brim with:

• Well, speaking of packed, there's been lots of packing and unpacking; we finally moved to our new apartment in Castro Valley! It's so nice to have our own space again! Especially since my sewing stuff is in a fantastically large room! Mr. Cation and I decided to make the guest bedroom our bedroom, and use the master bedroom as a joint office/sewing room, so now we can work on things in the same room and there's lots of space on the floor for me to actually spread and cut things out. No more scrambling to put things away and checking the living room floor for stray pins when guests come over!
• Before we moved out of my parents' place, I mended/altered things for my family. My dad had a couple of button-down shirts whose sleeves were too long, and my sister had a dress that was too big. I also fixed a lot of my own hooks and eyes and buttons that had popped off, or dresses whose necks needed fixing to prevent gaposis, and those sorts of things that one never gets around to when there are shiny new projects to sew!
• Teaching and prepping and other miscellaneous school duties: besides my three AP classes, I've also taken over a lot of the science department head's duties since the previous one retired and nobody's been selected as a replacement. Ordering the year's supplies, mentoring the new teacher, and general curriculum overhauling, you know, NBD. And of course there's readjusting to standing and talking in a projecting sort of voice all day. I'm sad that the vagaries of block scheduling mean that I no longer have one whole day free for sewing/picture-taking like last year. 
• I've spent a good deal of time sorting through my fabric and figuring out what I want to make next. Ever since I started sewing three years ago, I've never taken such a long break from sewing! Besides the bits of mending and altering here and there, I haven't made anything new for over a month...so I had a bit of sewasaurus' block. I still have my half-finished blazer, but I left off at a tricky place and I don't feel like going back and trying to figure it out just yet. And I know what I want to make for my next HSF project, but since the deadline passed already I'm having trouble finding the necessary motivation. Thank goodness for the Sew Weekly Reunion's helpful guidelines and deadline, or I might still be hemming and hawing! Not literal hemming, though. 
• As for being a student again, I've got semi-exciting news: I've decided to go back to school and get my Theater Costuming certificate! After last summer's blogger meet-up at Canada College, I started dreaming and saving for their Fashion Department's classes. I don't know how long it will take me to complete all the courses, but I'm super excited even though I've only had one class so far. I really love learning (if I could be a professional student I totally would!), but to be honest, I'm a little scared that I've forgotten how to be a good student. I showed up for the first day of class without my textbook, reader, or even a binder or notebook...if I were my own student, I would've given me a stern talking to about being prepared for class! Thank goodness for breaks, so I was able to run out and buy my materials, but let's just say that it's going to be an adjustment, having to study for tests instead of just writing and grading them. 

We learned about fiber cross-sections and how they can affect light reflection, and therefore the general sheen or lustre of the resulting textile, among other things. Our instructor warned us that students have complained in the past that her textiles class was too much like a science class, but I was secretly thinking "what's wrong with that?" At any rate, I was just eating up all the information; I can tell I'm going to like this class!
[picture source]

Here's what I haven't been doing, though -- learning about my new serger! I'm so incredibly grateful for all of you who took the time to give me helpful advice, but I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't felt mentally ready to tackle all the learning I feel like it requires. I even chose to entirely line my next project so that I don't have to think about finishing any seams...I know, so sad, right? Still, at least I'm sewing again; my latest project just needs some buttons and then I'll be ready to reunite with all the good folks over at The Sew Weekly!

DIY Anthropologie Fail!

I've been wanting to join in the Spring Top Sewalong over at Made by Rae, so I started looking for some inspiration. I spotted Anthropologie's Spotted Peasant Blouse (ha! see what I did there?) while browsing Pinterest, and got all excited because I had a similar-ish spotted chiffon in my stash. I set out to whip up a top for myself, although I should have known that poly-chiffon does not lend itself to whipping. More like swearing, gnashing of teeth, rending of clothing, etc. Although, compared to the beaded and crinkled chiffon, this perfectly smooth stuff was a breeze. Of course, I had to complicate matters by deciding that I wanted to change the neckline and do a half-placket instead of fussing with binding that little keyhole detail and turning a tiny tube. I quickly sketched up a blouse shape, cut out my pieces, and went about French seaming everything. I was so confident, I went ahead and sewed everything without 1) making sure the top would fit based on my measurements, 2) trying it on as I sewed, or 3) stepping back to give myself some perspective.

You don't look particularly happy there. 

Yes, I was addressing my photo self in the previous caption. 

Okay fine, I'll fake a smile. 

And like I said, chiffon tops do not whip up. After I'd more or less finished, I realized that my placket did not come out as neatly and professionally as I somehow imagined it was coming out while I was caught up in the sewing spree. Even starched within an inch of its life, it still came out looking decidedly Becky Home-Ecky. Even worse, when I tried the top on, I realized that it was way too tight in the shoulders. That's what I get for slapdash patterning.

Up close, the placket is messy, and it wants to flop open to accommodate my wide shoulders. 

The only thing I could think of to widen the top was to cut a slit in the back and guess what -- bind that opening and make a tiny tube. I'm pretty sure that's a situation that belongs in Alanis Morisette's "Ironic" song, although possibly "it's like having to make 1/4" self-fabric bias binding and turn a narrow tube out of non-creasing poly-chiffon when you specifically set out to avoid such a situation" doesn't have quite the same ring as "it's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife."

Even when I sewed the tiny tube on, I made it too long, so I had to tie a tiny knot in it. *sigh* This top is just full of fail.

And worst part is, after all that fussing, I still don't like the blouse. It hangs funny even with all the modifications, I'm constantly readjusting it every time I raise my arms, it's an awkward color to match, and it's non-breathing polyester in a summer top. I know it looks okay to the casual observer, but I just feel uncomfortable in it. So, off to the donation pile it is! I guess that's one way to bust a stash...

Awkward face to go with the awkward arm-raising. See all the weird pulling? Yuck. 

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.

Leonora's Perfect Pants, My Eye.

Sorry about the silence here, friends. I've been busy struggling with Leonora and her idea of a perfect pants pattern. At the suggestion of many of my readers, I decided to go ahead and try out this vintage pants pattern (can it really be called vintage if it's from the 80s?) in order to make the envelope illustration cat work for its keep, so to speak. I had some lovely soft suiting that I figured would be perfect for testing out the pattern (because doesn't everyone use expensive suiting to make muslins with?); I hoped that I would also end up with some wearable shorts out of the deal.

My inspiration was something along the lines of these "formal shorts," but without edging into these 80s horrors. Well, after wrestling with darts and crotch curves and non-existent waistband patterns and under-butt bagginess, I think I would've been happy to end up with the latter. Right now, I just want to crumple up these shorts and start a San Francisco UFO pile.

This was my traced pants pattern. The extra-long dart actually goes on the front pattern piece...I was just a doofus when I drew it in. I've never seen such a pointy back crotch area on a pants pattern. It was kind of difficult to sew, honestly.

Leonora's "perfect" pants pattern is intended to yield couturier pants, and maybe it's just that she's assuming a lot more sewing experience than I have, or maybe this is just a bad pattern, but I experienced quite a bit of frustration during the construction process. First of all, the pattern doesn't include a waistband (I sketchily drafted a curved one), nor does it have darts marked (you're supposed to just pin and figure it out for yourself). The directions are confusing and poorly illustrated (or maybe I'm just really bad at reading them?). In fact, I'm still not exactly sure what took 22 pages to say in the instruction book. But enough griping -- let's talk about the actual garment.

I'm cringing at the thought of putting this picture up, but I think it's important to show the sewing fails, too.

Ugh. This back. Some of the bagginess can be alleviated depending on
my posture, but good pants shouldn't only look good in one position, right?

I will start by saying that these shorts are extremely comfortable. The suiting is deliciously soft and silky, and there's plenty of ease in the cut. That ease, though, is also what causes the excessive bagginess in the back and the weird poofing in front, right above the dip where my thigh meets my pelvis. I tried to take in some of that excess fabric by extending the front dart like crazy, but there's only so much I can do before I start getting smile lines. The fly front was actually not very difficult to figure out, thanks to this helpful tutorial from Coats and Clark. However, since it was my first time ever doing one, I placed my zipper way too far over and had to make a huge fly front. That might also contribute to the weird hang of the front. I feel like my waistband could be tighter, but maybe that's what belt loops (and a belt) are for...I also think my idea of ease in a waistband might be skewed; what's a normal number of fingers to be able to insert in between your body and the waistband?

Since I was having so many issues with the fit, I didn't really bother finishing my seams until the end. As a result, there are some quite awkward intersections where I couldn't get the seam binding to reach, but they should hold up in the wash, I hope. Another problem with treating these as a muslin, and then suddenly wanting to be able to wear them for real, is that I didn't bother interfacing the waistband at all. It'll do, but I miss the structure and crispness. Also, it didn't occur to me to put pockets in, but now I miss them.

The side seams are mostly straight, at least.

Phew. That's a long list of issues with these poor shorts. I'm sure that most of these issues are actually my fault, not poor maligned Leonora's, but it's so much more fun to blame her! I guess this is a lesson in you-get-out-what-you-put-in: I was so slapdash with my dart pinning, waistband drafting, etc., that I'm pretty sure that calling these my slapdash shorts is an insult to Trena, whose work is actually very well done. Anyway, I'm still hoping to be able to wear these shorts out into the world, though. I mean, the fit isn't perfect by any means, but it's still within the realm of acceptable, right? Especially if I wear a shirt over it to cover the waistband? At least it's no worse than RTW shorts I might pick up at H&M or something. Actually, they're probably better because they're longer.

Which brings me to my final dilemma -- how short should I make these? I tried bobby-pinning up one leg to what seemed an appropriate compromise between not-a-grandma and not-exposing-my-cellulite. I figure I could always turn up the bottom into a cuff if I want to go for a tights+shorts look like Tasia's Thurlows, but this length is still okay for me if I want to forgo tights underneath.

What do you think of the whole formal shorts look? Shorts with tights? Or is that kind of ridiculous because it defeats the purpose of wearing shorts in the first place? And are these shorts worth finishing, or are they forever doomed?

Settling into Sewing at Home

I've been at home in SF for a few weeks now, but am still having a hard time settling into any sort of routine, at least when it comes to sewing. Part of it is that this is the home I grew up in, and because of that sewing is not an established pastime for me here. Every time I've been in this house in the past, reading has been the mode of recreation. So the plus side is, I've been reading* a lot more (my husband has experienced a little of this, too, as normally he watches TV or plays Call of Duty at our apartment in TCOCC; here, there's been no TV-watching to speak of, and Skyrim has replaced CoD). It feels odd to be in a place that is so strongly home for me, and yet not. This is the home I grew up in with my parents as the authorities, where I had a curfew and had to be accountable to them for my time. Now, as an adult with a husband and a cat (who is having his own issues adjusting**), it's strange navigating between being technically autonomous, but still wanting to respect and honor them.

Anyway, the result of all that is my sewing time has been erratic. If my parents don't have errands they want me to run that day, I can get in lots of sewing time, but only as long as it's not too cold downstairs. In case you didn't know, San Francisco, especially the Sunset District, is notoriously wintry even in the summer. Foggy and overcast outside = cold and gloomy in the office where the sewing machine is set up. Those sunny days when I took pictures? Flukes. And coming from SoCal, where I'm seriously spoiled by sun, I have a hard time sewing when it's not brightly lit in my sewing room. I know, I know, this is nothing compared to people in the UK (like Jane and her seasonal sewing lamentations!), but my sundress plans seem a little silly right now. I've got my Spiderman dress for the throwdown with Tanit-Isis cut out, but that's about it. Even then, the cutting was ridiculous as all three cats wanted to get in on the new fabric.

Adding onto the weather is the actual sewing situation -- I've come to terms with most aspects of my mom's old Kenmore, with the exception of how long it takes to switch out the bobbin thread. It's funny, I can forgive its rattling and occasionally erratic feed dogs, the lack of needle position adjustment, and even its temperamental thread snapping, but the non-drop-in bobbin really bothers me. Funny, what things get to you, isn't it? There's also the fact that the seam ripper here has a perfectly round handle, so whenever I set it down it rolls away, off the edge of the desk, and into the trashcan, as if it was trying to shirk its job. Okay, I know, now I'm just being a drama queen. Also, I have the sewing machine set up on part of my dad's desk in his office, which is much less space than I'm used to, and if he needs to use his desk that gets precedence, of course. Sigh.

I think the solution is a quick and easy project, just to get my sewing mojo back, but I only brought relatively complicated projects with me. Or at least more complicated than I feel like dealing with now. Maybe it's time to return all the books to the library so that I have to sew something. The silly thing is I even miss sewing! I just can't bring myself to go downstairs and brave the cold, cramped office.


Wow, that was a lot of whining. I'm pretty sure I should have just titled this post #firstworldsewistproblems, especially in light of my mom's griping about hobby sewing vs. making a living.  

Have any of you ever had similar issues? Tell me about your most difficult sewing situation to make me feel better! Alternately, you could just tell me to shut up and stop egoizing.


*World War Z and The Dispossessed and several short story anthologies.
**Walnut's uncle Gummy has turned out to be a bully. He's always jumping out at him from behind corners and trying to bite him. This has made Walnut very nervous about being upstairs, but we spend most of our time upstairs since it's cold downstairs...looks like we're going to have to just suck it up and wear sweaters in July.

Right after this picture was taken, Gummy jumped at Walnut, who went racing across the house and back downstairs to his safe zone. There's been quite a bit of yowling going on as well.

Adjusting to Life in SF

We've been in The City for a week now, and everyone is more or less adjusting to life under my parents' roof. Here's another list because I can't be bothered with paragraph transitions right now:

1) Walnut did just fine on the trip up, much to everyone's surprise. He's taken to the larger territory of a two-story house with ease, and has cowed his uncles with his size and the sheer vehemence of his meowing. So far, the hierarchy negotiations have not come to blows. Let's hope it stays that way.

Looking out the same window as his uncles, but with his watermelon friend instead.

2) Cooking for six is a lot more difficult than cooking for two. Especially since my dad has an aversion to oh, anything too salty, too spicy, too buttery, too cheesy, or too meat-y. Actually, let's just say that he has an aversion to anything with flavor.

3) I've done very little sewing since arriving; mostly I've been running errands for my parents. I've been on too many Target, Costco, and grocery store runs in too few days. I've had fun, though, too -- I got to catch the Cult of Beauty exhibit at the Legion of Honor before it closed. Even better, my sister had free tickets! I enjoyed seeing the paintings and furniture, but getting to see the gowns was definitely the highlight. I can't wait to go to the V&A in August; this was just an amuse-bouche.

This is one of the gowns that was on display. The V&A website has a cute little set of letters that the dude wrote to his lady about it. He was a sculptor, and it totally shows in the way the dress looks. Even crazier, this dress is supposed be in striped silk, but the stripes have almost entirely faded! You can only see them from super up close, i.e. nose almost smooshed into the glass. 

4) I also got to go see Jonathan Coulton at the Great American Music Hall (which, incidentally, is an absolutely amazing venue)! He is probably my favorite songwriter ever; I mean, it doesn't get any better than catchy songs about IKEA, zombies, evil scientists, and bacteria. Also, I had a tiny two-minute crush on Scarface. Anyway, if you're a geek and love clever lyrics and haven't heard of him, go check out his stuff!

Requisite terrible iPhone picture. Scarface (in the middle) was singing Skullcrusher Mountain, JoCo is on the right.
You can also get a taste of the fantastic balconies in the concert hall.

5) I have been working just a little bit on my next sewing project...unfortunately, my mom's old Kenmore is not nearly as easy to use as my Brother. Okay, maybe part of this is my fault for not noticing, but apparently part of its crankiness was due to the fact that the feed dogs were lowered. I sewed new curtains for the basement, all the bodice darts, and the pockets without realizing this. I was wondering why I was so incapable of sewing in a straight line, and it turns out that I was pretty much free-motion quilting the whole time. That said, I think I did a pretty dang awesome job sewing darts in light of that.

6) Because of the Kenmore's disturbing habit of rattling like it's going to fall to pieces, I don't know if I'm going to get around to sewing jeans this summer. I just don't trust it for something like topstitching through multiple layers of denim. There's also no needle position adjustment, which boggles the mind. Lastly, the bobbin setup is not the drop-in kind, so putting in new bobbin thread takes about 15 seconds longer. I don't know why this bothers me so much. Anyway, my secret hope is that I will score an awesome vintage Singer at one of the antique fairs this summer, and then I can kill two birds with one stone (the must-have-a-vintage-machine bird, and the have-a-machine-that-doesn't-sound-like-it's-going-to-explode bird. Both of these are excellent candidate birds for killing).

7) After I arrived and unpacked my sewing things, I realized I forgot my embroidery snips, basic bodice blocks (!!!), and any buttons whatsoever. Grrrrr. Also, I already miss Cecily, my cutting mat, and full-length mirrors next to the sewing machine. While I'm mentioning sewing gripes, I might as well say that having two extra assistant cats isn't really helpful either. However, Walnut has done significantly less assisting now that there are so many new things to sniff and places to explore.

Totoro tells Walnut a secret (actually, Walnut just really likes chewing on the totoro's whiskers).

New Chinese newspaper > old sewing patterns for grooming purposes.

Okay now, less whining about the sewing situation, more actual sewing.

These Are A Few of My Least Favorite Things

Inspired by The Dreamstress' post on her most hated sewing-related task and my most recent sewing project (back to chiffon, that tricky devil!), I thought I'd trace my journey in learning to sew by looking at what tasks I hated most at the time. It's funny remembering what used to stall me, and how I learned to move past those barriers.

When I first started sewing, I hated pressing. I mean, it's called sewing; I couldn't understand why I spent so little time actually sewing! It seemed I was always heading over to my dinky little table-top ironing board, which, due to lack of space, was set up over the sink in our guest bathroom. Running back and forth to iron on that tiny surface and not being able to slip anything over the end (because of the arrangement of the little legs it stood on) was the pits! But once we moved to TCOCC, we had enough space for a full-sized ironing board in my sewing room, and I began to take pleasure in beautifully pressed seams. It's amazing how a good pressing makes even the wonkiest seam look better.

Once I got over all the time I spent at the ironing board, my hatred of darts bubbled to the surface. Literally. My dart tips were always bubbly or pointy, until I learned about how to angle my stitching line so that it would taper off correctly. But the good thing about hating darts was that I perfected my TNT princess seam bodice, New Look 6723!

After I figured out darts, I was able to properly focus my hatred on hems. They're just so...long. And tedious. But if you mess it up it might throw off the whole garment, so then I had to make sure I was paying attention for the whole nine yards (literally, for some of my circle skirts!). And to be honest, there wasn't anything that made me magically love hems; I just...stopped hating them one day. Which meant I was no longer leaving dresses lingering sadly on the back of my chair, waiting only for their hems so that they could be worn. Now, when I get to the hem, I get excited because it's easy and and when I'm finished, I'm done with the garment!

Oh, except for sewing hooks and eyes at the tops of zippers. I couldn't stand that either, or any hand-sewing for that matter. Then I took up embroidery because it was the most portable needlecraft I could think of for Christmas vacation up north, and now I find hand-sewing quite relaxing. Good thing, too, or else I never could have bound all the tabs on my pair of bodies, or worked all the eyelets on my kirtle by hand. 

My seam binding of choice.

While I was getting over hand-sewing, I was simultaneously falling in love with pretty seam finishing, thanks to the discovery of rayon seam binding. I've since gotten much better about taking care of my raw edges, either with the seam binding or by using French seams. Although, I must confess that if it's a sturdy fabric and I don't foresee wearing a garment that much, I'll still just pink the seam allowances.

And all this time, I thought that pants would be my Waterloo...well, that war is far from over, but I think I've got a good start. Let's hope it doesn't end up being a Pyrrhic victory (what would that even look like? Maybe I perfected fitting pants, but managed to stab myself in the femoral artery as I stitched the last button?)...

Which brings me to the current state of affairs: there are still a lot of parts of sewing that I'm not a fan of, haven't mastered yet, or haven't even attempted. In the first category would be tasks like gathering wide skirts (I can do it, but I don't like it), making pintucks (measuring constantly is not my forte; I'm more of a just-eyeball-it kind of pintucker), and rolled hems on chiffon (much better after my last two projects, but still not fun). Under the yet-to-master umbrella would be inserting invisible zippers (I just can't make mine look nice! Maybe I need to just buy a bunch and practice inserting them all in a row), getting the grain straight on slippery fabrics and ultra-drapey knits, and setting in sleeves (the few times I'm tried, they are always poofy at the top, or I can't raise my arms). And I haven't even tried working with wool or silk, or anything approaching tailoring. I managed to rescue a couple of lengths of gorgeous wool suiting from the thrift store, but they are sitting in a corner, unused and unloved (except by Walnut, who does them the favor of sniffing them every once in a while), waiting for me to work up the courage and skill to approach them. Maybe I need to make a silk satin dress with random invisible zippers inserted into all the seams, with pintucks everywhere and two perfect sleeves (with gussets, of course, because that's another thing that causes me to quake in my boots).

I just watched The Fall and absolutely fell (ha!) in love with the
costumes. I am kind of smitten with the idea of making this one.

I remember feeling so psyched when I made my first real dress a year ago, and that I could sew anything I could think of if I just tried hard enough. I still hold to that belief, but that is tempered with awareness now of what I don't know. Sewing is just like any other skill -- the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. But sometimes you just have to look back at what you've learned and overcome, and allow yourself to feel just a little accomplished, before you go back to staring wide-eyed at the work of Eiko Ishioka.

Incidentally, SHB is at the gosh-why-is-there-so-much-ironing stage. Not that my stages are the set progression by any means, but it's just the tiniest bit funny to me that that's her first sewing hang up, too.

Is there anything that you used to dislike about sewing that you've since moved past? Did you move through stages like me, and if so, what were they?

That Brutally Honest Friend, the Croquis

[Warning: long and rambly stream of consciousness ahead. Feel free to move along if you're not interested in reading about my hang-ups. ]

I'm finished with my nautical high-waisted shorts, including the hem and buttons, but then I realized that I have nothing to wear them with, so now I'm frantically sewing up a stripey top. But in the meantime, as I look at myself wearing the shorts, I am beginning to realize that perfectly-fitted-pants-sewing is going to be a long and ever-changing journey. See, when you make fitted pants, they emphasize all sorts of things that fitted skirts don't do (not that I make a lot of fitted skirts).

I've already written before about my body image issues, specifically with my lower body, which is part of the reason why I'm always making dresses with fitted bodices and full skirts. In trying to fit my shorts (which are still not perfect), I'm realizing that I need to look at my body a little more objectively. Instead of shying away from looking at my thighs (quick! throw on a full skirt!!), I need to know what they actually look like so that I can cover them with fabric in the most flattering way possible (and not just by throwing on a full skirt). So I made a croquis. Two, actually, from both the front and the side.

If you're wondering about the awkwardly raised arm in the first croquis, it's because I was holding my camera up to my face. I decided to try to pretend it was behind my head or something. Also, what does one do with the arms in a side croquis?

Seeing myself in my non-Elizabethan undawears, rendered as a line drawing, is, for lack of a better word, interesting. Initial thoughts: I didn't realized that my head was so large, nor my feet so oddly stubby. I already knew that I had a swayback (and avoided ever having to make that adjustment by always sewing dresses with waist seams), and my dance teacher in college had already pointed out my swayback knees. Seriously, what bendy part do I have that isn't sway? Also, my measurements indicate that I should be a pear, but the width of my shoulders makes me more of an hourglass, at least visually. No wonder why I love belted dresses. 

But the rudest shock was seeing my belly profile, as I hadn't realized that it was as rounded as it is. Before you protest that it isn't round at all, I will interject that when I was in college, it used to be entirely flat. I know, of course, that it isn't realistic to expect one's body to stay frozen at its peak, but I do wonder how much preservation work one should reasonably do. How much should one accept that aging happens, that as I get closer to thirty my body's metabolism will slow down, and it's a lost cause to retain my college figure? It just goes to show that the comment from one of Gertie's readers is SO. TRUE. "All 'thin' can ever be is 'not yet fat today' and 'not as thin as I could be.'" I need to walk away from that kind of thinking and focus on being healthy.

I was recently talking with a very dear friend about body image, and I had said that body image was not one of my "big" issues. That is, when I think about the demons I need to wrestle with, I am more likely to say selfishness, difficulty dealing with emotions, or a tendency to over-focus on the task to the exclusion of people, not body image. But looking at my croquis makes me think that maybe it was just a dormant issue, and it is now being brought to light as I think about getting older and the possibility of messing with my body by producing a small human being.

So how does making pants fit in with all of these unearthed issues? I'm not really sure. Part of me wants to stop the pants-making journey right here and go back to full skirts that sit at my natural waist, but another part of me thinks that I need to continue trying for fitted pants, as maybe that will force me to come to terms with and accept my body. Who knew that sewing could be such an effective excavator of buried issues?

Sorry for the scatterbrained post, but I just wanted a record of my thoughts. Also, I really do love so many things about my body; this post just sounds especially whiny because I'm troubled by sewing pants that fit. If you actually read this all the way through, thanks for sticking with me.

Help! Your Opinion on Stripes Is Needed!

I'm in the middle of sewing up my Vintage Vogue 8789, the chevron-ed bodice version. In my inspiration sketch, I had originally written that I wanted a circle skirt, but I'm kind of just not feeling it. So here are my new options, and I can't decide which to go with!

If you can read my terrible iPad handwriting.

Here's an example of a real Horrockses dress with horizontal stripes in the skirt:

Plenty more like this here.

This is the pattern envelope illustration, which has the vertical stripes:

From here. I'm making the one on the left, obviously.

And here's my inspiration for the double-chevron look (I don't want to just steal her photo for my blog, so please go look at her fabulous dress). Dapper Duds' choice of fabric+pattern is just awesome! I'm concerned about all the bias, though, as I want to wear this to a wedding on Saturday and don't know if that's sufficient for the fabric to finish stretching. The horizontal stripes might be too widening, or is that just a fashion urban legend? And the vertical stripes are just so expected. So there are my arguments. In case you need to see what my actual fabric looks like, and not just my doodles, here:

Quick and horribly green-tinted photo of the bodice so far. I am so sad that the darts cut off the nice stripes! :(

What do you all think? How should I arrange the stripes on the skirt?

Walnut is of the opinion that I should just leave the rest of the fabric out for him to play in.

I Promise, Sewing Has Been Happening

It's not just been all making up ridiculous blog awards and drawing on the iPad here, it's just that the sewing I've done hasn't been photographable yet. The pair of bodies was coming along swimmingly (if somewhat tediously -- all those boning channels!) until I discovered that I was three bones short. And hardware stores aren't open round the clock, so I had to wait to get more cable ties. Also, does anyone else find it awesome that there are bones in my pair of bodies? I love sewing terminology!

I've also been working on my Easter dress, which I'm not even sure it will be warm enough to wear on Sunday, as I will be going back to The City for my brother's baptism. And everyone knows that, as Mark Twain never actually said, the coldest winter is a summer in San Francisco. What that makes April in SF, I don't know, but let's just say that my Easter dress is a flimsy little unlined cotton thing. But! It has sleeves! Of sorts. And it's got a slim skirt! So there you have it, at least it's not a repeat of every other dress I've made, ever.

Speaking of which, a hearty thanks to all of you who had such nice things to say about my failed Peggy dress, and who encouraged me to go on making the same type of dress if that's what suits my figure best. I'm still not sure what I think, as there's a tiny niggling voice in the back of my head that says if I'm not moving on to trousers and coats in silk and wool, I'm not progressing as a seamstress. If only the thrift stores here in The City of Culver City sold bedsheets made of more challenging and sumptuous fabrics, and not just cotton-poly blends! I do have one piece of very nice thrifted wool yardage, but it's just too daunting to think about just yet -- the pre-steaming, the thick seams, the fact that I would have to use a suitably nice lining and not just muslin, the unlikelihood of ever thrifting more if I mess up, and oh, that it's going to be summer soon? It's so much easier to just sew up fun sundresses that average $5 apiece. Tanit-Isis was right, this is the absolute worst time of year to be swearing off sleeveless sundresses.

Please excuse my prattling. Here, have some pictures of animals behaving cutely instead (courtesy of our trip to the SD zoo for spring break):

Polar bear butt! *snicker* It's swimming with a bone!

Elephants hanging out in an awfully futuristic-looking enclosure. It looks like a Planet of the Elephants movie or something.

But if you zoom in, it turns out that the elephant on the left is actually telling a hilarious joke to the other elephant,
who is not amused at all.

Or maybe the elephant was just reciting some of Ogden Nash's ridiculously clever poetry about other zoo animals:

The Lion 
Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness. 

The Panther
The panther is like a leopard,
Except it hasn't been peppered.
Should you behold a panther crouch,
Prepare to say Ouch.
Better yet, if called by a panther,
Don't anther.

And lest you think I am too felid-obsessed:

The Praying Mantis
From whence arrived the praying mantis?
From outer space, or lost Atlantis?
I glimpse the grim, green metal mug
That masks this pseudo-saintly bug,
Orthopterous, also carnivorous,
And faintly whisper, Lord deliver us. 


I do love me some cleverly rhymed poems.

Chiffon Nightmares

I've been working on a super-secret project (probably the hugest I've ever tackled!) involving chiffon, and let me just say...I take back everything I ever said about interminable circle skirt hems. I will take sewing twice and ironing thrice any day over the what-feels-like-miles of rolled hem in this dress. I swear, last night I went to sleep and dreamed about doing rolled hems. And they were not good dreams.

I'm getting flashbacks just looking at this.

While I'm thrilled to have discovered that my machine came with a rolled hem foot (I can't even imagine trying this dress without one!), I've also discovered that (at least for me) the learning curve is pretty steep when it comes to using it successfully with chiffon. Of course, it probably doesn't help that for my first chiffon project, I chose (more like, I could afford) a cheap polyester crinkly chiffon in black. So let's just get this straight: I can't press it (can we start a petition to ban fabrics that can't hold a pressed crease, but can hold a wrinkle forever?), it's slippery as the dickens (are the dickens even slippery?), it's pre-crinkled so it's impossible to straighten out, and I can't see the thread I just sewed in it so that I can pick it out. Brilliant choice!

Anyway, for your amusement and scorn, have a look at my horrendous rolled hem. One day, future-Dreamstress-blogger is going to look at this and comment on how this sad home seamstress didn't know what she was doing. Please don't laugh too hard.

None of the tutorials I found say anything about how to hem a pointy bit in chiffon.

But in the grand scheme of things, it's not going to matter because the dress as a whole (when you're not staring up close at my hems!) is fantastic! I can't wait to show you!

Meet My Little UFO

Ages ago (probably after yet another crazy bedsheet creation), my husband commented that I didn't seem to have any normal me-made dresses...you know, like the ubiquitous LBD that every woman's supposed to have in her closet. Well. I guess I'm not a woman, then! Indignition aside, he had a point. So last December, after a spate of easy make-in-my-sleep dresses that involved a darted or princess seamed bodice with a boat neck and low back and gathered skirt, I decided it was time to move up the sewing ladder and tackle a very different style of bodice: enter my very first Vogue pattern, 1042. The envelope picture almost turned me off, but I looked past the plaid to the line art and was bewitched. With its bra-cup like top and scooped neckline and wide shoulders, I thought it would be a nice challenge. The fact that it was only $2 at F&S didn't hurt either. I would use all stash fabrics, and thereby free up some space as well while I whipped this up.

What you may not be able to tell here is that the whole thing is an inch
too high because of the short straps. Also, there's a centimeter gap between
the neckline and my skin.

Friends, I was grossly unprepared. Part of it was my own fault; I didn't bother making a muslin despite all the reviews of the pattern that had ominous labels like "Did Not Work for Me" and "Recommend, But With Modifications." I think I was just on a no-muslins-necessary high since the last several things I made had worked out with modifications on the fly. I knew that it was a very low-cut pattern, and that the distance between the cups was waaaay to big, but even though I made adjustments on paper before cutting out the fabric, it wasn't enough. After a good 15+ hours of working on the bodice, I was ready to cry. The cups were too big and far apart, there was serious gaping whenever I leaned over, where the cups attached to the rest of the bodice was too wrinkly, the straps were much too short, and yet for some reason I had gone ahead and lined and topstitched the whole thing (?!?), so I threw it into my UFO pile. Actually, it was what started the UFO pile (and until the horrible failed fancy mannequin cover dress, it was the only thing in the UFO pile). Up until then, I'd been proud of myself for being so good about not having UFOs, mostly because once my obsessive brain starts on something, it's like that bulldog with a death grip on White Fang's throat; I can't stop thinking about it until I finish it. Except that in this case, I was totally sick of staring at that bodice and wondering WHY ISN'T IT WHAT I ENVISIONED. So there it was, taunting me, until Shayna visited and declared that it was worth saving. If Shayna believes in something, I'm willing to give it a chance.

I don't know if it looks very different from before, but it felt tons better.
Also, ignore the spots on my bathroom mirror.

I unpicked my topstitching (trying to unpick black thread from a black plush fabric FILLED ME WITH ANGER) and moved the shoulder pieces in so that the cups were smaller, then added a really obvious dart (DOES IT EVEN DESERVE TO BE CALLED A DART, IT'S SO UGLY) in the front between the cups. I cut open the shoulder straps and pieced in a little trapezoid in each, but then got lazy and didn't bother with the lining. SO SUE ME. Only thing is, now that I have some distance from it, it's going to bother me and I might have to go back and fix it one day. I didn't bother couldn't fix the wrinkles in the cups and midriff, but I decided to let it slide. Then the holidays rolled around and we left for San Francisco, so I threw it back into its Pile of One. When we got back, I had those delicious Star Wars sheets to play with, and then I got all into the new Sew Weekly Challenges, so it continued languishing.

Finally, Mena's call to finish UFOs helped me muster the courage to look at this Bodice From Halifax. The mental distance had helped; I was able to look past its flaws and decide that if the skirt was in-your-face enough, nobody would be paying attention to the wrinkles in the bodice. Hopefully. Using these pictures of vintage 1950s dresses on Etsy as inspiration, I purchased three yards of tulle, gathered it, and added a vaguely-half-circle-skirt lining squeezed out of the remainders from my capelet. Once I attached the skirt and added a flashy, unnecessarily huge gold zipper for good measure, I decided that while it wasn't perfect, it would do, pig, it would do. Stay tuned for the reveal of my UFO!

Before I decided on a black tulle skirt, I toyed with the idea of doing a red skirt. I took a picture to see what it would look like, and when I saw it on my computer screen I suddenly realized what was wrong with it: my high school chamber choir dress was a black velvet bodice with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves with a long red skirt. Urrgh. Friends, I just barely escaped remaking my choir dress. That was too close a call for comfort.