Take That, Jeb Bush!

It's not Asian Pacific American Heritage Month until May, but indulge me here and allow me to get on my soapbox for a spell.

Right before we moved away from TCOCC, I was on a roll with Historical Sew Fortnightly challenges. I was only working part time, I lived near the LA Fabric District and FIDM and its inspirational garments, and I had plenty of creative energy. I was actually in the middle of making my rich lady pirate ensemble (completed the coat, waistcoat, and shirt, still need to make pants and a cravat) when we moved, but then I started working full time again and then we were house-hunting and then I got pregnant and then I had SHB...and now here I am two years later, finally getting back into things. The HSF has turned into the Historical Sew Monthly, which is definitely an easier time frame, and I've been stewing this idea in my mind for almost a year -- plenty of time to do research and more research and then some thinking and wait, better do a little more research just in case!

What made me decide to finally take the plunge and get to sewing? Well, I'd already been thinking about sinking my teeth into a non-knit project, but then Jeb Bush went and lit a fire under my tail with his comments about "anchor babies" and Asian-Americans. While I have been fortunate to grow up in San Francisco and attend public schools with large APA populations (unlike many APAs, I have never had to be "the Asian kid"), I have definitely experienced my share of othering statements like "No, where are you really from?" and "Wow, your English is so good!" I've sat through more stories of that-one-time-I-went-to-an-Asian-country-you-look-Asian-so-you-probably-want-to-hear-about-it than I care to remember, and when it's time to play the what-celebrity-do-you-look-like-most game, most people would probably just default to Lucy Liu because she's the only really well-known Asian-American actress (although there was also Anna May Wong in the 1930s!).

Just yesterday Mr. Cation and I tried to think if there were any Asian-American superheroes (and not just the one-dimensional Asian Sexy Dragon Lady/Ninja/Bruce Lee Type tropes), and all we came up with were B-list heroes like Jubilee, Wind Dragon, and Dana Tan (who is not even a superhero, just a superhero's girlfriend). Granted, we're only semi-into superheroes, but that's still pretty sad. While I love that there are more APAs in diverse fields now (instead of the stereotypical STEM fields, we've got Margaret Cho, Elaine Chao, and Jeremy Lin!), there aren't many APAs who are just cool. Okay, I guess Jeremy Lin is cool if you're a teenage boy, but I mean cool like "full of thrilling heroics," not "I can put a ball through a hoop."

Source

So when I came across the mention of Hazel Ying Lee in this random HuffPo article about famous Chinese-Americans, I was intrigued. An APA aviatrix? Who served as a WASP in WWII?! How have I never heard of her before? Especially when she has the same name as my mom! Okay, that doesn't make us related or anything, but I'm still going to claim her and others who served our country (heeeeey look, this other aviatrix has the same name as my aunt!) as part of my Chinese-American heritage.  All this to say, I made some old-timey aviatrix jodhpurs.

And now, without the belt and boots so that you can see the waist and lacings better. In bare feet, I felt like some kind of weird hobbit-pilot. 

A close-up of the waist. I'm really pleased at how neatly it all came together!

This might be the nicest facing job I've ever done. 

And a look at the lacing on the outseam. 

The inside. I didn't finish my seam allowances, but that was somewhat common at the time so I feel okay about it. 

I looked at many, many extant garments from the 1920s-1940s, and since I've never felt tied to strict historical accuracy, I boiled it all down to just a few must-haves to really get the idea across: military color (either tan, brown, olive, or dark green), side openings with buttons, buttons or laces at the outside of the knee, and that patched-on reinforcement on the inside of the leg. I didn't have a pattern and didn't want to just use this cheater method, so I went uber-historical and drafted my own pattern following these original 1912 instructions, with additional help from this 1908 drafting book for clarification. That's a couple decades earlier than my aimed-for 1930s look, but I was hoping that maybe jodhpurs were one of those garments that hadn't changed too much. Here's what my original draft looked like:

Yes, I do my drafts on the back of wrapping paper.
It's cheap and large, and it's already got those handy 1" grids printed on the back! 

And after multiple fittings and modifications, here's what my final pattern looked like:

Except without the darts. 

A comparison of the original center back seam and my new center back seam. 

I ended up eliminating the darts and taking the difference out at the center front and back seams instead, because the darts just looked poofy and hideous on the stiff twill I used, and many extant garments (including Hazel Ying Lee's) don't feature any darts at all. Even so, the final garment is pretty unflattering to my modern eye. And if you're thinking that the above pictures looked fine, that's because you didn't see the back and side view...

Um. What. Can we say hello, excess fabric?

It's like I've got room below my butt for an extra butt. 

I realize that it's supposed to be baggier and roomier than modern pants, but looking at how some 1940s jodhpurs fit, I'm inclined to think that they did get at least a little sleeker between the two world wars. I desperately want to take out some of the extra fabric at the inseam, but it's faux flat-felled and there's that huge applique over it, so I'm just going to say this is a wearable muslin. Besides, if I keep it this way I can use it as the base for a wartime Lady Edith costume. I did end up purchasing this Folkwear costume pattern, based on a 1920s outfit from the Met, so maybe I'll give the slightly-more-modern jodhpurs a try in the future. Despite the unflattering bagginess, I'm actually pretty pleased with myself for actually making these. My brain definitely got a workout, what with the research and drafting and alterations! And of course, I couldn't resist pulling out my circa 2001 leather jacket for an even sillier non-HA aviatrix look.

Old-timey filter!

Anachronistic jacket and boots ftw! 

Summary:
The Challenge: Heirlooms and Heritage
Fabric: 2 yards of 54" wide poly-cotton forest green twill, fairly stiff and inclined to resist pressing, inherited from a friend's stash
Pattern: self-drafted, following original 1912 instructions, with modifications
Year: 1912, fudged into 1930s
Notions: Eight black 7/8" plastic buttons, 1" wide black petersham ribbon for the binding, black ribbon for the lacing
How historically accurate is it? I'm going to put it at 60%, since it's a real historical pattern, but from slightly earlier, and not strictly historical materials. I got as close as I could while sticking to stash, as I'm going for the look, since I'm trying not to spend money on this. Real jodhpurs from the 1930s seem to be mostly linen or wool, although there are a couple of cotton ones and this one is even a forest green twill! Four buttons for the waist seems to be standard, as is no yoke + facing + belt loops, but the button facings tend to be invisibly attached. The petersham binding should be replaced with twill tape, and the ribbon with actual lacing cord, per this very helpful examination of an extant pair.
Hours to complete: 12, but that's not including the research.
First worn: Just for pictures, and probably not for a long time, if ever. This was more a brain exercise project than anything, but maybe if they have a history day of sorts at school I could give it an outing? Although I'd have to make an aviator cap to go with it.
Total cost: $4 for the buttons, everything else was free from other people's stashes.
Netflix queue: Suitably enough, I watched Ken Burns' epic documentary The West while sewing this, which I heartily recommend not only for the sheer amount of information, but also because it touched on a little known part of Chinese-American history, the Chinese Exclusion Act. I know it can't compare to the long list of crimes committed against Native Americans, nor is it as awful as being enslaved for hundreds of years, but it's definitely one of those things that doesn't get covered enough in US History.
Final thoughts: While I didn't use any heirlooms, and these jodhpurs are only loosely part of my heritage, I think it's still fitting for this challenge. It inspired me to do a lot of research on a less well-known part of history and gave me a sense of pride in my APA identity. While I don't know that these costume jodhpurs will be passed on as an heirloom, I certainly hope that I can pass on that sense of pride in being Asian-American to SHB. I don't want him to grow up in a world that is suspicious of him because he might be an Other who's somehow "taking advantage" of the birthright citizenship amendment. Okay, I'm done politicizing!

And then I had a patriotism fail: I was trying to do one of those saluting poses like you see in the pin-up girl pictures from WWII, but I couldn't figure out why it looked so wrong. After some Googling, I realized I had actually done a "I'm shading my eyes while looking for someone" pose instead of a salute. *facepalm*

The Leonora Shorts

This is the face of someone you would inherently trust, a kindly grandma-type who probably knows all about sewing, someone you would never expect to lead you astray. Well, the previously-maligned Leonora is not to blame for all of my fit issues, but I can't help but think she could've at least warned me that I would be coming up with my own waistband and dart placement. That, and she should probably have drafted a less pointy back crotch piece. Anyway, in all likelihood it's probably my fault for not reading her 22-page booklet more carefully, so I'll stop blaming my problems on her and get back to my shorts. Here they are!

There are still some minor issues, like how it's a tapered leg and I didn't think to redraft the pattern to allow for turning up at the hem, so I had to do some creative maneuvering in order to get the hem to sit right. Even so, there are some minor puckers. If you see them, please don't point them out to me; I don't think I could bear it. There's also the ridiculously long and wide front fly, which has an extra flap of cloth haphazardly cut open and bound, because I managed to sew the facing to the zipper at first, thereby rendering it unusable. But it's pretty hard to argue with how ridiculously comfortable these shorts are, so I'm willing to forgive them their faults. Forgive it its faults? Are shorts singular or plural? I mean, they're/it's referred to as a pair of shorts, but as far as I'm concerned there's only one article of clothing being discussed...

I just checked...and it's still just one finished garment I'm wearing.

Back view. Ignore the weeds at my feet.

I'll wrap up by saying that I wasn't sure how to style these once I was done -- they're a bit long for the shorts+tights+boots look, and the material looks quite formal. Thankfully, Shayna came to the rescue and suggested that a white button-down (which I don't have, but could ostensibly make) might go nicely, or something pink. Well, I don't have pink either, but fortunately I was able to steal this sweater from my sister for pictures...it makes me think of River Tam. Time to make me a shirt like this gorgeous one.

I love when blind-stitching actually turns out invisible!
I also love how the seam binding looks against the suiting.

Summary:
Fabric: 1 yard remnant of very nice, buttery-soft suiting of unknown material, at $4.39 from Fabrix. There were four tears in the material and the stripes mean I couldn't place my pattern pieces any which way, so I had a hard time squeezing out these shorts.
Notions: Two hooks and eyes, a tiny metal snap, a 7" zipper, and seam binding. The waistband badly wanted some interfacing, but I don't have any here in SF and I keep forgetting to buy some.
Techniques: My very first zipper fly, as well as blind-catchstitching the hem.
Hours: A lot. Please don't make me go back and count. Okay fine, if you insist: probably close to 20. Yikes.
Will you make this again? You look so sweet, Leonora, but no, I will not be making your pants again. Does anyone want this pattern and the accompanying instruction booklet? I traced it so it's still intact! I reserve the right to keep the pattern envelope, though, as I want to frame it eventually.
Total cost: $7
Final thoughts: Not bad, for my second pair of shorts ever, but still not great. The quest for a good basic pants pattern continues. In the meantime, this pair will be good for those times when one needs to be vaguely formal, but still cool (temperature-wise, not socially speaking). Only thing is, I'm not really sure what such a situation might look like.

As the sun went down, we had to keep moving further down the hill to keep catching the light.
Good thing there are so many garage doors and fences for more or less neutral backgrounds around here!

And can I just say that I hate working with cheap lining? This prom dress is giving me the fits. What can I say, I was bewitched by a sale at Discount Fabrics.

This is happening all over my dress. At every seam. Hhhhnnnnhhgh.

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?

Leonora Knows

My husband and I went to the Treasure Island Flea this last weekend. I was all prepared to put into practice Liz's tips, but honestly, it was just kind of ho-hum and there wasn't much I found even worth asking about. It felt a little bit like Regretsy turned into a real live market, actually, with quite a few overpriced you-just-found-this-in-your-grandma's-garage-didn't-you type items. I was able to find this antique anatomy print for my sister, though:

It's her picture.

Afterwards, we continued our trip across the bridge and stopped in at the East Bay Depot for Creative Reuse, where I've previously found pretty decent vintage patterns. This time, I'm pretty sure that someone had recently gone through the piles already, because all that was left was 80s and 90s dropped-waist, shoulder-padded monstrosities. I did, however, pick up enough vintage seam binding to last for a while, as well as this questionable pants pattern:

I don't know anything about this pattern company, nor do there seem to be any examples online of people making pants from this pattern, but I had to get it because THIS:

Oh. My. Goodness. Does Leonora know, or does Leonora know???

So yeah, I bought a dubious pattern (granted, it was only $0.20), just because there was a cat behaving characteristically on the pattern envelope. I'm pretty sure that places me squarely in the crazy cat lady category. Anyway, if I find some suitable fabric for cheap, I might actually give this pattern a try, although I'm still not sure about this particular style. In the meantime, have more Walnut, taking advantage of the amazing weather and the west-facing windows at my parents' house.

Can't believe I caught him at this perfect moment while he was grooming himself!

Seriously, Mom? Pictures of me taking a bath? What am I, a small human being?

Also, thank you all for your wonderful comments about my maxi dress! I'm blushing profusely. And I promise, my next sewing project involves more than four seams.

High-Waisted Nautical Shorts

If I were a little more dedicated to awesome photos, I would've tried to figure out if I could sneak on board a yacht or something so that I could caption my picture "I'M ON A BOAT!"* But alas, I am not, so this will have to do.

I'M ON A PLAY STRUCTURE!

Blatantly ignoring the age recommendations! (And yes, that is a tiny, functional spyglass I'm looking through.)

Too loose over that dip, and not quite fitted through the thigh.

As you can see, I've finished my high-waisted, vaguely retro, nautical-only-in-that-the-buttons-have-anchors-on-them, wearable muslin shorts! The striped top I tried to make to go with it was an utter and craptastic fail, so instead, I cut off the bottom of what used to be an extremely long (to the point of unwearability) RTW tee for a whole nautical outfit.

I started out with a McCall's 6266 pattern from 1978, but ended up modifying it a lot to get closer to the look I wanted. It was originally a size 8, which fit in the waist and nowhere else; I took out a couple inches in the back and added an inch in the front, brought in the inseam, increased the crotch depth, and errrr, unsteepened the curve of the crotch in the back. I am pretty impressed with how the pattern fits my swayback without any darts, and the changes were time-consuming (quality time with my seam ripper!), but not difficult. I'm still not pleased with the bagging under my butt; it looks like I'm going to have to check out the fish-eye dart adjustment that Liz mentioned. I also need to figure out how to correct the front crotch area -- it's too loose over the weird dip between my pelvis and bulging quads. The looseness there used to be a lot worse, but I could only correct so much without cutting and sewing up a whole new pair of shorts. The thigh area itself suffers a little from my indecisiveness regarding the style I wanted, as I couldn't decide if I wanted them super fitted, or flaring out a little like Justine's playsuit...so now they're this weird amalgam of questionable flattering-ness.

The shorts as originally shown in the pattern are very short, so with all the added length they sort of turned into this vast expanse of dark blue. I felt like it needed something to add interest, so I sewed on two tabs and some gold buttons. The back, however, is plain, except for the unfortunately visible centered zipper. Tabs on the back don't seem to make much sense, though, so I'm just leaving it as is. Honestly, I don't have to look at it, so I'm not especially bothered by it.

The one side is ultra-wrinkly because of the way I'm standing.

The waistband piece in the pattern was really just a long rectangle, but this results in gaping both in front and back, so if I were to make this again I'd probably try to draft a curved waistband. It's not too bad, though, and the back gaping isn't anywhere near as bad as the gaping I typically get with RTW low-waisted pants, so I'm willing to let it slide this time. I must say, it's remarkable not having to worry when I bend over or sit down! As for the cuffs, they took some spatial reasoning at night while I was supposed to be sleeping, trying to figure out how to attach them so that my pinked seams wouldn't show. I still need to tack them down, but I like this look much better than just blind-hemming them.

I'm on an elephant!! Check out the relatively small gape at the back...I would never climb on play structures in my usual pants because of the low waistbands. I totally get Steph of 3hourspast's whole thing about high waistbands now!

Side view.

Summary:
Fabric: About a yard of slightly stretchy 54" cotton twill for each muslin...thankfully, this fabric was $1/yard (and the same as my 1912 scalloped skirt!)
Notions: Fusible interfacing in the waistband, 7" zipper, hook and bar, four metal anchor buttons
Techniques: Making alterations to a pants pattern? There wasn't really any difficult sewing here, just difficult fitting.
Hours: At least seven, including the 1.5 hours spent on my first, unwearable muslin. That pair (sans zipper) has been relegated to cat bed status.
Will you make this again? Not shorts, but I do want to make pants again! Almost immediately after finishing this pair, I wanted to try making slim-fitting capris, but (thankfully?) I didn't have any other suitable bottom-weight fabric. I want to get some stretch denim and heavier stretch cotton twill, possibly in some blinding color like kelly green or coral. But first, I should probably perfect my pants block.
Total cost: About $6, but I don't remember how much the buttons cost, as I think they were in a bulk bag from a discount bin (but I have so many gold-colored nautical buttons I could be remembering wrong).
Final thoughts: I think for my first foray into pants-making, these aren't bad, but they're not great either. They're comfy and I'll wear them, but I can see that a good pants block will take some time. In the meantime, these were easy enough that they're a good confidence booster. I'm not convinced that high-waisted pants are the way to go for my body type, but since I like high-waisted dresses and skirts I thought I would just start here.

Can I pretend I'm hanging off of rigging?
I mean, I guess technically I am, it's just that the rigging is all of a foot off the ground.

I'm wearing red flippy-floppies wedgie-wodgies?

*I'm not usually a fan of songs with excessive explicit language, but Lonely Island is my weak spot...I don't know why I find their songs so hilarious. I mean, "This ain't my dad, this is a cell phone!?" That's brilliant.

Sewing Pants Is Easy

Don't you love how they're called smile and frown lines?

Sewing pants is easy...but fitting pants is a different story. Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting me to reveal a secret sewing tip that would suddenly make pants-sewing (or trouser-sewing, so that my UK readers don't giggle madly) miraculously simple? Because I don't have one. As far as I know, there's no pants foot that I can install or lever to engage on my machine that will suddenly make all my pants look awesome. I will say, though, that sewing pants that fit is theoretically possible given enough time and patience. How do I know? Because I've decided to face my sewing demon and actually try making pants. Okay, actually shorts, since they take less fabric, but same idea.

Rounded and full...I like their adjective choice.

The picture also seems to promise that if you make
these pants, your legs will suddenly be 1.5 times longer.

What made me suddenly decide that I could take on pants? Well, first off, I thrifted this McCall's 6266 "Carefree Patterns" pants pattern, circa 1978. I knew I wanted to start my pants journey with high-waisted sailor-esque shorts, and this looked simple (and high-waisted) enough for me -- not even a dart or fly front to be seen! I was also thrilled to open it up and find an extremely helpful and confidence boosting "Pants Fitting A B C's" insert that explained how to make the most common pants alterations.

Armed with this insert, I proceeded to cut out and sew my first muslin. I didn't take any pictures because it was so horribly laughable, but I'll just say that it somehow managed to be both smile-line city in front (indicating it was too tight) and ultra-baggy loose in the back. Also, in a fit of concern, I cut the waist way too big and ended up needing to take it back in. I ripped out the zipper (my only 7" dark blue one in my possession!) and proceeded to alter the heck out of my pattern pieces. My second pair of shorts only took an hour to sew up (hence, sewing pants is easy!), but another couple hours to alter (hello, seam ripper, you are my good friend) into public-wearability status. Even so, they've still got issues, but I'm going to leave it for now as a good-enough-for-now pair of shorts. I just need to add my sailor buttons and hem them and then they'll be totally finished.

Friends, I have been bitten by the pants bug. I am now bound and determined to make my own knock-off Clovers, possibly in denim, and possibly with a fly front. There, I'm declaring it publicly; please hold me to my promise.