Word on the street is that we won’t get many crabs this year, but my neighbor was able to share these beauties with me.
I am going to Disney with my family in a few weeks, and I asked my very talented friend, Katie, if she would make me an across-the-body purse. I have two already, but they are deeper than wide, and I wanted wider than deep. I hate digging for stuff. I don’t carry a lot in my purse, but I hate digging for it.
She asked the usual questions – size, color, features. I gave her the size wanted and the features that I would like to have. The fabrics were completely up to her.
I love her aesthetic. She and I both work as instructional designers, and her training videos are always clever, to the point, and lovely. And everyone likes taking her courses.
Her purse and bag designs are wonderful. She had that coveted ability to put color, pattern and texture together in a way that no one else would consider but you know is exactly right.
This is the bag that she made for me, and, no – the pictures don’t do it justice:
Jealous? Don’t be – Katie has an Etsy store: Redgate Ave. Get the bag that fits you. Because you can’t have mine.
I have tried Burda, Vogue, Simplicity, and making a self-drafted pattern. Nothing fit, and I was beating myself up trying to give myself more room here while taking other areas in. I felt like I would never be able to sew a pair of pants for myself.
I am petite and curvy, especially in my rear. My hips aren’t wide, but my butt does do back a ways. Plus, my waist is proportionally small to my hips. That just spells trouble for fitting pants.
Tasia designed Thurlow (and most of her pattern line) to fit pear-shaped women. When I took the pattern out of the envelope, it looked like all of the other pants patterns that didn’t work. EXCEPT it has an extension built into the back seam up to the waist. I think this may be the secret. I’m not sure, and I don’t care. With a few adjustments and damned little effort, they freakin’ fit.
I made a muslin like a good little sewer and decided to increase the crotch depth by half an inch on the front and the back.
The waist of the muslin was very tight even though I cut a size 6 in that area, so I decided to cut the front pieces a size 10 and the back a size 8. (No, really, the waist was really small on the muslin. I have a tummy.)
I sort of tried to match the patchwork across the pattern pieces, but I didn’t worry overmuch if things were a little off. This fabric is so busy, no one will notice. Including me.
Here is the end result:
I don’t normally tie my shirt up like that, but I wanted you to see the whole piece.
Here is my favorite part:
The waistband barely dips when I sit down. How cool is that!
Truth be told, this pair of shorts is a little large. I think lengthening the crotch solved a couple of fitting issues and gave me more room than I planned on. I’m still gonna wear the bejeezus out of them.
This pattern and these shorts are better than a basket of puppies.
Every creator / designer / maker of things has a project that makes us feel like an amateur. We question our so-called abilities and how we ever thought we could call ourselves a creator / designer / maker of things.
And then we think of our teacher, family, and friends who encouraged us to develop our craft – were they patronizing us?
I had such a project, also known as a wadder.
This is Burda 112.04.2013. The fabric is a cotton sateen from Mood. And the two simply don’t go together.
Did I make a muslin and test the garment first to make sure it was even right for my figure? No.
Did I consider the weight and drape of the fabric when I made my decision to use it for this dress instead something more simple, like a pant pattern? No.
Did I completely make up a fantasy image of myself (with auburn hair) in a lovely dress that reality would not produce? Oh, yeah.
This should not have happened. I’m not a beginner, and this is not a difficult dress. I know that I can only have so many pleats and folds on my body before things look frumpy. I know that the thicker a fabric is in my fist, the heavier I will look once it’s on my body. So many times, we want The Dress. I’m human – I wanted This Dress and this fabric, and I went into this project without using any of my experience to even pause and consider alternative fabrics, patterns, or even go slowly so that I wouldn’t waste time, energy and fabric. Well, rats.
I will make this dress, and the fabric will be much thinner. I will make a muslin so that it will fit properly. And I now know which of Burda’s steps to ignore. And I will look devastating.
I love looking at other people’s work spaces, especially sewing spaces. I’m very sure that all of that organization will one day rub off on me.
Perhaps some of it has. Or I’ve decided to stop living vicariously through others. A few weeks ago, I asked my husband to build me a cutting/ironing table, on casters. The room is small – the table really needed to be moveable. After he finished it, I knew that I needed to spruce up the space. So, here it ’tis ….
First, a panoramic view. This is taken from the doorway into the room, a doorway which is in the middle of the freakin’ wall. Makes the wall almost useless except for holding up the roof. But I digress … Onward -
This is the larger of two bedrooms upstairs. It has a small closet that has not been organized yet, and plenty of outlets for my electrified toys, er, tools.
Come in the door, and turn to the left. The cabinet holds sewing supplies. The containers are not nice enough to have on display. On the table are my serger and sewing machine (duh, right?), both Janome. It’s the brand that I liked at the time that I bought them, and they are wonderful machines. I keep (lots) of yarn in the boxes on the shelves.
I love my Kindle, but all of my references are, and will always be, physical books. And there’s not a better bookshelf than these from Ikea.
The table built by my better half. It’s perfect: 3′ x 6′ with a shelf for rolls of fabric underneath. The top has bolts under the padding that I can undo quickly to change the cover when it’s a mess of water stains and Sharpie marks. And finally …
The door in the middle of the damned wall. A door belongs on one end of the wall or the other – it’s a pain to deal with the wall otherwise. To mitigate the annoyance, I have pegboards to keep often-used tools where I can grab them quickly. Although, when the door is open, it covers up the pegboard on the left. Sigh.
So, that’s the tour. Hope you enjoyed it. Come back again – things change often!
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I’m making a pair of socks, but I forgot to turn the heel.
I’m making a button-up blouse, and I’ve had to attach the collar three times. Grrr.
I’m making the most comfortable shirt in the world, and I made a slash in the middle of the sleeve. Kill me now.
But all is not lost. Everything is fixable. I’ll rip the sock back and turn the heel. I’ll pin the collar on then baste it before stitching it permanently. I have enough fabric to cut another sleeve.
I still feel like an idiot.
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