Sweater weather

No one who lives in New England will be surprised to hear that it was 12 degrees when I got my son off to the bus stop this morning (that's minus 11 Celsius). While spring sewing has been happening, it's hard to get in the mood to put it on display. I did a little photo shoot yesterday of a sleeveless top from the Shape Shape book, in a Liberty print no less, but I look so pallid, goose-bumpy, and tight-shouldered in the photos that I can't bring myself to post them. Not to mention cranky and petulant.

I have an idea! I'll take this opportunity to look back at some of my knitting, in the hope that this will remind me why I like living in a place that has real winters. My dear grandmother taught me how to knit when I was quite young. We alternated these lessons with exercising in front of the TV along with Jack LaLanne.

The knitting didn't take right away, but decades later I felt the urge to get back to it and I've enjoyed it sporadically ever since. (It's pretty much the same story for exercising, come to think of it!)



Here's a complete success of a sweater that I knit for my son in 2010. It's in Rowan Lima, the softest yarn ever. Of course the son kept growing, so we need someone to hand this down to.

When I sew for myself, I gravitate toward blue, black, and gray, but apparently that is not true of my knitting:

There's a fourth purple one, but I think this makes the point. What does it mean? Why would I be more adventurous with color when knitting than when sewing, even though everything takes me ten times as long to make? Will have to ponder this . . .

The sweater that took me the longest to knit is my husband's Seahorse, from the book Rowan Denim by Kim Hargreaves. Yikes, this would have taken forever even if I hadn't messed up the pattern and had to reknit most of the back.

Though I'm far more interested in sewing these days, I do enjoy knitting, and I have a glorious yarn stash to work through. And I just know that if I turn my attention to a knitting project right about now, the general perversity of the universe will make spring come along posthaste. So I'm going to do it! For anyone who wants to see more, my Ravelry name is pittypat; new friends are of course welcome.

A black dress for spring

But first, let's get the obligatory winter photo out of the way, shall we.

I'm just grateful that, during this winter when my husband has connived to work long hours during practically every snowstorm, our son is old enough to handle the tractor himself and clear that snow. Our driveway is very long, and with luck I won't be out there again until said son leaves for college.

Spring will come eventually and I plan to be ready for it. The cozy, warm fabrics in my stash will just have to wait until next year at this point, because I've gotten wise to how it works: sewing the way I sew (slowly) for how I feel right now (cold) will only lead to poor sartorial timing.





However . . . this warm-weather dress was so quick and easy that it is done way ahead of time. Which is as it should be, since it's Very Easy Vogue 8985. I have somehow lost track of the envelope, but here's a link to the Vogue website. I see from the pattern stats on Pattern Review that this is not one of the more popular of the recent Vogue releases, but I had to get it because version B, the dress with sleeve bands, reminds me of a favorite navy silk dress I used to wear in the 1980s. Hmmm, perhaps that is where the problem lies . . .


The instructions are full of little mistakes. No mention of buttons in the list of notions, reference to nonexistent notches, steps like "Press under 5/8 inch on unnotched edge of sleeve band. Trim pressed edge to 5/8 inch." Not at all a big deal, but it seems a little sloppy. Do they want to hire me to proofread for them?

The pattern comes in sizes XS to XXL. I used the bodice length of the medium size but cut a small everywhere else, and there is clearly still plenty of room in there. If I make this again some day, I'll taper in at the waist for more definition. I thought it would work because the elastic is up around the ribcage, which happens to be my smallest part, but I'm afraid this dress does have some of that dreaded pillow-with-a-string-tied-around-the-middle look. I still like it well enough.

Oh, wait, that's a little low for bending over. I'll be right back.

Here's a grainy photo that shows the details better. It does have pockets! I forgot to put my hands in them for the photos.









In two days I'm off to Seattle and then California to help my mother celebrate a significant birthday. My next photos should be from foggy but lovely Monterey Bay.

That Manequim top

Some months ago I mentioned that my sewing plans included making up #266 from the May 2013 issue of the Brazilian magazine Manequim. I finally did it. The top is a drapy pullover V-neck with lots of details that I liked, and some that I wasn't so crazy about: my version has no epaulets with "spikes."

The muslin I made last summer was not promising. (Rant appears here, in case you are interested.) Basically, the muslin revealed my misunderstanding of how Manequim works. I had assumed that, as in Burda, the clothes shown in the photos were actually sewn from the included patterns. Instead, Manequim's photos feature ready-to-wear clothes (clearly labeled with manufacturer and price, by the way), and patterns have then been drafted that are more or less similar to the RTW. In this case, it was less similar . . . though Melissa of Fehr Trade, who has much more experience with Manequim than I do, seems not to have had this issue, so I may have just been unlucky. The main problem was that the V-neck was quite a bit smaller than in the original:

Once I got over my surprise, this was an easy fix. I recut the pattern pieces so that the neckline was a little wider and considerably deeper. I also tapered the side seams in, from nothing at the underarm to a total of 4 inches at the hem, so I can wear it out sometimes, as opposed to tucked in, without looking like I'm swimming in it.

It's worth noting that this is a size 40, two full sizes down from what my measurements call for according to Manequim (not the same as Burda sizes). Like many Manequim patterns, this one comes in only one size. Looking at the photo below, I think it's too wide through my shoulders even so. I know this top is meant to be a loose-fitting style, but it would be beyond loose on someone who normally wears a 40.

This top needs a very drapey fabric. The version in the magazine was made from microfiber, and my first thought was to use silk, as I so often do. In the end, though, I thought it was a good use for a length of peachskin I had picked up at a Pattern Review swap several months ago. Maybe everyone else knows what peachskin is? I didn't. It's a drapey polyester fabric with a brushed finish that makes it feel somewhat like suede. I generally prefer sewing with natural fibers, but this was a pleasure to sew with and feels good.

Pattern review is here.

A note for TV watchers:

My husband and I obsessively watched the first season of a French TV series recently. The Returned (Les Revenants, in the original) involves dead people who start showing up, alive and well, in a beautiful alpine town . . . but it's not just another zombie show. The series has subtitles, lots of interconnected characters, and a delightfully eerie, creepy feel that reminds me a little of Twin Peaks.

A serendipitous pocket

Well, in truth, it's not the pocket itself that is serendipitous. In fact, this pocket is not going to be particularly useful for anything now that I'm done making it.

But it happens that the goals I listed in my last post included mention of welt pockets as a technique that has left me confounded. And then, ta-da, Carolyn of Handmade by Carolyn posted a very clear and detailed tutorial on double-welt pockets. What made her explanation work for me where others have failed is not only her detailed step-by-step approach with photos but also her description of where you have to be precise and just how precise you have to be.

Mine is not perfect—the sides are just a bit off vertical, and the upper and lower welts overlap a little at the ends—but it pleases me no end. I do need to figure out how to make a skinnier button loop without having my machine eat it as I sew. (I have a couple of ideas on that: get a throat plate with a smaller hole, and start with a wider bias strip so that the feed dogs on at least one side have something to grab onto.)

So now I have a pocket on a patch.

An entertainment note:
Along the lines of my earlier plug for GeoGuessr, which I still think is one of the best online games ever, take a look at Kern Type. The instructions read, "Your mission is simple: achieve pleasant and readable text by distributing the space between letters." Tell me I'm not the only one who finds this addictive, please!

Goals for 2014 and a skirt from 1999

Poor blog, left to languish all through November and December. I have in fact been sewing, just not posting. There are a few things to show once I manage a photo session or two. In the meantime, I've been thinking about my sewing goals for 2014.

Some of the goals are kind of general:

-Improve my technique. This is a perennial goal, and I am slowly improving, but I could work a little harder on this. How about zippers, invisible and otherwise? Why do they still make me nervous? If I just buckle down and do a whole bunch of them, surely they will lose their scary power. Welt pockets? I tried to follow instructions for them once and had a hard time -- but I've done a lot harder things in my life, time to try again.

-Sew more to my personal style. My usual scattershot approach -- what a great fabric, oooh this pattern looks interesting -- too often leads to a kind of mishmash of garments that can't be worn with anything else and don't even look like me. I'd like to be more thoughtful about making clothes that will fit well into my closet and that I will pull out to wear because they just feel right.

-But at the same time that I'm being more thoughtful about my choices, I'd like to sometimes have more fun sewing. Experiment more, let loose, try lots of things knowing that some of them won't work and not worrying about it too much. It's just fabric, and time. For example, I've had the Pattern Magic books for over a year now and haven't tried anything. What have I got to lose? It might be fun.

So all of the above are things I have worked on and will keep working on. But there are two areas in particular that I want to focus on this year, ones that I think are essential in order to improve my (sewing) life, not to be overly dramatic about it.

-Get more comfortable with blogging, which is to say, get more comfortable with taking and looking at photos of myself. I love the fact that there is this sewing community out there and I want to be a part of it. I am inspired and uplifted by the blog posts I read and the interactions I see. Aargh, why let silly self-consciousness get in the way?

-Learn how to fit my clothes better. I so often find that the fit of what I sew is off; my body is no longer the youthful, out-of-the-envelope shape that I like to think it once was. It's time to learn what needs to be done. Somehow this has stymied me, with all the different approaches out there. I have bought the Craftsy class Fast-Track Fitting with Joi Mahon and will start that soon. The book Fitting and Pattern Alteration is in my library; my first glances at it have left me with more questions than answers, but I will make a project of working through it this year. I would welcome some hands-on help, but I haven't found anything closer than Boston, and driving down there regularly will have to wait until winter ends.

In the meantime, to get some photos into this post, I've found some old pictures of an even older Burda skirt pattern I've made up twice. Yeah, it's from 1999. I loooooove this pattern. Here is my review of it from a few years ago. It has a nonbulky, no-waistband waist, and the O shape, as Burda calls it, works for me.






I may yet turn this into a TNT by making it up in some of the many skirt-suitable fabrics in my stash. The shape is even more outdated now than when I first made it, but by my reckoning it's due to come around again as a trend any time now. And then I'll be ahead of the game, right?

Fun things to do in the northeastern U.S.:
Quick, go see the exhibit Future Beauty: Avant-Garde Japanese Fashion before it closes on January 26. It's at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Mass. Really, it's very interesting, and much more extensive than I expected. No photography was allowed, sadly, so I can't show you anything here. Some of the clothes are just plain . . . weird. But some of them feel like epiphanies. The very best part is that there is a rack of clothes by various designers for museum visitors to try on.

Happy new year to all!

Ratty old sweatshirt redux

I try to look decent when I'm out and about, but once I'm in the house, comfort trumps all. My usual at-home uniform consists of yoga pants worn with a favorite tank top, T-shirt, sweatshirt, or sweater, depending on the temperature. Sadly, my go-to sweatshirt is nearing the end of its life. It is still wearable (just), so instead of taking it apart to make a copy, I rubbed off the pattern pieces. Ta-da! I have reproduced the favorite sweatshirt in all its baggy, threadbare, drop-shouldered glory. Okay, not threadbare yet, but it will get there; I have been wearing it for three days in a row now.

To attach the bands, I followed the method described here by Jorth. My neckband sits differently because I wanted the grain on it to run opposite that on the body of the shirt. The fabric (a French terry from Fabric Mart) has very little stretch on the cross grain, so the neckband stands up rather than lies down against my neck. I basted first just to see, but turns out I like it better this way.

I stabilized the shoulder seams with silk organza selvedge to help this top keep its shape. And if the overall shape is a little less than flattering . . . well, so was that of the original.

Audio files: One of my favorite podcasts to listen to while sewing is Slate's Culture Gabfest. Here I go now to listen to the latest one.

A task to gladden a Virgo's heart

Thread tracing!


Look closely to see the chartreuse stitches around the edge of the pattern piece.

This is not the machine tracing that is sometimes done on a muslin, but hand thread tracing that you do right on the fashion fabric to mark stitching lines and grain lines, as described in Part 2 of the Little French Jacket Sew-along. (An explanation of the distinction between the two types of thread tracing by Coudremode helped remove my little bit of confusion about it.)

Performing this step in the construction of the jacket definitely checked off some of my boxes. Come up with an excuse to buy gorgeous silk thread in several bright colors (check!). Learn a sewing skill whose existence had not even occurred to me before (check!). Get to hang out downstairs with my husband and son, and a glass of wine, while making progress on a sewing project (check!).




The pattern I'm using is Burda magazine 02-2013-107, a Chanel-type jacket with a V-neck and a curved hemline.







My fabric is a wool tweed bouclé from Gorgeous Fabrics: black with plenty of blue and gray and some flecks of off-white, green, and ochre. Very soft and pretty, not nearly as "carpet looking" as it somehow comes across in the photographs.

I'm very much enjoying this sew-along. Next up is quilting the lining to the fashion fabric, another new-to-me skill.



A reminder about roasted vegetables, so good at this time of year, at least for those of us in the colder parts of the northern hemisphere: Cut up some of your favorites (here, it's sweet potatoes and turnips, soon to be joined by chunks of onion and celery), douse with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and any herbs you like, and roast in a hot oven until caramelized and delicious.

How's that for getting some color into this otherwise monochromatic post?