Party in the Front, Mom Jeans in the Back

I thought I hated high-waisted pants. But now, after the third draft of my self-drafted Perfect Pants pattern (made using Kenneth King's method as outlined in the Craftsy "Jeanius" class, I realize that I do like 'em high — but only in the back:

Some would say that the above my high-in-the-back-but-low-in-the-front waistline is poor patternmaking, but I love how these pants fit more than anything. I can bend over without revealing my undies (or worse), and yet my front waistband rides low enough that it doesn't cut into my stomach when I sit down. In fact, I love these pants so much I wore them twice before I managed to get photos for the blog — something I avoid out of fear I will get food on them or otherwise ruin.  

I'm not one for cropped tops, so there's really no way to tell I've got a high-low waistline going on:

The last time I made this pattern I was disappointed; the front rise was too long, and though I loved my fabric and had sewn them really well, every time I put them on I'd get frustrated and change. A baggy crotch is a major deal-breaker.

So I reduced my front rise by an inch and half — and then added it to the back rise (I've learned the hard way that if you take out of the front, you must give to the back or else the end result will be butt-crack-city). I then had to reshape the waistline through the side seam, resulting in this high-low look. The result is the best-shaped pants I've owned. In fact, I didn't even mind doing the over-the-shoulder shot in these pants:

Oh, and that top? The Tiny Pocket Tank by Grainline in a lovely cotton-silk from Metro Textile in NYC's Garment District. The print, which I think looks like an Impressionist painting, has just about every color in it. 

My pattern has some tuxedo-pant-style detailing, which I find very flattering, even in this non-tuxedo-pant-style yellow, a (non-stretch) cotton I found in Mood's denim section: 

The tuxedo-pant detailing appears also in the inseam. I think I will omit that piecing in my next iteration of this pattern:

Any other high-low lovers out there? (I've noticed that some of my RTW pants have a similar cut, so maybe I am late to the high-low party!)

Optimism — It's What's On My Sewing Table This Week

 This week in New York City, where it still feels just like January, this is what passes for optimism:

Yellow fabric for Spring pants!

 I bought this pale yellow cotton from Mood NYC a few weeks back during the LLadybird meetup. It was in the denim section, though it's a little lighter weight than that. I love this color for a pair of cropped pants, made from the pattern I drafted using Kenneth King's Jeanius Craftsy class. It will be my third pair of pants from this pattern, which I have modified since my last pair, reducing the front rise (and adding to the back, because in patternmaking if thou takest away, though must also giveth lest thou dare exposeth one's buttcrack).

Checking the fit with one leg

It's been a while since I have sewn a zipper fly, so I consulted with my Kenneth King video to make sure I got it right on my first third try.

Likewise, it has been a while since I've sewn a welt, so I consulted this tutorial once again.

I am very curvy through the hip, so I do not mess around when it comes to waistbands. Mine is a four-piece curved waistband, reinforced with petersham (that idea came from David Page Coffin's trouser book):

I'm taking a break from finishing details (oh, how I hate sewing belt loops!) to do some stretch sewing, including mommy and me raglan Tees:

What's on your sewing table? Anything optimistic? (A bathing suit perhaps?) Or are you practical and sewing a parka for April?

Me Made Meh?

I'm not participating in Me Made May though I do respect the concept (and will probably steal some style ideas from your blogs throughout the month! Muahaha!).

I have enough me-mades to get me through a month. But I reckon it would be hubris for me to assume my taste is at a level that seeing what I wear every day is in some way inspiring. After all, check out my latest pants-in-progress...they might just be the most hideous pants you have ever seen:



Barf-colored, tie-dye-print stretch denim? What was I thinking? I am too far gone now to turn back, however. So finish these I will. And, I hope, at some point these pants will cross the threshold from awful into awesome. It could happen yet. (Couldn't it?):

I was inspired by Project Runway winner Michelle, who frequently makes use of the above color palette, and has a knack for making the putrid look pretty. Michelle is my middle name (truly, it is!), so hopefully I can pull this off without making everyone sick.

I am again using the pattern I drafted using Kenneth King's Craftsy.com "Jeanius" class, which I cannot recommend enough.

Anyway, back to Me Made May: even my successes are nothing much to write home about. Last week I sewed another version of Grainline's Tiny Pocket Tank, this time with a short button placket. It turned out beautifully and I have worn it three times already. But would anybody be impressed by this simple tank?

The other big reason I can't do Me Made May: the only person who could conceivably take pics of me everyday is four years old. And she chops my head off. Every. Time.

Are you doing Me Made May? Why? And do you enjoy reading others' daily outfit posts?

Blog Milestone!

Before yesterday, the closest I ever came to fame was starring in my highschool's musical in Grade 10. The musical was "Leader of the Pack," which is about the life of Ellie Greenwich, a famed songwriter from the '60s. I played Ellie Greenwich, which was a humbling experience (not humbling in the modern-day "I'm so humbled to be nominated for an Oscar" way, but the old-school, true meaning of the word: I lost a little more of my dignity every time I opened my mouth). 

I did sign a couple autographs during that week of shows. I hope they were all requested in earnest.

Anyway,  yesterday I was actually recognized by a reader at Mood in NYC's Garment District — which was also somewhat humbling because I was buying this hideous/amazing stretch cotton which I intend to turn into pants:

The yellowish tones in this actually read chartreuse in real life

 An Australian, Liz was in New York City just for a short time, but she seemed well-versed in the Garment District having been here many times before. She said she intended to go to the Museum of Natural History, but just had to do some swatching on the way (I'm super jealous of her fabrics; Liz clearly has great taste, so I think she was being ultra-gracious when she said she liked the puke-print I was purchasing).

I also bought this ultra-lightweight navy cotton printed with dots and deer:

I've been making and adjusting a few versions of Grainline's Tiny Pocket Tank, which I thought would be a good way to eat up some remnants and expand on my dismal summer wardrobe. I hemmed and hawed over buying it: I like the cut of it (the scoop neck, darts and hemline are all perfect), but it's so simple — I know I could draft it myself, probably in an hour. But at $6.50, I figured if I saved myself that hour of work, it would be worth it. (Surely my time is worth that?).

I think I may draft a button placket and use this deer and dot print cotton to make yet another version. I did only buy a yard (it was pricey! $20/yard). My daughter informed me it's see-through (with a really judgey look on her little face!). I'll have to learn how to layer.

And now I can hear her waking up....so that's it for today, friends. What has been your closest brush with fame?

Leopard Pants Re-do: Curved Waistband Edition

The jury (me) has made its decision: curved waistbands are a necessity when you've got a booty (and you aren't wearing a waistband at your actual waist). Witness my new-and-improved leopard(ish) print pants, made using a pattern I drafted from Kenneth King's amazing Craftsy.com "Jeanius" class.  The curved waistband pattern is actually from a pair of jeans I drafted a couple years ago in my advanced patternmaking class at FIT. Rather than draft a new one, I thought I would see whether this old waistband pattern would work. And miracle of miracles, it was a perfect match! (How happy am I that my body has not apparently changed much in the years since I first drafted the pattern? Except...the waistband pattern was actually drafted for non-stretch fabric, and these pants have stretch....so maybe I have grown? Let's not dwell on that, shall we.) The pants!  

While the pants don't appear much different than the original iteration, they feel much better. I wore them out for a full day of walking last weekend on the High Line with friends visiting from Winnipeg, and I didn't have to pull them up constantly like I did with the straight waistband. See how flat it lays across my lower back?

This waistband pattern is actually in four pieces, with side seams AND a center back seam. That way you can achieve a steeper curve without running across grainlines in such a way that you end with the bias stretching around your hip curve. That was my patternmaking teacher's preferred method. It's definitely my preferred method now too. Look at how curved my new waistband was compared to the previous one:

Contoured waistband (all four pieces sewn together)

Straight waistband, curved using heat and steam

Kenneth King, meanwhile, recommends a straight waistband, curved using steam and heat from your iron. I imagine this works quite well if you are a man, or a woman with less curve in your hips, lower back and butt. In his estimation, the straight waistband is superior because it doesn't cut across the bias, which could result in stretching and distortion. I think my patternmaking teacher's four-piece pattern makes more sense when you're dealing with a curvier body because you can achieve a different shape on the front and the back; after all, your curves may not be the same on both!

I used a woven, non-stretch facing this time, and fused both the top (self) and bottom (facing) pieces with a lightweight woven fusible. I also zigzag-stitched in a length of grosgrain, using steam to curve it, for extra stability. I didn't have petersham (which is like grosgrain, but wider), which is what David Coffin recommends using for stability in his trousers book. (I could not make sense of his instructions, by the way!). But I figured the grosgrain would at least hold the upper curve in place. Here's what it looked like on the inside before I sewed it to my pants:

David Coffin also advises to only fuse within the seam lines to avoid adding bulk. As you can see above, I did that too. Here's the outside of the waistband. You can see the zigzag stitching across the top curve:

After I could tell I was going to be satisfied with this waistband, I added belt loops, the final touch:

I'm super happy now with these pants, and my pattern (thank you, Kenneth King!). I plan on making another pair right quick. 

Oh, and did you notice I also made an adjustment to my chambray "I should have listened to Phyllis" blouse, which was sewn from Pattern Runway's Pussy Bow Blouse pattern:

Those are some DEEP darts, baby.

Recall the original, which was boxy as a big box (and kind cardboard-colored too, now that I think of it)!:

I made "fish eye" darts at a depth of 1.5 inches at my waist (much more than what wise Phyllis recommended!), extending all the way up to my shoulder and down nearly to the bottom of the blouse. The fit is much more flattering now. I look like a lady again:

I'm off now, to Mood, to find some fabric for a second pair of pants! Should I go printed again, or solid? What's on trend? (I guess Pinterest could tell me, but I am avoiding for my self esteem's sake).

Finished! Peg Bundy-style Leopardish Print Pants

I'm in a bit of a snit right now, mad at myself for not trusting my instinct to make a contoured waistband. Because I went ahead and followed Kenneth King's instructions for drafting and sewing a straight waistband (using steam and heat to create a curve), but it does not look good.

Now I am going to have to unpick the waistband for a second time (the first time I applied it, it looked terrible, so I redid it once already), which I'm really worried will end up distorting the top of the pants. These are the things that keep me up at night.

I took photos this morning because I am going to wear them tonight anyway. I'm going out for dinner with some friends to celebrate my birthday (which was April Fool's Day, no joke), and that nearly never happens, so I want to dress cool. (Peg Bundy was cool, right?):

I loved them paired with my burnished gold oxfords, to play up the menswear-inspired tuxedo pant details (which are kind of hard to see, but I know they're there and I love them). And in reality, the waistband doesn't matter all that much. I don't wear cropped shirts. No one will see it. Here's a reluctant back view:

Here's the leather trimmed pocket detail:

I know you care to know more about the waistband debacle, so here's a pic of the straight waistband, after I curved it using heat and steam (from my iron, obvs. I'm not a dragon):

Pretty curved, right? I think for many women, this would totally work fine. But I have a round butt, and the waistband sits pretty low on these pants, so I definitely need a more curved waistband. In the spirit of full disclosure (because this is a teachable moment), here's my back view so you can see the problem. It gapes a little all along the length of the back waistband, and does a weird little pucker thing right at centerback. That could be due to distortion caused by picking it out once already. I'll probably have to take a little extra out at center back now. Sigh:

But, like I said, I am wearing them tonight anyway. And I will fix them eventually. I just may need a stiff drink to do it without falling into a funk. Also, I think I may turn to David Coffin's trouser book for advice on how to face a curved waistband, and use petersham to give it more stability. I would like to wear these with my head help high eventually. For now, the botched waistband can be our little secret:

Straight or curved, how do you like it?

If your husband hates a print, that's a GOOD sign, right? I'm hoping I'm not the only one who loves this abstract brush-stroke stretch cotton I got for just $9.99/yard from Harts Fabrics.

Slant pocket trimmed with leather!!

Ryan smiles thinly, evading direct eye contact every time I display my progress on this pair of pants, which read as animal print (leopard? giraffe?) from afar. I love the print. And though at first it seemed this fabric was a little lightweight for pants (I'm not a girl anymore; I need structure!), it worked perfectly with the pattern I drafted using Kenneth King's Craftsy Jeanius class, which leads you step-by-step through the process of reverse-engineering your fave pairs of jeans (or pants, as my case may be).

Because one feature my pattern includes is narrow overlapped panels at the side seam and inseam, which seem to give this pant just a little more structure where I need it. It's hard to see in the print, but I think this seaming detail is just the kind of visual trickery this pear-shaped gal needs to feel comfortable in a fitted pant:

The only thing left to do is the waistband, which I haven't yet drafted. Though I suspect it won't fit right unless I make it curved, Kenneth King recommends drafting a straight waistband — and then shaping it by ironing so it fits your curves. But, as my patternmaking teacher once noted: I am very curved. Here's a preview, sans waistband, but with my T-shirt pulled down to hide my underpants:

 I'm going to put my trust in Kenneth; his class is super awesome, and following his super clear instructions and demonstrations, I was able to draft a perfectly fitting pair of pants with only two tweaks to my muslin (I straightened the side seam, which curved toward the front, and I took in 3/8-inch at center back). Luckily I have enough fabric to draft a second waistband if the straight one fails to fit my curvaceous lower back (that's where straight waistbands have failed me in the past).

Want to see some welt pockets? I used this tutorial on sewing single welts:

My husband may hate the print, but he was impressed by my welt pockets. Or at least the man knows enough to feign enthusiasm for the little details that leave me cursing.

Anyone out there an expert on waistbands and care to weigh in on the straight-versus-curved debate? Make me a believer!

Zen and the Art of the 100-hour Sewing Project

Have you ever been on a really long bus ride? Like, one that could be counted not in hours, but days?

I once rode the Greyhound from just outside Medicine Hat, Alberta, to Toronto with a friend (we started out in Victoria, B.C., but her car's engine seized just as we crossed over into Saskatchewan; we sold the car for parts and hitched a ride with a Canada Post delivery truck to the closest bus "depot" — which was actually just a gas station on the Trans-Canada Highway). The bus ride was 48 hours long — nothing compared to the hellish trip experienced by the young couple who got on the same bus in Whistler.

It's my theory that in order to survive such a test of endurance, you must give yourself over to it completely: You've got to say to yourself, "This is my life now. I live on this bus. These are my people. I am never getting off." Only then can you actually begin to enjoy the trip rather than make yourself miserable counting down the hours until it is over.

I'm feeling this same way about a couple things this week:

1) My kid has a persistant case of pinkeye. Of course that means she can't go to preschool because it's so crazy infectious (she contracted it at a birthday party last weekend; half the girls in attendance got pinkeye, the other half the flu. I guess I should consider myself lucky — I hate cleaning up vomit).

Nor can we go anywhere kids are in attendance (that would be unethical), or set up playdates (passing on pinkeye is not the way to win new friends). Instead we must hang out at home, doing craft projects and struggling with the impossible task of forcing medicated drops into a four-year-old's eyes thrice daily. This is my life now. Today we made soft pretzels and watched My Little Pony.

I thought the pretzels were amazing (I used Smitten Kitchen's recipe). However, my picky kid is the most hyperbolic food reviewer; she said the pretzels were so horrible that people were going to fill the street outside our window and start chanting, "The dough is yucky! The dough is yucky!" A simple "no, thank-you" would have sufficed.

2) Kenneth King's Jeanius Craftsy class. I am never getting off this bus:

Drafting on silk organza

What you're looking at above is the pair of pants I am copying, basted along the seamlines with a thick, white thread, and then pinned to a piece of silk organza marked with grainlines. I've now finished transferring my draft to paper. Following this, I only have to test the draft, correct the draft, turn the draft into a pattern, and then construct a pair of pants. I am on Lesson 3 out of 11. These are my people now.

All of it wouldn't seem so daunting if I was actually confident these pants can be replicated. I couldn't even tell you what kind of fabric these are made from. They're from W118 by Walter Baker. (Not a brand I had ever heard of; I bought them at Marshall's last December). The tag says 64% Polyester, 32% Rayon, and 4% Spandex. They're obviously a woven, but I can't see a grainline for the life of me. And they seem to have at least a little stretch in every direction, which must be why they are so amazingly comfortable and super flattering. Probably my best bet would be to head to Mood and ask someone who knows their stuff. Or try making them in another fabric, and adjust the pattern as needed. (Also, somebody better help me eat the rest of these pretzels, or this pattern will definitely need a few adjustments).

Edit: I've been googling, and now I think they're a poly-blend crepe. 

So how do you maintain your calm when mired in a month-long sewing project with no end in sight?

What I'm Working On: Keeping Sewing Ducks In A Row

Readers: How many balls do you keep in the air, and are you any good at juggling?

By balls, I mean sewing projects, and by juggling I mean actually finishing any of the projects in question. Or do you let them fall eventually once your sewing table is finally buried under a mound of fabric scraps, unmarked pattern pieces and empty iced coffee glasses?

Those reference points are a little too specific, no? This clearly hits close to home. I'm actually not that bad at juggling (literally!), but as far as finishing three projects when I'm working on them concurrently....we'll see about that.

1) A Tooth Fairy Pillow, which is a present for my daughter's friend. It's was Lucy's idea (her friend is turning 5, and Lucy reasoned she'll soon be loosing teeth, so she should have a special pillow in which she can stuff her little incisors). The little pocket on the tooth fairy's dress functions as a place to hide teeth — and then money. It's nearly finished, but I am out of stuffing...and am now looking around my apartment for appropriately springy materials. I would have to travel far for a bag of polyfill....any suggestions, anyone?

2) Kenneth King's "Jeanius" class from Craftsy.com. I have marked the trousers I am copying (a perfectly fitting cropped tuxedo pant). Moving on to the next step (pinning the pants to a piece of silk organza for tracing purposes) requires properly cleaning off my drafting table as this picture makes clear:

3) And because two is never enough of anything, I'm also about to draft a patch pocket and flap so I can make a chambray version of Pattern's Runway's Pussy Bow Blouse (minus the bow, but with two pockets on the front). I just want to make something I can wear sooner rather than later (I don't even have fabric in mind yet for the above pants pattern):

So what's your number? Do you take on your projects single-file (no budging!), or do you keep a number on the backburner for when you need a break from one that's giving you grief?