Finished Project: Simplicity 1314 Times TWO

When my sewing students told me they wanted to learn to make a dress, I knew finding a pattern would be a challenge. After all, they're a diverse bunch of ladies, each with her own style. How can you possibly pick a dress pattern to please more than one person? 

So first, we settled on some musts we could agree on: sleeves, a simple neckline (no collars or button plackets), and a zipper closure. I also wanted to include a few key techniques: how to sew princess seams and attach a separate bodice and skirt (Sorry, no shift dresses!). It also needed to be a Fall/Winter style. 

I searched and searched...and then one day I got an email: Simplicity had released a new Cynthia Rowley pattern — 1314, a Fall-friendly dress with elbow-length sleeves. It can be made in a woven or slightly stretchy knit like ponte (forgiving for the new sewer or the easily bloated!), and you can mix fabrics for a contrasting center front panel. It's simple, has slimming princess seams, and is classic — though you can make it really modern. I even love the styling on the pattern envelope. Look at her, she's wearing sneakers with a dress. I love sneakers with dresses. Always have. I also love faux leather:

I tested out the pattern twice — and I love it. LOVE. IT. I think it is so, so flattering. I love the neckline, wide-at-the-elbow sleeve and the cut of the skirt. I made it in black ponte (from Chic in NYC's Garment District):  

And in cream ponte (Metro Textiles) with quilted center front and center back panels:

The fabric I used for the contrast panel really is a thing of beauty. It's a cotton blend quilted sweatshirt fabric I found at Paron's on sale a few weeks ago. I may just go back and buy the rest of the bolt. Here's the detail shot you've been waiting for:

Texture!

Of course, the great thing about a princess seam is the fact that you can achieve a great fit through the bust.

I had intended to cut the above black dress with a contrast faux leather center front panel just like the Cynthia Rowley sample, but it turned out the piece of faux I had in my stash was not enough. It worked out though — now I actually have a basic black dress in my wardrobe:

I didn't make many changes to the pattern. I graded out to a larger size at the hip and reduced the back neckline and armscye (which I usually do because I have the back of a 90-pound weakling and the hips of a mother of six). I also ended up taking out some ease at the side seam, though if I had sewn a woven, I probably would have left that in. I think for many women, this pattern would fit great straight out of the envelope. 

I also trimmed a couple inches off the length of the skirt because I am 5 foot 3 and wanted to maintain the right proportions. 

I chose pretty conservative fabrics for my two versions of Simplicity 1314, but I think there's so much room for working with color, texture, and even print with this pattern. 

What fabrics would you choose? And how would you style this dress?

Finished Project: Belated Oonapalooza Rainbow Floral Dress!

Do not adjust your monitors....

This dress, my much belated entry into the Ooonapalooza challenge, is really this bright — no Instagram filters needed to make it pop, thanks to this Michael Miller "Floralicious" printed cotton (available at Hart's Fabrics — you're welcome). It has, I believe, ALL the colors.

Finished Project: Wonder Woman-inspired Soma Suit

After seeing the Wonder Woman swimsuit I made for my daughter, several of you championed the idea of matching mother-daughter suits. 

I took your advice, but not to the letter. I thought the Soma swimsuit by Papercut would be the perfect pattern for an inspired-by-but-not-totally-literal adult version of a Wonder Woman bathing suit. The bikini top features a triangle-shaped panel that when cut in gold spandex references Wonder Woman's golden eagle without looking too costumey:  

OK, maybe it's a little costumey

At least I restrained myself when it came time to choose fabric for the bikini bottoms. I do after all have a half-yard of blue and white starry spandex left over...

Anyway, I'm not going to share a lot of close-up shots of this suit on my person due to modesty's sake. But I will tell you more about what I did to this pattern to make it work a little better for me. (And there are plenty of close-up pics on my dress form if you scroll to the bottom).

Finished Project: LBJ Dress

Like the passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, Butterick 4029 took more time than expected. 

I started sewing this vintage 1960s pattern weeks ahead of a planned night out on Broadway with my husband to see "All the Way," the play about Lyndon Johnson's unscrupulous (but ultimately admirable) efforts to push anti-discrimation legislation through the United States Senate in his first year as president. My husband is fascinated by LBJ; he prays every night that Robert Caro lives long enough to write the next volume in his epic biography on LBJ. The play was incredible (but it closed last night so if you're interested, you'll have to wait for the revival).

The dress was also pretty incredible. My husband may be as obsessed with it as LBJ. He told me a dozen times it was his favorite thing I've ever sewn:

Finished Project: Hudson Pants Two Ways

I love sewing up easy-to-wear separates that push people's idea about what handmade clothing looks like. Except for other homesewers, few people would expect that you made your own comfy lounge pants, like the Hudson Pants here:

Kelli of the great blog True Bias asked me to be a tester for her first pattern release, the comfy, cozy, but not-at-all schlubby Hudson Pants (named for the NYC neighborhood in which she lives — which also happens to be the first neighborhood I lived in in New York City too).

After seeing numerous versions of her new pants pattern pop up on her Instragram feed,  how could I resist?

So I ordered up two fabrics from GirlCharlee.com: a grey French terry (coming up down below) and this "nautical stripe" ponte:

I cut a straight size 12 for my first pair, made from the stripey fabric you see here. I don't love the fabric, but that was my own error; when you purchase a printed fabric online, make sure to actually check the size of said print. I had expected the stripes to be much smaller. Can you tell from this pic who I think I look like in these pants?

That's right: the Hamburglar! 

Moving on, my second pair of Hudson Pants was much more successful. I used a lovely French terry, which washed well, doesn't pill and feels as cozy as it should in this pattern. It looks like lightweight sweatshirt fabric from the outside and feels like a thousand fairy wings fluttering on your thighs on the inside:

Not only was my fabric a better choice in Version 2.0, but I also graded from a Size 12 to an 6 at the waist. I am pear-shaped and had hoped that cutting the elastic to the right length would cinch in the waistband enough that grading wouldn't be necessary. However, the leap from 6 to 12 is pretty big and my first pair were a little bunchy at the waist.

I've worn these a ton since I've made them. And machine washed them twice (after saying a little prayer). They held up beautifully. In fact, I took these photos on the Solstice, which was a month after making them:

The version of the pattern I used was the test version, and Kelli has made a few adjustments since then. The final version has some extra ease in the calf and ankle band for added comfort. The Hudson Pant pattern also includes a calf-length version.

Have you made lounge pants before? What's your fave fabric for comfy pants like these?

Finished Project: Stripey Concert Tee

I bought a bunch of jersey from Girl Charlee and fully intended to get in on the sewing blog zeitgiest and make some Netties.

But then we had one hot day in NYC and I remembered: I hate tight things in New York in the summer, when a bodysuit is likely to be soaked in sweat at the crotch within a few minutes of waiting on a stifling subway platform. Gross.

Maybe if we lived in San Francisco I'd be making Netties right now, but live in New York we do. So, instead I used Dixie DIY's Concert Tee pattern to make a floaty tee that's just right for sticky, stinky NYC summer days:

I love the dropped shoulders and the cropped-in-the-front, long-in-the-back hemline. The flare is perfect and the top hangs so nicely, especially in this vintage blue cotton-blend jersey.

I lowered the neckline about 1.5 inches because the original higher scoop made me look (there's no way to put this delicately) like my boobs hung low. There was just something about the combination of the swingy tent-like hem and the high scoop — I looked like a mom trying to wear her daughter's Forever 21 top. Luckily, lowering a neckline is about the easiest alteration you can do. Ten seconds with a French curve and a piece of chalk and all was right with this top.

My concert tee kept catching little gusts of wind on our photo shoot in the park (luckily I had a tank on underneath):

And let's just say it: this top hides your butt without being all tunic-y:

I really hate wearing shorts, but when I do this summer it will probably be with this top.

What's your go-to summer outfit when it's trapped-in-an-unairconditioned-subway-car hot?

Quiz: Which Hemline Are You?!!

OK, that was a tease. I didn't actually craft a Buzzfeed-style online test to see whether your personality is a mini or a maxi. (I hate those quizzes; all they do is reinforce stereotypes and tell your Facebook friends how much of a slacker you are at work!)

But I am thinking this week about hemlimes — and how to build outfits around them (and why do I only usually wear one length?).

Do you have a favorite hemline? I like my skirts to hit at the knee or just slightly above it. To my eye, this is the most flattering length on me, and can be worn with flats or heels. Too short, and I feel self-conscious (after having a kid I have a lot of broken capillaries on my legs; I don't lose any sleep over that fact because, hey, I created a human being and that's awesome! — but the world still doesn't need to see them). Too long, and I think I look short (I'm 5'3") .... or Orthodox (I live in a pretty conservative Jewish neighborhood in New York City. My cultural touchstones have changed in recent years; when I lived in Winnipeg, I would have said I looked Mennonite).

Church-ready?

My sewing students asked me to add a skirt class to my Spring/Summer schedule so I've been testing out a pattern I thought would be a great first skirt project for new sewers. It's McCall's 3341, and is about as classic as it gets: slight A-line with darts at the waist in the front and back, a 7-inch center back zip, and a facing to finish the waistband. The pattern features five hemline variations, from mini to maxi, which was a huge selling point with me; I didn't want to deter any students from taking the class because their fave hemline is different than mine. A tall lady (or someone with a more modest style) would look great in the hemline above. (You can see some pulling at the hip level in this version. I slashed and spread the pattern following this first attempt to add a little ease through the hip).

I cut version D in a printed fabric. This skirt I will actually wear.

I cut the miniskirt, version E, in black. Even for a photo shoot I had to wear stockings. I call this hemline Zooey Deschanel in the Opening Credits of New Girl Short:

I like the mini with tights or leggings. My legs look longer. I look younger and fun....but bare-legged? How would I sit down the subway? My thighs would touch surfaces that no part of my body should come in contact with. I live in New York City, where you can bet everything has been puked or peed on (or worse) at some point...

Considering all that, this conservative length is looking better and better. If anything, it will encourage me to wear heels every now and then. 

How do you choose a hemline? And how do you make it work within an outfit?

Finished Projects: From a Frumpy Fail to a Fine Dress Indeed

Last night at Workroom Social's Sewing Swap & Party in New York's East Village, the talented Gingermakes kindly told me she enjoys my tales of parental failure — that it's entertaining (and refreshing?) to get the real dirt on raising a daughter (and sewing for her occasionally) — not the edited-for-maximum-Pinterest-appeal version.

I can relate. As much as I find Pinterest to be a useful tool for bookmarking, it also makes me yearn for a time when the word "tablescape" was not widely used. It makes most of us feel terrible for the fact that our mantles aren't currently decorated with Mason jars stuffed with seasonal flowers, that the light fixture over our dining table is the same one the super installed before we moved in (and not, in fact, made from reclaimed Mason jars), and that our salads are served on boring old plates rather than (you know where this is going) in Mason jars. 

So in the interest of my earnestness cred, I'm sharing with you two finished versions of the same dress pattern: Pattern Runway's Easy Short Sleeved Kimono Dress. But, as you can see, one is what the kids today call an epic fail:

My husband suggested I stand like that, with my hands clasped together, because apparently every other pose was so unflattering....I looked in the mirror. It wasn't the poses that were unflattering; it was the dress.

I am not amused

Two sizes too big (I cut a medium based on what the pattern's measurements suggested) and sewn in the wrong fabric, I look like a full bag of laundry. The pattern suggested shirting as one fabric option, but the stiffness widens me. I mourn the loss of this fabric. It was so nice and clearly should have been used in some other, more appropriate way. The armhole is halfway to my waist. Blergh.

I went back to the Pattern Runway website. I still like their version of the dress. So I sized down to a XS on top and graded out to a medium on the bottom (I also added flare to the skirt because their straight-up-and-down skirt did not fit over my hips nicely at all). I found the perfect fabric at Metro Textile — a striped poly that actually feels like a heavy silk: 

Happy now?

So much better. The armhole is a decent size. The shoulders don't stand at attention like a row of tinted Mason jars just ready to be filled up with your love and homemade yogurt:

And this fabric, I think, actually looks like it wanted to be this dress. 

(Did I manage to fool your eye with my stripe placement? Do I look taller than 5'3"? I made my husband stand on the bed for these photos. No rest for the husbands & boyfriends of sewing bloggers).

The covered button (and my stripe-matching) are pretty great: 

What about you — Have you ever given a pattern a second chance after a first fail? Does Pinterest make you want to smash all the Mason Jars?

It's Da Bomb! (er jacket) Big Reveal

I didn't notice until afterward how it looks like I'm doing two thumbs-up here. Call it subconscious, but I am pretty stoked about my efforts on this self-drafted silk bomber jacket with raglan sleeves:

The fabric is from Chic Fabrics (225 W 39th Street, # 11). I loved it so much (a subtle print with rows safety pins and needles!) so I really splurged: I bought three yards at $15/yard. (Susan from the blog Moonthirty bought the remainder of the roll and I really can't wait to see what she does with it.). 

The lining I had on hand and the waistband, neckband, cuffs and welts are sewn in a lovely Italian ponte I bought at Metro Textile (265 W 37th St # 908) for $6/yard. The zip is from SIL Thread (257 W 38th St # 1). Please, nobody tally up what this bomber jacket cost me; me-made is priceless, right? (RIGHT!?).

Anyway, after spending so much on fabric, I decided to sew my purse shut and draft my own darn pattern, working from a hoodie pattern I had created a while back. (I had my eye on the Rigel Bomber by Papercut Patterns and another by Burda. Though I liked elements of each, I couldn't afford the Rigel and was put off by a few bad experiences with Burda's insufficient instructions). 

Following the instructions in "The Art and Science of Patternmaking and Grading by Professor Harry Greenberg & Professor Leonard Trattner, it only took one failed draft for me to get the raglan sleeve seaming and fit just right. I opted for a dropped neckline similar to the Rigel though not quite so low. I hate feeling choked by my jacket collar — but I still don't want to expose whatever top I have on underneath! This neckline scoop is my Baby Bear's porridge: just right. So let's see how it looks open:

zzzzzzzzzip!

It feels like a dream, so comfy and silky. It is rather shiny, which made me falter at one point during the late-construction phase. Would it look like some fancy grandpa's Sunday best tracksuit? 

I love how the curved neckline matches up with the top of this tank when the bomber is unzipped.

I know... you want to see the innards. I lined the whole thing with yet more silk. I handstitched the lining to the outer jacket because by that point things were going so well....and I didn't want to risk botching it up!

Fancy grandpas aside, I love this bomber and how I was able to take a fabric like this printed silk and turns it into something casual and almost sporty — something that I could wear every day (unlike a dress or blouse, which I also considered. Had I sewn a dress instead, I would have ended up with something I wear once, maybe twice a year if I'm lucky).

My new silk bomber has already proven to be ultra wearable — so wearable I wore it thrice before I managed to make time with my husband/photographer for a photo shoot. So wearable it already has tea and yogurt on it. So wearable....I am considering wearing it again tomorrow.

Have you ever taken a fancy fabric and turned it into something suitable for every day wear? Tell me about it! 

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 Object! Bird-Print "Pussy Bow" Blouse

They said it couldn't be done. (Who are they? The voices in my head, obviously. You guys are supportive. The voices in my head are a bunch of withering bitches).

But here it is: my finished Pussy Bow Blouse by Pattern Runway (available in digital download format for just $9.50 US), sewn from a gorgeous cream-and-purplish-brown bird print silk chiffon from Mood.

I love this fabric: It's feather light, so floaty and delicate. And it feels just amazing, like the light touch of fairy wings.

But such delicate fabric requires a gentle touch — especially with the bird print running crosswise to the grain, which meant cutting all the pattern pieces with the grainline running east-west instead of north-south. If you've ever done this, you would know how shifty fabric like silk chiffon becomes positively rebellious when cut on the crossgrain. Why didn't I notice this in Mood? I know enough to know better. Let's just say I was distracted.

I also didn't buy enough of this fabric because when I was shopping I didn't know what I was going to make with it. A yard and a half seemed like enough for a top or short dress (it was 60 inches wide). But the "pussy bow" on this blouse requires a fair bit of fabric, which is why mine ended up in a matching cream color silk, which I happened to have on hand (a remnant from lining a dress).

I like wearing the tie undone, in a more menswear-inspired style (though it's a touch long to wear it that way; when I make this blouse again, I will shorten the tie by a few inches):

So what did I do to this pattern to make it fit so well? I shortened the sleeves an inch and a half, and shortened it through the waist by an inch and a quarter. But most importantly, I added some flare to the bottom hem to account for the fact that I have wide hips — hips that usually force me to leave the bottom button undone in store-bought shirts. Here's the muslin (see how it's pulling apart at the hips):

I estimated I needed to add about four inches ease to achieve a loose and floaty look. And the best way to add that much to your hem is by spreading it out (add it all at the side seam, for example, and you will create a weird shape like an "A"). So I added two inches to the front and two inches to the back, using two half-inch slash-and-speads on each of the two pattern pieces. It's so easy to do: draw a line from your neckline to the bottom hem using a ruler (just don't pass through any darts on the way). Then cut all the way up to the neckline edge and spread the pieces apart, measuring to ensure you're adding exactly as much ease as you need: 

Each spread measures 1/2-inch at the hem

Then you tape the whole thing down onto a large piece of pattern paper and use your curve to redraw the hemline (matching up all the existing points). Then proceed as normal.

I really love this blouse. I want to make another, but not in chiffon. I don't think I'll be attempting that again. I'll make the next one in a cotton voile maybe. Still, those birds...this would look great with a high-waisted skirt. 

I'll be wearing this blouse out to dinner tonight with the mister. We're going to Cookshop in Chelsea. Pray for me I don't spill anything on it (or if I do, that's it was worth it!).