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:

In Praise of Pockets — and Generous Friends

I guess whining at great length about how you have no money for fabric is a good way to inspire a little charity in your virtual friends. Or maybe they just want to shut me up for a while? Either way, I scored this week!

Thanks Yvonne (aka NurseBennett)!! 

Don't think for a second though that I am just take, take, taking here: Yvonne told me she was drowning in fabric. So really, I saved a life. No need to alert the authorities in rural Alabama (but if we ever don't hear from her in a while, I will tell them to look in her sewing room — under the big pile of printed jerseys, if her selection for me is any indication).

My four-year-old has already claimed a number of the bright prints, and a big length of yellow jersey — her favorite color since she could speak. I'll be thinking long and hard about how to use the two pieces of black leather she included...Yvonne suggested another bag (like the Mommy Poppins bag I recently made). I'm thinking leather accents on a pair of pants...but that's a little wintry and may have to wait.

As for my work-in-progress no-pussy-bow Pussy Bow Blouse, I think the Singer Featherweight I've been sewing on has cut down my stitching time by half. Why? Because it's so steady I can topstitch like a boss — no need to unpick and redo like I had to repeatedly with my anemic, plastic contemporary Singer. Witness the sleeve placket on my taupe (?) chambray blouse I have been sewing this week: 

And the collar — probably my best ever:

I used a pocket pattern I drafted long ago to make pockets on the front:

I originally drafted the pocket for this shirt I made, which was a project for my patternmaking class. 

Say....that was a good pattern. Perhaps I should have used it instead of the Pussy Bow Blouse pattern? Only time (and a few buttonholes) will tell. And now I'm off to watch Project Runway, my friends!

Finished! Plaid Flannel Western Shirt From McCall's 6044

My husband has a body made for hugging — broad shoulders, big arms, and just the right height for me to nestle my head under his chin.

And this long-sleeved, Western-style version of McCall's 6044 is just perfect for cuddling; made from an ultra-sort plaid flannel, it's the kind of fabric you want to wrap yourself in when it's as cold as it has been in NYC this week. 

 I had been meaning to get to Mood and find this fabric ever since I saw Peter of Male Pattern Boldness' shirt he made for his significant other Michael. Since Peter lives dangerously close to the Garment District it wasn't hard to convince him to meet me at Mood and direct me to this super soft blue plaid flannel. I love the gray and yellow striping. It's so soft. And such a flattering color. (And did I mention it's soft?).

I had forgotten, of course, that Peter described it as shifty. And boy, was he right. 

I prepped, laid out and cut exactly as I had been taught at FIT. But try as I might, the plaid kept twisting. The crossgrain would not run perpendicular to the grainline. This fabric was $12/yard, and looked and felt amazing. But do grain line issues like this indicate it's not as great quality as it may seem? 

In the end, I decided not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good, and just forged on.  I think any grainline issues were minor and undetectable (except to certain perfectionists). My husband cares not that not everything runs exactly up and down.  And apparently his colleagues loved it too; a creative director at his ad agency even asked if I would make him one:

There's that pose: The Classic Headscratch

I made one adjustment to the pattern (which I won't give a cutesy name because everything I think up would be offensive to my husband, who is happy to ham for blog pics but is quite sensitive to issues of weight gain and how it affects clothing fit). I graded out from a medium to a large, but only at the side seam (and the corresponding seam along the sleeve, of course, which has to match up).  A large is too long in length and too big through the chest and shoulders, but tight across the tummy, which is where my husband stores any weight gain (because his Swedish ancestors needed the extra heft to get through long, cold winters and then plowing the fields on foot in Spring. His joke, not mine).

Another favorite: The Cuff Adjustment Pose

Lisa G of Notes From a Mad Housewife made the non-Western-style version of this same McCall's pattern for her husband. But she made a few changes because either her husband is more discerning than mine, or she's just such a crackerjack seamstress that she can't tolerate half-ass design details. I am lazy. And my husband is only picky when it comes to buying the Sunday Times (he chooses one from the middle of the stack ALWAYS, because the top ones may be sullied).

So even though I knew I should have followed her lead and cut a pattern for a sleeve placket (this pattern lacked it), I went the easy route, thinking to myself: "Like Ryan is going to care whether there's a sleeve placket!" And then I probably cackled for good measure.

But taking the easy route is not always so easy. I have sewn a few plackets, and they're not all that hard hard. But making the opening above the cuff look decent following the instructions given was actually really difficult. I even unpicked. And you know how I hate unpicking.

I'm guessing whoever designed the pattern and instructions just couldn't fit it all on two pages with the complication of adding a sleeve placket, so they omitted it, instructing you instead to top stitch down the seam allowances. I actually have several self-drafted patterns for sleeve plackets, which I could easily have dug up and made fit. Laziness reigned. I regret it. I feel especially ashamed when I look at Peter's shirt made from this same fabric.

Still, normal people wouldn't notice or care:

If you're interested in making this shirt, and you want to include a sleeve placket (which really looks better), keep an eye on Lisa's blog. She'll be apparently posting the pattern pieces she drafted for her husband's shirt, so you don't have to reinvent the wheel.

It's still cold out there, friends. Cuddle up for warmth!

Finished: Lauren Moffat top (And how NOT to take photos of yourself!)

I finished my Lauren Moffat knock-off top before the holidays but have yet to blog it because I haven't made the time to take proper photos. (This past weekend I was planning on having my husband shoot me in this chartreuse silk top, but he was in a foul mood that didn't break until late Monday night. Even watching Obama's incredible speech at the inauguration couldn't cheer him. It was Blue Monday after all. At the best of times our photoshoots end in a squabble).  

Last weekend when I met up with Gingermakes, Oonabaloona, Nettie, and Peter, we talked about the challenges of self-shooting. I have a Canon digital SLR, which takes really amazing photos — except when I am trying to get off a few solo shots of myself. 

IN the mirror worked best for me this morning:

Rosy skintone!

The necklace I am wearing is by Native Clutter, Stephanie of Makesthethings.com handmade jewelry co. Before Christmas she sent it to me as a gift with a sweet note saying she thought my blog was funny. It made more than my day: I've worn it so much since then, it's amazing that I don't have a triangle-shaped indentation on my chest. I've been meaning to write about it and link to her — just as I've been meaning to blog about this top.

Sigh. This top:

Behold, the lovely back detail

I blame the lack of photos for not posting, but I've also been putting off writing about it because it was a bit of a failure. A particularly disheartening failure given how much time I put into making this. I made the pattern myself, ripping off the design of this top, a Lauren Moffat black silk tunic top I've had for years:  

 I muslined it, made changes, and was pretty happy with how it was turning out. But then, sweet heavenly grainlines, I forgot to cut the back pattern piece on the fold — a tragic error because I had just enough of this chartreuse silk left to eke out the pieces for this hip-skimming top. And because the back piece had some flare in it, having a seam run down the center back makes it look odd from behind. It just doesn't hang right. Of course I realized my fatal flaw immediately, but proceeded to sew it anyway in the hopes it would still be wearable:

Sigh. I haven't worn it. And here are a few more self-shot photos just to illustrate why it's worth testing the strength of your marriage to get quality pics of your bloggable garments:

Overexposed (and cut off at the shins)

Underexposed and badly composed

No head!

I need someone to tell me, "Stop doing that weird thing with your mouth!" 

So that's my confessional for today (and a reminder not to listen to particularly captivating episodes of "This American Life" while you are cutting your fabric. Double-tasking is asking for trouble when you have a pair of sharp scissors in hand).

Anybody have tips for successful self-shooting with a DSLR?

Finished Project (Ruby shorts) and Sway Back Silliness

If you haven't already seen it, there's a lovely video of Amy Poehler giving advice to a teen girl about how to love her body. In the video, which is making the rounds on the Internet, she suggests considering the parts of your body that are awesome (like 20-20 eyesight, for example), and giving thanks for those, rather than fixating on all the things you dislike. She also wisely suggests to compare your inner dialogue to what you might say to a future daughter or younger sister. "You would tell her she was beautiful — and you would not be lying. Because she is. And so are you," she says. Try not to tear up. Just try.

Meanwhile, in sewing, the adjustments we need to make for fit can go a long way to highlighting those things about ourselves we feel most crappy about — AND even give a bad name to the things we thought were pretty awesome.

For example, I previously would have called myself long-legged. But now I know I am just short-waisted. I was also pretty happy with what I'd call my skinny-back/round butt combo. But unfortunately in the sewing world, this is known as "swayback" — a term that sounds a little close to "hunchback" for my liking — and requires constant vigilance when it comes to adjusting patterns to prevent against fabric "pooling" on the lower back. It's enough to make you want to wear lycra every day.