The Hunchback of Butterick 4029

Did women used to have far broader backs? In this modern era are we so weakened by our easy lives that our upper body muscles are practically atrophied in comparison to our 1960s sisters?   

I just don't know what to make of vintage Butterick 4029, which in its semi-finished state, fits me like this:

Seriously? I could stow a second set of boobs on my back in this thing.

I do remember from my patternmaking classes at FIT that the older dressforms had broad backs, and anything I made for class fit me poorly. Still, Butterick 4029 seems to have been drafted for a hunchback. Or maybe I need to start working out my trapezius muscles?

My five-year-old took these photos for me, hence the lack of focus, framing, and all the rest. The dress fits pretty well elsewhere:

Lying flat, it looks normal, I suppose.

I posted a pic of this dressmaking disaster on my Instagram account and got some very helpful suggestions (you, my sewing pals, are truly the best). Plenty of you have had the same issue with other patterns. My immediate thought was to add darts to the back neckline, which Diary of a Sewing Fanatic so nicely described:

I think, however, I may go with Lisa G.'s suggestion:

A deep V or a scoop would eliminate the excess and make this dress a little sexier. But I would have to draft a whole new facing and I only have scraps of fabric left. A V back seems more authentically '60s, to me (hey ladies who have had babies: does calling it a "V back" make you laugh too?). I'm also guessing double-scoops can be tricky; the whole thing could slide off my shoulders, right? (Note to self: work out deltoids too). I may need to do some engineering to make this work. Ugh. Want to see it again?

What in the??

Anyone else have this problem? How did you fix 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).

The Chambray "I Should Have Listened to Phyllis" Blouse

First, let me acknowledge the few good things about this blouse I sewed this week, before I get into the shoulda, coulda, wouldas.

The fabric was a gift from Sonja of Gingermakes, who apparently knows my colors better than I do. I don't think I would ever have chosen this light brown chambray for myself, but it actually looks really nice with my hair, skintone and eyecolor. 

 I used Pattern Runway's Pussy Bow Blouse pattern, which I altered to accommodate my wide hips. I also added pockets (self-drafted), and constructed the center front slightly differently (folding it over instead of under to create a faux placket with topstitching in the men's shirt style). I think both of those details worked really well. I omitted the bow:

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!).

Sewing For Stress Relief?

I'm relying on the Pussy Bow Blouse to help me cope with some stress this week. Because, I find, obsessing over fit issues and fussy fabric that just wants to go off-grain helps me stave off the panicky feelings creeping in as I get ever closer to Friday.

Here's the fabric: a cream silk chiffon printed with purplish-brown birds

I also keep trying to tell myself that no matter how bad Friday is, it will be a cakewalk compared to getting punched in the face by a crackhead in front of your preschool-aged daughter.

Because Friday I am finally having the minor plastic surgery needed to fix the small deformity left behind by getting punched by in the face by a crackhead in front of my preschool-aged daughter.

And I am nervous. Very nervous. Surgery always carries the risk of infection, and this one also has a chance of not improving my chin at all (or maybe my surgeon just said that to lower my expectations?).  I am also conflicted about undergoing a cosmetic procedure. I talked myself out of it at least 100 times in the past year (including 10 times today), convincing myself for a moment each time that the small deformity on my chin is somehow something to be proud of (I took a punch!) — or that I was vain for wanting to erase it (love thyself as thou art!). A couple of people have told me it's badass (I took a punch, after all!), and my husband claims to not even notice it.

But then I look in the mirror, and my gaze is immediately drawn to my chin, where my scar is so thick it casts a shadow beneath it (actually, my surgeon informed me, it's not even a true scar: the guy punched me in the mouth so hard, my teeth cut clean through my chin under my bottom lip. As it healed, there was not enough tissue structure to keep the top half of my chin from slumping slightly over the bottom half, hence the shadow). No amount of makeup can make it look better — unless I were to apply it with a spackle knife, perhaps.

I'm also conflicted because I have a daughter. She's only four, so we're not at the point yet where I have to work with her against our culture's unreasonable standards of beauty to maintain a healthy self-esteem. She's young enough that she's still enamored with her own reflection, and the only body modification she would ever imagine wanting is wings. At this point it seems best to lead by example: I don't put down my own figure or face in front of her. We talk about exercising for strength and eating well for our health. I would never even muse about making improvements to my self with surgery.

It took me months just to call the surgeon recommended to me by a friend of a friend. And then while I sat in the waiting room for the consultation, I considered leaving. Even now, as I write this, I am contemplating not going through with it. Is it really worth all the trouble? I could still cancel. My husband doesn't even notice it.

Searching for photos to illustrate this post, I'm anxious again. It's so small; in some photos, you can barely tell. If I posted a close-up pic, you would probably tell me, "It's no big deal" (which is not what I want to hear right now, by the way, so I decided against posting any pics). So what is my problem? Maybe I need therapy instead. Or regular massages. I can't afford those, however, so I'll keep working on this blouse. 

Accommodating my wide hips: A slash-and-spread alteration to the Pussy Bow Blouse pattern

Looking in the mirror, I feel entirely justified. You really have to see it in 3D to appreciate it; the scar sticks out so far. And I feel like there's more to it than just the scar. My face looks different since the attack. I look like I'm holding all my anxiety in my jaw, where I was punched. I don't know if getting the scar fixed will help release the physical memory of violence that has me subconsciously steeling my jaw at all times, even in a smile. I'm hoping if I spend less time looking at it, I will be less worried about something so terrible happening again, and maybe I can relax.

Anyway, I liked my face just fine as it was. I never asked for this. I didn't deserve to get punched in the face (nobody does). Why should I have to live with it, no matter how small? 

My blood pressure spikes every time I think about it. They better give me some good downers or I may just jump off the chair. I've considered asking friends for spare anxiety meds. I hope I can make it through the week without freaking out completely. Yesterday I sewed a collar to cope. Today I'll work on the sleeves if I get anxious:

At the rate I am going, I should have this blouse sewn by the big day. (But I think I'll save modeling it until after the bandage comes off!).

Has sewing ever helped you get through a stressful time? Or do you end up mangling a project out of distraction?

Pussy Bow Blouse Muslin

What kind of name is "Pussy Bow Blouse" anyway? (I'm guessing it's something the British made up to make us North Americans nervous. Kind of like how Aussies feel about our "Fanny packs.")

Either way, I am so far loving Pattern Runway's Pussy Bow Blouse pattern, which I bought to make a blouse from some lovely bird-printed silk I found at Mood last weekend. (Over lunch after our shopping trip, the lovely Oona had suggested I check out Pattern Runway's stuff, and this blouse pattern happened to be pretty much what I was looking for.) I LOVE that the seam allowances are 3/8 inch on Pattern Runway patterns. Trimming the excessive 5/8-inch seam allowances on commercial patterns bothers me to no end.

Oona told me Pattern Runway patterns tend to be long in the waist (which I am not), so I thought making a muslin was a must. (Plus the intended silk cost $14/yard, so I didn't want to waste it on an ill-fitting top).

I cut a straight medium from some poly chiffon I had on hand (it's similar in weight and feel to the bird-print silk), and as I expected it's a little tight through the hips on me. I got my husband to take a few quick photos to illustrate that point, and my sidekick insisted on appearing in every single one:

I'm lazy, so I only sewed in one sleeve:

See how the side seam is pulling to the back? I'll need to shift the side seam and do some slashing and spreading to add a little flare to both front and back. As far as construction goes this sews up like any other collared shirt. It's pretty easy if you're familiar with sewing menswear:

I couldn't take any more of the clinging-on, so I stepped aside and let Lucy have the photoshoot to herself:

So that's what I worked in the few spare minutes I had this weekend. Pattern Runway: check it out!

FInished Project: Rock and Roll Leggings!

That would be a D chord, FYI

Last winter I refashioned a pair of longjohns into leather patch leggings, and then proceeded to wear them to DEATH. Granted, the faux leather I used wasn't the highest quality, and they were a touch too tight, which meant more wear and tear on the seams than a pair of pants can handle in a season. Still, I loved layering them with T-shirts, tunics and cardigans, and wore them until the weather warmed and I couldn't deny they were destined for the landfill.

But with Fall finally here in NYC, sewing another, better pair was high on my list of things to make this month. And luckily for me, they appear to be just as in fashion this fall as they were last winter. You can find both high- and low-end examples, from these pricey stretch-corduroy riding pants: 

....to super cheap maternity leggings at H&M:

So when McCall's/Vogue/Butterick held one of the its bi-monthly pattern sales (OK, maybe they're not bi-monthly, but they happen often enough that you probably never need pay full-price for a pattern from those three makers), I scooped up McCall's 6404, an easy Misses leggings pattern with four variations:

Sometimes you have to look past the styling to see the potential!

And though my first crack at this pattern turned up a few fit issues that will need adjusting before I make 10 more pairs, I was happy enough with the results to put on some black eye makeup and grab my husband's guitar for a photo shoot. The main fabric is a double-knit from Fabric.com for $12/yard — a price that was worth it: the drape and feel of this fabric is just lovely. The faux leather was from this place on 39th Street in the Garment District. (I don't remember the name and can't find it on Google street view — darn those roll-down metal gates!)

The saggy, baggy knees will require more than just a side seam adjustment; this wrinkling is the result of the leggings being too lengthy through the knee for my petite frame. Luckily, that's an easy adjustment to make on the pattern.

Really, I can live with this — and will be wearing them to the playground today. Like Dixie DIY once wrote about the overfitting we do as sewers, we put up with a lot of imperfections in the ready-to-wear stuff we buy, so why sweat every little fit issue in our self-made garments? (That's a rough paraphrase, and I'm sticking with it — at least until I sew my second pair, which I know will fit much better).

I also need to add an inch-and-a-half to the back rise; my round butt requires a little more fabric to cover it than most, apparently. But that's something I don't need documented in pictorial form on the Internets. Just imagine a little dip at center back. 

I see so much possibility in this pattern now: black on black; a bright hue with brown faux leather; stretch denim leggings with faux suede patches; zebra print ponte with black patches: 

Ok, maybe not for me. But I could picture this on a few of you...admit it. If not this, what would you make with McCall's 6404?

Finished Project: Simplicity 1872 with Sleeves and a Dirndl Skirt

After complaining profusely in my last post, I should tell you I do feel human again. It's a wonderful thing to enjoy going outside outside again after weeks of praying for rain to wash the pollen away (FYI: complaining is praying for secular people).

Sometime this Spring I sewed this lovely little dress, though I have yet to wear it truly. I plan on wearing it to dinner at X20 on the Hudson with my husband when we celebrate our 5th anniversary in mid-June (turns out five wedded years years = wooden anniversary, which will be appropriate because on our actual anniversary we will be in the deep wilderness in British Columbia visiting my dad at the totally inaccesible-by-road property where he lives. My dad has had to shoot two bears there already this Spring (not for fun or sport — for protection), so wearing a little number like this is out of the question there: I'd look delicious to a bear in this, sort of blood-splattered, wouldn't you say?) 

Anyway, the bodice and sleeves of this dress are Simplicity 1872, which is a Cynthia Rowley pattern I was given by the Team at Kollabora.com, a new website in development that will be both an online community of crafters posting their projects and sharing skills and a marketplace where you can buy the stuff needed to make a project you see there. I already made one version of this dress. I'll show you both and tell you what I did to make this one better than the first. 

This version, which I do believe I'll wear a lot, is sewn from a lightweight silk (from Metro Textile Corp. on 37th Street in New York's Garment District). It was quite sheer, so I lined the bodice and sleeves with white silk, and made a white slip to wear on the bottom (incidentally, sewn from a silk maternity top that I had ruined somehow with a stain). The skirt is just two gathered rectangles because I wanted something simpler and less twirly than the original skirt, which is very flirty, as you can see here:

If you're thinking I look flat-chested and big-hipped in this pose, it's probably because I am. Also, this dress ended up too big, which doesn't help. I love the colour and shine of this cotton sateen and think it would make a very cute holiday frock — for someone with a bigger bust than me. And maybe a few inches taller.  I'm thinking of giving it away on my blog. If I had bigger closets I would just save it for my daughter. She's probably going to be taller and have a bigger chest than me in a couple years, damn her.

For my second version, I cut the smallest size (even though I feared not being able to pull it over my head — there are no closures in this dress, which makes it easy for beginners). I also cut over an inch from the long straight edge of the front wrap pieces. The original was a little too modest for me. I like a little cleavage. But then, of course, I ran into the problem of the front wrap pieces gaping, so I added a hook-and-eye closure right at my bust and it works beautifully:

Instant slut-but-not-too-much

I also added an elastic at the waist to make the shape a little more defined. The skirt weighs down the original version, and I think it would have done the same here with the dirndl skirt. But with the elastic, it keeps the skirt up in place, and allows for a little more of a natural drape through the bodice, which is less flattening. I really dig it. Love the colour, love what it does for me:

As always, I got photobombed a lot:

Better to just embrace it:

One thing I learned in sewing the first version of Cynthia Rowley's Simplicity 1872 was how easy it is to make thread belt loops — and how they really keep a belt in its place. (Since sewing the first I went back and added thread belt loops to every dress I have ever sewn that requires being belted!). My husband was on a three-week break from ad school while I worked on that chartreuse dress and post, and so he volunteered to help me make a little video on how to make thread belt loops. They're one of those things that is ultra easy to do, but (for me anyway) really hard to figure out from a diagram in a book. SO I thought I'd preach it here with a link to my video. Enjoy!