Made by Lucy: Recital Dress

My husband takes pains to tell our daughter that not every kid gets to sew her own clothes. He doesn't like to see her take it for granted that thanks to her mother's skills, she has the opportunity to design and sew (on a machine!) one-of-a-kind creations like her recently completed Recital Dress:

Free Pattern: Little Swimmer Bathing Cap

What are the pool rules where you live? Do you (or your kids) have to wear a swimcap in the water? My daughter recently started swimming lessons at a nearby private pool (located in an apartment building in the Northwest Bronx) and everyone who enters the water must be wearing a swimcap.

It's kind of a pain though it makes sense; do you want to swim around with your neighbors' stray hairs? (Or see the pool shuttered when they have to clean the filter — again?).

But the spandex cap we bought her was too big, and the rubbery ones pulled at her hair. So what does a lady with some extra spandex and little pattern paper do? I drafted my own. And because it is so simple, I am sharing it here for free.  After the jump:

Weekend Sewing: What's on my table

What's on my sewing table this Friday? (In addition to a big mess):

Bathing suits!

It's pool (and sprinkler) season, after all. So I'm testing the waters of swimsuit sewing, which it turns out, is actually no harder than any other stretch sewing project. I'm using this free pattern from Prudent Baby, which I found on Pinterest:

But, as you can see, I made the pattern (a size 5) much bigger for my solidly built almost-six-year-old:

I slashed the pattern and spread it an inch at the waist and vertically too. I then used my French curve to redraft the leg hole, side seam and neckline. 

The tutorial at Prudent Baby is very easy to follow. I love the little ruffle:

Also: I love any chance to use a twin needle: 

The other thing I am really excited about is these matching swim caps I'm making to go with each suit:

My daughter takes swimming lessons now and pool rules stipulate a swim cap must be worn in the water at all times. It's hard to find small kid-size swim caps though, so the one she has (an adult size) slips off her head every time.

I drafted the pattern for the cap and used remnants of swimsuit fabric. She's going to look like a classic bathing beauty with her matching set.

So what's on your sewing table this weekend? Ever made a bathing suit? What's your fave swimsuit pattern?

All the Leggings Fit For Print

All of New York: it's possible you can thank ME for this gloriously hot (and unfortunately pollen-encrusted) weather we are having. Because just before it hit, I sewed up the raddest pair of printed leggings in some spandex-with-poly-blend that probably won't be practical again until late-October. That is how life works: you sew something you love, and then the weather changes so you cannot wear it. Somebody hand me some linen.

Seriously. I just single-handedly installed an AC in our bedroom AND I DIDN'T EVEN KILL ANYONE. I could have, you know. But I was willing to take that risk because it is heat-wave-in-May hot here today and my seasonal allergies mean I can't crack a window (I wiped down my windowsills yesterday and they were all greenish-yellow. What a fool I have been. Also, we went to the Botanical Garden for Mother's Day, an unfortunate decision I regretted all last night in bed, where I lay with a cool cloth on my eyes like some Victorian invalid).

Anyway, leggings:

I bought this printed stretch fabric at Metro Textile, intending it for my stretch sewing class at Bread & Yoga. Nobody snapped it up for their kiddie leggings (our first project) so I swapped it out for some other...perhaps less offensively bright and patterned prints. Last laugh? I'll have you right here:

I made the pattern for these leggings by cutting open a raggedy old pair of Steven Madden leggings and using them as a guide. It's a one-piece pattern, with just an inseam. I like not having a seam along the side to interrupt that print. That print, after all, is the one that will do all the interrupting.

It is the kind of print that you have to plan for carefully, lest you end up with two red whatever-those-ares on your tush. These leggings could have gone baboon-butt so quickly.... And because I am a generous mom, I plan on making a pair for my kid because she asked so nicely — AND was the one who sweetly brought me that cool cloth I mentioned earlier. How sweet it is when our kids grow up enough to take care of us from time to time.

Are you in the thick of summer sewing yet (for those of you in the Northern Hemisphere)? Just tell me to make a Gabriola skirt already...

Spring Break Sewing: Bomber Progress!

I have exactly five minutes to write a post before my child's daily allotment of Doc McStuffins comes to end, thus officially beginning Spring Break/No Time to Myself Week. (I already used one episode and three-quarters to shower, dress, and do some sewing, naturally).

I thought I would share some progress on my self-drafted silk bomber jacket. With my pattern tested twice and ready, I started cutting my bomber out. I thought about the weight of the silk and decided to completely fuse the front and back pieces with weft-weight interfacing. The silk is a charmeuse weight, and I thought the slant welt pocket would drag it down too much without a little stabilization. It still feels really nice. The sleeves I left unfused:

Speaking of welts, these might be some of the nicest I have sewn:



The pocket bag will be hidden by a lining eventually, but here it is for now:

I'm afraid of my neckline getting stretched out, so I won't actually leave my bomber-in-progress on my dressform...but here it is just to get a taste:

Times up! We are off to go hunt Easter Eggs in the city today (Faberge is hosting the "Big Egg Hunt" which is obviously a marketing ploy but my kid is super stoked to scan the eggs on my phone and "crack" them. Anyone else got some good Spring Break ideas? We are staying in NYC for most of it. Sewing, unfortunately, is off the table!

Bomber Pattern-in-Progress

I'm not saying you have to be a math wizard to be a good patternmaker, but it definitely helps to have the kind of mind that can solve visual problems. Exhibit A: here's what my patternmaking textbook (The Art and Science of Patternmaking and Grading by Professor Harry Greenberg & Professor Leonard Trattner ) indicates needs to be done to create a proper raglan sleeve pattern:

Fun, right?

Doing so creates the necessary ease under the arm, so you can do things like scratch your nose and wave to your friends. Now here's what that looked like in real life on my living room floor the other night:

Of course, then I taped it all down to a large piece of paper and used my curves and rulers to draw all around the now-cut-up sleeve pattern. Then I double-checked and fiddled until all the seams were the right lengths.

The end result? Pretty perfect really!

Now the back view:

I wanted to check welt placement (and let's face it, who couldn't use a little practice making welt pockets?), so I cut and sewed just one:

There you have it, kids: Math=a good fit! Now I just need to choose my lining fabric and I'm all set to sew a bomber jacket from my own pattern.  Anyone have a fave welt pocket tutorial they want to share? Throw it down in the comments below.

Patternhacking a Bomber of My Own

Lucky me, living in NYC, I get to fabric shop every now and then with some of my fave ladies from blogland. And last week I made the trek to midtown for a little coffee (tea for me; I'm on the wagon!) and giddy shopping with oonabaloona, Susan from Moonthirty, and Angela, a recent transplant to NYC. Just before I had to head back to the Bronx for kindergarten pickup we were joined by Clio and Devra, though my wallet was sewn shut by then. 

My best find of the day was this black silk printed with pins from Chic Fabrics (don't bother looking for it; Susan ran back and bought the rest of the bolt!):

How appropos for a sewist, right? I thought hard about what to make with this silk, which cost $15/yard (ouch!). Obviously at that price I don't want to waste this lovely find on something I will rarely wear, so I'm thinking....silk bomber jacket.

Of course, Papercut Patterns' Rigel Bomber is the obvious choice for this. But after dropping $45 on the fabric I don't have $30 to spend on a pattern (no matter how well it is presented).  And, I realized, I have a perfect hoodie pattern I drafted myself a few months back. Can I use it as a base to make a raglan-sleeve bomber pattern? Here's the hoodie I made:



I love it and wear this hoodie every other day. Surely I can achieve a likewise good fit by turning this into a raglan sleeve pattern, adding some ease to account for the fact I'll be using a woven not a knit? Here's how I started, by lining up the shoulder seams and tracing all three pieces:

There's more to drafting a raglan sleeve than you might think, as evidenced by the tortured underarm on my first muslin:

It hurts just to look at it

Looking at that was enough to make me search all my pockets for a spare $30. But no, still broke. So no Rigel for me. I clearly have a few changes to make on my pattern, though it's not all terrible:

Blergh. 

The process of drafting and testing your own patterns is enough to make you appreciate a well-drafted commercial pattern. In fact, weighing it out value-wise, I would probably be better off buying the Papercut Patterns' bomber pattern; if I only spent five hours perfecting this pattern, I would have to value my time at $6/hour in order to justify taking on this task. (In fact, I will probably devote much more time than that to this). Alas, I have more expertise (and spare time) than I do money, so I will press on with this project. Patience, little grasshopper. 

Here's my second draft in paper pattern form (I've yet to cut a muslin). I dropped the armhole a lot and added length to the underarm seam. I also reshaped the raglan seaming:

Anyone have raglan-drafting wisdom to share? Please do in the comments below!

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!)

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?

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?

Sneak Peeks Aplenty

Sometimes it's the little things. (Actually, for me I find it's ALWAYS the littles things). Little things like beautiful vintage buttons (bought from Button Odyssey's Etsy store for just $3.99):

My four-year-old had serious button-envy after the package arrived yesterday. There were seven in the set and I only needed three for this Lauren Moffat knockoff I'm making, so I generously gave her one. She's been carrying it around ever since. She even asked me if I could make her wedding ring with it, so she also obviously appreciates the little things in life. (Also: I think a ring made from one of these buttons WOULD be awesome. My kid clearly inherited the re-make, re-use, re-do gene).

I'm also working on a cool Christmas project that has kindled my love of tiny things. Especially tiny things with unexpected details.

And below you'll see a sneak peek at another BIG project I am SO excited about. Yes, that's my embroidery. I don't have a hoop and next-to-no skills, so it's pretty shoddy. But as my husband always says, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. (OK, I think Voltaire said that first, but Ryan repeats it often enough, I'm giving him credit for reminding me not to fixate on mistakes to the point that I cannot accomplish a goal.) And anyway, this is just a minor part in the larger whole — which will be revealed eventually.



Other little things that have me happy today:

• The perfect cup of coffee
• Two hours of silence while my kid is at preschool
• Sunshine (oh wait, that's a big thing?)

What little thing is bringing you joy today?

DIY Knockoffs: Cool to Copy?

According to a friend who works in the fashion industry, nobody designs anymore. Nearly everything out there is a knock-off. Or a knock-off of a knock-off. Just ask Forever 21, which is forever in litigation with the designers whose work the company copies and then sells en masse for a million times cheaper. From the New York Times online:

It's not illegal, and some argue it's even good for the industry (listen to Kal Raustiala, co-author of The Knockoff Economy: How Imitation Sparks Innovation on NPR). Pattern companies are likewise on the copycat bandwagon.

For example, remember this dress?

Pippa Middleton

Butterick 5710

 So should I feel bad for ripping off a design and drafting a pattern for my personal use? I don't. But I would if I were to sell it. Call me old-fashioned.

The garment in question is a black silk tunic by Lauren Moffat. I love this detail on the back:

The front view is pretty simple:

So I drafted a flat pattern, using the original as my guide:

Unintentional photobomb by Ryan

It's looking a little tortured here, which is both the result of inadequate ironing and probably not quite the right fabric (this is the silk crepe de chine I had leftover from sewing Simplicity 1872, which I recently gave away):

I carefully ripped out all the top stitching. I decided it just didn't work. Or maybe I am just terrible at it. Either way. It had to go. The back looks even more tortured in this photo, but mostly because the sleeves were still pinned at that point. The fit on me is actually really good, though it looks like it's pulling in numerous places here:

For a simple looking top, it was hard to figure out how to construct this thing. It's like facings upon facings...and then sleeves? It turns out ripping something off can be extremely difficult. Figuring out what to sew first was like a puzzle. 

It's nearly done, after a week of sewing in short fits and starts (My time to sew over the past 7 days was minimal  thanks to Hurricane Sandy, which knocked out power to both my kid's preschool and my husband's office for five days  — and shut down the subway system and just about everything else. So that meant we three were all home for days upon days. Even the playgrounds and parks were all closed due to danger of falling branches. You might think that would mean lots of sewing time. You might, if you've never spent any time around a stir-crazy four-year-old.)

It's just waiting now for the buttons, which I bought on Etsy:

Have you ever knocked something off? Did you feel guilty? Are you knocking off my knock-off at this very moment? If so, how did you set in the sleeve?