Double-Digits

Avery had a Frozen party yesterday for her big 10th birthday! She wanted to be Ice-Queen Elsa, so I made her a costume.

Elsa's outfit is a little slinky for children, but I kept the skirt-slit decent, and gave the sleeves a little more coverage than Disney artists did, so I think overall it works. These cheap shiny poly fabrics are murder to sew, though.

I didn't have a pattern, just free-handed it. I traced part of a dance bodysuit to get the original size and shape for the dress bodice, but the rest was done with a piece of chalk and a dream, so to speak.

Speaking of free-handing, I took hold of my fear of drawing, and made Avery a poster of "Olaf", the snowman sidekick, using an image I printed out from a website. I sure wished I had a projector, but in the end it turned out just fine. With this project, as with so many of my university term papers, the key to success seems to be extreme time pressure - no time to fiddle around, just do it!

Birthday 'cake' was a batch of caramel fudge squares - blondies - with some icing sugar 'snow'.

Happy to share the day with friends!

Playing catch-up

This week I've been working on a few things. I made myself a wool houndstooth skirt (this is an in-progress shot):

...I fed my Christmas ornament collection:

...I made cinnamon buns:



...and I did some slightly secret salvaging, cutting, and punching, all to stock the Etsy shop. I'm hoping to launch it by Christmas.

Yea and Amen, Sister!

A brief and wonderful post from Sarah at Handmade Homeschool...I felt like cheering when she said "Luckily, I make things."

Speaking of which, I have started another crib quilt. Sneak peak:

Too late, Gwen.

Gwen left another comment to notify me of her change of heart regarding the quilt binding. The green is peaceful, she now thinks: "I'm not liking the pink so much."

Sadly, she was too late.

For once in my precious life, I got ON something, and got it done.



I'm so darn happy about this thing, you wouldn't believe it.

You may now resurrect. I'm ready.

Okay, I'm done.

Remember when I mentioned before that I let my daughter choose the fabric for her Easter dress? Do you see why I called it a tactical error? It's Granny's couch, made into a dress.

I had to do something to tone down the Upholster Chic, so I bought some old-rose cotton and made a little inset for the front. I just took the pattern's front piece and drew a more-or-less arbitrary line in the middle of the chest, then cut that piece out of the contrast fabric, embellished it, and seamed it to the dress front.

I think the front inset really works here - it distracts the eye from the pure kitsch of the floral print.

Here's where I point out mistakes. Because I wouldn't want you to think I didn't know they are there.

1-The collar could use a press. There, on your left. See it? I shoulda done that before I took the photos.

2-The bias binding at the back neck is uneven. Just on the inside, but still. You can see it in that first photo, above.

3-The embroidery detail on the left and right collar does not match. I had to fiddle with the collar pieces to get the curve to work as I was stitching, and I didn't do it evenly. I should have basted myself a line to follow.....oh, how I should have basted.

4-One or two of the lines of embroidery on the inset are crooked. Again - basting will happen next time.

And the Successes:

1-matchy shoulder seams.

2-centred sleeve motifs

3-nicely-inserted zipper

So both Easter dresses are done a week ahead - I'm happy about that. Next sunny day I'll wrassle my kids into their frocks and take pictures - they are all about the grass and mud today, so best the dresses stay far, far away.

Info:

Very Easy Very Vogue 9462 with contrast inset, sleeve bands, and machine embellishment added by me

Size 4

100% (quilting) cotton

Next sewing thing I am trying to get finished is the quilt I showed you 'way back when - I'm handquilting only one block of this sucker, because I don't have the patience to do the entire thing. This is taking long enough as it is - by the time I get done I am going to be able to drive nails into solid wood using only the tip of my middle finger. I have a formidable seamstress' callus forming.

The handquilting:

And I'm hoping to have Fern knitted by this time next week. The button bands and weaving of ends will take probably another week after that.

Onward, my lovelies!

I Gotta Wear Shades.

I think I've found my next career. I'm going to make millions doing knock-offs of Girl Guides of Canada merchandise.

The Brownies aren't what they used to be. I'm sure you all remember the little brown dress with its tie, badges and pins - well, now it's navy sweat pants ("track suit bottoms" for all you Brits out there who cringe at the words "sweat pants") and orange t-shirts. The badges go right on a sash and there's still a tie, although there isn't any kind of penalty for forgetting uniform items at a meeting. (I'll do a rant on the shoddiness of the modern Girl Guides another day.)

There are a few optional pieces, such as a handy little fleece vest, which I love. However, I couldn't afford the extra $35 or whatever, last time I was near a Guide Store, so I borrowed one from a friend and copied it.

Copied it, you say?

Yes and you, too, can copy a finished garment without disassembling it. I know you're all scrambling to find a notebook and a pen, and worry not - I'll share all my secrets. It's pretty simple. (Puts Sewing Geek hat on)

First, you establish the grainline of each separate piece of the garment. You hand baste the grainline with a contrasting thread, at least 2/3 of the length of the piece from top to bottom. On a fleece vest you can't see the weave of the fabric to thread-trace it, but there are a few clues for checking the grain. The back, if symmetrical and not bias, is almost always cut on the centre fold, which will be on the straight grain. The front zip will most likely be on the straight grain as well, or close to it, if there is any stretch at all in the fabric.

Second, lay out the pieces. Start with the largest piece laid on top of a sheet of paper large enough to accommodate the garment piece plus seam and hem allowances. It's helpful to do this on a cardboard surface, for better pinning. Align the garment grainline with the straight edge of the paper, measuring with a straight ruler to make sure both the top and the bottom of the grainline marking are the same distance from the straight edge. If the piece is cut doubled - for example on a symmetrical back - you fold the garment in half and either hand baste or pin it along the seams, to make sure the seamlines will be aligned.

Third, mark the seamlines. Jab pins through the garment and into the paper, at half-inch intervals along every seamline or foldline. Start with the longest and move to the shortest. Smooth the fabric out carefully as you go, being careful not to stretch. The other pieces of the garment (because it is still seamed together) will sometimes move the piece you're working on if you push them out of the way carelessly.

What you're trying to do here is to end up with a sequence of pinholes in the paper beneath, marking the exact shape of the garment piece and (eventually) providing you with a flat pattern.

Fourth, true up the lines and curves. Lift the garment off the paper. Using a French curve and a sharp pencil, connect all the pinholes, evening out any inconsistencies as you go. You are now drawing the seamlines of the pattern piece, so you want it to be as smooth as possible.

Fifth, add seam and hem allowances. Measure your preferred seam allowance, 5/8" or 1/2", outside of all the seamlines and draw a broken line. Make it as smooth as possible, again, as this will be your cutting line. Measure the depth of the hem on the finished garment, and add that measurement to the hem edge of your pattern piece.

Sixth, add pattern markings. It might seem like overstating the obvious, but here you want to write things like "Brownie Vest - Back - size 7-8 yrs" as well as adding marks to show the placement of any zippers or pockets. Dates are optional but I find them enormously helpful when I am referring to the pattern two years from now.

Repeat for all garment pieces.

See? Easy.

I should note that occasionally a pattern piece, when still assembled, can't lie flat due to the seams. In this case, you would pin out one section of it at a time, then remove some of the pins and let the piece curl up in order to give you slack to pin out the remaining section. I have had to do this for the back piece:
a)

Couldn't get the whole thing to lie flat at once. Note the top edge is not pinned. I pinned the fold/grainline first, and from the middle of the armscye to the hem.

b)

Here I've removed the pins from the lower half, leaving as many as possible in place, and pinned out the upper half. You can see that the garment won't lie flat - it wants to pull upwards when the top half is pinned.

Once you've made all your pattern pieces, take a good look at the garment and make notes on how it must have been put together. In this case, my assembly notes were something like this.

a) sew blue side gores to fronts. Serge.

b) sew fronts and back together at shoulders. Serge.

c) sew collar together at top edge. Serge. Serge lower edge of inner collar.

d) sew outer collar to garment neck edge. Serge.

e) insert separable zipper from hem to collar top edge.

f) turn sides and lower edge of inner collar down along zipper and neck edge. Topstitch along zipper from hem to top edge, around top edge, and around garment neck edge.

g) serge armhole edges. Apply stretch binding at 1/2". Turn and topstitch.

h) sew side seams. Serge.

i) turn up hem. Topstitch at 1/4" and 1".

And, le voila......which is mine and which is theirs?

(Mine is the one with the better-inserted zipper. Obviously.)

Exercise in futility? Check.

Well, yeah, we did Earth Hour. Not sure that it made much difference, as we were the only ones on the stinking street with our lights off.

Jeepers, people, get on the freaking bandwagon already.

There should be one of those big levers like Madeline Kahn pulls in the movie Clue. Then I could shut off the whole neighbourhood at once, will they or nill they.

Sewing update, as if you cared.

The fabric I was going to use for Em's dress is a no-go. Too heavy for a child. I took her to the fabric store and let her choose her own. HUGE tactical error. More on that later.

Knitting update.

Fern was going smashingly until I started bringing it to Wednesday knit nights, where I made mistake after mistake, resulting in me ripping the second sleeve back to the wrist and reknitting it. It's the stripes - I blame it all on the bloody stripes. My feeble brain has trouble remembering which is Colour B, which is Colour C, which is Colour D, and which Colour E.

Colours A and F are easy.

So basically things are going pretty damn crappy here at HSB. I meant to publish a review tomorrow but if I write it now I have a feeling Blogger will lose the entire thing and I'll have to start over. Not to mention I am in such a foul mood that I'll probably pillory the poor author, making my Blackstrap Hawco review sound like an epic hymn in praise of the purest, highest art.

I'm outta here. See you tomorrow if I can muster the will, with a review (hopefully) or more bitching (probably).

Altar Ego

When I was a kid, other girls got "Easter Dresses" every spring. You know the type of thing - confections of polyester ruffles, nylon lace, satin ribbon, lots of eyelet (it was the '70s). For the very lucky, there were matching hats. Going to church on Easter Sunday was an exercise in self-control, so as not to give way to envy - my parents weren't the Easter Dress and Hat type. I think I got one once, but I'm not sure I'm remembering that correctly.


I don't think Easter Dresses are as ubiquitous a phenomenon as they used to be - on this continent, probably more people don't go to church, than do. Not that the dress can only be worn to church, but there are very few other suitable places to wear such a garment.


I've lived to thank my parents for not giving me what I wanted all the time, or even terribly often. "I don't need all that I think I need" is a valuable lesson. I haven't even thought about Easter Dresses for ages, but a couple of weeks ago I remembered that tradition, and thought my daughters would like to have a new, springy dress for Easter Sunday.


I have plenty of fabric stashed away - much more fabric than yarn, as it happens - so I went through it and chose a linen and cotton blend for Charlotte. The one true thing about her is her palette (to misquote Nigella Lawson), so it had to be pink.




I used Burda 9755, in a size 8/10. This garment came together well - I like Burda's patterns, and construction, although their written instructions can be a little terse and their pattern markings (notches, particularly) are sometimes easy to miss.

The pattern includes an apron, which I thought was completely darling. I made it out of a satin-finish quilting cotton, and it is such a sweet addition, although I'm not sure how often she will wear them together.




I paid close attention to the details on this garment - it IS an Easter Dress - and when I got to the handwork stage, the thought of buttons and buttonholes didn't seem quite right. Instead, I went for the smoother finish of hooks and thread loops. I cut some individual flowers from the remnants of the daisy trim used for the neckline, and sewed one over each hook.


The centre back.



Hooks & thread loops.


I have three more meters of the same fabric in a pretty, light aqua, which my younger daughter has requested for her dress. I haven't chosen a pattern yet but I'll be getting on that quick-like - Easter is coming awfully fast.



--------------

And remember when I was sick and I said I was going to make myself a new pillowcase to improve my mood? I made it that very day, but forgot to show you.



And that concludes the sewing update for this week - if I can get my act together, next time I'll have Emily's dress to show you.

Imperfect, Inimitable

Erudite Mondays at HalfSoled Boots

Volume 6 Number 3

Quilts of Provence - the Art and Craft of French Quiltmaking

by Kathryn Berenson

I've been meaning to tell you about this book for a long time. I got it a year or two ago and I've been reading it off and on ever since, trying to work up the courage to try this beautiful incarnation of the textile arts.

Broderie de Marseilles is a method of quiltmaking in which two layers of fabric are densely quilted, by hand, with no batt in between. There are often several parallel rows of stitching on the edges of the piece, with the centres featuring designs of flowers, suns, and plants. There are extant pieces featuring more abstract designs, too - usually in a very romantic style. Lots of swirls and curlicues.



Once the entire piece has been quilted, the finished item is corded and stuffed - that is, each individual channel between quilted rows, or each quilted pocket, is stuffed with cotton. To do this, the quilter uses a needle to carefully open a space between the threads of the fabric until it is wide enough to admit a darning needle. She threads a piece of cotton cording into the eye and runs the needle through the channel until the entire channel is corded. She cuts the cord, manipulates the end in through the hole in the fabric, then wiggles that hole closed with her needle. If it is a pocket that needs stuffing, she opens a hole as before, then uses a needle to curl the cording tightly into the pocket, bit by painstaking bit. The holes are all closed up afterwards, and the entire piece is washed.



It takes an unbelievable amount of time, and careful work. When I first saw the book, I was drawn to the gorgeous finished pieces and declared to all, "I am going to learn this technique and make a bed-cover!" Then I read on a little bit and decided, "I'd better make a table runner instead." Then I got to the part with the templates and the instructions for cording and stuffing, and thought to myself "I could really use a coaster."



This book is a sumptuously presented, intelligently arranged blend of history, instruction, and eye candy. Stunning photographs depict gorgeous, brilliantly-coloured textiles, dated from as early as the 18th century. There are closets full of antique quilts, sofas covered in folded florals, and dress forms garbed in authentic Provençal regional costume. There are instructions and templates for 11 projects ranging in difficulty from an easy placemat (in imitation broderie de Marseilles) to an advanced single-piece, corded and stuffed wedding quilt in ivory silk.



What impresses me most about this beautiful book is not the inspiration to try the technique - although I am dying to, one of these days - or the respect I feel for these women who clothed their families in this incredible art. What I think about most is the concept of regional dress: the idea that at one time, any given People expressed their identity, their history, their place in the world, and their sense of community through clothing and textiles.



I thought of this book when I was at the Fleece and Fibre Fair, walking around the venue and taking in the knitters, crocheters, felters, and spinners all around me. There isn't one unified dress sense, at all, but there is a unified pride in our accomplishments. Some people are visibly....well I must say tickled pink to be wearing their first botchy, lopsided hat, while buying more yarn to make coordinating chunky mittens. Others are standing watching the spinners, their backs straight and their heads carried with quiet pride above dreamily soft, perfectly-executed lace shawls in baby alpaca.

It was, really, the incarnation of what people refer to as "the fibre arts community". We aren't neighbours, we share neither a place nor a history. We are united not by a common tradition, but by our love for the craft. Maybe there isn't a region, strictly speaking, but there is a regional dress: there was so much Handmade in that hall, it was exhilirating just to breathe such a creatively-charged atmosphere.

I don't imagine the Marseilles needlewomen felt quite the same way about their handwork as we do. In the days before widespread mechanisation, it was nothing extraordinary to clothe one's family entirely in garments made by one's own hands. The extraordinary thing, in fact, would have been to spend the family's money purchasing clothing and linens when you could make them yourself.



Then, as now, the beauty of these items is in their uniqueness: no two pieces are exactly alike. It's a little depressing to look around me, sometimes, and realise just how many things in my house are mass-produced, and therefore also in the homes of hundreds and thousands of other people. I like to think of myself as an individual, a non-conformist, but the reality is I buy the same Rubbermaid bins and Levis jeans as everyone else does.



Times have changed. Making your own clothes isn't unheard of, but wearing them is much less usual. I like to see people taking pride in the works of their hands. I like the feeling of wearing something I've made, and I don't mind when people ask me, "Did you knit that yourself?" As some never tire of pointing out, you can buy a sweater for $40 at the Bay. But nobody can buy MY sweater. I made it myself, and there'll never be another like it.

One of these busy, full days, I'll try some broderie de Marseilles. I have some fabric that I bought specially to try it, and I have even sketched out a template for a stylised sun, very much in the Provençal style. It's a little intimidating, but I think if I'm patient and careful I can do it. I'd like to have something that no one else has - even if it's just a coaster.

Making the Best of It

The other day I mentioned that I had found a couple of small holes in my quilt after I repaired the edge. I sat down in the sunshine today with a couple of needles and a helpful book, and spent a half hour or so doing some fancy darning...my first try at this sort of work. Here's a pictorial record.



The Hole, roughly mended to keep the raw edges from unravelling during repair.


The Book. Full of useful knowledge and pretty ideas. I must keep an eye out for this one, for my own library.


The Patch. Stitched in DMC 223, 224 and 3347. Made up as I went along, trying to follow the instructions for "Spiderweb Stitch" and failing miserably, but still coming up with a pretty flower, so all's well that ends well.

And here's a progress shot of Charlotte's stocking.


Have a good weekend - I'm off to Fun Knits tomorrow with my knitting posse. We'll be stuffing ourselves with incredible food at the Lovin' Oven and spending the grocery money on laceweight. Fun!

Ticking Over

_____________________________
"I hate it when I'm boring."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. So do I. I've been so boring lately."
- my friend and me, today.





I thought I'd show you what I'm working on lately, since I am philosophically exhausted today and find myself unable to competently review a book.

Charlotte's Christmas stocking continues. It was borne in upon me that there isn't much time left if I want this done by 25 December, and with the entire family (my side, that is) here for the day, it would be a shame if Charlotte's was the only sock left uncrossed. Even Emily has one - not as big and fancy as the others, nor personalised, but at least hers would blend in.



As you can see, I've made some progress on the toboggan - compare it to this picture from June 18 which was the last time I had anything new to show.



I have cast on a new sweater. Between the purple yarn and the pattern, I've decided to call this "Grape Jaali".

My first attempt at the back of this sweater didn't go so well. I knit the cabled strip for the hem, then turned it and picked up along the long edge to begin the body of the sweater. You're meant to fold the knitted strip in half lengthwise, and pick up through both layers at once. The instructions call for you to pick up almost 1:1 - that is, for every row, you pick up a stitch. Stitches are wider than rows are high, though, and by the time I had a bit (read, ten inches) knitted I could tell this was going nowhere. The stitches were packed in so tightly that they were almost gathered - and with the hem doubled, there wasn't enough stretch to block it out effectively. Also, it seemed like it was going to be too big for me.


Ugly gathers.


I ripped, and began anew. This is the second try, and it's going much better. In case you're curious, I kept the cabled hem the same size, but picked up for the next size down - 126 stitches instead of 136 stitches. I also left the hem undoubled, and will whip-stitch it into place when I have blocked the piece to satisfaction.


Much neater.

And I have resurrected a five-year-old project, my very first attempt at quilting, with plans to finish this and hang it on my daughters' wall. It's not big enough for a bed and I don't have the wherewithal to make another umpteen blocks to MAKE it big enough. A wall hanging it shall be.



My favourite part of quilting is definitely the pressing, with the neat 1/4" seam allowances coming in a very, very close second.

I love miters.

I hope to buy the batting and backing, quilt this (hand-quilted, of course, with an electric needle) and finish it by the beginning of October. Doable, I think.

On the horizon is another sweater for Ruby, who this time will receive a nice thick pullover jumper in time for Christmas. Once I price the yarn, I can start that.

I'd also like to get some Latvian mittens knit this fall, but there are only so many hours in a day and I've got that pesky Ministry of Education insisting Charlotte gets educated...tchuh. Don't they know I've got STASH to deal with?

Saving Nine

The year we got married, my mum and dad made us a quilt. Isn't that nice? They did one for each of us kids around the time we all got coupley: and the weddings went as follows.

Eldest - 1995
Youngest - 1996
Middle - 1997

So it was a hectic few years. My dad was off work due to an injury (broken neck, believe me or believe me not) during much of that time, and spent a lot of his recovery quilting. I love that.

Anyway, I am not one of those people who redecorates their house every year or two and has multiple sheet sets for each bed. I can't justify the money and the waste. But, I hadn't realised just how well-worn this quilt was until I was inspecting the fall linens in preparation for the cold weather, and saw the edge of it up close.



Ten meters of 5/8" double-fold bias tape, a little bit of pretty stitch work from the Pfaff:

and Presto! the quilt is ready for another ten years of duty.


When I was folding it up after rebinding it, I noticed two small holes in the patchwork top. I'll repair those and show them to you next week.

But in the meantime, I'd like to reflect on the concept of stewardship. I think it's one of those things that became unfashionable around the same time as marriage did - during the decades following the Second World War, when people were tired of making do and women were tired of staying home. I recall a magazine article I read in about 1982, entitled "Are You a Supermarket Miser?" It had a little quiz where you could find out if you were committing the sin of trying to save money.....sorry, I mean "pinch pennies". One of the questions was "Do you use plastic grocery bags for the trash instead of buying proper garbage bags?" The whole article was smugly tittering...you certainly got the impression that "Yes" was the wrong box to tick.

The article was written at a time when consumption was the height of fashion, when manufacturers were scrambling to make everything disposable. But you wouldn't have caught a pioneer family, or a Depression family, or a wartime family, throwing away a quilt that could be repaired for less than a half-hour's wage, or a towel that could be cut down into facecloths, or a facecloth that could be turned into a diaper, that could be turned into a rag.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this in the last while, especially since my bike was stolen and we realised we can't actually afford to replace it. Living on one income is difficult with gas at $1.34 a liter (and we're grateful it's that low), and flour costing me $15 per 10 kilo bag. As expensive as the essentials are, though, they're not what puts us into the overdraft.

Being part of a privileged class in a privileged nation brings with it a certain carelessness when it comes to small luxuries. I remarked to my sister the other day that it would be interesting to save all our receipts for a month, then go through and highlight everything we bought that was nonessential. Every bag of chips, every tall nonfat extra-hot latte, every video rental. I think it would be a little shocking to see the total.

I have a lot of skills. I can patch jeans. I can make bulletin boards, and clothes, and muffins. I can even darn socks, though whole-wheat breadmaking remains a challenge. I may not be making a wage, but I can at least avoid spending a wage we don't have.

As I spend year after year raising my children rather than editing government audit reports, living costs climb relentlessly. Like the Elliotts, we must retrench. Part of that is fixing my quilt, sure, and part of it is buying too-short thrift-store jeans and letting them down, but most of it is attitude. There's a......yes, I would say almost a shame that comes with being careful with money, even when it's by necessity rather than by choice. I had to search, there, for a phrase that wasn't demeaning: the first things that came to mind were "cheap", "skinflint", and "miserly". It's interesting: I'm obviously a product of my generation, latchkey kids raised by two working parents who bought cookies and threw away worn linens.

Is it okay now, at the beginning of a new, expensive century, to value skills like patching and darning? Can I be proud of myself for having saved that $90 for a new quilt?

I think so. I think the world might be ready for a person who spent five years in university, then four years wearing heels to a government office and getting $60 haircuts every six weeks, to stay at home every day educating the children and patching quilts. I might not be Rosie Riveter, but I'm still doing my bit for the war.