Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Knitter sweater

Greetings earthlings readers! Tell me, have you been reading Karen's tips on blog writing? I've long admired the writerly and editorial skill with which she crafts her posts, and I'm finding this mini-series inspiring. True fact: when I was a kid (and in fact not-so-secretly still) all I ever wanted to be was a Writer: capital W, obvs, I'm talking about actual Literature here (capital L). Anyway, Karen said out loud what I've believed all along, which is that of course, not all writing has to be Literature. Us blogging seamsters?  We're writers already! And you know what? If someone in publishing said it, it TOTALLY counts. Childhood ambition: achievement unlocked!

So yay, there I was, all fired up and inspired to tell you a story.  But ok, it turns out that 37 year-old me runs into the same problem as 7 year-old me. Sometimes, you just don't have much of a story to tell.


Totally had not realised how not-black my black leggings are these days.


I made a sweater.

I love it.

The End.




Ok, not The End.  I'm presuming you want details :-)

I also presume you've already guessed the biggest one, due to this pattern's total ubiquity at the moment: yes of course - it's a Grainline Linden sweatshirt.  Plain black, because I happened to have 5 metres of this lusciously stretchy sweatshirting on hand (and will totally make matching Hudsons with the rest!) and then tarted up a bit, because why not?  Though actually, I can think of many reasons not to emblazon a slogan across your boobs. I don't think I've ever before bought or worn a top embellished in such a way. Partly a placement thing: rtw slogans don't so much splash across my boobs so much as splurge between boobs and neck, and that does not look cool (it looks ridiculous). Also, what slogan? I'm not exactly going to shout BABE with my bust, or something.

But I had this silver sparkly fusible flocking. I found it in Hema and couldn't just leave it there.  And the idea of slogan-ing this sweater wouldn't let go - all I needed was a word I could wear, if not with pride then at least without embarrassment.




Once I had one, all it took was a few hours minutes of font-finding, fifteen minutes to cut it out with a craft knife, and five minutes more to iron it on.

Now, can I brag shamelessly about that piping? (It's stretch piping btw, found in a local shop and compulsively bought for the novelty value).  Here's an underarm seam junction for you, from the inside:




And here it is again, from the outside:




BAM! See that join?  PERFECT! << Little smug happy dance >>  I don't know what it is about matching up seams, but I am quite obsessive about it. In the rarely-visible armpit region, I will usually allow seams to not line up with absolute precision - but on this, with contrast piping involved, I would have got the heebie jeebies if they didn't. Seriously. (Sometimes I do worry about whether sewing is actually good for my mental health).




Ah, tea and knitting. These two things in combination can cure almost all ills.  Except the one where you rip out your attempted thumb gusset six times before getting it right.  Then it gets a bit love-hate. Sometimes, wine is needed.




I got there in the end, and conquered second glove syndrome while I was at it. I'll have a pair by the end of winter! Or more like AT the end of winter, but they'll be happy enough in a box until next year.

So, that's that. A knitter sweater. It goes without saying that I've made more Lindens, doesn't it? I'm experimenting with sizing: this one is a size 6 at the shoulders with a 2cm full bust adjustment (slightly fiddly, as you're also adjusting the length of the sleeve seam - would anyone be interested in a quick'n'dirty raglan FBA tute?), and I graded out to a 12 at the waist/hips.  For my subsequent two Lindens I've made a straight size 12 - they're a bit boxier than this, but slightly more comfortable - this one pulls a little at the shoulders. I'll show you them soon; this pattern has so much scope for customising, they're both completely different. The one I'm wearing right now is a rather unexpected view B...

Would you, or do you, wear slogans on sweaters?  And how do you feel about embellishments?  I've rarely tried them before, but now I think I'm a convert!


Monday, 9 February 2015

Not a bomber jacket

I'm not sure whether Rigel Bomber January kicked my butt into gear or just kicked my butt.




It seems I'm not the only one to have purchased the pattern and promptly sat on it for over a year.  I really wanted to sew it too, but it just kept getting queue-jumped. So when I read Sonja's post about a January bomber jacket sewalong, I knew I was in. What better way to start a new year than by ticking off a big unfinished idea from the last?  My butt --> kicked into gear!

However. I also started the new year by going back to work after several months off (see here).  It was not really a good time to set myself ambitious targets. Or any targets. It was a good time to tread carefully back into the routines and go easy on myself. Which, to my own surprise, I did - no late night sewing, no rushing, no self-imposed stress. Go me!  But of course, this all added up to no finished Rigel bomber either --> my butt kicked.




Now that it is finished, can I just say? TOTALLY kicked ass on my Rigel bomber, January deadline or not.  First ever welt pockets? BAM perfect! Slinky satin lining complete with pleat? Yes thank you ma'am, I has it! And ooooh I so, so love me a neat and tidy metal zip. I could just look down at that all day (if I didn't, you know, have to look where I was going and stuff).




The outer, pre-quilted fabric was a coupon from the Chien Vert, the lining and ribbing  from the bargain basement of Berger. Black polycotton scraps for the pocket bags, and the zip came from Gold Fingers - which, heads up for those in or around Brussels, stocks the most amazing selection of zips at equally amazing prices (that's amazing as in, cheap, in case of doubt :-).  The whole lot had been sitting ready in a bag, with matching thread, since about September - I could hardly have been more ready to sprint out of the starting blocks come January!




Mid-January, I opened and examined the bag of Rigel-to-be. I got out my pattern, did some head-scratching. Puzzled over the pattern pieces and scratched my head some more. In the end, I had to suspend disbelief and admit that whichever way I looked at it, this fabric - which I'd bought specifically for this project and by now had my heart set on, and I remember checking the yardage requirements and everything yes REALLY - just, well. It just wasn't big enough.

I would insert some gnashing of teeth here, for the sake of storytelling. But the truth of the tale is that my thoughts, quite surprisingly and indeed almost gleefully, went: OH WELL. Necessity is the mother of invention!




Oh, did I mention? It's not actually a bomber jacket at all.




Because when faced with a fabric shortage, by far the most obvious thing to remove from a raglan jacket pattern is the sleeves. Raglan sleeves are fabric eaters!  Not only that, but for months I'd actually been keeping my eyes on the high street for a gilet that met my exacting requirements, and until the "but how am I going to get sleeves on this coat" moment, it hadn't occurred to me at all to just make one.




Once that thought process had happened, it was just a hop, skip and jump to mashing up the Rigel Bomber with the Undercover Hood, un-raglanned and with armholes from the Purl Bee's vest drawn on.




I honestly have never felt much desire to draft patterns from scratch, and I still don't. But this process of creating an entirely different design out of three other separate designs was heaps of fun. And so satisfying, remembering to add or subtract seam allowances where needed, re-drawing curves that looked and worked better, figuring out the whole thing by myself.  I am so incredibly pleased and proud of how this turned out. Not only did I 'draft' it without a hitch, it's also basically my most utterly perfect vest. I couldn't have planned it better.




Bonus husband comment:
Ooh nice fabric! I like this one very much.  It's a... <looks searchingly at me> ... oh right, a gilet. Can you make me a gilet exactly the same? Except, without the fur. Or a hood. And with sleeves.




All man-bomber-jacket pattern suggestions welcome, on a postcard adressed to:

Jo
c/o Just Let Me Finish All the Other Sewing First,
Brussels,
Belgium.


Friday, 23 January 2015

Yak hat

Happy Friday, dearests! I hope you've had a good week! I'm tired out by mine, but it included an excellent day of sewcialising (more below), and the outlook for the weekend is pleasingly cold and sunny. Perfect for getting some fresh air and vitamin D in my new and favourite-ever knitted hat!




There are a lot of things I like about this hat.  Starting, where all knitted items do, with the yarn. I don't know if I mentioned it here, but I was one of the lucky attendees at the awesome Paris meet up in November (see Charlotte and Lladybird for write ups) and came away with a fantastic goody bag which included a 40% off voucher for Peace and Wool.  OK I just went to their site to link them and of course there's a sale on - NOT WHAT I NEED people! Because markdowns on wool, I am powerless to resist - and most especially when it comes with a sexy French blurb like this one: 

Under its thick, coarse hair, the Mongolian yak has a layer of very warm and incomparably soft down - a precious product once reserved for royalty. Yaks lose this down in the spring moulting season, when it is collected by hand, sorted and washed several times. Yak wool is very warm and extremely soft, similar to cashmere. 

This carded yarn consists of 50% down from the Khangai mountain Yak, produced by the region's cooperative farmers with the technical support of Agronomists and Veterinarians Without Borders.  The remaining 50% is incredibly soft extra fine merino from breeders in the Southern Alps. In addition to its exceptional feel and color, this yarn is entirely naturally treated and undyed. Being fairly traded, it also contributes to improving the living conditions of both Mongolian and French herders.

Isn't that just the most unimpeachably perfect yarn snobbery ever? I absolutely love it!! It's still the thing that tickles me most about the finished item of headwear. And to top it all off, it came wrapped in sparkly paper with a free chocolate:


http://instagram.com/p/wd6-cGLvQd/?modal=true


Peace and Wool are WINNING at artisan craft supplies, guys! Totally made my day.

So then I just had to find a pattern. Time to test a theory I'd been developing: namely, that if you spend long enough scrolling through patterns on Ravelry - and there will be thousands, even when you've narrowed it down by yardage, weight, needle size, pattern type and everything else you can think of - and "long enough" in this case meaning well beyond what would usually be the point of no return, it might even take days - if you search that stubbornly and persistently, eventually you WILL find the one absolutely 100% perfect pattern for the thing you want to make.

I didn't say it was a time saving theory or anything. But it hasn't been proved wrong yet.




I found my holy grail hat pattern on about page 1,000* (*possibly an exaggeration). It's Rooty by Alex Tinsley, and well, it just grabbed me. The clever knit-flat brim, the braids, the perfect amount of slouch - I love it! And though you can't see them so well in this picture, it's also got tiny dots knit into it too, which gives it a lovely little bit of texture. (They show up better on the first and last pictures in this post). I showed it to my family over Christmas and they all agreed it was very 'me', whatever that means. I think it was intended as a compliment.

Right now, on to the sewcialising part! The part where, on Tuesday, I went to Paris again and met up with the wonderful, WONDERFUL Kirsty, Inna and Lisa. We had a brilliant time touring the fabric shops with Barbara of Stitching Up Paris, and I was yet again floored by the fabulousness of the internet and the sewing friends I've made through it.  But you know, I don't really have much to report about the day itself - we walked, talked, shopped, and it was like we'd all met before and known each other for years, which in a sense is true anyway.  It was just all round lovely to meet them.

However. I'm not just telling you all this randomly and pointlessly.

Here is a picture (taken by Inna - I hope she doesn't mind me 'borrowing' it from her Instagram feed) of Lisa and Barbara taking a well-earned shopping break. And guess what...


http://instagram.com/p/yGHKNyTgft/?modal=true


Lisa made a yak hat too! Hers is a Dreiecke by Very Shannon, also a textured pattern that works really well with the yarn. In fact so well that I was immediately seized with hat jealousy and wished I had more yak yarn to make a copycat hat with (I think I'm almost over it now).  We compared notes and particularly noticed how the wool has gone all fluffy in the wearing - it has a kind of downy halo-like glow. Albeit a glow that does bear a passing resemblance to pubic hair, which was my thought not Lisa's and not one said out loud at the time, but it was a thought that once had could not be un-had, so I thought I'd share it. You're welcome.




So that's my yak hat. The yarn really is as soft and warm as that blurb says it is, and it sits so lightly on the head. I like the pattern so much that I've already made another, this time for my daughter (on a size smaller needles so it came out just a little denser, and fits her perfectly).  It all makes going out in the cold just a bit more bearable.

And with that I'm signing off - I have some fake fur trim to shop for. Hope you all have a lovely weekend!


Friday, 9 January 2015

Dolores and Dungarees

Well OUCH this post is overdue.

(It's also totally overexposed, in the photographic sense, because winter + amateur editing non-skillz). 

(And it's also back to business as usual - something for which I'm incredibly grateful, as I am too for the very many kind reactions to my previous post. Truly & deeply: thank you).


SHEEPISH.


So, you might find the most striking thing about that photo to be the dungarees. But what I really want to talk to you about first is the tee underneath. Atrociously showcased by a garment that hides most of it, but nonetheless a true star in it's own right: it's a Dolores!




Dolores being of course the excellent batwing pattern by the wonderful and fabulous Zoe :-)  Now, when Zoe launched the pattern, she held a giveaway where interested bloggers could win a copy of the pattern in exchange only for a review - and guess what, I was one of the lucky ones! Yes yes!! A review by the end of the year - about the lowest-stress deadline ever - was something I was totally, utterly up for, especially for someone I'm such a great fan of.  Errr.. yes. Made the top, took the pictures, didn't blog it. Massive OOPS. I have nothing to say in my defence, but I will happily rave about this pattern to make up for it! Not because guilt (I'm just not doing that these days) but because EXCELLENCE.

The version that originally grabbed me most was the dress - relaxed, funky, and Zoe looks so very cool in hers :-) . Stash diving turned up 2 metres of lovely heathery-grey cotton spandex: I was cutting it out in no time. And that's "no time" including assembling the pdf, by the way, which is exceptionally economical, easy and quick (just 11 A4 pages!)  Unfortunately, my fabric turned out to be much too clingy - it didn't so much skim neatly over my midsection as expose all of its lumps and bumps (this kind of bump; two is enough thank you very much). So I simply chopped it off at top-length, having had the foresight to trace the lines for it on my fabric as well, just in case. Insert smug-forward-planning-face here. I think the dress would work better - for me at least - in a more structured knit like ponte or sweatshirting, and I will definitely be trying that at some point.

In the spirit of testing the pattern properly, I followed it as written instead of steaming ahead with my usual tee construction, and SHOCK NEWS ALERT it produces a very lovely finish, with minimal fuss. The only thing that had me stumped was right at the very beginning in the list of materials: "wool needle".  What, I thought?? Surely you mean ballpoint needle? Stretch needle?? But no - of course one needs to tidy up the ends of one's overlocker threads, and Dolores does it like this. I do like to learn new tricks :-)

See how nice? Also, labels!




That's a label in the back of a garment that doesn't actually have a back or a front; they're identical. Guess I got a little bit ocd there! Must. Have. Labels.

This is the best I managed for a batwing-sleeve-showing-off picture. DERP.




As for the wearing, this top is brilliant. It's super comfy, and the waist shaping is just the right amount of flattering. Plus the high neckline and long sleeves make me feel really covered up, but not at all frumpy. I've been wearing it a lot with skinny jeans, either on it's own or under my Blair batwing top when it's really cold. And with the dungarees, I just love how the batwing underarm shape comes out from under the yoke.  It's a thoroughly great basic tee that's actually a lot more than basic. If that makes sense. OF COURSE IT DOES. Go Dolores!!

OK, dungaree time!




These were irresistibly inspired by Kirsty and Karen - dungarees would NEVER have been on my sewing or wearing radar, yet my head was turned within about a week of seeing Pauline Alice's Turia pattern by these two fabulous makes. Overalls rocketed from zero to hero in the time it took me to read their blog posts, and the pdf was in my inbox in even less time later.  I even liked Karen's well-chosen contrast topstitching so much that I completely copied it:






The flat-felled seams and double topstitching in this pattern are details that produce a really lovely pair of dungarees. They look just perfectly like jeans-but-not-jeans. The only thing I missed somehow was finishing the folded-over side edges on the yoke, which you can just about see below. But the topstitching keeps it from ravelling too much and it's hardly visible. And my other, minor change, was to also double topstitch where the straps join the back, to reinforce the seam.




The side zips were the first 'normal' zips I've done in yonks, I've become such an invisible zip aficiando. I love them :-)  As for the wearing, I love that too - though I must say, I have struggled slightly to pair them with winter footwear and the right rolled-up trouser length. I do wonder if these might really come into their own in warmer weather with sandals - and in any case, come summer I am absolutely going to make both shorts and dress versions.  These are just so comfortable and so practical-feeling - and those pockets OH.




Srsly best pockets ever.

So yeah, dungarees. When I told my best friend H I was making dungarees, she actually recoiled in horror and proceeded to mock my fashion choices in ways I have not experienced since my early teens (no harm done or offence taken though, H!)  I noticed another friend do the look up and down that registers a new and interesting outfit, without commenting - a visibly tactful lack of comment, of course :-) No, dungarees are not uncontroversial, especially when in real life nobody you know even realises they are actually on sale to the young people in Zara (holy crap I want those black ones! Look at the back!)

What do you think? Would you make them?

Sunday, 4 January 2015

2014 / 2015

I think that sometimes, if a thing is left unsaid long enough, it starts to get in the way of anything else being said.

Maybe you know what I mean (maybe you don't).




Another way of putting it is: I haven't been posting so much recently because I've been having trouble looking my own photo in the face (and duh those photos are usually the point!)  Call me naive and maybe sentimental, but I've always liked to think of this online space as an honest one. I know no-one is here to read about the details of my life - but sometimes those details are important, and the reality of what I make, and how I do it, isn't truly told without mentioning them. I also strongly suspect that many other makers have similar things to tell - and whether or not that's true, I very firmly believe that sometimes, these things are just better talked about than not. (I bet it is true, and I bet us creatives have a lot of good stuff to say about it too).

So, I'm going to say my unsaid thing, and those are my reasons. If you'd rather just read about crafts, feel free to click away now :-)




The thing is: I have depression.

I've had it since my son was about 6 months old, and this year I discovered that that wasn't a one-off postnatal episode.

The way that I discovered this is through finally, in the autumn of 2013, v e r y  s l o w l y and carefully coming off the antidepressants I'd been taking for the past four years - and then last spring, plunging into a severe and long drawn out depressive episode that, well, let's just say it beat the pants off the first one. To the extent that I was on full-time medical absence from work from the beginning of May until the very last working week of December - which I worked half-time, to ease myself in before I start again 'properly' this week. Wish me luck: all my extremities are crossed and after the year I've had, I'm taking nothing for granted.

Now, I'm extremely lucky, and I know it. My conditions of employment (and the accompanying health insurance) are outstandingly protective of employees in such circumstances. Both my line manager and my direct colleagues have been consistently, overwhelmingly understanding and supportive, despite this being an particularly bad time for our small team to be one (wo)man down. My doctor/therapist is a wonderful match for what I've needed, and has helped me out of some very, very deep holes. Much of the early summer I spent feeling stupefied at how bad things could be; mid-way through I was largely terrified of just how little control I had of my mind (and how much control it had over me, in worse ways than I could have imagined). Autumn was spent in despair and frustration, because how can 6 months on all the drugs not make the slightest bit of difference? And then, one Sunday morning in November, just like that, I woke up feeling normal. Out of nowhere. I'm incredibly, incredibly lucky.




It doesn't matter that feeling normal felt so unfamiliar, and how many months or years had it been since normal was normal, anyway? It doesn't matter that I mind, deeply, that I had to take so much time away from my 'real life', to be absent not just from my job but in many respects also from my husband, my children, from all the people who care about me. And of course, to wake up feeling normal rests very much on what is finally the right combination of medication, and on the weeks of mindfulness-based cognitive therapy, and on the rest I eventually managed to give myself.  But what I overwhelmingly feel is luck. Mental health balances on a pin, and I'm all too aware how easy it is to fall.




So, as I head into 2015, that's what's behind me (I hope). Mindfully taking life one breath at a time, or trying to (have you tried? It's not that easy). There is still making - there is always making. Now you know how I found the time to produce an entire new summer wardrobe for 2014 :-)  And I've had plenty of time to consider just how creativity plays in all this: making the mind, mindfully making... I think there will be a post about all that, at some point.

For today, I think I'll just leave it here. If you've read this far - thank you. Please don't feel the need to comment, especially as I'll very likely come over all awkward and not reply (yes, I'm already cringing in embarrassment at that as-yet unhappened possibility). Normal blog service will resume shortly: right now I'm just glad that I can 'come back', to talk again about the things I've made and the me behind the screen who made them.

The me that's stitching myself back together, as best I can.




All pictures in this post are of the weaving house at Fotovikens Museum of living Viking history, southern Sweden.


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