Sewing space downsize

You guys, you guys. I'm hurtling towards the end of term in a blur of LAST MINUTE EVERYTHING mayhem. Was it a good idea to be leaving on holiday just one day after school finishes? Probably not. But it's too late to change plans now, and I have a bikini and a dress or two to finish (to start!! omf*$%g!!) before we pack ourselves into the car on Saturday morning. Thank the lord I know there'll be plenty of wine when we get there.

Needless to say - because isn't it what all sewists do before a holiday? - I have been making things like a maniac. Of course, I have no photos and thus there is no finished-garment blogging today -  I shall be photographing them on location in sunnier, beachier climes OBVS. No, instead, today I would like to present to you - ta dah!! - the attic sweatshop where it all happens. Welcome to my new, improved and radically downsized sewing space!

Now, I'm not actually grumbling about the downsize.  I knew it would come at some point, and I still have my own, now permanent, room. NOT COMPLAINING at all. But, here's the old one, bird's eye view from the mezzanine:

(I blogged about it previously here, btw). It's now my daughter's bedroom. Fair enough, that was always its destiny. But I hadn't really realised just how much of that luxuriously huge surface and floor space I'd been using, until faced with moving all my stuff to a 2x3 metre box room. If I wanted to be able to get any yardage spread out on the floor in the new space (let alone all of it with space to walk round, sob!) I had to think creatively. Likewise the ironing station. There's no room for just putting things to one side: the room is all sides and it gets clogged up mighty quick.

The answer of course has been to put things on walls. The shelving isn't exactly earth shattering, but can I just say that I have been BLOWN AWAY by the utterly brilliant usefulness of that rail with hooks (now much more cluttered than when this picture was taken)?  I'd always thought hanging your paper patterns would involve a space-hogging rack, like this:

click for source

But no! Ikea to the rescue - and they hang flat against the wall! As does anything and everything else I might want to hang on it! Leaving me room for manoeuvre at the desk, and space to move my little cutting table (in the first pic above) around to wherever works best.  The cupboard under the window is where current projects and supplies live, nicely hidden behind a wax fabric curtain thank-you-very-much. Patterns are in a separate cupboard downstairs, but I keep a queue of the ones I'll be using soon on the shelves where I can get at them easily.

I always wonder how we all fit sewing into our lives as well as our spaces, so here's a step back to show you the bigger picture. This is the top level of our house, and the two doors to the right are the kids' bedrooms:

I'm not sure why, but this arrangement of rooms suits both the kids and me much better.  Perhaps I've neglected trained them thoroughly enough, or maybe it's just what happens when they get big enough, but these days I get to spend a lot of time not actually really doing things with them. It works well for all of us that I'm there next door, and we chat while they do their various things in and between their own rooms, as well as mine. Sewing no longer seems the big deal activity it used to be when it took up so much more room, and I'm suddenly finding it easier to fit in odd minutes here and there while they're doing other stuff.

Moving the kids to rooms of their own now has also brought them a definite understanding of personal space, which is really interesting to see. When they're very small, that's one of the biggest things you lose, and I think we'd almost forgotten what boundaries were like! (They're 6 and almost 8 years old now). But they've seemed to instinctively work out that if I'm in my room, I'm doing my thing, just like in their rooms, it's their thing.  It's been a surprise and a pleasure to find us all respecting each other's space quite so harmoniously!

Plus, on those occasions it gets less harmonious, we can just shut the doors.

Ah, bliss!

(Genius wall-mounted iron stand is also Ikea. Of course).

How does the place you sew affect the way sewing fits into your life?  Do family meals happen in front of the TV so as not to disturb the dining sewing table?  Or do you hardly see your close relatives, only emerging from your remote sewing cave for food and water?  And if you have children - how do they handle your sewing time (or don't they?!)

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The Prodigal Quilt

It was the quilt that nearly got away. Yes, it was probably naive of me to send it by post, without tracking. But it was also exceptionally unlucky that this happened to be one of the (rare? frequent?) occasions on which the postal services of Europe let a carefully wrapped and packaged parcel slip through their fingers. Just like that, a quilt I made at my sister's request for her best friend's new baby - a very special quilt, therefore - disappeared without a trace.

I felt terrible about this for a multitude of reasons.  One, because gah why didn't I use the tracking option??  Two, because this was actually my very first order as the Seamstress Sans Frontières, my small-scale scheme of sewing special orders to raise money for charity. An emotionally charged one, because this was a very-much wanted baby born to a very-much loved friend.  My sister wanted to give something handmade specially for them, and I felt really privileged to be able to help. 

And without foreknowledge of the horrible postal disaster that was to come, it had been an absolute joy to make. The only really tough part was making fabric choices right at the start. We didn't know whether the baby would be a boy or a girl, and in any case I don't think I'd have consciously "gendered" the quilt anyway, but managing to keep it neutral and fun was a surprisingly challenging part of the process. I ended up with printed cottons and Kona solids from Plush Addict, and yellow backing from the Village Haberdashery, with scraps from the stash and binding and batting bought locally.  The zebras and "exotic places" prints are nods to time this little family has spent living in Africa.  And once I'd got the fabric picked, I sewed it into squares and played with it randomly arranged on the floor until I liked it. 

All in all, I don't think it turned out that bad* :

* That's British for: I think it f*cking rocked!!!!

Especially as this was my first EVER proper quilt.  Yeah, I was nervous about that.  I also spent the whole time thinking with amazement: who knew quilting was this much fun??! (I know, I know).  I mean - it sort of cracked me up to see all this spewing out of my sewing machine. I quilted till it was frothing at the mouth! And until my arms ached.  Again, who knew? (Um, all quilters, I suppose).

And then I wrapped it up and posted it and it got lost and we were all a bit devastated and I was just wondering whether to do it all over again and then, about three weeks ago, I got a note from our local post office.

It said I had a package to collect. What package, I thought? I haven't ordered anything.

So I went, and I handed over my note. And as the woman carried the parcel back over, it dawned on me. Against all expectations, here it was!

One manhandled but unharmed baby quilt, Returned To Sender.

I took it home, wrapped it up even better, and posted it again WITH TRACKING.

Signed, sealed and delivered: one happy ending!

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Recipe: oatmeal & lavender bath soak

In the end, what with having an apron, two bathrobes and a tablecloth on my to-do list, I didn't get any other Christmas sewing done. That was already enough, and so much for the fabulous ideas I came up with in November. My #1 rule of sewing: know your limits, and by that I mean, know that your time is not limitless :-)

Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to actually go and buy presents for my friends, because that would have felt a bit heartless after all that hypothetical handcrafting. In the end, they all got a jar of peppermint bark, and a jar of this:

It doesn't fizz, or explode in bubbles, or do a spectularly soothing song and dance. But: the nights I bathe in this are the nights I sleep like the proverbial baby (not like a real baby, obviously).

It's easily made, and in quantities that let you give a little bit of homemade love to even your very widest circle of friends (but really, much much love, any reading recipients!). Or to yourself of course.

Ingredients

• 1 kg porridge oats
• 500g Epsom salts
• Lavender essential oil - a few drops
• Dried lavender flowers, 150-200g

Put the oats in a blender or magimix and mix them for a good long time until they're as floury as possible. There'll still be some bigger bits of bran and such but that's ok.

Pour the oats into a bowl and use a metal spoon to stir in the Epsom salts and dried lavender. Once they're well mixed, shake in a few drops of the essential oil and stir again; begin cautiously with just a few drops, and repeat until it smells as strong as you would like.

Pour into sterilised jars, screw the lid on tight, and that's it.

To use, sprinkle a couple of spoonfuls in the bath and then soak yourself in it. You'll need to rinse some bran and lavender out of the bath afterwards, but as long as you do it straight away it's very easy (I suspect the oatmeal would stick hellishly if you left it to dry).

May you be as soothed by it as I am...

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Wine-stained apron

Doesn't sound like much of a present for a best friend, does it?

But H and I love wine and we love to cook, and when I spotted this fabric from Our Patterned Hand I knew I had to make her something with it and an apron seemed perfect. I traced my favourite one which covers everything and ties round at the front like on Masterchef, and got all fancy with a D-ring so the neck band would be adjustable. It's lined and sturdy so it should take everything she can throw at it.

If we ever decide it should have been a tablecloth instead we can always go DIY with some white linen and a bottle of red (it'll be a pleasure!).

 

Obviously I couldn't get H to model it before giving it to her, so you get me instead :-)

Incidentally, ordering from Our Patterned Hand was a joy. I phoned them for a postage quote, being on the other side of the sea from them, and they were so very helpful and friendly, and got it sent off super quick. Recommended!

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Christmas wrap

Before...

... after.

I hope you've all had very happy holidays! We've truly stuffed ourselves full of Christmas dinner at home with the Belgian family, and then done it again with my parents in the UK. We're still here and so very unwound, I can hardly even remember the hurry I was in this time last week to hem the festive tablecloth.

Without mentioning the last-minute dash to get dressing gowns sewn for the littles. So cute they are, I'm glad I bothered. But I shall state here for the record that it won't become an annual tradition - not least because T, being always too hot, won't wear his for more than 30 seconds.

But it has spiderman on the pocket so that's ok.

Being here with the family is always so full of goodness. We're city folk but it does us such good to retreat, slow down and hang out with the (grand)parents who look after us so well.

And then there are aunties who've knitted their presents...

I've some handmade presents of my own which I'm looking forward to sharing, too, now they've all been given. But in the meantime, I'll be enjoying my last few days of downtime before swinging back into routine.

Wishing you a peaceful end of 2012, and a joyful start to 2013!

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Hot pink hot pads

Things I never thought I'd say: these are my go-to oven gloves. I mean, the idea of sewing something enough times for it to be a "go-to" anything is already a bit much, and also - how many times does one need to sew a pair of oven gloves anyway?

Thing is, I have quite strict criteria for a good oven glove. Full coverage + not joined in the middle is surprisingly hard to find (what is the word for those? A conjoined oven glove? I know there is one, but with age and distance I seem to be losing the vocab of my mother tongue). Anyway, now I've found my perfect pattern, I tend to make it for everyone.

These are for my lovely and stylish friend F's birthday (um, about a month late...)

She has exceptionally good taste, and also a very beautiful house, and I went specially to Atchoum to find Petit Pan fabric for these because I knew she would love it. This one jumped right out at me, and then the neon bias tape I knew to be available here jumped out of my head to go with it, and it was a match made in heaven.

But oh, what a b*tch it is to sew with satin ribbon, especially when you're trying to sandwich together three layers of insulated batting. I am truly ashamed of this mess...

To the extent that I wondered for a while about not giving them to F after all - but then what else would I do with them, and what would I give her? In the end I decided that the overall result was alright, given the use that an oven glove gets. Those colours are too perfect not to do it. She's a crafter too (she makes incredible jewellery) and understands about the made stuff of friends. The only thing bothering me is that F is the very model of politesse. She might find these horribly crap and homemade, but feel obliged to use them anyway.

F, if you're reading: please, feel free to just put them in a drawer! If you like you could always just get them out when we're coming round and leave them lying about in your kitchen. I won't know the difference and I won't mind anyway! I'm sorry they came out so wobbly!

Explanation of this picture is to be found below.
Keep reading, it's fascinating!

Anyway, having sewn it about 5 times now, here are my conclusions on the pattern/tutorial - for my own future reference and in the unlikely event that anyone else is as obsessive about home-sewn oven gloves as me.

• On this occasion, as shown in the picture above, I sewed together the bias tape around the outside of the glove. In the original tutorial, the ends are overlapped underneath the loop at the top, which is really bulky and difficult to do cleanly. I'd do this again.
• Next time though, I'll be positioning the join at the side rather than the centre bottom (less conspicuous).
• The loop: this is a real pain to sew through all those layers of bias. Next time I will experiment with leaving it off and attaching a (slightly longer) loop in the top centre of the back piece instead.
• The shape of the smaller glove piece. That little V in the centre is no fun to sew, and almost always looks messy. I would just mirror the curve of the top piece. Slightly less cute, but still nice and much easier to execute.
• Finally, the batting. I have made these with one layer of insulated batting on each piece, and with two layers each, and now for these ones with two layers on the back and one on the front. This is perfect. It feels safe for holding hot pots but is not too bulky to sew.

OK people, that's enough about oven gloves for one day.

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What's your go-to homemade gift, if you have one? Are you planning - or even making already - your Christmas (etc) gifts? What'll they be? (I won't tell anyone!)

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My sewing space

Thank you for the lovely comments on my tova dress! It's so very encouraging to 'meet' people and have some followers already!

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Nosy sewing room blog posts are one of my favourites. Part pure jealousy, part inspiration and aspiration. Would you like to see mine? Come on in - welcome to my sewing space!

Or, as G would call it, the guest bedroom/office. Technically, only the left hand side is mine, the rest will get a computer if we ever have money again after renovating all this.

That's a sofa bed. And a massive plank of a desk - a custom kitchen work surface in fact, from Ikea, that almost didn't make it into its designated space. G had allowed a scant 1.5 cm breathing space (ease??) on each side, but we got it in there with only two scrapes on the walls, and it's the best solid surface I could ever wish to sew on.

The coffee table is the first piece of furniture I ever bought for myself, on the flea market at Place Jeu de Balle, back when I was cool and lived in a flat in the Marolles with an outdoor toilet. The eagle-eyed will have identified the book (more on what I was doing with it, soon).

Masses of light, so I can finally take blog-worthy photos.

And there in the corner below is a tabletop ironing board. It's genius. (Ikea again, of course).

My machine is a Brother Innovis 150 Special Edition. I can't find a link to the product details any more - I bought it in Espace Machines à Coudre in Ixelles, who I would highly recommend and from whom I am destined to buy an overlocker at some point too. I would recommend the machine, as well: lots of space, great functions, strong and steady (the clincher for me between this and another, cheaper machine was that the motor will basically cope with whatever you throw at it). I've had it two years and I love it.

And then I have postcards. I have an unintentional tendency to collect them anyway, and had been saving the sewing related ones for this space, since well before it was clear there would be a space at all.

Modes - Dentelles - Tailleur

ta toyota est fantastique - L'orcheste fil-harmonique

So, this is where I sew. Now, it's beautiful. Before, I was failing to maintain the delusion that the dining room table was for dining, and the attic room looked like this:

So, where do you sew? Are you one of the lucky few with a room of your own, or does your family have to scramble to the TV over mountains of fabric and sewing machine cables?

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