Ease into motherhood: Find Your Voice

 

  
Ease In to Motherhood is a sewists’ celebration of motherhood and the changes it brings to our lives. During the month of July, we invite you to share your experiences of the physical and mental changes of pregnancy, childbirth and/or any other way a child comes to your life. We invite you to share how you embrace yourself throughout motherhood, to appreciate all the physical and mental energy it takes, to accept and love the changes in your body, your mind and your life. We invite you to share how you still dedicate time to care for yourself. We invite you to share how sewing is a part of your life through the journey.

(A discussion opened and hosted by Erin, Jodi and Montserratt).

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OK so I know it's a nice little play on sewing words, but I must admit that my very first thought was: um, ease into motherhood? HAHAHAHAHAHA. CRASH, more like it!

Or was that just me?

Two pics of each - I most definitely do not have four children

The thing was, though, I loved having tiny babies. I know for some (most?) people, the early months of constant feeding, nappy-changing and interrupted sleep are a tortuous experience which improves dramatically as the child gets bigger. But I found the newborn phase relatively easy - breastfeeding went fine, the first child was a good sleeper, and while the second wasn't, I was enjoying myself so much that I breezed through his first six months fuelled on a mix of euphoria and strong coffee.  Perhaps that's why the crash, when it came, was all the harder.  I'd thought I was doing just fine. And no, I didn't much like the weaning and toddling, but this too was a phase they'd grow into and then out of. I didn't think I had anything much to worry about.

I stopped breastfeeding my son (the second of the two) quite suddenly when he was six months old. I had been enjoying pottering along on maternity leave and sort of forgot I was going back to work, and would therefore need to getting him drinking out of bottles for his time in daycare, until the week before. He took to it immediately, and the physical relief of not feeding him myself every two hours was so huge that within that week I transitioned him to being entirely bottle fed. Feeding issues for creche: sorted. Me: liberated. I hardly gave it a second thought.

I should have. Eight years later, I am now quite firmly convinced (on no scientific basis whatsoever I must add) that that sudden hormonal, physical and emotional change was what flipped the switch in my brain somewhere and kicked off my journey into depression. I've talked about that experience here, and luckily, not much has changed since then (the meds and mindfulness do their job!) What I do have now, though, that I didn't fully realise at that time, is an awareness of just how much my struggle with depression and anxiety is and has been a struggle with the fact that I am a mother.

That's a hard thing to face. I'm not even sure I could say why it is (I could offer a few theories, but they're probably best kept for the therapist). But it recurs over, and over, and over again - almost any anxiety or stress I experience, however it presents itself to begin with, only gets resolved when I trace it back to the same question: who am I? I'm a mother. And what kind of mother am I? And what else am I? And who are these children, and how do we grow together? And that's where the process of working it out, picking myself up again, starts.

Left: bought the fabric without thinking of the ironing those sodding ruffles would need.
Centre: towels + bias tape. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Worn once only.
Right: the first trousers I ever made. A rare early success!

So, motherhood and sewing. Well, I completely agree with everything Vicki wrote here about Getting Yourself A Thing. Obviously, sewing is my Thing too, and I'm very glad I found it. Also my Things are blogging, and instagramming, and twitting (less frequently these days) about sewing.  Being able to communicate with others about the Thing does me a power of good! And if I have anything to say to other parents reading this, I suppose it's on that. Find Your Thing, yes, but also:  Find Your Voice.

I had another blog before I started this one. It only lasted a few months before I shut it down, and the reason I did that wasn't because no-one read it (though they didn't) but because it wasn't my voice that was coming out.  Instead, it was the voice of someone who thought that blogging about sewing was somehow the same thing as blogging about your children, and about sewing and crafting for them and with them. You see, there were so many wonderful sewing sites and tutorials out there - Dana, Sew Mama Sew, to name just two - and I simply didn't know where the not-mummy things were. In my real voice, now, I can tell you this: I hate crafting with children. I'm SO glad mine are big enough now to do their own crafts without very much parental input. But back then, when they were small, that blog started like this...

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Wednesday, February 9, 2011
First post

This is my idea of a good time: at home pottering about and making a merry old mess. Them: toys, crayons and books. Me: pins, needle and thread.

I learned to sew with my mum and at a rather traditional girls’ school where I and 5 others took GCSE textiles. In my rose-tinted memory the class was a twice-weekly haven of calm, creativity and gossip; my mum mainly remembers the enormous practical coursework burden and desperate all-nighters trying to finish the projects.  These were clearly enough to put me off, because I hardly sewed anything for the next 15 years or so.

And then last summer I got my stitching mojo back. I rediscovered my sewing machine (a secondhand 1970s model that cost 20 pounds and weighs about the same), experimented with some easy dresses, and then threw myself into making Christmas presents for my friends. Since September I’ve spent more lunchbreaks than I care to admit on fabric porn*.

Even at its most frustrating, sewing is total occupational therapy. It’s absorbing and it's liberating, keeping my hands busy and clearing my head. I find myself actually thinking about things again (with two toddlers and a full time job, it's been a while since I did that).  So this blog is mainly about keeping a record of the things I’ve made - but it’s also about getting myself to keep sewing and thinking. Because another thing I really enjoy but don’t do any more is writing.

The idea is that making stuff and writing about it keeps me more or less sane...

* i.e., wandering around fabric shops, stroking things and trying not to drool.

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It's clearly me in that post, and I still hold to most of it. But you know what? In reality, I hate mess. And nice though it was to sew in the middle of family life, generally I find it even nicer to sew in my own room, preferably with the door shut and an audiobook on. In that post, the kids get mentioned first, then I appear briefly before moving on to my own mother, who pops up straight away in the second paragraph (analyse that...). That idea I had about "keeping myself sane" - I suspect what I meant was "keeping" (or rather, "making") myself the kind of mum who blogs lovely things about her children on the internet. It is me in that post - but it also really, really isn't.

The only kind of parent any of us can be is an authentic one.  Nobody else can parent your kids the way you do (and that's a good thing!); no-one else can speak to your experience.  You might be the parent, like me, whose only choice is to embrace the fact that motherhood and identity are sands constantly shifting beneath your feet. That's ok. We're ok. Our kids are ok. It's who we are. The only stories we can tell are our own; and we are the only ones who can tell them.

You just need to Find Your Voice.

(It's the one that's been there all along).

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Maxi cardi

Hello and Happy New Year my dears! Having gone all seasonal in my last post, I have nothing January-appropriate to say for myself - no resolutions, reflections, what-have-you - unless you count the inner ROAR of happiness I did yesterday when my order of Jungle January appropriate fabric arrived.  Now if only I can find the time to actually sew it up...

Last September I started working four full days a week again. For the four previous years, I worked five mornings a week and spent the afternoons at home or out and about with my kids - and I honestly hadn't realised just how much sewing (or playground knitting) this allowed me to get done. Between the homework, the after-school activities, the washing and all the other household stuff, I was nonetheless managing to squeeze in a good hour or more of making most days. I got out of work with half the day's energy left, and the older the kids got, the freer my hands became. Happy days. Productive ones!

Now, however. Ugh. By the time we all get home, I'm knackered. By the time we've all eaten and the kids have gone to bed, I'm good for nothing but lounging, and possibly knitting, on the sofa. And it turns out that one simply cannot get as much sewing done in one day off as one would over a few afternoons. One needs breaks, and sometimes one is just not in the mood to sew all day anyway.  And so, I have recently come to the sad realisation that, for the time being, I am just going to have to accept that I can't sew as much as I want, in either time or output.

Now, this change was for the sake of a job I like very much, which is working out well, and while I do miss my afternoons, I wouldn't change things back (at least not quite yet). But still, it is with rather bittersweet feelings today that I'm blogging one of the relatively few things I managed to make this autumn. As with many a successful project, this one finished with me on a creative high, full of enthusiasm to make more! fantastic! things! But looking at these pictures several weeks later, all I can feel is impatience and frustration at not having done so yet.  Which is a shame, because this make was (is) absolutely not disappointing or frustrating at all.  In fact, it's a winner.

It's a hot pink wool jersey knee-length cardigan. Hot pink! Wool jersey! Knee-length cardigan! I just love everything about it! I'm blaming the Esme maxi cardigan by Named, it just wouldn't get out of my head, and when I realised I could make something very similar using the Oslo pattern I already had, it was basically a foregone conclusion.  I spent a long time searching for a (possibly mythical) kind of funky, chunky boucle fabric - including draping myself with about every expensive wool knit on Goldhawk Road when I met up with Jane, Marilla and Jenna in October - before deciding that this fabric in my stash would suit me better anyway (I really don't do chunky very well at all). It's a wool knit which came home from another sewing meet up, the legendary Paris visit in November 2014.  I love it so much, I had been fearful of making the wrong thing with it ever since. Fortunately, this was absolutely the right thing!

Hot pink is definitely my colour :-)  And this fabric is truly lush: soft and springy, with a cool feel and a robust but drapy hand - being wrapped in it for almost the entire length of my body is basically like being swaddled in hug all day.  A hug with - of course - pockets! The Oslo pattern is ideal for adding nice deep pockets to - you just add some length to the side front panel and then fold it back up on itself; the whole thing gets sewn into place when you attach the side seams and front/neck band.  Clear as mud? Like so:

While I very carefully calculated the length I wanted before cutting (to make sure those pockets would be in exactly the right place), I left button placement for the very end. I'm glad I did so for a couple of reasons. One is that I couldn't have accurately guessed where they needed to go anyway - the top button sits right on my low waist, much higher than I would have expected but holding things perfectly in place around my midriff. The other reason is that I really wasn't sure about the width of the neckband. And indeed, when I first tried the finished cardigan on, I was just swamped in fabric - it looked sloppy and way too much for my figure (ha! My, er, waif-like frame...). I ended up folding the entire neckband back on itself in half, and stitching it down to the seam allowance to hold it in place.  This looks MUCH better on me.

Of course, now the neckband was half the width, it was also twice the layers of fabric. Buttonholes were an issue. Thick jersey is not the easiest to put buttonholes in, and my machine has been making a spectacular mess of them recently anyway. So, I improvised, and hereby present my first ever half-assed bound buttonholes!!

They're not real bound buttonholes, obviously, because I did them last and thus had no means to cover up the back nicely. I trimmed as neatly as possible and handstitched the little pieces of fabric at the back with a blanket stitch. I think it came out pretty good given the thickness of the material, and they're not visible anyway - all in all, I'm really pleased with the solution. Plus, I love the big shiny buttons.

So yes, you can probably tell there's a lot I like about this maxi cardi. Quite apart from being super comfy, it also feels very stylish in a slightly different, little bit low key, not-trying-too-hard kind of way. It garners compliments, especially on the colour - people love to tell me how bright I am when I'm wearing it.

Which is great, because I also made a matching hot pink hat:

This is deceptively simple pattern. While I'm completely in awe of Anneke's hat knitting improv, I am the opposite kind of knitter and I like my hand held by people who have done more of it than me, so I bought some instructions for what looks like a very plain hat. And it is a very plain hat, but it's also perfectly shaped with a delicious double brim, and there is no way I could have worked it out by myself.  Supporting independent knit designers for the win! Should you be a raveller, my notes are here - and can I just say how much I LOVE Ravelry? My goodness, what a resource, and what lovely, knowledgeable people hang out there!  Also, you should totally check out Anneke's knitting-related photoshopping here (be warned: you might die laughing).

So there we are. 2016 kicked off with lots of long rambling as usual.  How does sewing fit into your life, do you have particular times that work and others that don't? Any tips for me as I suffer with withdrawal symptoms?

Maxi cardi jazz hands!!!

And that's me over and out :-)

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Roberts Collection: dungadress!

Hello hello, and happy weekend! How are you all, fellow sewists? I hope you're having a good one! After a few busy weekends with little time at home, me and the kids have been enjoying some quality time going nowhere these last couple of days, and I'm pleased to report that I've made a decent dent in a warm winter coat project. Hopefully I'll have a couple of finished things to share soon. (Shock news - more Lindens! Does it get boring to read? They never get boring to make or wear).

Anyway, in my humble opinion, the highlight of this weekend - at least as far as the sewing blog world is concerned - is indisputably the launch of Marilla Walker's Roberts Collection.  This, my friends, is not just a new sewing pattern: it's a bargainous FOUR sewing patterns all in one! And are you surprised that I love it? No, I expect not. Let's look at my test dress, shall we? :-)



This is view C, the dungaree dress. Unfortunately for representative blogging purposes, this version has actually been changed the most since testing, so the version you see here is not exactly the same as the finished pattern.  The main changes are slightly less ease at the waist seam (about 4cm less I think, so not an enormous difference) and the side closures, which I'll show you below. Overall though (no pun intended...) it's pretty much the same. My favourite feature in any case - the one that I think makes this design stand out - is the lovely slim straps. Combined with the low-slung waist, it's got the stylish slouch factor absolutely bang on. And as you know, I'm all about the stylish slouch :-)

 

So I attempted to take pictures out and about, dutifully doing my Better Pictures Project homework. I can't say they turned out great, mainly as I didn't exactly scout any interesting locations, I just went to the end of the street and back. But hey, it's a start (and I have better locations lined up!). These pics don't show you anything much new either, just me and the dress in natural light, but basically they're here because I had such trouble narrowing down how many photos to show you - I seriously, absolutely love this dress!  It's so bright and so comfy and so FUN, and in much the same way as a trapeze dress, it's just delightful how flattering it is when it feels so much like it shouldn't be. I'd always thought lack of waist definition was a figure-flattery risk, but I am so very, very happy to be discovering that it's a benefit! It's one of the things Marilla mentions as inspiration for the pattern collection - being a fan of wearing jeans, but not a fan of wearing waistbands - and I both totally agree, and totally think she nailed it.

Here's a side view so you can see a bit more what that all means in practice. The A-line shape hangs quite wide on this, which I like - though I do wonder if that's slightly different in the finished pattern. The front bib now draws in slightly more to meet the back, so I suspect the skirt is less trapezey and more of a classic A-line than mine is. But I really like this version as is, and while that little triangle you see at the side was a development that didn't make the final cut, I think it's a cute little detail. As and when I make this dress again, I'll be sticking with it!

Here are a couple of close ups of how the sides come together - and I think the lines here are just so flattering. It's kind of a 'big' garment but with a very light touch: those thin straps, back and bib shaping mean the overall effect isn't big at all. And the little pleats at the waist are just enough for a little extra breathing (ahem, eating) room, without being particularly noticeable at all.



And ah! The back! That strap/back piece symmetry!

Mum comment:  You're very bright.
Brother-in-law comment:  You're very yellow.
Husband comment:  It looks like an apron. Is that... a thing?
Friend H comment:  Err, Jo, your apron... oh, ok.
Friend B comment:  OK, either you made that dress, or it's designer. Right?

(Friend B wins, obviously).

What do you think? Could this pattern be an entire wardrobe solution for you - or are dungarees and jumpsuits just a step away from waistbands too far?  No prizes for guessing which side I'm on :-)

P.S. Quick edit to add: the fabric is a medium-weight denim with very slight stretch. In case the info is useful for reference purposes :-)

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Tiny pocket Hemlock

Hello!  How are you today?  I'm feeling a little underwhelmed - Sunday evenings tend to have that effect, don't they?  Plus I'm about to show you a fairly unexciting t-shirt. But then life isn't always exciting is it, so, well - suck it up haha! :-)  Yeah, I'm keeping it real with the sewing blogging here. It just felt like time for a chat, so here I am.

So I made a knit hemlock. I can't really remember why to be honest, apart from a kind of sewist's curiosity - just to check out what all the fuss is about.  It is indeed a very easy sew, and clearly an excellent base for all sorts of variations - but then you knew that already. I used a remnant of brown/cream striped jersey and slapped a tiny gold pocket on it (no explanation needed, surely. It's a tiny gold pocket).  On me it's considerably less oversized than it is on Jen, ahem. (Shits given: zero)



I finished the neckline, sleeves and hem by turning under 1cm and coverstitching. People with coverstitch machines - do you have trouble tying the ends off? I thought I'd pulled the thread through and tied them up really carefully, but still the sleeve hems have unravelled after a couple of washes (see below). Any tips for me? Plus they flip to the inside which is really annoying, I guess it's because it's a pretty narrow hem. Next time I'll finish the sleeves with little bands/cuffs anyway as I'd like them to be a teensy bit longer.

 

I did have grand plans for a bunch of other quick, fun hemlock tees - I even started sewing one with some rather nice flutter sleeves cut on (get me, fancying things up). But its been distinctly autumnal in temperature round here recently, and once I realised I'd given up hope of an indian summer, I couldn't bring myself to carry on. This bothers me tremendously - I absolutely hate UFOs, I have to finish things or chuck them out, but I just can't bring myself to do either with this one. Really, I think a tee like this is generally an instant gratification kind of project, isn't it? Which doesn't work so well when there's going to be a six to nine month delay before you actually get to wear the outcome.

Ugh. Autumn. Sunday evening.

Actually I can't wait for Monday morning tomorrow - we've had some seriously irritating bad behaviour from the kids this weekend (well one of them, but I won't identify which, to save potential embarrassment when he's older. Oh wait, oops...)  There are many things to like about the office (adult company, intellectual stimulation, relative quiet, coffee) but what I'm most looking forward to this week is the chance to speak again without whatever I say causing someone to throw furniture around while manically cackling with laughter and attacking me with plastic ninja turtles. (And in the unlikely even that that did happen, we'd just have the person concerned carted off by security or the doctor and it would totally not be my problem. It's all about context...)

ANYWAY. Now for some random other things, which might be marginally more exciting than the hemlock, for those of you who've stuck this post out to the end.

First, yesterday I realised that quite literally* EVERYBODY (*god I hate when people say that) on Instagram was signing up for Periscope, which is basically the same thing but with live video. So I did too (I know, I know, I'm such a sheep). I have to be honest: this kind of thing makes me feel really old. My phone asked did I want to sync it with my twitter account and I said yes, and as a consequence I can tell you that I think my username is the same on both: @jo_sews. Right? (Er, good luck finding me there, should you wish to...)  I did one video so far and, having replayed it, realise that next time it would be better not to put my finger over the microphone half way through. Anyway, it's pretty fun to hear my sewing friends speak and see them in live action, so if you're at all tempted, come and join us!

Second - this is a thing that is actually, truly exciting! Drum roll please!!! ... On Thursday 29 October, I will be in London, for the sole purpose of fabric shopping and meeting some of my lovely online friends!  Yippee!!  For the moment, it's just me and the lovely Marilla (yes, I get to fangirl in person!), and I think we're probably not up for organising a sewing meet of enormous proportions (which is why this announcement is hiding at the end of a fairly boring post - just for the true fans hehe), but if you're around and free and fancy joining us at some point - please just say so! There are loads of you lovely UK-based sewers that I'd love to meet, and it drives me nuts that I'm there fairly often and still never manage to meet up with anyone!  We don't have a specific plan yet but the general idea is Goldhawk Road and/or Walthamstow market (are these combinable??), and if I can fit in a quick pilgrimage to Loop as well, I'd be a very happy lady...

Have a happy Sunday evening, everyone! Or Sunday morning / Monday morning / whatever day it is when you're reading this (* delete as applicable).

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Dress like yourself

Just what is personal style?

It's probably inevitable to end up asking yourself that question during Me Made May, isn't it? This was the first year I've taken part wholeheartedly - i.e. without getting bored and giving up half way through - and with more or less daily outfit photos. It's a funny thing, to put those pictures out there (out here) and see yourself through the eyes (or likes, or comments) of others for a change. Funny because that's what we do every day - put ourselves out there, in our outfits. And like it or not, that's the person that others see.

They see if we're wearing a trend. They see shapes, colours and a level of over- or understatement (perhaps carefully constructed, perhaps not).  I think it's usually fairly clear to see whether we like what we're wearing, whether we feel comfortable. Maybe they see an image we're trying to project, consciously or unconsciously, even when that projection is the one saying: I'm not projecting anything, thank you.  Those who know us well might be able to tell what kind of day we're having.

I struggle a bit with this. That on some level, "personal style" can only be perceived through the eyes and, well, the judgements, of others.  I want to be able to say: personal style is about self-expression, regardless of what anyone else thinks. That those who look really great in their clothes are those who care least what others think of them. These things are true, surely.  It's just that - I'm not at all sure what it means when I say: I simply want to feel and look good. Good how? Good to who? Is it really even possible, or indeed important, for my only judge to be myself?

I don't know.

The only thing I do know is that finding a personal style which works for me has been a lifelong battle and that finally, at the grand old age of nearly-38, it's a battle I now seem to be winning. 

Cue another series of soul-searching questions...

 

... am I winning because I'm older and I give less shits? Because the sense of self that was so thoroughly purged by early motherhood has now risen from the ashes, stronger than before? Or will I hit my mid-forties and find myself wondering, again, how to adapt to a stage of life that seems to bring so many internalised preconceptions and ideas?

Is it because, nearly 40 years into dressing myself, I've finally worked out what I like to wear and what I don't?  Is it because of sewing - that I know what I want, and can make it work?

Or is it because the online sewing community has turned out to be an unexpectedly uplifting place to publicly post photos of oneself - to, essentially, invite the judgements of others, and for those judgements to be ever kind, positive and empowering?

Again, I don't know.

The fact is, Me Made May is a brilliant opportunity for some collective, positive exploration of personal style.  That I feel slightly awkward at my 'best' handmade outfits getting more likes than others, is more than offset by the overwhelming joy I find in other people's #MMMay selfies. If I'd had the time, there would have been likes for every. single. one.

When I put these collages together, I was thinking to analyse a little the outfits that really worked, and those that didn't so much.  The drape drape tops above, one t-shirt weight and one sweater, turned out to be immediate favourites. My Linden sweatshirts, below, paired with various skirt/dress options, were also super easy to wear. Far and away the most-repeated item of the month was my Turia dungarees, which was unexpected, but it seems I love the bib neckline and the fact that they have no waist (err, duh). There may well be more.

Call it coincidence - but of course, I'm pretty sure it isn't - the pictures in these three last collages of the "hits" are also those that proved the most popular when I posted them on instagram.

And I'm left wondering: were these my favourite outfits before other people said they were that good?

And yet again: does it really matter?

As an aside, another thing I find intriguing is that these are among my most recent makes.  Are sewists drawn in disproportionately by the new and shiny, I wonder? Is that inherent in the fact that, one way or another, we're all making our own fashion - and that's just what fashion does?

Well, I'm not attempting to answer any of these questions. In fact, I'm going to go all postmodern and say that I think the questions probably are the answers. (I love that that kind of evasion was basically how I ended up getting a decent degree, haha! Gotta love the humanities!)

If you're interested in thinking more about this kind of thing, I highly recommend reading through the intelligent and perceptive discussions going on in the comments of Karen's recent post on her Merchant & Mills Factory dress.  There is a wealth of food for thought there, about dressing for and through the transitional stages and ages of life.

Now, I want you to tell me: what's your take on personal style - can such a thing exist without being filtered through others' eyes?  Does that matter to you, or not?

And, surely I'm not alone in this: are you too perpetually curious about the age of other sewcialists??? I find it impossible to tell - some of you are spring chickens barely into your twenties, others of us bear the weight of many years! I always think of 'us' as being all the same, indeterminate age, but of course we can't be.

GO ON... I told you mine, now tell me yours: how old are you?! :-)

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Drape Drape dare

Hello my lovelies! Here's a question: where do you stand on Japanese patterns?

Unconsciously, I've always mentally divided the sewing world into those who sew from Japanese pattern books, and those who don't.  Part aesthetics, part practice - perhaps it's the styles, the construction, the sparse instructions and nested pattern sheets that turn you on or off - but wouldn't you agree, maybe, that we sewists tend to be on one side or the other?

Or maybe not. In any case: I had put myself in the camp of Those Who Don't.

And then Gillian dared me.

Sew something from a Japanese pattern book, she said. So I got myself down the library, got myself all the Japanese pattern books they had, and I did.

You know the punchline, right? Yes of course: I swapped sides.  Jumped right over that fence into the camp of Those Who Do.  Because look at that tunic there - it's clever, it's comfy and it's SO FREAKIN STYLISH I hardly recognise myself.

As it was my first go at this Japanese sewing lark, I went for the very easiest pattern in all the four books I borrowed.  It's the one-piece boatneck tunic from Drape Drape 3. I had seen it before on Jen, whose version is infinitely more exciting in aqua/turquoise lace - and when I turned the page and recognised those butterfly-ish batwing sleeves I knew this was the one to start with.  But it was only when I got down to it that I realised just how cool it is that this is all in one piece.

Seriously - ONE piece. When you think about it, it's actually a little but mindblowing as well as being seriously, utterly simple.  This is the full extent of the description and instructions:

After all, why waste your words? (Truly , I have crossed over completely - the more I think/write about this, the more I love it).  The book says you'll need 1m60 fabric, and you do - I had exactly 1m60 of this grey (probably poly) sweater knit, and this is how I cut it:

And look, below, it's just like the diagram! (The label in the back is slightly off-centre, because just think how easy it is to be precise about the centre back of a neckline with no seams, especially once you've picked it up and moved it a couple of times). 

The book says to simply wrap some binding over the neckline, but a) I didn't have enough fabric to cut it from the same stuff, and b) I wanted my binding to stretch around the neckline to draw it in slightly and hold it on my shoulders. I used a 1" strip of thin black viscose knit, 15% shorter than the neckline circumference, turned to the inside and topstitched. Two seams and three hems later - done!

Not only do I love this because it was quick, easy, successful and NEW (monkey brain!), I love it especially because this fabric is both lightweight and warm and the sleeves are exactly the right length for spring and I have therefore added the absolutely IDEAL tunic to my wardrobe for Me Made May. Which I'm doing properly for the first time and documenting on instagram, should you care to follow. I might do a round up here at the end.

So, what do you think? Are you already a fan of Japanese patterns, and if not, do you feel in any way tempted or won over?  I must admit that this has all been more fun than I expected, and I've earmarked 3-4 more things to make while I have those books out of the library. Yay for pushing the boundaries!

And while I'm at it, let's take a moment to say YAY for libraries too.  If you're lucky enough to be near one that stocks or will order sewing books, this is a brilliant way to try out new things or simply get your hands on patterns you wouldn't have been able to access otherwise.  And, well, ok... I have a confession.  This isn't actually the first time a library has lured me into experimenting with different sewing styles...

The above is what happened when I got bored and started browsing one time with the children. Before I knew it, I'd borrowed the book, traced it out and made two mini-humans. The kids named them Elizabeth and Sebastian, after their own middle names.

Sadly, an accident befell Sebastian shortly thereafter:

I literally had to dig him out for this photo from under the mending pile. Hereby naming and shaming myself into fixing his amputated limb sometime soon.

Have a wonderful weekend, dearests!

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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.

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