A Year of New Things

Nothing like leaving a year in review to last minute, eh?  I scrolled through all my posts this year to see what I had made and wrote about, and it was a Year of New Things.  I tried a bunch of new-to-me patterns, knitting techniques, and silhouettes, and had some great successes.  

I fell in love with stranded knitting (colorwork), got more confident with lace charts (open work), and found that I like working with sport or fingering weight yarn best, even if it takes longer to complete.  I found a few well-fitting basic sweater patterns that I can modify or adapt going forward.  Pullovers are still my happy place.  

Sew House 7 topped my list of great pattern companies after I made the Remy Raglan and the Elemental skirt in the spring.  It took me a while to get the sizing right on the former, and the fit right on the latter, but I loved wearing both once I did.  

My summer was again a horror of heat, humidity and feeling crazy in my clothes, but I guess I went into it knowing that, so it wasn't as bad, perhaps?  I made the Free Range slacks in the early fall, but decided I liked the pattern better as a skirt and have happily made several in different weights.

I revisited the Coco dress pattern after writing it off years ago, and discovered it makes a great knit shirt.  Hot flashes and tucked-in shirts are not a great combination, but it is hard to find tops that look good untucked on me, so having a go-to pattern that works for my short torso is fantastic.  

I frankenpatterned a woven top that I like very much (and can also wear untucked).  I got better at inside finishes and did a lot more handwork, including some embroidery to fancy up a linen skirt from 2020. 

 

I made some dresses: the Sorrel, Terrace, and a Frankenpatterned knit dress pattern that were fine.  I used my bodice block and Anne Adams skirt bottom to make a flannel dress this fall.

 

In unselfish sewing, I did a lot more than in years past.  In September, I became a godmother again and made the baptism ensemble.  My Weekender sweater worked out well for Ponchik last winter and she wears it constantly right now.  I made my dad a linen shirt for his birthday.

I made a lot of simple panel lap quilts for family and my kids and enjoyed the process of quilting very much, although perhaps not the self-imposed deadlines. I made myself use up almost all the scraps from the quilts on pillowcases or zipper pouches or tote bags, so that was useful. Panel quilts are very straightforward, so I'm not sure pieced quilts are in my future, but I have in mind to make some kind of crazy quilt with my scraps. 

Making my first bra was a fun project, but I'm unsure about making all my own going forward.  I'll probably have a mix of me-made and RTW in that department for a while.   

I had several outright fails and some alterations, but overall, I had a lot of successes, and ended up pieces I wear a lot, so it has been a good year of making! 

So long, farewell, до свидания to 2021!

Wool Gathering

The past couple of winters, I've been wearing a quartet of thrifted wool pencil skirts from Sag Harbor, probably dated from the early 1990s.  Maybe late '80s.  They fit me well, had a bit of elastic at the back waist, and were just the thing in cold weather. 

Well.  One of the skirts doesn't fit at all right (it was borderline tight to begin with and I always struggled to pair it with other things in my closet).  The other three still fit fine (although are very slim-fitting) but the polyester lining on them drives me crazy with static, so I've long thought to replace it with something less static-prone like bemberg.  Even though I generally try to make things I already have work, I found the skirts a bit uncomfortable, and decided to shelve the lining idea for the moment.  A project for another day.

 

In the meantime, however, I wanted to have at least a couple of easy skirts that were warmer than the Brussels linen or flannel or corduroy.  I found an end-of-bolt yard of Melton wool at Fabric.com that looked like a bright emerald green on the monitor, but turned out to be the most gorgeous shade of peacock teal you could ever want (even better!), and a light pink mystery wool blend in a looser weave. 

The pink wool has tweedy little flecks of teal, green, yellow, and red in the weave, so it is a lot more interesting than a plain pink would be. I decided to line it with the leftover white bemberg from my Sorrel dress, so I had to piece the lining a bit and the hem is a bit wonky, but given the simple shape of the skirt, it worked out fine.  No one sees the hem lining but me, so it doesn't matter.  Even better: I used up all but a 6" square of that bemberg!

A few things to note about making the Free Range Skirt hack in this heavier fabric (probably applies if making the pants in the heavier fabric too).  I originally sewed it all according to the packet instructions (which have you top stitch the waistband and hem), but decided I didn't like how that looked:

 

Too boxy, bulky, and puckery.  So I went back and redid the hem with lace hem tape stitched down by hand and also hand stitched the waistband facing to the skirt.  I think it looks much better that way.  The pockets I left alone.  Because I omitted the front center seam but left part of the seam allowance (just a smidge), I believe I sewed all the seams at 5/8" as directed.

The main change I made to this make was in the elastic length at the waist.  I discovered quite by accident that the elastic needs to be several inches shorter in a heavier fabric.  For my Elemental skirts, 29 1/2" with a 1/2" overlap is perfect, and that length also worked well for the Brussels linen and silky noil skirts. In this heavier fabric, 27" with no lap (just butting the edges) is perfect.  I'm also using Ban-rol elastic, which has a different sort of stretch to the hard elastics found in most sewing supply places.  For reference, my waist is around 32-33". 

 

I'm not really sure why, but shortening the elastic made a huge difference to the fit and feel of the skirt (so much so that I went back to my plaid flannel skirt and shortened the elastic there as well--much better!) 

As per my now-usual, I applied the waistband facing as directed, at a 5/8" seam allowance, and then divided the waistband and elastic into fourths, and zig-zagged into place on the seam allowance so that the gathers are evenly distributed (as opposed to inserting the elastic into a channel and sewing the ends together). 

I think what I like so much about this pattern is that it is a slim skirt (that actually feels slim to me while I'm wearing it) but it is still flattering and easy.  The pink isn't in my usual palette, at least not for a bottom weight, but I've worn it a ton, and it goes with much more of my wardrobe than I would have thought!  I love it with this teal top, and it goes nicely with my Evendoon and Stripes! sweaters (both of them!) 

What Lies Beneath, Part 2

At the risk of inviting close scrutiny of my chest as well as a cascade of TMI, I think it time to talk about that which most women cannot do without in the modern era: the brassiere.  

In 2016, I made a shift and stays.  The stays were an interesting foray into historical undergarments, and while I learned a lot of new-to-me construction techniques, I also learned a lot about historical visual cultural norms and how undergarments are used to conform to them (or not).  

Two summers ago, I started making my own underwear.  Admittedly, it started in a fit of rage sewing, but I've never regretted the journey, and am completely happy with that part of my wardrobe.  It is amazing to me how much things like well-fitting underwear and bras can make a difference to one's days.

Around the same time, I started thinking about bra making, as it seems that a lot of sewists get around to making them sooner or later, and RTW bras give me fits.  I've never really had one that fit well, and as I've gotten older, the problems just multiply. 

For a bit of TMI, here's part of the issue.  Almost every bra on the market is sloped from a single model from the 1970s who had high perky breasts that were a full C-cup.  Anyone whose anatomy differs from that (which is like, almost everyone) is going to have a hard time finding a good-fitting bra without selling a kidney to afford it.  Then there is the issue of bra-fitters who try to sell you bras that don't, you know, fit.  I've been fitted several times in nicer bra shops, and never once walked out with a bra that fit really well.

After nursing four babies, I have deflated water balloons, droopy hound dog ears, call it what you want, but I've never been perky, nor have I ever been a C-cup except while nursing.  I'm between an A and a B cup, but I've never yet met an A or B cup that fit me right.  I usually end up in a 36B to split the difference but it's still not great.  It's almost impossible to find a 36A or 38A.  I also can't stand underwires because most of them don't fit me right or dig into the tissue at the sides such that I end up with hormone issues from the pressure.  I've been doing research on bra construction and fitting, and it was interesting to read that wires can come in different shapes and widths.  I have damage on one side of my right breast from a massive infection that was improperly treated when Piglet was newborn and it still bothers me at times.

 

Last summer, I tried a Pepper bra.  It was more expensive than my usual, but I figured if it fit, it would be worth it.  The company specializes in smaller cup sizes relative to band width, and while it fit pretty well, I wouldn't say it is the best thing I ever wore.  They do carry that rare beast, the 38A bra, with an A cup that is actually an A, so the fit is better than many.  I took the underwires out, which helped a lot.  But the whole thing is synthetic, which is not ideal in our summer climate.

For the past two years or so, I've been wearing Kalon bralettes, which are...okay, but are made of nylon so they don't wear well.  The foam pads inside get funny with washing and the overall shape isn't super wonderful.  They aren't very cool in the heat/humidity.  Before the Kalons, there was a long procession of ill-fitting wired and wireless jobbies.  (I had a couple wired ones that actually squeaked with movement.  Just, no.)  The Kalons like the best bad option at this point.  I'm constantly adjusting the dumb things. In my opinion, like underwear, a good bra shouldn't remind me of its existence.

So I'm trying a bunch of different ready-to-wears to see what will give a better silhouette but not drive me bananas.  I'm experimenting with smaller bands with larger cups (like 32 D or 34 C).  For reference, my underbust is 33, full bust is 37.5 and upper bust 35.5.  Going by "standard" bra sizing, I should fit a 36B just fine (it doesn't) but a 32D might also work.  I'm skeptical, but keeping an open mind.

I also made a Jordy bralette using a kit from Emerald Erin.  She has an etsy shop and an independent website with the same offerings.  I am totally impressed with her patterns and great customer service!  I wanted something that was mostly natural fibers in the cups, and had a less structured fit given my underwire woes.  Making it was an interesting experience, and a lot easier than I expected.  I used some leftover Laguna jersey and thin cotton batting, although I might try a thin bra foam on a future iteration. 

I don't have the fit right yet--I need to adjust the sides of the cups so they don't gape and shorten the band-- but it is very comfortable and was a good entrée into bra-making.  I have findings for two more, so I can tweak the fit some too.  There are so many pattern options out there, it is hard to choose, but I'm looking at some kits on etsy since buying ala carte is overwhelming to me right now.  The Cloth Habit has a lot of great information about bra construction and fitting and I've learned a lot from reading her blog posts.   

I'm trying to have an open mind about materials and styles, because you never know what is going to end up fitting and feeling great. 

Winter embrace

Flannel is a beautifully warm and cozy cold weather fabric.  It lacks the warmth of wool (unless the flannel in question is wool, but that is a rare beast in the wild).  In cotton, however, flannel is a close second.  Oddly, most of the ready-to-wear garments in flannel are pajamas or made in plaid (or both!) so it can also be a challenge to match fabric to day wear pattern.  Never stopped me before, so I figured I might as well just march into the unknown.

I mentioned that I accidentally picked up a couple skirt lengths of cotton flannel at Joann when I visited my parents at the end of November.  (Honestly!  I went in for thread and sewing needles.  But when the perfect shade of green in cotton flannel is on sale, well...)

I dare you to walk by that fabric and not swoon at the perfection of the shade.

I'm usually a one or two-trick pony when it comes to sewing for myself.  I find something I like and make a lot of versions of it.  What can I say?  I likes what I likes.  (Although I'm getting into sewing undergarments and seeing the value of trying different patterns).

So it goes with my Free Range skirt hack.  It's funny--this skirt comes out differently every time I make it, depending on the fiber substrate.  In Brussels linen or silky noil, it has a swish and drape to it that more structured fabrics don't have, but each fabric type I've tried, I appreciate different aspects of the finished garment, to say nothing of the comfortable waistband!

It's a thing to realize I've been squishing myself into hard waistbands all these years when I could have been enjoying style and comfort.  It's not that the hard waistband skirts don't fit right--they do--but my waist changes a LOT during the day (thank you, gastroparesis).  What feels great in the morning often doesn't by suppertime or has rolled in unflattering ways due to my exceptionally short waist.  It's nice to feel good in my clothes all day long.  

So, not much to note about this skirt but for two things.  The three panel construction means there are several places to let out or take in, depending on the type of fit I'm looking for, and the 5/8" seam allowance means there is plenty of room to change the fit.  In drapey fabrics, a straight size 12, with all the seams sewn at 5/8" is perfect.  In more structured fabrics, I'm finding a bit more finesse is needed. 

Take one.

I originally sewed this one exactly like the Brussels linen and silky noil, but when I wore it, it felt and looked too tight across the hips.  Sausage-like even.  (See pics with pink sweater).  

The waist and sweep were fine, however, so I decided to curve out the seam allowance on the back seam of the side panel and the center back from 5/8" at the waist to about 3/8" and then curve back in to 5/8" at the hem.

Smiling with irony because I can't take a normal stride!

Worked a treat!  I'm totally happy with the fit now, and find it exceeding comfortable and cozy. 

 

I've also found that doing the waistband construction like the Elemental skirt doesn't exactly work, especially in heavier fabrics.  After some trial and error, my preferred method of attaching the elastic is to sew the waistband facing at the stated 5/8" seam allowance, then divide the waistband into quarters with pins, sew the elastic into a circle, divide into quarters, and attach to the edge of the seam allowance with a wide zig-zag.  The first time I tried it, I ended up with visible stitching on the facing inside, but I've fixed that so it doesn't show at all once the facing is attached at the bottom.

Making this skirt also informed how I approached some skirts I've yet to share here, but will as I'm able.  My kids are on winter break now, so my time is not my own at the moment.  Hopefully I won't get too backlogged!

Rustbelt

Grief is a funny thing.  It smacks into you with the force of a high speed train, but then lingers in the wreckage, a low pulsing underneath the debris, waiting to seep out into the light.  And it does seep, from time to time, taking over your being until the dust settles over it again. 

It takes a long time to clean up after a wreck. 

Things with my dad are not great right now; he developed a MRSA infection after a procedure and is on heavy-duty antibiotics and 4 liters of oxygen in an isolation unit.  His chemo is on hold until they can get the infection under control.  

My baby goddaughter and her parents are moving to faraway Texas this month, and today is probably the last time we'll see the family for some time.  My kids are all wrecked about it since they love her like a sister and are eager baby minders.  I'm so sad to lose this family from our parish I almost can't bear it.  

My sense of taste and smell is still off, almost two years after my C-19 infection, and I'm trying to make peace with the reality that it may never come back to normal.  It makes my already complicated food life that much more difficult. 

Wreckage.  Debris.  Dust.  

I was reminded this morning, however, that we should not place our hope in outcomes.  Our hope is the Lord's presence in the journey, not the destination.   So I will straighten my bowed shoulders, try to work out the kinks in my stress-knotted neck and back muscles, and hope in the journey.  Or try to, anyway.

 

I mentioned a few posts back that I finished my Mackworth sweater right before Thanksgiving.  This was my second attempt at colorwork, and I thoroughly enjoyed the yoke. My floats came out more even too; there is only a tiny bit of puckering in the first two charts.

I won't lie, the body was a bit tedious, and I spent many a swim lesson this summer slogging through the miles of stockinette in the round.  It is always tricky to get the body length right for my short torso--somewhere between 10-11" from the underarm is good, but even 1/2" too long or short and it looks odd. 

I'm very happy with the length and thrilled with the fit of it.  I think it blocked out at just over 10 inches.  My only complaint is that the amount of main color yarn needed was vastly overstated--I have 4.5 balls left.  Never fear, I'm sure I'll figure out something to do with them!

In my experience, that happens a lot with knitting patterns.  Kate Davies is the only designer I've found to consistently get the yardage estimation right across the sizes.   

As I wrote previously, this silky noil skirt is getting much more wear since I shortened it a bit.  I am very happy with the fit and sweep of it, and am glad to find it more or less works for chilly temps, as long as I pair it with wool tights.

Another maker that I follow wrote recently that the past two years have changed who she is so much that some of her previous makes no longer suit her, even though she finds herself in a much happier place overall.  She said there is a little bit of sadness in having to rediscover who she is with regard to her making. 

 

It's been a while since I did a complete wardrobe overhaul, but this fall has sort of put me there without my having set out to do so.  Some pieces I've been wearing for a long time just don't look or feel right on me this year.  Maybe they always looked off, but I felt good in them at the time.  Some makes or thrifted finds are coming to the end of their life span--the fabric is faded and starting to fray and crease, or it just looks tired.  

In a way, there is some relief in taking things out of my wardrobe that have been worn to pieces, don't fit, or make me feel nuts.  There is some satisfaction in wearing soft waistbands most days and feeling okay about it as a style choice.  It is lovely to finally have a knit top pattern that fits exactly the way I want it to, and I don't have to tuck it in for it to look nice.  I've discovered that my hot flashes are easier to manage if my tops are untucked and a bit less fitted, paired with easily removable layers. 

 

My body has changed (and continues to change as I am getting older), and how I move through the world has changed.  Mostly for the better, but there is still some dislocation in having to redefine the boundaries of the self.  Perhaps there always will be.  And perhaps it is silly to figure those things out through clothes, but that's where I live right now.  So be it. 

The dress equilvalent of a hug

 

Lately, I've been on a Spooks kick.  I watched the whole series about 10 years ago when it was on (all 10 seasons!) but wanted to revisit it, so I restarted the whole thing sometime in November.  It was a nice (if slightly paranoid) accompaniment to my stress sewing--ha!  It was also an interesting window into world politics over the past 20 years, since the show first aired in the wake of 9/11 and dove head first into current events.  

Things I learned from Spooks:

1. No character is safe, and the show runners are usually killed off after three seasons.

2.  If a female heads up Section D in MI-5, she dies in a season.  If a guy does it, he gets three seasons, but all his female colleagues will die in some heroic and horrible way during that time.

3.  Americans are the worst allies ever.

4.  Trust no one.

5.  Harry Pearse will always have your back because he knows where all the bodies are buried (literally!)

That said, Rupert Penry-Jones lasted longer than some (almost four seasons) and I love his Adam Carter. (Although, good grief, his character went through the absolute wringer).  So I've been watching some other work he's done in more recent years.  Whitechapel is a British police procedural.  In it, he plays an Detective Inspector in London's East End who suffers from OCD.  I enjoy the interplay of his character (DCI Chandler) and the more earthy Sargent Miles, played by Phil Davis to absolute perfection.  

I also watched a recent movie of his, Getting to Know You.  It's a quirky indie that is billed as a comedy, but I wouldn't describe it as such.  It's more complex than that.  I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, given the premise and the reviews.  The plot is a bit thin, but I really loved the texture and nuance that Penry-Jones and Natasha Little brought to the script.  And the ending was perfection.  

Moving on to the sewing portion of our program, I made a dress earlier this week.  The end.  

Just kidding. 

Shortly before Thanksgiving, Peggy at Sew House Seven had a sale that included fabric, and I couldn't resist the wool-cotton blend knit fabric that she used to make a Toaster sweater.  I bought a yard and a half, intending to make a Coco top from it, but when it arrived, I wondered if I couldn't get a whole Coco dress out of it.  

 

Turns out I could!  I had to go with 3/4 length sleeves, trim the sweep very slightly, and only add 2" of length (3" would have been better, but this is fine with heavy tights), but I squeaked it out!  I might go back and add extra long cuffs to make long sleeves, as I've had good luck with that mod on some Coco tops this week (pics to come). 

 

 

I made a size 4, which seems to be the right size for me overall, and sewed the shoulders and sleeve heads at 5/8" seam allowance as written, but made the sleeve/side seams 3/8" to give it some extra ease. 

I did simple turned hems on the neckline, cuffs, and hem, and like that very much.  The stitches really disappear into this thick fabric.

I'm struggling a bit with my body right now, feeling like a stranger in my skin.  I suppose it is my Nativity Fast podvig or something, but it is discouraging. 

The hives from the mask have turned into eczema, so I'm scratching everything from the neck up constantly and taking high doses of antihistamines and steroid cream.  Oy.  Still worth the trip to see my family, though, and I'd do it again tomorrow if I could.  Preferably with this dress in my suitcase.  

But this dress is so comfortable and soft and warm and such a nice addition to my cool weather closet.  Like adding a hug into my wardrobe somehow.  (And crucially, my husband loves it, so there's that).

*My dad is back in hospital following a post-bronchoscopy infection ahead of his third chemo treatment at Mayo.  The chemo has been pushed to next week.  He's stable on oxygen, although very tired from all the coughing. His latest scans are encouraging, however, and we continue to live in hope and prayer.