The ecology of the bread bag

As far as sewing goes, I am more or less a two-trick pony, and tend to stick to pieces and silhouettes that I know I like.  Sometimes I break out of the mold and try something new, as with last year's Emerald tops or this year's Remys, but mostly I don't.  

 

 

The free Elemental skirt pattern from Sew House 7 has been my go-to pattern since it was released in the spring.  Comfortable, easy to wear, a fast sew, efficient with fabric (slightly less than a yard).  I think I've worked out the kinks with sizing across various stretch percentages.  It's too hot now to wear my French terry ones, so my airy yellow one has been in heavy rotation.

So I made two more (and have another yard of fabric waiting to be made up...oops).  This green one I made for Pentecost yesterday, and it is the most perfect shade of green ever.  It was much brighter and more saturated than it looked like on the listing, and I was thrilled when I opened the package.

 

 

It is shorter than I'd planned because I made a tiny cutting mistake, but still a good summer length.  (Cutting these at pattern length for summer can be stuffy, even in light weight fabric like this, so I've been shortening slightly for the heat).  I discovered I was out of the right width of Ban-rol elastic as well, so had to use something else that isn't quite as nice, but might swap it out when I get more of the good stuff.

 

I also made this berry colored one from some Telio cotton/spandex knit.  This is the first knit fabric I've bought where washing significantly changed the hand.  It was crunchy and icky feeling when I pulled it out of the mailer.  The fabric felt like disgusting polyester.  So much so that I actually called to return it.  (I had ordered a second yard in the pine colorway, thinking I had ordered teal, and so was doubly frustrated with myself at that point). 

 

The customer service rep said they would refund the money but didn't want the fabric returned, which I feel funny about, but this company usually has you return stuff with a prepaid mailer, so I don't know.  Don't look free fabric in the face, I suppose.  I'll probably buy it again, now that I know this.  Maybe I'll use the other yard to toile some bralettes (another rabbit hole I never thought I'd dive down!)

The Telio is a slightly beefier knit than the green and yellow ones, but less thick than the French terry. It is a nice mid-weight knit with good stretch and recovery.  I think I like it even better than Kaufman's Laguna jersey, so that's saying something!   I'll admit, much of my sewing since May has been of the stress-sewing variety.  My weight has stayed fairly constant for the past year, but I discovered that about half my summer skirts don't fit comfortably around the waist for some reason, and one of them just looks sadder than sad.

These knit skirts are more forgiving and comfortable, and are a silhouette that feels more like "me" than the fuller summer skirts I wear to mark time until I can get back into my slim skirts for fall and winter.  I only wish this pattern had come out sooner!  

I'm struggling a bit with the ecology of my sewing this year, as with so many other things in the house.  I recently finished re-reading Slavenka Draculic's How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed and am now re-reading her Cafe Europa book. 

This is the yellow skirt with a shirt I recently altered.  My sister bought the shirt for me a few years ago (and matching ones for herself and my other sister) but I didn't like the red collar and cuffs, so I cut them off and hemmed down the edges.  I love it now and plan to wear it often!

 

Different things stand out to me on this reading, as opposed to my first reading about 15 years ago.  I keep thinking about the stuff they saved that most Westerners would throw out or recycle, like jars and cans, plastic bags, etc.  It reminded me of the economies when I lived in Russia--if you were lucky enough to find ziploc bags, you never ever threw one away!  Some dear friends moved back to the States while I was living in Moscow and I helped them pack.  She gave me her partial box of ziploc bags and I thought I'd won the lottery!  I still have a hard time knowing how to deal with ziplocs.  Sturdy plastic shopping bags with flat plastic handles doubled as handbags--the Marianna brand was particularly popular.  I was thrilled to find one at a kiosk for 5 rubles once.

But the same economies also reminded me of my grandmother, who survived the Great Depression and never threw away a bread bag or cottage cheese tub if she could use it for something else.  I come from thrifty Dutch stock, but somehow, I have lost touch with some of those things as galloping consumerism has taken over our world.  Sometimes I get so tired of the whole hamster wheel--buying and selling, commodification of everything, the whole world one big advertisement.  I don't like how my brain feels different.

Some of it is simple convenience.  It is a lot of work to keep this household running, and there are some things like frozen diced onions or pre-sliced frozen peppers that just make life easier for me.  And I remind myself that using large-scale delivery systems is more ecologically sound than driving all over the place to shop, so there's that.  It becomes a kind of economy of scale that works in dense urban settings. I'm trying to think about ways to repurpose things that we usually recycle, like food cans or jars.  I've been saving plastic tubs for a few months for various purposes, plus a few other things here and there.  Amazon boxes are useful for basement storage, and stack more conveniently than Rubbermaid tubs (although I do have some of those too, from years ago).

I used big yogurt tubs with holes punched in the bottom to start my bareroot strawberries, and used a big empty can from some freeze dried fruit to transplant a dwarf cypress tree from one of the big planters in the garden.  The reality is that we are a household of six in a dense urban setting, and while our trash and recycling output is low relative to smaller households, there are things we could do to consume less.  I'm still working out how to balance economy of both physical energy and resources against ecology, but I'm often annoyed that I can't do both together.  There is a finite amount of labor I can do in a day's time, but the meals and laundry never stop coming.  So some things have to be sacrificed.  

Anyway, just a yammer about stuff-ism.

In garden news, I moved the strawberry plants outside yesterday.  I had two that suddenly withered in the house, after starting strong, so I thought I'd better get the rest outside before I lost the lot.  They are in the green boxes in front of the big planters.  

A friend gave me a pair of blueberry bushes (so they can self-pollinate), which you can just see on the far right.  They are loaded with berries!  I'm waiting on a few more food plants to arrive, as well as some berry plant food, as my raspberries are looking a bit peaky.  I pinched off all the strawberry flowers while they were in the house, to encourage root and leaf production, but will now let them do their thing and see what we get.  I'm hoping they thrive!

A Hidden Life

I can't let December get away from me without writing about Terrance Malick's masterpiece, A Hidden Life.  A beautifully shot and edited film about Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian farmer who refused to swear loyalty to Hitler out of religious conviction and lost his life for it.  

 

I cannot convey enough how gorgeous this film is; shot in the Alps where the Jägerstätters lived in a small, close-knit rural community.  The farm work is hard and unrelenting, but it is a good life, and they are a happy family.  Malick's unhurried pace provides plenty of time to sink into it.  (In that respect, it reminded me of another WW2 film I love: Želary).  

The cinematography is stunning.  The Tyrolean landscape is wonderful, but Jörg Widmer's framing and long shots of the landscape as well as the tight shots of the characters going about their days paint a detailed and granular picture.  I keep thinking about a long shot down a dark hallway in the prison where Franz is taken, with light spearing down from a stairwell above, just a small point of light in the darkness.  The analogy is obvious, but it is so beautiful and silent.  

We finished the film yesterday and I spent today listening to the gorgeous soundtrack; it is a wistful kind of melancholy that carries the seeds of hope that has stayed with me. As the violin solo resounded in my ears, I realized how little dialogue there is in the film.  

Malick uses voice-overs taken from Franz and Fani's letters to provide context and move the film along, but overall there is little that is said except for a few spare conversations as Franz and Fani discern what is morally right.  Instead, it is the families working together in the fields, moving through the seasons of the year in rhythm with the land and the liturgical cycle; those small quiet ways that most of us live our lives, not in heavy dialogue.  

It could also have been a film that showed a lot of violence, but Malick chose to keep the focus on the quietness of their lives, on the prayerful stillness that Franz and Fani cultivated to survive the isolation of prison and the pressures of everyone around them to take the oath.  An excellent film, worthy of all its accolades and awards.  It is a long film (clocking just under three hours), so we watched it in 1-hour blocks over three nights.  I think breaking up the viewing allowed me to meditate on each hour more deeply, and to take this beautiful film into my soul.

The Depth of Ourselves

Longtime readers will know that we live in a small house with inadequate built-in storage (read: basically no closets), and that managing the stuff of six people occupies a greater amount of my time than I would really like.  Too much "stuff" stresses me out, and frankly, I think it stresses my kids out, even though they still want to have new things, and have a hard time letting go of some other things to make room.  I have two children who are legit hoarders and their stuff just has to be gone through regularly to cull out the hair clippings, random trash from the playground, school papers, and other "treasures" they squirrel away.

The first few years that we had kids, the gifting at Christmas was a bit insane.  Don't get me wrong--I'm grateful that we have so many relatives who want to love our kids with physical gifts, and I know there are lots of kids out there who don't get any presents at all.  That said, my kids couldn't even process all the stuff they got, and since the fill-and-spill stage of play seemed to last FOREVER, it felt to me like it was just more stuff I had to pick up all the time.  One of my children always seemed unhappy on Christmas day, no matter what the presents were, and it was just so frustrating to me.

A few years ago, I decided to simplify things and do three gifts only--a book, a pajama, and a toy.  I realized that my kids were unable to handle surprises at that time, so they picked out exactly what they wanted, and each of the grandparents chose which of the three things they wanted to give the kids, and we gave the final gift.  (There were always a few little extras from aunts and cousins and friends, but just having the three main things was helpful).

It worked okay for a couple years, but I realized last year that things needed to shift (we substituted an "experience" for the book last year and the kids got a year-long membership to LegoLand).  This year, I decided throw the whole system out the window and let the kids pick out a number of toys each.

Why? I realized that my unhappy child was unhappy because that child feels good when there is a big pile of presents to open.  This child didn't want to have to choose just one thing, or two things, but felt guilty when unable to make a decision because the want was so strong and the stakes felt so high to make the "right" choice.  (I understand this feeling well).

We talked through it all in the weeks before Christmas, as each child sorted through what they wanted on their lists, and I saw that I had to let go of this vision of "simplicity" at Christmastime.  (This has been part of a larger picture of me letting go as a parent.  I have made a number of shifts in my thinking in the past year about how I want to parent my kids, and letting go of unrealistic expectations, and living where my kids are at is one of them.  I don't always succeed, but I'm trying).

My concern these days is less about the accumulation of "stuff" and more about the why of what they want.

Do they want a new toy because they just want it, or do they want it because they think it will fix something inside them that feels bad?  One child in particular struggles with this, and we've talked a lot about it over the past year as we've struggled through it together.  Every opportunity for gifts and purchasing has come with a conversation about why the desire for this thing is so desperately high.  Often it is because this child feels bad about something, and can't stand to live in those feelings.

So we are working on living in the bad feelings, and not using "things" to make the feelings go away.  Because actually, the things don't make the feelings go away.  At least not for good.  Sure, they might go away for a little while, but as soon as the "new toy" shine is off the thing, the bad feelings are back, and the desire for a new thing to fill that bad-feeling place is back.

This has been a hard lesson for me to learn over the years as well.  If we are really honest with ourselves, I think most people living in this late capitalist period do this in some way or another.  I'm trying to learn to live in the bad feelings and go through them instead of trying to smother them with stuff or drown them with food.

At the same time, however, I don't want my kids to feel so deprived that they make reckless financial decisions as adults or spend their lives chasing things instead of building relationships.  It's a fine balance, to learn to live with less, make do and mend, to value and use what you have, but still feel that you are worthy of receiving love from others in the form of physical things.  Because gifts do speak about worth louder than words sometimes.   There's a reason why Gary Chapman identifies gift-giving or receiving as one of the five primary love languages.

I suppose what it really comes down to is exploring the reality and depth of love: what it is to love another person fully, to meet their needs how and where they are, and to affirm their worth and value in lots of different ways.

~

{It is Philip's day today, and while I'm certainly thinking about it, I have little to say about it today.  I'm unwell and emotionally exhausted, and I can't poke around inside myself to see what I find.  Thirteen years is a long time.}

More thinking about enough

I hate to keep banging on about how hard clothes and style are, yadda, yadda, when there are real problems in the world, but it seems to be the thing that occupies my mind a lot lately.  Probably because I can't bear to think about the harder stuff for very long right now.

To wit: my kids are all at different stages and there are a lot of difficult things about where they are.  Two of my children in particular have some challenging issues that just make me despair if I think about them for too long.  I've had some physical set-backs in the past month that are very discouraging to me.  I have some other stuff going on that is hard to bear at times.  There's the novel, threatening to suck the life out of me.  (Not really, it's just that I'm at the hard part of it, rather than the fun bits).  And that's just at home.  Let's just not talk about everything else, mkay?

So instead of thinking about all that, I think about clothes.  How I present myself is important to me (it probably is to most people, whether they admit it or not).  These days, getting dressed in the morning gives me more questions than answers.

I am actually wearing this outfit right now.

Do you ever do the thing where you have a garment or pair of shoes that you love so much that you are afraid to wear them "too much" in case they wear out and you can't find an exact replacement?  No?  Just me?  Okay.  I know, I'm weird.

I do this a lot.  I've had that white linen blouse for several summers now, and I love it, but I've only worn in a handful of times over three years' time because I was afraid of wrecking it.  This summer, I decided bollocks to that.  I've been wearing it pretty regularly this year and enjoying it immensely.  I figure I'll wear it until it looks terrible, then make a pattern and make another one.  (But just one.  Not five).

If there is one thing I've learned from the Great Style Upheaval of 2018 is that I should wear the things I love as much as I want, because chance are, by the time it wears out, I'll be ready for something else anyway.  Or I'll be able to find a comparable replacement.  And one of a thing is usually enough.

My beloved heavy weight cream wool cardigan was itself a replacement for a different cream cardigan that I shrank out of (and didn't fit my style any longer).

This spring, I gave myself permission to experiment with my clothes--buy thrifted items to try out different things, see what stuck.  I refashioned some makes to see if I liked them better.  Some things worked, others didn't.  Some styles stuck, others didn't.  I realized some pieces I've been wearing for a couple of years are too big and look sloppy on me now.

I've worn this outfit a fair bit this summer.  I think we can all agree that I'm rubbish at drawing shoes.

My summer rotation is more or less set at this point (and I'm mostly happy with it) so I've started looking at my fall and winter rotations, which previously were Dottie Angel frock-heavy.  And I'm just not into those dresses right now.  Or dresses in general. I like having one or two, but that's about it.  Everything else is separates.  Also: my body chemistry is really weird right now and I am borderline cold all the time, even in pretty extreme heat.  (I made a choice to wear 3/4 sleeves this summer in the interests of protecting my skin, and this would have been a burden in previous years, but this year, I can't hardly bear not to have my arms covered, from a temperature comfort perspective).  And we don't have AC.  And it has been 100+ degrees for more than two weeks now.

I pulled out Gertie's croquis book (My Body Model has got me thinking about sketching my clothes but I don't want to pay $20 for the sketch right now when I already have a book of body-positive croquis that I can make work for me).  I've been going through my fabric stash, considering patterns, etc. I keep turning over in my mind the question: what is enough?  Funnily enough, a maker blog I read posted about this very question yesterday.  She linked to another blog that fleshed out the discussion a bit more for me and gave me more to ponder.

I no longer make as I used to.  Some of it is that I'm to the point with my clothes that my needs are less--when I was nursing and trying to build a vintage wardrobe, I was more or less building my closet from the ground up.  After three babies (I started with vintage after Birdie was born), I had almost no clothes that weren't maternity or worn out beyond wearing.

My shape has changed a lot over the past six and a half years, which meant some makes didn't work out over time.  I'm down 30 pounds, but still would like to lose 15 more.  My shape isn't going to change that dramatically, however, if I do, so I can make some decisions going forward about what shapes work and what doesn't. 

I didn't always choose great fabrics or things that suited my complexion or figure well.  Some stuff just didn't fit very well because I was still learning.  I started out with a small fabric stash that was largely inherited from my grandmother, full of odd cuts, high-synthetic fiber contents, and generally not things I would necessarily choose for myself.  But I tried to use those pieces, to honor her memory, as well as give me something free to play with while I was learning how to make for myself.  It was useful.  It also took me some time and trial and error to figure out what fabrics and silhouettes I did like and wanted to wear.  (I'm still working on this one).

Over time, I've moved away from strict vintage, into...something else.  I don't really know how to describe my style the past two or three years.  Vintage-inspired printy-utilitarian, I guess.  It suited me well for the time.  I needed something that didn't constrict my middle, but still had a flattering shape to it and covered my upper arms and knees.  Something easy to layer up or down, easy to sew and care for.  But that style doesn't feel like me anymore. 

I also started participating in the Project 333 challenge three years ago, as it suited my utilitarianism well, and my need to have less in my house and closet.  Too much "stuff" overwhelms me, especially in our small house.  There are six people living in this house, no real closets in bedrooms, and an unfinished partial basement; a decent portion of the house is vertical space.  Everything in here has to have a place to be and why.

I shelved this refashion for another year.

So here's what I'm thinking about as I'm putting together plans for fall and winter and going forward.  Do I need it? (Do I have enough?) Do I need to make it, even if I already have the material?  My original plan for winter included making some skirts from stashed fabrics, but when I counted up how many winter skirts I have already plus the ones I was planning, it added up to 9.  Nine!Skirts!  I don't need that many skirts in any rotation.  I only have one body, and can only wear one skirt per day.  And I don't need to wash my winter skirts and tops nearly as often as my summer clothes.

Am I sewing for the body I have, instead of the body I'm wishing or hoping for?  I have some fabrics I've been "saving" for when I finally lose those last 15 pounds.  That is silly.  On the other hand, I don't want to make things just for the sake of using up fabric in my bin.  That isn't any better than mindless shopping or fast fashion when it comes right down to it.  Am I sewing for my stage of life?  I'm no longer pregnant or nursing on the regular, and my shape isn't going through dramatic changes every few months, but I do have some health challenges that make certain styles difficult to wear regularly.  And I'm older--some styles feel too "young" to me now, but I have to be careful about veering off into Frumpy Town because of my proportions. I don't care to wear skirts with a fitted waistband anymore, because they hurt me by the end of the day.  The Everyday Skirt has been wonderful in this regard--it feels good at the beginning and end of the day.  I also like pencil skirts and want to experiment with making one with a faced waist instead of my usual 1" band. 

I'm going ahead with this refashioned skirt because it goes with my palette so well.

Can I reuse/refashion/repurpose old makes?  If not, what can I do with them that is responsible?About that.  I know lots of people will say, just donate them!  (We're all so busy Marie Kondo'ing our lives, but I think about what happens to all the stuff that doesn't spark joy--where does it go?  And ca it really be reused/reloved?  I don't know).  And I do donate to Goodwill or consign with ThredUp.  I sometimes fantasize about someone finding my makes at a Goodwill and being delighted with them.  But I know, realistically speaking, most of that fiber will get thrown out or recycled.  But I can't keep stuff I'm not wearing.  We just don't have room.  It is a hard balance to hold in my mind.

Sometimes I recycle the fabric because the garment is too worn under the arms or the fabric has pilled or faded or whatever.  (And yes, I do see the irony of a fast fashion company recycling clothing).  Frankly, none of these options is great, because it is hard to recycle fabric, and most donated clothing is ultimately thrown out because fast fashion has over-saturated the market and not enough people need or want to buy second hand.  The truth is that most of us own too much and keep buying more.  There's just too much stuff--too much buying and selling.  I'm as guilty as the next person.  I like shiny new things as much as anyone.  And making new things doesn't really change that cycle, since a lot of fabric itself is made in ways that are hard on the environment, and often goes to waste.  Our clothing styles are not efficient uses of fabric for home sewists.  (Compared to say, the 18th century, where clothing was designed to use as much of the fabric length and width as possible, given how expensive fabric was).

I try to thrift as much as I can in ready-to-wear and shoes, because it seems like the least bad option, but sometimes thrifted finds don't last as long (for obvious reasons).  I don't like visible mending (it doesn't go with my aesthetic, although I admire it on other people), so I'm working on my mending skills to keep the pieces I love looking nice longer.

Perhaps instead of talking about ourselves as responsible consumers, we could start thinking of ourselves as just responsible.  I don't like thinking of myself as merely the sum total of my desires. 

Where I've more or less landed with my fall and winter is 3 dresses, 5-6 skirts (in the fall, these are different weights to account for the massive temperature shift), 10 tops in different weights and sleeve lengths, and 6 or so cardigans in differing weights/lengths.  There's a bit more cross over between the seasons, which I've not done too much of previously.

I'm being ruthless about sweaters--a lot of sweaters hit me at a very unflattering point on my body because I'm short waisted.  I feel frumpy in that length (anything boxy between 24-26" is generally Bad News Bears on me) so it doesn't matter how much I like it in theory, I'm going to feel bad wearing it.  I'm also focusing on making accessories like scarves and cowls instead of full sweaters because I don't need any more right now.  I'm a process knitter, so I need projects, but smaller projects that fit my rotation are a better use of time and stashed yarn than a sweater that may or may not fit, will take a long time to complete and I might not like at the end.  (And really don't need in any case).  I scrapped plans for a pullover that was entirely conceived to use up yarn rather than out of a need.  I can respect my need to knit and make with things that will be more useful.  The yarn can be used on something else later.  It felt good to make that decision, to come to it organically.

Ditto for a couple of skirts I had thought to make.  One was from some long-stashed fabric and the other was a refashion of a dress that I like the fabric but don't want to wear as a dress any more.  A third is actually cut out, but I'll probably put it in the bin because I don't have much that goes with it, and I don't like creating closet orphans.  I'll save all the projects for when some of my current fall/winter skirts need replacing.

Whew, that was a lot to say about very little.  Go have a chocolate and coffee!

The More Things Change...Re-Considering Project 333

...the more they stay the same.  I've been thinking for several months about Project 333 and what my goals are for both my wardrobe and for the Project.  (For those who aren't familiar with Project 333, you can read more about it here.)  Basically, the goal is to live with less.  Not just less clothing, but less overall.  I'm a minimalist by nature, so this project feels very natural and good to me, but I've wondered lately if I'm making it too complicated.  Some people who do the Project have whittled themselves down to 2 or 3 rotations.  I've never been able to do less than four, and I have very little cross-over between them.  (Maybe a cardigan or two, or shoes, but rarely main garments).  

Winter 2017: Flannel #1.2, Flannel #2, Flannel #3, Eshakti knit black dress

Winter 2017: Flannel Plaid Dottie Pearl, Folk Birds canvas linen, Daisy Chain canvas linen, Eshakti olive knit dress

I had come to accept that this was okay, and that a lot of it has to do with the way I dress.  That is to say, I primarily wear patterned dresses of differing weights and sleeves depending on the weather, and I don't really want to wear half of them for the warm months and the other half for the cold months.  I get sick of them.  (My summer rotation in particular gets very sad by the end of the season).  And for the first time ever, I'm sick of my winter rotation.  I think this has to do with the fact that I've leaned down each rotation quite a bit, so there isn't as much to choose from (not a bad thing) but it also means items wear out quicker.  

Winter 2017: Grey flannel dress, Geo Flannel Skirt #2, Orange wool skirt

Winter 2017: Dusk cardigan, Banana Republic wool cardigan, LLBean navy cardigan, Fair Isle wool cardigan

I swapped my winter rotation for the spring yesterday (because today was supposed to be a writing and liturgical prep day, but I have a sick kid home today so I'm blogging instead of working on the novel).  The weather has also changed to a decidedly spring tone in the past week--40s in the morning, high 50s or even low 60s in the afternoon. Definitely not heavy flannels and woolens weather.  I've put my winter coat away and swapped my fur boots for leather. 

Winter 2017: Blue cashmere cowl neck pullover, gray wool pullover, navy cotton pullover, black wool cardigan

Winter 2017: red undershirt, gray henley, orange undershirt, olive pullover sweater, blue undershirt, black undershirt, olive undershirt, olive cardigan/pullover

I've had a suspicion for a few months that I'm keeping certain items in each rotation not because I especially like them, but because they tick a box in my mind or because the blog photos look nice or they were a lot of work, or I wore them a lot in previous seasons or whatever. Chambray dress, tick.  Novelty print spring/summer dress, tick. Linen dresses, tick. Goes with that cardigan, tick.  I got everything out yesterday and piled it up on my bed.  Even the knitted accessories, silk long underwear, and wool socks.  I realized that there were a few pieces in each rotation that were there not because I liked them,  or even particularly wanted to wear them, but just because they were, you know, there. 

Spring 2018: Eshakti navy knit dress, First Light dress, Eshakti green knit dress, Navy Birch rayon dress*

 I looked at each piece very critically and asked myself if I was wearing it because I wanted to or because I was forcing myself to because it was in the rotation or because it went with something else.  If the former, I kept it.  If the latter, into the pile it went.  If it was in the rotation because it went with something else (a cardigan or two were in this category), I also was pretty critical about the item it went with.  Was I still going to wear the dress without that particular cardigan?  In some cases, the answer was no.  In others, yes.  So it was a good weeding out process, and I feel pretty good about the state of my off-season bins at the moment.  

Spring 2018: Painted Roses rayon dress*, Eshakti black knit dress, Menagerie rayon Dottie Pearl dress (unblogged), Cross Hatch denim dress (reworked slightly)

The notable weeds were the Daisy Chain canvas dress (I like it in theory, and wore it a lot this year, but honestly, it isn't the most flattering color on me, and it requires a lot of particular layers to look right and be warm enough), the Dusk sweater that goes with it (reblocking it made the fit worse, but I might keep it for bumming around it, as it is warm), the Menagerie dress (I did wear it quite a bit this fall and winter, but I think I'm just over it.  I don't like the way I feel when I wear it and I don't like the particular layers that go with it to make it warm enough for cold weather), a green wool cardigan I bought second hand that doesn't go with anything and is too boxy on me, the Target pants (I tried, I really did.  I just don't like pants that much), the Fair Isle wool sweater (I was forcing myself to wear it, but it is too big on me, the boxy style isn't flattering and feels matronly to me), plus a few other items that I'm forgetting right now.

Spring 2018: Flannel plaid Dottie Pearl dress, Marigold linen skirt, denim pencil skirt, Hobby Horse linen-canvas skirt (still fits!)

Spring 2018: grey cardigan, black wool cardigan, peach cardigan, navy cardigan

When I got to the spring bin, I noticed right away that a few items I had put away last year were in worse shape than I remembered.  The Dandelion Zadie was very sad indeed.  (Which is just as well, as I wasn't particularly enthused about wearing it this year, but felt I had to to justify the cost of the fabric last year.  Nevermind that I wore it constantly last spring).  Word to the wise: Do not, under any circumstances, place Art Gallery printed jersey in the dryer, even to prewash/dry it. Just don't do it.  In fact, don't do it with any printed jersey.  This PSA brought to you by a sad sack who learnt the hard way last year.  The charcoal gray linen was in pretty poor shape on the bust tucks and the linen was starting to look worn.  I've never understood why the linen wears so badly on those seams but not in other fabrics.  I had to retire my navy linen dress late last fall as well because the linen itself was looking shabby.  In truth, I was never happy with the back neckline or the resulting shoulder fit of the navy linen, so I wasn't too sorry to see it go (although I did wear it a ton, despite the fit).  Both were great dresses for the three seasons I wore them, but I didn't really want to wear them this year.  

Spring 2018: Navy battenberg shirt, green henley, navy striped shirt, grey henley, gray striped shirt, blue striped shirt, blue shirt.

Spring 2018: Gray wool pullover, purple cotton/wool longline sweater, navy cotton longline cardigan

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my Hobby Horse skirt still fits pretty well--I worried that it would be too big and I'd have to remake it as an Everyday skirt (I have the fabric to do so).  I really love it as a pencil skirt and put a lot of work into that skirt, so I'm thrilled it is still wearable this year.

The main changes to my Project 333 approach are to have more cross-over garments between my fall, winter, and spring rotations rather than three distinct sets of garments.  I've been missing my marigold linen skirt for a few weeks, so I decided to add it to this rotation.  The color works more or less a neutral anyway.  I'm wearing it today with complete happiness.  I also carried over my plaid flannel dress from my winter (because I've been wearing it a lot lately, and it seemed like a good piece for in-between weather because it doesn't need a lot of layers).  I also carried over my black knit dress for the same reason.

I'd like to replace my wool black cardigan with a longline version, as I've never really been happy with this one as a cardigan (it is okay as a pullover tucked into a skirt, however).  I'm nearly finished with a long cardigan that goes nicely with the unblogged Menagerie dress, and am going to start another long cardigan using my frogged Yellow Brick Road Jade wool.  I figured out a few key things about swatching recently that have helped me to understand why I often don't like my finished sweaters (more about that in another post).

My sewing queue for this season is quite short.  I am going to try a knit dress pattern using the Mille Fleur jersey I blogged about last year.  I plan to make a rayon Everyday skirt out of some rayon challis I bought last year.

My knitting queue has taken front stage as it is something I can do when my mind shuts down on the novel.  I'm trying to knit more accessories and fewer full garments, since I'm fairly happy with my sweaters (I have plans for two sweaters right now, including the above-mentioned Jade) and would like more cowls and shawls and the like.  I need to address my linen Gemini, as the pattern torture device lace panel is the main reason I haven't finished it.  I'm thinking of frogging it and starting again, either with no lace panel in the back, or something simpler over the same stitch count. (I know, I know.  It is fingering weight.  But half-finished is still half-finished.  And it's been two years already.  Enough is enough).

*I have in mind to experiment with adding in-set sleeves to my rayon dresses, since I love the fit and feel of the new (unblogged) Menagerie Dottie Pearl Dress.  I had to purchase additional fabric to adapt the Navy Birch and Painted Roses dresses. I plan to experiment on the Eggplant Birch dress first since I have less attachment to that one if the experiment fails.  One of the ways I'd like to simplify my wardrobe is to have fewer necessary layers in for the colder months.  Long sleeved dresses are a way to accomplish that.  I'll still need cardigans, and undershirts are handy for really cold weather (especially under a flannel dress), but I'm tired of wearing undershirts for almost everything in my closet and needing so many to make sure I make it through a laundry cycle.  If it works, I might retrofit my flannel dresses next fall.

So that's where I am with Project 333 and my making.  I'm going to have a rest before services tonight; this post took way longer than I anticipated and I didn't sleep super well last night.  Plus: sick kid at home.  

Pray for me, a sinner.

Minimalism Hits the Road: a confession

Earlier this week I was categorizing our household expenses and realized that I've been on a bit of a spree lately. We bought a lot of books this month, mostly for a reading-related fundraiser that our kids' school runs every March, and I've bought a lot of craft-related supplies (fabric, yarn, patterns, etc).  It also happens that the kids needed a bunch of clothing items all at once and suddenly it all added up.  We can afford it financially, but I felt that my consumption was out of order not only with the spirit of simplicity that I try to foster in myself and in my home, but also not really in the spirit of Lent, which is to put aside earthly cares to focus more on spiritual matters and on disciplining the passions in order to imitate Christ.

To crave holiness instead of food or things.  

To my shame, I realized that while I've been trying to slay the dragon of bodily gluttony during Lent, I've been quietly feeding a spirit of gluttony with regard to shopping and consumption.  Or more precisely, a spirit of avarice, which is the close cousin of gluttony and craves material things all out of order with bodily need.  I suppose these dragons are more like Hydras, and when you try to cut off one head one place, several more grow up in other places.  Unless you cauterize the beast at the root, it will continue to rage.

I need to get back into the habit of asking myself questions about potential purchases: does this benefit the household in some way?  Do we need it, or is there something we already have that will work instead?  Will this add to the clutter and chaos in the home or help it?  Is this going to end up in the trash or donation pile after only a few uses?  Why am I shopping right now?

Sometimes I think I'm just not very good at minimalism and simple living.  The spirit of gluttony and avarice that lives in me wants to devour everything--to have all the things, to eat all the things, to be all the things. To be stuffed from top to toe, from roof to basement.  But that is a sinful distortion of a passion that needs taming.  The answer is not to have nothing, but it does mean a more radical approach to what is needful and spiritually helpful.

I confess, I don't have a good answer to that right now.  If my goal as a Christian is salvific dispassionate holiness (that is, proper ordering of the passions in imitation of Christ), then I have far to travel on that road.  Right now, it is a but a faint scent on the wind, something I do not quite grasp.  But I will keep reaching for it, working for it, begging God's mercy and grace to mold me and move me along the road.

Yarn Along: Rincleau

~knitting~

Another finished project!  I'm not really a speedy knitter, but it just so happened that I finished two projects that I started in the fall within two weeks of one another.  This Rincleau sweater was a pretty  bulky gauge, so it went very quickly.  I had knit everything but the sleeves by the end of December, and then got sleeve-itis and picked up my blue cardigan instead.  I finished that, and then started in on the Rincleau sleeves, which went incredibly fast.

First, the bad: I think it is too big on me.  It does fit with about the amount of recommended ease, but I just feel like it is too big, especially in the shoulders.  It requires a fair amount of fiddling and pushing around to get everything adjusted and in place after I put it on.  I love the yarn (Quince and Co.'s Lark, in Cypress), but it has a fair amount of spring, and I think it may not have been the best choice for this pattern.

I also am not crazy about the sleeves--I was expecting them to taper more to the wrist, but they are actually kind of bell shaped at the bottom.  I should have known--the final stitch count after the decreases was 46, and I generally find 36 to be a good fit around my wrist.  I don't think I would make this pattern again, but if I did, I would decrease a few more times to get a snug fit,

And the good: I love this yarn.  I would definitely use Quince and Co. yarn again, but I'd like to try Chickadee (their sport weight yarn).  The hand of this yarn is really lovely, and the wool is so soft!  I am proud of myself for following the pinecone chart (it was a lot to power through for me--32 rows long, 3 times), but I did it!  I also like the way the cowl and the bottom edge look, and the general shape of the sweater is nice.  I just wish it was smaller!  

I also like the color very much--it is a lovely deep spruce-type green, almost in the blue family but not quite.  

I am starting to wonder if my tension has changed since I swatched this yarn, since both of the sweaters I started in October (this one, and Clouds in My Coffee) have come out too big.  I am also slightly smaller, but I don't think that is all of it.  

I'm getting ready to cast on the replacement for my Ramona cardigan, hopefully to finish it in time for wearing in the fall; I'm debating between a couple of patterns.  One is a very simple top-down raglan construction with stockinette stitch throughout that I could definitely finish in time; the other one is an Amy Herzog pattern that has a nicer shape, but more complicated stitch pattern that might be too much for me to keep up with, so I can't decide which way to go.  What I'd like is to use the Amy Herzog pattern and change the stitch panels to something easier for me to manage, but I can't find a stitch pattern I like that is easy to follow and adapt.  I'm also considering just doing an all-over stitch pattern like a double moss or something like that.  I'm still swatching the yarn (worsted Swish in Jade) so I'll see where I end up.

~reading~

Not much new from last week--still re-reading a silly novel series on my kindle and planning to get to more serious stuff during Lent.

~watching~

Season 4 of The Americans just hit prime, so I've been catching up on that.  That show makes me want all the early 1980s fashions.  I really love Keri Russell's wardrobe on that show--the midi a-line skirts, the tall boots, the fitted light weight sweaters, just the thing.  It is such a well-done show, and the themes are so thought-provoking.  

I watched a little documentary on Netflix over the weekend called The Minimalists and enjoyed it quite a bit.  It kind of goes in hand with Project 333, but in a broader way.  I especially appreciated that they talked with some folks who have families and how they deal with managing consumerism and "stuff" in a family setting.  It gave me some new things to think about as I move along this path of keeping our home and lives simple.

I also finished The Night Manager last week and I highly recommend it.  I'm kind of having a Tom Hiddleston moment--that guy is so stinkin' talented!  He has a magnetic screen presence and I so enjoyed watching him.  (I tried watching High Rise over the summer, just because he was in it, but it was such a weird and slow movie, I couldn't finish it.  Too bad, because he was electric in it).  I liked him in Wallander too.  I guess I have a thing for actors with curly hair?  He's really fun to watch in interviews.

Linking with Ginny for Yarn Along!

Talking Tuesday: Green Living

image via google images

"If, over several centuries, you remove ordinary people from access to productive land; if you 

arrange agriculture to produce a small number of commodity crops for distant markets using exotic inputs rather than serving its locality; if you allow food prices and land prices to get so out of kilter that almost nobody can afford to farm, that only rich people can afford to live in the countryside, and that poor farmers globally need to search for paid work wherever the pull of the global economy takes them; and if you impose a car-based infrastructure on the countryside while systematically stripping it of services and public transport, then, yes, it’s probably fair to say that it’s greener to live in the city and that few want to be small-scale farmers. But there’s no reason to accept all that as given." 

~Chris Smaje, "Two Tribes," Small Farm Future, September 17, 2016

Image via.

If you'd told me in my younger days that I would pine for country life in middle years, I'd probably have laughed at you.  I longed for the city, for urban existence, for the excitement of living amongst so many different kinds of people, for the access to many different kinds of experiences.  

Now, after many years of living a gritty urban existence, and raising children here, my perspective is a little different.  I don't think it is realistic for us to move to the country, given the demands of my husband's work schedule, and our rather intense need for emergency pediatric health care throughout the year, but I confess I do long for the open spaces, for room for my kids to run around without fear, for the ability to reclaim an older way of life.  The life we live now is fine, good even, but it isn't sustainable if something were to happen to the supply chain.  Having our water shut off regularly these last months during the water and sewer main replacement on our block, and dealing with food supply shortages this winter during the storm season made me realize that we are out on an island here; we have no access to fresh water should we need it, no ability to grow our own food, and almost no way to dispose of trash or human waste in a safe way if city services break down (as they frequently do).  It makes me anxious if I think about it for too long, so I try to dwell on the positives of living in the city.  God has us here for a reason, and we must rest content in that knowledge.

This weekend, for example, we had an impromptu block party when we temporarily closed our road with trash cans and a leftover traffic cone to allow our kids to bike in the street on a quiet Sunday afternoon.  Because our family was outside on the street, other families came out and pretty soon there was a whole mess of kids running around on bikes for a couple of hours, and the adults could chat and engage in fellowship, thus growing the social capital on the block.  

Our location is ideal for the life we currently live.  We live half a block from an Orthodox Church, which allows us to go to far more mid-week services than we would otherwise be able to, given everything.  We are five blocks from a large grocery store (and grocery stores are few and far between here, for some inexplicable reason).  We have easy access to grocery delivery services, and other delivery options.  We are an easy public bus ride to school.  Parking is a pain, but we have learned to navigate the murky waters of it and rely on cabs and Uber when it is impossible to move the car.  We live three blocks from our excellent pediatrician and the children's hospital is a short cab ride away.  We have a good group of friends, both for ourselves and our children.  My husband bike-commutes most of the year, and we are short train rides to New York and DC, both of which are needful for my husband's job.  

Image via

We are in a good place.  But sometimes, sometimes, I long for wide open spaces, with mountains at behind me and water before me.

Talking Tuesday: Houellebecq and the Consumer Self

I read excerpts from Michel Houellebecq's novel Submission sometime last year; my husband read the whole novel sometime in late winter or early spring and enjoyed it immensely. I think it is an important novel for the ways that it pokes at our fragile culture and brittle consumer self. 

I find myself reflecting on the modern self as primarily consumer a lot lately, as I work through my thoughts on Matthew B. Crawford, Jaron Lanier, and Charles Taylor. I dislike the idea that I am merely consumer: that I am nothing more than the sum total of my desires. I've said several times before that one of my goals in life is to recapture a premodern mindset, to thoroughly re-enchant my way of viewing the world.  If I'm to do that, I must order my passions with God's help, and learn a measure of content with the world as it is rather than what I wish it would be, or how clever advertising has made me feel it should be.

Theodore Dalrymple (a pen name) writes of Houllebecq's created world:

"In Houellebecq’s world people buy without need, want without real desire, and distract themselves without enjoyment. Their personal relations reflect this: they are shallow and no one is prepared to sacrifice his or her freedom, which is conceived of as the ability to seek the next distraction without let or hindrance from obligation to others. They are committed to nothing, and in such a world even art or cultural activity is just distraction on a marginally higher plane – though it is a natural law in this kind of society that the planes grow ever closer, ever more compressed.

For Houellebecq, the institution that best captures the nature of modern existence is the supermarket, in which people wander between stacked shelves making choices without discrimination or any real consequences, to the sound of banal but inescapable music. This music is like the leprous distilment that Claudius pours into the ear of Hamlet père as he sleeps in his garden once of an afternoon. The shoppers in the supermarket are not asleep, of course, but they are sleepwalking, or behaving as quasi-automata. At any rate, they are certainly not alert (most of them don’t even have a list of what they need, or think they need), and the drivelling music makes sure that they do not awake from their semi-slumber.

The whole of modern life is an existential supermarket, in which everyone makes life choices as if the choices were between very similar products, between Bonne Maman jam, say, and the supermarket’s own brand (probably made by the same manufacturer), in the belief that if they make the wrong choice it can simply be righted tomorrow by another choice. Life is but a series of moments and people are elementary particles (the title of a book by Houellebecq)....If you watch crowds shopping in any consumer society you cannot help but think that they represent the sated in search of the superfluous."

~Theodore Dalrymple, "Houellebecq and Call." The New English Review Blog, August 2016

Dalrymple goes on to discuss a bit about the economics of modern consumer society, and how our language is so informed by the realities of the modern consumer self.  He ends by stating that he does not seek status in labels or horsepower, but I think even that sort of side-steps the point: most of us in the West do not worry about whether there will be clothes on our backs, or food in our cupboards.  We have the economic leisure to worry about esoteric things at worst, existential things at best.  

Another of my stated goals (particularly for this blog) is to think about what it means to live in this hyper-consumer society in a simple way.  How to separate wants from needs.  How to live in a simple manner that leaves plenty of room for the spiritual life to flourish.  My experience of simple living has been hugely influenced by staying in monasteries like St. Herman of Alaska in Platina, CA, and also of living overseas in Russia, and two Habitat builds in Central Asia.  The conditions for that life are hard to replicate here, however, living as we do in great abundance and even ennui with such abundance.  I was always shopping when I lived in Russia, in part because that is how you live there: daily groceries, checking markets on the way to work for various needful things like soap and eggs that sometimes can't be found other places, and keeping eyes open in the garment stalls for a sweater or a pair of warm boots that might fit and replace something that is full of holes.  The accessibility of consumer goods is spotty, so when your sweater wears out, you can't be sure of finding an easy replacement.  I learned to keep my eyes open, even when I was just going to see a friend.  That habit has followed me here, where it serves me poorly.  

I've lately caught myself shopping either online or in stores simply because they are there, and I'm always kind of looking.  Looking for what, I don't know.  My closet is more than adequate, I make most of what I wear anyway, and I don't especially need anything ready-to-wear right now.  I think the mindless perusal is the pursuit of something that will make me feel better--shopping as anesthesia.  The clothing industry in particular is good about selling the idea that new clothing=happiness, and that the right dress is all that stands between me and a good state of mind.  Intellectually, I know that idea is total bollocks, but it still whispers in my ear enticingly.