wienerdog tricks.

Personal Limitation #2

I sat down yesterday and wrote a list of my personal limitations: "Current Limitations to Consider Fixing/Conquering." In my thirties, this would have been titled, "Ways I'm Lame," but here in my forties I have the freedom to make lists like this one to think about and try to Get At. 

#2 was "Discomfort--unease, actually--in a dress, or in high heels or in anything really pretty." (This particular limitation was listed after #1 "Fear of snakes" and #3 "Weak back." and I wrote it because I was freshly off a wedding where-at I spent 32% of my time worrying that my dress would fly over my head. I kept yanking at it like the wind was some licentious old man or something. Yeesh.)

And I frankly chalk #2 up to lack of practice. I never wear dresses. Or skirts. I don't really like to get dressed up at all. And I think I figured out this weekend that it's because I RARELY find something in the Dress Dept of Anywhere that when I put it on and look in the mirror I think, "Oh look--there. That's Me." No. I usually think, "Um. What?"

I was walking through a mall on Friday (desperately searching for a dress to wear to the wedding THE NEXT DAY) with my 21 Year Old Sister Who's Read Cosmo Since She Was 8--and who currently works for the big N department store and who is 1 of the 2 people in the world that I can shop for myself with, and I was telling her of my difficulties in the Find a Dress I Feel LIke Myself In. And then I said it out loud, "I think I'll probably need to start sewing clothes for myself."

Long internal pause.

This is, of course, a big way to solve my dillemma--especially because a) I love to remake clothes 2) there are a ka-million good places to find vintage patterns and IV) I have been watching in awe as other people do it for some time now. Plus, everyone's doing it.

There's only one tiny problem: I don't like to do it. I mean, I've only tried once actually sewing from a true pattern--and that project is currently shoved in a big ziploc on a back shelf. (Oh wait--even better: twice.)

But I'm going to give it another shot I think. My grandma sent me birthday money and I immediately went to Amazon and within 3 minutes and 4 clicks, I had purchased these two books to help me:

 

   

 
And then my sister gave me a fat patternmaking textbook just like the one she used when she was at FIDM. So that's my update: Destined.

 

Personal Limitation #4 ("Easily Frustrated by Perceived Failure") can now also be simultaneously attacked. All I need to do now get a pet snake and do my back exercises.

Right.

6 More Shirt Minutes

Robyn called it last week about the whole Oh My Gosh This Shirt Is Going to Take Me 39 Years to Sew reflection:

Oh I so understand the hours-passing-butt-tingling creativity. That's it. You are CREATING when you do the bags. You are following rules when you sew a shirt . . . 

She nailed it completely: sewing shirts for me is totally Direction Following. Dangit. This is not my strength. At all. 

So I got in another 6 minutes today: the sleeves. Whew. That was exhausting.

 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Sleeve Solution

I got a cool old green polo-style shirt at our town's first-ever Swap-o-rama (I highly recommend them--it was a treasure-hunter's crack high. I almost had to breathe into a paper bag when I walked in: tables and tables of clothes ready to take home and remake.)

So I went at turning this green pique tent into a fitted shirt for myself. I won't lie: I started in sort of hurry because I wanted to wear it to work. [Note: that always happens to me and I always jack the project. Please see the way it always goes, Ginger. No thank you I will live in denial that I can sew for what I want to wear on the day that I think of it until I am 912 years old.]

I used Wendy's basic t-shirt pattern from the knit's book. (A solid shirt refashioning battle plan that I would highly recommend, actually.)

Bad news, tho: not enough length at the base of the sleeve, so I had to lose the already-finished sleeve edge.

And I jacked it. 

Totally cut off the finished edge and then tried to replicate it and found WHAT I KNEW WHAT I WOULD FIND AND YET I DID IT ANYWAYS: that weird wobbly, wavy effect that sewing knits can produce when you do it wrong and I of course did it wrong because I didn't actually read Sew U Home Stretch by the wonderful Wendy, I just, um, cut out the pattern and started sewing. 

Good one.

I almost tossed the whole thing. In fact, I was already composing my "You Can't Believe How I Messed Up This Shirt Refashion" post in my mind when this solution came to me: What if I took all that I know about polyester binding and applied it to my dire Finished Shirt Sleeve Edge situation? 

So that took me over to my polyester bins for hunting because I knew that I had a big scrap of vintage doubleknit that resembles the skin of a teenage mutant ninja turtle. And yes: it was there. So zip zip two pieces of 2" strips for binding. Sew sew sew. Done: sleeves with a nifty finished edge that does lots more than just keep it from fraying. 

I sewed these nice and fitted, too, so that they didn't stand up on their own like some bad Star Wars costume (somehow Princess Amadala comes to mind, but I digress.)

And then I copied the tiniest-ever little pocket from a gap polo I have to bring in some more TMNT highlights. And this lovely shirt was born. 

And I really like it. 

More on Wendy's book after I, um, actually read it.

Premature Reflection

I can't help it: I'm a Premature Reflector. I'm not entirely sure that I'm cut out for SHIRT SEWING. I know: it's too soon to say. But I am just reporting here that I currently have the attention span of a nine-year-old boy in church for sewing this shirt. I get about 10 minutes in, my eyeballs start to sweat and I have to ditch the thing and work on something else.

I mean I'm going to go back to it (sleeves are next, I think), but I'm just saying that I can spend 4 hour stretches making other things (things that aren't quite as, well, fussy) and I don't even know time as passed. All of a sudden I look at the clock and I think, "Whaa?" and then I realize that my butt is tingling and that I'm hungry and that my neck hurts because my shoulders are up at my ears because I've been completely surrendered in concentration on whatever strange polyester thing I'm concocting on the sewing machine.

Not so with the shirt. So that's my report so far: Still Sewing. In 7-minute stretches. Estimated Time of Completion: my two-year-old's 21st birthday.

On the upside, I do have lots of love and hours for things like this:

It's a journal-sized bag with a big full flap and a skinny interior--enough for a journal and a pen and maybe a book for inspiration. I chopped up and scrambled a tea towel map of London and paired it with butter colored poly. Just lovely.

 And this:

 . . .and its happy surprise insides:

So that's what's going on in my neck of the woods, Al Roker.    

Top Step #5: Darts, Yokes & Pockets

Darts

First off, this is my first dart. Okay, I think I gave them a shot when I sewed this, but does that really count? No, I didn't think so either.

Sewed Darts. Ripped Darts. Re-sewed Darts. And that's because I marked the dart at the M on the pattern instead of at the little circle. Good one. All fixed now. Now biggee.

Yokes

Attached yokes. I borrowed these from the original pink shirt and attached them to the two new front panels. Sinchy and I love to topstitch. Just love it.

Pockets.

Stole these too. Somehow, removing a perfectly intact pocket from an existing shirt that didn't fit rightjust seems like a lovely thing to do. Plus, I'm a Clothes Sewing Chicken (CSC). This was as good baby step.

Oh, and I attached the already-sewed-together-and-snaps-on placket. I did that too.

So far, though, I have a really bad feeling that I'm going to look like a western dental assistant. So there's that.

Top Step #4: Commit with the Scissors

 Measure: CHECK. 

Cut out that pattern. CHECK

Pick the fabric. CHECK

It's all cut. I used the pattern and took pieces of that pink western number and cut two front panels of some skunk/pig fabric I had. Why kiddy  fabric? I don't know--it almost never does anything for me, but this stuff looks old and weird to me, so I used it.

Now I'm going to sew. I'll keep you posted. 

Also--I need to sharpen my scissors. Do you all do this yourself or have it done? (I feel like this will be the answer to the question about you and your eyebrows, too--but we'll just see.)

How Are We Doing?: A Quiz.

 

Okay, friends--how are we doing on our TOP SEWING EXTRAVAGANZA? I am imagining a handful of scenarios . . .

A) You all are finished with your shirts and you've all called each other said Guy why is she so slow what's her deal it's not that hard to sew a shirt yeesh.

2) You're still waiting for your shirt book to arrive from the library or for the 1st of the month to hit so you can buy it. 

III) You're standing in front of the Shirt Sewing Jump Rope waiting to jump in and start at just the right time.

Q) None of the above. You think sewing shirts is dumb and you don't know why I keep talking about it.

If you've given the YES MAM to sewing a shirt along with us here at WDT, then let's hear it: how are you coming along?

Please leave your Honest Honest Answer to the quiz in the comments today. Let's hear it!

Top Step #3: The Fabric

Measure: CHECK. 

Cut out that pattern. CHECK

Pick the fabric. CHECK

.
Well, I think I gotta be me here. I'm starting with a little frankensteining work. It's just how I roll [dorky lady air quotes]. I feel a little skiddish to start from Absolute Scratch, so I'm going to do a baby step first and combine this manshirt with some funky pig & skunk fabric sitting around begging to be mixed with this pink.

When I go for the Absolute Scratch version (Shirt #2), I am eyeing some tablecloths I've got. And also a couple of lovely almost linen-ish feeling prints (a black & white, and a green floral). And if I had the right denim, I'd go for it. (Still obsessing about this 70's Lee brand shirt I came across in a thrift store in Buena Vista, Colorado a few weeks back when I was out carousing with friends and dressing up like a super hero. I might yet call that shop and beg to have the $15 shirt sent. Then I'll frankenstein that one. (Shirt #3.) 

By then I'll have THE KNITS BOOK, so I'll probably be on to tshirts and such. We'll just see.

Top Step #2: Cut Out That Pattern

Measure: CHECK. 

Cut out that pattern. CHECK. Just did it. But first I ironed the pattern like THE BOOK  said.

My Almost-10-Yr-Old Man Boy: Why are you ironing that?

Me: Because THE BOOK said to and I'm doing everything THE BOOK said.

Ro picked up the rest of the interview once the A-10 Yr-Old MB went back to figuring out how to explain to other people his recent lego design of a plane that lands on water.

Ro: Are you nervous about making this shirt?

Me: Of course I'm nervous about making this shirt. I haven't made a shirt since 7th grade home ec. And trust me, just be glad you weren't there.

Ro: You don't have to be so testy.

Me: Well, sometimes I'm just a little testy when I'm nervous.

Ro: Wow. I never knew that.

Me: Are you being sarcastic?

Ro: Oh noooooo. I'm not being sarcastic at allllllll.

Me: Did you have any other questions for this interview or can I go back to cutting my pattern out now?

Ro: How many thicknesses of fabric are you going to use for this project? Will any innocent helpers be harmed in the production of this project?

Me: I'm making a thin, thin shirt, Ro. Don't worry. It'll be outta cotton--or something even skinnier maybe.

Ro: Good.

Me: Are you in?

Ro: I'm in.

Me: Well, good.

Ro put her mic down. And I proceeded to even do the EXTRA step that THE BOOK said to do--I taped all the pieces to heavier paper (didn't have 85 yards of cardboard lying around, so I opted for heavyweight paper). THE BOOK said to transfer the pattern and re-mark all the details. Right. When I read that I heard somebody in the room say "firgit it." It might have been me.

Here are the pieces in all their fortified glory:

Next up: fabric picking. So. Fun.

(How are we doing everybody? Check in when you can--and don't lose faith. Just one little step at a time.)

Top Step #1: Measure

(The step wherein I use PHYSICAL SCIENCE to prove to myself that I do, in fact, have the tiniest chest ever. Excellent.)

Hmmm--maybe this is the reason I'm standing in front of the jump rope on this top-making thing, so let's start at the beginning together. First: we need to take our measurements.

I was going to make this a two-part goal where we cut the pattern out too, but for those of us who are easily overwhelmed by the beginning of anything that has a later deadline, let's just start nice and easy. 

So check in when you've done your measurements just like Wendy says. I will post a comment here when I've done it too.

C'mon, girls--we've got tops to sew. (Next: we cut out the pattern! Woo hoo. We can do this. We can do this.) Here we go . . .

Time to tackle thin sewing: TOPS

Some of you were a big fat YES to making tops, so let's rock the TOP world.

Ro says she would be THRILLED to sew something as THIN as a top. I don't really appreciate her tone, but we're on the mend and I'm going to overlook it. 

We can use Wendy Who Rocks as our inspiration (there's a blouse-ish pattern in her first book and a t-shirt-ish pattern in the one about knits. So let's have at it. (And no--of course you don't have to use these books as your starting place. It's America. Follow your sewing machine's heart.)

And here's the cool thing--I came across this over at Made by Rae:

 

So I think we ought to join in. She's got a super-fun competition that could get our blood going, I'd say. Plus she's super nice and makes and remakes like crazy and we all say HIGH FIVE to that (Say it with me: HIGH FIVE!)

Her deadline for entry is the end of April, and we can tooooootally pull that off. I know we can. I know what you are saying: HOW? April is 14 minutes away. I know. I feel the same way, but if we don't give ourselves a deadline we'll still be talking about that blouse we started sewing that one time well into our Christmas-making. And let's just not do that to ourselves, okay? Okay.

I will put up a "HEY--HOW ARE WE DOING?" post here and there and then we can cheer each other on.I'm thrilled and stoked that I've got some compadres in TOP sewing. So let's do it people!

Woo Hoo! Excellent plan.

I Know I Am Late to the Party, But I Still Need to Talk About This Like It Just Happened

I just read this book on the plane.

 

And yes, I know you already read it. I know your sister read it. I know you gave it to your cousin for Christmas, but I. Just. Found. It. And I read it like a novel on the plane. It is absolutely wonderful--and immediately solved a couple of solidly annoying problems I've been facing on my Journey To The Perfect Tshirt.

In a word: Wendy Rocks.

She is like the Macgyver of sewing. She speaks my language.

I am completely and totally going to embark on the first project--sewing a shirt.

Has everybody already done this? Anybody want to join me? [She typed and then had a flash of panic that there will be be this like awkward silence and she will have to pretend like she was asking somebody else.] Anybody got any reports from trying to do the shirt project? 

I Feel Totally Coco

Before Chanel, I mean.

I am currently cutting up a cast-off Banana Republic long-sleeve, stretch, zippy t-shirt piece to re-make it into something that works for my lady body. I got it from my friend's husband. Wait: not really. Because it wasn't like he dropped it off or anything. He said no to it, she knew I like to cut stuff up, and I ended up with it. There's a pretty good chance he would actually sort of think it was strange that I was wearing his (old) clothes. Don't tell him.

So I am so Coco Before Chanel right now (and yes: rent it.) in my cut-up-the-men's-clothes thing. But my sister is not getting married, and I am not destitute, with questioonable musical stage abilities, living off the kindness of annoying rich people, and planning on having my picture taken pouting on expensive steps anytime soon. Otherwise, I am totally her.

Let's See Em.

Did you make one yet?  

 

C'mon. They're easier than that bread you let sit on the counter and don't even have to knead.

I'm pulling together a flickr gallery for those of you who decide to go for it and use the patternless baby dress tutorial to make a wee little mini dress for your favorite toddler-ish person. Just email your photo and I'll put them up for all to see: gingerhendrix AT charter DOT net. How communal. What fun. How hootishly good timey.

And yes, my email is listed in super secret CODE so that you don't submit one if you're a robot or something. You have to be human.

Worth Mentioning.

Okay, so I already told you that I've put up a patternless baby dress tutorial,  but what I DIDN'T tell you is that it's the same basic process I use for making these polyester lovlies:

 

 

 

 

And I know that some of you are still struggling with the whole POLYESTER ON A BABY deal, but seriously--it's the best fabric ever: especially in this wearable design. (And by that I mean: they don't sweat because their armpits are free to breathe. Right.)

So these are just up here to tempt you. I could sew these if I were a monkey with a part-time job, three kids, four volunteer gigs, and a penchant for having people to coffee most days of the week. 

Oh. I am. And I do.

You can too . . .

 

Patternless (Almost Pin-less, Almost Measure-less) Baby Dress Tutorial

 

In honor of SCRAPBUSTERS MONTH over at Sew Mama Sew, I finally put together that baby dress tutorial I've been threatening to offer up!

 

          Toddler Action Shot

It was a hoot to put together. It's over here. Go make some scrappy little dresses, eh?

The Tshirt: As Underappreciated as the Sandwich.

I have long said that the sandwich is the most underappreciated food genre. And let's just say, if you believe this, you're missing out. Seriously missing out.

And so I'd compare the humble tshirt to the humble sandwich in its abilities to transform a wardrobe . . .if you're, willing to refashion IT. 

So, after working to turn a long, fitted tshirt out of a big boxy man's tshirt, here's what I've come up with. Because I'm looking for length. (Don't want the old butt crackola to show. Don't want to share my belly button. Don't want to be tugging my clothing down as I jobg through my day. Just don't.) But I don't want to give up fit either, so here's what I've got so far:

And while this may look like an ever-so-slightly pathetic stack, please know that it represents a small handful of successes and also a FAT stack of screw ups. There's a lot of ways to go wrong in the t-shirt redo. Who knew?

So, here's my hard won tshirt redo wisdom:

1. One of the things I've realized about being a Tshirt Wearer is that it's all in the shoulders. Seriously. If the shirt fits you in the shoulders, it looks SIGNIFICANTLY less like you're that girl trying to pull off a gym shirt for work. And SIGNIFICANTLY less like you've raided your brother's/husband's/son's closet to get dressed. I've looked around the INTERWEB for tutorials and really, this quick little pdf is the best bet for wrapping your brain around how to reattach shoulders--which ISN'T as tricky as it sounds. You really just cut the thing open like a fish and then reassemble it.

See--this is one I'm working on today--it's a boxy boohoo of a men's shirt that looks like a boohoo when I put it on.

Light wash denim and white tennies anyone? But when I cut the sleeves off and flay the whole thing open and reattach them closer in so that they line up with my real shoulders, it will be a babe shirt. I swear.

2. Don't risk poking yourself to an early death with pins, just find a tshirt that you like in the snugness department and use it. I've copied one of these to death and it's working for me nicely.

3. Pay attention to the flexola of the fabric. One of the ways that I've screwed up OVER AND OVER is to cut the shirt too small. My original is made of a wonderfully stretch cotton and so when I'm working on a stiffer, less stretchy fabric, I put the thing on and it's like I've turned myself into a full blown sausage. Pretty. If your original has lots of give, then make allowances if the one you're working with doesn't.

4. Don't stop now. Think outside the tshirt box for tshirts.I'm starting to work on old men's polo shirts. You know:

 

Nice dragon, Sears. I have not mastered these. Am still working on the florkiness of the sleeve. Think I just need to make it more form fitting--which is just a little extra seam down the one that's there and a clip clip.

5. Look on the men's shirt racks. We don't have enough time to talk here about how for some reason used women's tshirts are all balled up and nasty. And shrunken. And wonked. For some reasons, men's tshirts are less this way in my extensive thrift shopping experience. I think it's the fabric they start out as. PLUS you can get the length you need out of a men's tshirt without having to sew some weird looking extra panel on the bottom.

6. Use the stretch stitch setting on your machine. I'm in love with this stictch. If you've got it, it's perfect for this project.

Start cutting, girls. And report back on your success. (And, as always, if everything I've said here makes no sense, then tell me and I'll say it again better. This tshirt-redo thing is CRUCIAL for us thrifters. Just saying.)

Sometimes I dress up in funny outfits.

I made a costume. It was a hoot. Remember this? (I made it in Adult Ed Sewing Class. Of course you did.)

Well, it became this:

 

 

And yes, I did sew those stretch white polyester short-shorts. Because, um, where do you buy stretchy white polyester short-shorts? Right. This is my point. 

Really really wish you had a full shot of the go go boots. Because this costume is all about the go go boots.

Wearing a bee hive is fun. You really ought to try it some time. Especially when this guy is your date:

 

A really really good, really really (even more) inevitable idea.

So, luckily, I have the sort of friends who know that I would toast and butter WORDS and eat them for breakfast if I could. Having just come off keeping myself from adding my bedsheet-stamped commentary to these perfectly hysterical and uber-retro polyester baby dresses, my friend said this to me: Name Them.

It wasn't a dare, but it might as well have been. And NOW, while I thought that it was impossible to enjoy this more, I have added the hilarious good time of naming these only-happen-once little thrift store fabric dresses. 

Here's a taste:

"Daisy Duke Goes to a Tent Meeting"

'Velma Watches the Prom Via Satellite"

"Cindy Brady Hears the Ice Cream Truck, Swipes $2 from Alice's Purse, and Heads for the Street"

If you grew up watching the reruns of 60s shows for the entirety of your 70s childhood like I did, you may enjoy a quick romp over here to the photo gallery of all 12 dresses  I'mtaking to market tomorrow.

How is it possible that this is just getting MORE fun? Yeesh.

(Here's how I'll make it more fun for you: post a comment here with a list of all 12 references and I'll make one of these polyester numbers for the first person to get them all right! How fun is that? Hint: most but not all refs are 70s tv. About your prize-ola: there no guarantees on the colors I can promise--I work from scraps, you know--but I'm happy to make it to your size pref.)

UPDATE: Okay, based on the complete and total **Crickets** on my giveaway offer, I am going to breathe through my self-esteem nose and assume that this is not because all 40,000 of you (okay, sometimes I exaggerate) think these dresses are deeply ugly, but that--yet again, if you ask my students--I have posed an IMPOSSIBLE QUIZ. I won't lie: this isn't the first time this has happened to me. So how about this--just leave a comment about your favorite 70s tv show and I'll draw for a winner. That sounds less Wikipedia-intensive and more fun. Better.

My fave so far.

And here's the tag I made (thanks for asking). I stamped them with an old secretary's set of stamps (at least, that's what they look like to me--the whole alphabet, plus some ready-mades that say DUPLICATE and AIR MAIL and such) on a thrifted bed sheet and the heat-set in the dryer. 

And, just so you don't feel bad for me and try to tell me delicately, I'm really INTO how they fray. So that's on purpose. Don't feel bad. I'm just pro-fray in general. . . .though I did spend copious amounts of time finishing the insides of these dresses--all without a serger. Not an impossible task, as it turned out, just time-consuming.

I'm heading out Saturday. Any Sage Craft Fair Sellers out there with some advice for my friend and me as we head out to sell? 

One Something A Day: Weeks 4 & 5

SCADS of Polyester baby dresses! Groovy. Here are a handful. I've pulled off at least 10 and I've got 2 more cut. Am shooting to take these to a local craft fair on Saturday. They've even got homemade TAGS in them. Too much. I just love 'em.

 

And here are a couple of close ups . . .

 

 

  

 

And here's my Miracle Thrift Shopping Story du Jour: So I go to my favorite thrift shop and dig around the fabric corner because I'm on a total mission for vintage buttons. I find a few, pretty average. Barely vintage. I'm getting ready to settle for them when I see the manager and shoot out a Paula, you don't happen to have some big jar of buttons back there do ya? . . . I don't think so, she says. But then--you know what's going to happen next if, like me, you've accepted the Thrifting Gods into your heart--she walks out with the darlingest tall skinny jar of the darlingest vintage buttons. And I mean vintage: no weird frog buttons or rainbows or anything, the real old ones: wonderful. 

So now I have another weird fabric-related obsession for thrifting: Buttons. Great. Just great.

It was inevitable: the polyester baby dress.

How did I not see this coming?

I mean I love polyester. And so there I was, wildly sewing up a little sundress-ish doo dad of a baby dress for the Baby-o and it was like the yellow polyester just called out to me. G - i - n - g - e - r  . . . . I looked up (in the middle of a very important sentence my husband was putting together for my benefit)  and pulled it out of the stack. Resolutely.  I will be making this next.

And I will be sewing 80 or 90 more of these, I think. I'm off to the sewing store to talk to a bunch of non-sewing quilters about how to use my machine to make the insides of these look finished. Would love not to have to go buy a serger--but please DO chime in here if you know anything about finishing seams. In my tote bag/apron-making world, I haven't messed much with it yet. I'd love some help! (And I won't lie: I'm completely scared to death of the quilt ladies at the store, so I don't know how much I'll remember of what they actually say to me.)

I did this to a Turtleneck.

I really like the fabric, so I cut it up. I turned this: 

 

into this:

and then, best of all, this...

 

(What else do you do with the turtle part?)

 

But I won't lie. I did kind of a crummy job. The stretchy lycra-ish tshirt fabric cardigan is completely wonkified. And while I'm tempted to wear it anyway and just look confident, I know I shouldn't. So I'm annoyed. Am hoping my refashioning friends give me some tips. I tend to love to sew with impossibly slippery, stretch fabrics. Sigh.

 

And all of this is really just proof that I'm cutting things up and sewing them together. (Here is my current Ready To Refashion basket.)

 

 

But it speaks more to my frankensteining tendencies than it does to gobs of success--I'm destroying about half of what I'm going at. Have supremely botched at least 47.8% of the perfect-to-tailor t's I'm finding for 2 bucks at thrift stores.

 

I'm GOING to write up some sort of magical tutorial for tailoring t's. So far I found this and I like it, but I have a manic fear of pins, so I'm working on some sort of magical measure + add diy pattern somethingish tutorial thing. 

 

And yes, having a manic fear of pins when you like to sew is like having a manic fear of water when you like to surf, but I don't want to talk about it.

Army Parachute(r) Pants Double Re-Do.

They're pants for parachuters, not parachute pants. Think Navy Seal, not M.C. Hammer.

 

I've had these lovely pants--so cool. They're REAL--for at least ten years. 

 

 

Who knows how they arrived. I remember the moment when I discovered them in my costume bin and 'rescued" them for my closet. A sincere move, if not a particularly flattering one.

 

I just turned them into this:

 

And yes, I know you can't really tell how long the thing is (and I also know that you are staring at my war-torn backyard, which I really don't want to talk about) but trust me that it hits me right above the knee and based on my current photographic ability and, apparently, the STATE OF MY KNEES, you will not be experiencing a knee photo from me. Sorry. You'll have to come over to see.

 

Also, I used the leftover pant legs for this:

 

 

I found this cool super-pocketed army bag at a thrift store last month (as part of Totally Obsessed with Totes Month, apparently). It just need a little New Strap Love. I think I'm going to stamp out a small storyline for that fatigue part of the strap. I'll let you know how it goes.

 

P.S. Project update here. 

Well, But Wait.

Having said that, I just found this and this and this, so now I want to sew my own dresses. I want to make Austin Scarlet proud. I want to go to and buy a dress form (which my friend says I might have a shot of finding on craigslist for about 50 bucks.) I want to get over my dress-wearing fear of the wind coming up and showing the whole world my underpants. I want to learn to walk in pumps. I want to sew dresses.

P.S. Do you read cooking blogs? Because I read this one, and in honor of her birthday, I think everybody I know should know that it's some of the funniest stuff I read online. Plus, it's the kind of blog you want to read even if you don't cook. I mean if you DO cook, you'll love it (yummy food, do-able directions, and the stuff actually tastes like she says it will after you make it. I'm just saying.) But if you don't cook--and by that I just mean you don't feel like you've been invited into the Hardcore Foodie Club--, you'll love it too. Everything there is cook-able. Go there. Trust me.