Empire State of Mind

I have a very exciting weekend planned in NYC (which I'm trying not to exploit too hideously by telling y'all about it every 3 seconds. I've left that joy for the people I work with. Really, they love me right now.) I'm very hopeful that everything will conspire to produce a fabulous travel experience full of fun, fashion and friends. Oooh, I'm down with those F's, people!

To commemorate the experience make things that much clearer, I bought an iPhone today. Yes, I've been considering it aimlessly for 2 years, but now it is done and I'm really quite enamored (like the other 2 billion of you). I also shelled for the hideously expensive roaming plan, so that I can communicate with everyone - far and wide - over the course of my travels. And download maps. Oh, and so I can blog, presumably.

Thing is, I don't know if I would be better to have one of those analogue holidays - the kind that you don't upload photos of on the spot, the kind where you sit at the bar and have fascinating conversations with strangers rather than typing between bites. Who can say?

What I do know is that I will regale you with stories on the flip-side - if not sooner. So check on by when you think about it. One thing you can bet on: I will be having a martini at the Jade Bar just for you. xo

Fashion for Professionals

Darlings: Please head on over to Sally's place (if by some bizarre chance you haven't already been there today) and check out her latest post. I'm one of the guest contributors and the topic is work wear. Let me know what you think!

Orange You Glad To See This?

I managed to fuck this up one more time - again with the serger (which really did not get along with the double knit fabric and its tight curves). Resulted in slicing through the upper sleeve and having to a) rip out all the serging on the shoulder, b) rip out the stitches (after having ripped out two rows of basting), and c) recut the sleeve, reattach/rehem/re-serge (but this time WITH NO BLADE).

Really, this project has been a joy from start to finish.

But this post is a 2 for 1. You get to see the final garment on my new dress form!! (Note: It's not yet adequately "me-like" but it will have to do.)

The wrinkle at the neckline doesn't occur on my body (though the facing isn't the best ever - remember, I drafted half of it myself?) Also, my hips don't really look like that - well, the right side approximates my shape better than the left, but it's almost impossible to get the same curves going on both sides of the dress form.

I'll have you know that it is similarly too-tight on me - that's the bitch of having to take 2 inches out of the left side seam (the one where all the folds apex, even worse!?) to cover up the chunk of double knit my serger sliced through on the front skirt.

I would say, on balance, that this pattern fits true to small. If you are curvy i.e. wide hips or large bust, I would cut a size up if you're on the cusp. Mind you, if I hadn't screwed up the fabric, it would have fit like a dream (with room to maneuver). I know. I basted it together before I fucked it up. Painful, really.

My thoughts:

• I'm never making this again...
• ...Which is too bad, because I bet it would be fantastic now that I've ironed out the kinks.
• This is not a beginner pattern IMO. Way to much detail work and when you use double knit to make a wiggle-dress, it becomes difficult to work with - the curves are tight.
• It is best for a short-ish, narrow, curvy person, IMO. I think the pattern is drafted with that shape in mind.
• Even if you are 4'11", add 2 inches to the skirt length. I suspect you'll need it.

Some projects are just challenged from the get-go. I know, were I to make it again, all the misery I encountered, this time around, would be mitigated by my previous experience. Not to mention, most of the misery seemed pure random.

Seriously, by the time I wrecked the sleeve, I could barely get fussed. It was so par for the course.

But I do intend to wear this next weekend - when I'm going on a special adventure. More detail to come...

Frankenstitch

This pattern is simply not playing along. I don't know how to explain it - nothing is tremendously difficult - but it's all going sideways at every turn. To wit:

• It's too short. Now this isn't my fault - when it's 2 inches above the knee, pre-hem, and you're 5'3", there's someone else to blame. But everyone said it was short. Why didn't I cut an extra 2 inches at the end?
• The topstitched folds (the curved lines you see on the front of the dress) are a dog's breakfast. Look, I'm not all high on me, but top stitching is one of my sewing strengths. As is sewing with knits. Why my seams look like a toddler helped me is beyond me.
• Which brings me to my next point. For fuck's sake, start by making the back of the dress. Why the Vogue people don't advise this is beyond me. I was much less crappy (though not great) by the time I made it to the back stitching.
• The way this works, you have to sew the darts under the folds. This is pretty impossible to explain unless you look at it - and unless you sew, really. That process is much less smooth than you'd imagine. In some of my folds, you can see the dart ends wonking out a millimetre from the right side. Can you say "screams amateur"??
  
• Now we get to the real disaster - of serger proportions! I ended up cutting some of my fabric off (mangling it really) because - freakin' stupidly - I serged without lowering the presser foot. OMG. Thankfully, I did some mega-fixups which saved the day from the front (more or less). But it looks like botched plastic surgery on the inside. I loathe messy work.
• No doubt, this is the messiest thing I've made in a year. If not ever.

Here's my stern warning. Do not go down a size. There isn't a lot of extra ease and if you end up having to take 2 inches off one side of your dress because you cut the skirt by horrible accident when serging, you're going to need it.

At this point I've just about made a sausage case.

But wait! I'm not even done with this thing - and I'm on hour 16! I estimate I have another 3 hours. I mean, there are sleeves and hemming (the kind where one somehow manages not to shorten the dress further). Oh, and somehow I will have to rip out half of the facing under stitches because I did a crap job there too.

The thing is, this could be a gorgeous dress. I can see it in the lines. It works awesomely with a curvy frame - and a narrow one, I might add.

I just don't think I care to wear it enough to go through the work of making it again. So let's hope I somehow pull a rabbit out of a hat. As long as you don't look inside.

Lighten Up

Just at the moment when you fear you may have to kill yourself or chuck it all and bum on a beach in Tahiti, the winter light starts to change (which is to say, reemerge). While Toronto winters of the last decade or two have been distinctly snow-lite, they are much more specifically light-lite. I'd hazard to say we live in one of the dreariest winter pockets in North America. Weeks can go by with only dull grey on the horizon. It looks like it may rain or snow, but does nothing. The pattern hovers seemingly endlessly. The sky is the colour of polluted, roadside slush.

Yes, if you live in Winnipeg or Ottawa you've got a shit-load of snow to contend with. Oh, and it's probably legitimately cold. But those regions have sun, where we have little to none. It's hard on the psyche.

But over the last couple of days there's been a little bit of sunshine here. And it starts before 8 a.m. (just slightly), so you don't feel like you're waking in darkness, walking in darkness, eating in darkness - you get the gist.

If I were a Shakespearean king, I'd take this as a really good omen. Only two more months still green things start to grow again.

Law of Averages

Occasionally people ask me whether Vogue "Average" patterns (that's one rank below Advanced, fyi) are that tricky. Or they want to know what makes a Vogue Advanced so intricate. At which point I turn around to make sure they are actually talking to me, cuz wtf do I know from Vogue Average. I suspect the sum of my experience is having accidentally bought some patterns in this category because "average" seemed easy enough when first I started sewing.

Amazingly, not too long ago, I did knowingly buy a Vogue Advanced. It's this Claire Schaeffer, and I have no regrets:


Concerns, maybe. But I don't need to make it till I'm ready, right? And I have heard that the instructions, while lengthy, are awesome.

I too wonder what separates the average from advanced or, for that matter, what separates Vogue Very Easy from regular Vogue "Easy". Is it prerequisite technique? Pattern pieces? Number of steps? Which brings me to the crux of this post:

See, I have spent 8 hours tracing, cutting and preparing fabric for Butterick 5559 - a Vogue family Easy pattern. I don't know about you, but even if the go-forward sewing is a breeze (and we know that's not something one should ever take for granted), I don't think that this process qualifies as easy.

In 8 hours, I have (thankfully) traced a pattern, now trashed because of all the crap I had to do to transfer markings, cut the fabric, tailor tacked the tuck lines and the darts onto the fabric, chalked the darts on both sides of the relevant pieces, drawn curved darts and pinned said darts.

Look, I'm not complaining. I don't expect gorgeous clothing that looks kind of complicated to be super easy, even if the pattern envelope tries to give me that impression. I'm just saying there should, perhaps, be a disclaimer, or a code, which advises purchasers that their particular easy pattern, for example, while it doesn't require the ability to sew zippers / any other closures or to do seam binding or other finishing techniques, does require the ability to transfer some pretty serious pattern markings in a way I don't think one can adequately accomplish without tailor tacking. I think there should be a pattern-specific skills required / techniques used matrix on the outer envelope is what I'm saying.

Till now, I should mention, I've never tried tailor tacking. You think I might have looked up how to do it (the pattern doesn't suggest or explain the method, I've just read about it before) and somehow I couldn't bring myself to. Why? Because I thought it might throw me over the edge to formalize the process. I opted to make it up from memory of blog posts and book chapters so that I wouldn't feel like it was too complicated. Of course, now I don't know if I've done it right, but that's not the point.

The point is: If I were some novice sewist (ok, I am, but go with my analogy) looking for a great dress that seems fancy but happens to be super easy, I might pop this in my cart with nary a thought, only to be traumatized by 8 hours of prep prior to being able to actually start actual sewing.

Note: This novice wasn't traumatized. Just irked because she hadn't expected a need for such intricacy at the outset. Really, I had more than enough resources to assist me. Oh, and so far, I absolutely like this pattern. It's fascinating. But I wouldn't recommend it if you haven't sewn a bunch of other dresses first. Let's tag it: Kristin "Moderately Challenging Pattern Prep, Advanced Beginner-Intermediate".

That totally rolls off the tongue.

The Queue Jumper

Remember this new pattern? It arrived last week. I was wondering how I would ever get around to making it with the queue of (no joke) 60 other patterns - at least 15 of which are serious contenders.

I decided that the easiest course of action would be simply to make it now. Then I won't have to worry about where to slot it in!

The little niggle of interest infected me one day last week (around the same time as the stomach bug) and it's all I've been able to think about since.

The construction of the pattern fascinates me. Those fold tucks (sewn on the right side, by the looks of it) are carefully interspersed with darts (the only other shaping tool) that are sewn, naturally, on the wrong side. There are no closures (yay!). You can pull it on because it's made in a stable knit. Of course, you know one can't really make an accurate muslin with a knit. Well, one can, but one needs to use the same fabric (s)he intends to use for the finished product. Which means one's often just making a wearable muslin first time out.

I've heard conflicting reports about the fit of this dress. Some say it runs large. Others say there isn't much ease. I decided, on the information that Butterick seems to cut large, that I would initially review my paper pattern to determine the amount of built-in ease (by measuring each piece individually), then factor in my fabric ease (a stable knit, about 2 inches IMO) and compare those against my actual measurements. It's a sound strategy but this pattern is so asymmetric on paper and oddly formed that I don't know if I can trust the measurements against those indicated on the package for the finished product. The actual measurements, in as much as I could figure out where to take them from, are quite a bit larger than my own dimensions.

To add to the challenge - I bought the size 14 - 20, not the 8 - 12, because I felt it would be safest to make the 14 based on sizing indicated on the package. Having said this - almost every time I make a Big 4 stable stretch pattern, I end up having to make it smaller. (This is the reason I've decided to start measuring the actual patterns going forward.) I'm beginning to think I'm a 12, package info notwithstanding.

On a related note: It drives me nuts when they split the pattern between a 12 and 14 because I don't have the luxury of reviewing both sizes and choosing the closer one. I'm stuck with one that's likely too big, or another that may be too small, unless I want to buy both size packets. Yes, I know that's why alterations exist. But not all alterations are created equal and I like to choose the easier path.

Oh, and while I'm bitching, has anyone else noticed that there's an error in the size 14? There's no interfacing piece 5! They printed piece 5 in the size 16 twice and omitted the size 14. It's not a disaster - I'll just have to adjust the facing piece in the 16 to meet the dimensions of the neck line, but that is kind of irritating - esp. given the weirdness of this paper pattern. It took me an hour of running around like a chicken before I figured out what was going on.

Happily, I have a lovely fabric for this - a burnt orange (but still rather bright) double knit.

My next step will be to trace the multi-sized pieces (all but the facing) and then to cut the fabric. Marking the folds and the darts with accuracy is de rigeur here. I'm intrigued to see how this progresses.

More to come...