Entering Skirt Territory, Please Advise

I was tickled to see I had friends in the decluttering department! It was great to hear from folks who chimed in that having a closet reflect your current life is so much more rewarding (who wants to look at too-small lovelies?) and that it gets easier the more you do it. You also gave me some great tips, so I'd like to share them here:

• Alessa mentioned that she and her friends have a swap party, and yes, this is a great way to get rid of some of your clothes (and have fun!). A friend hosted one last year and asked us each to bring a bag of clothes and a bottle of wine. By the end of it, we each had new clothes, were a bit tipsy, and donated the leftovers together.
• Kristen and Solvi deal with items they no longer wear but can't seem to get rid of by forcing themselves to wear it for an entire day. At the end of the day, they usually remember why they no longer wear it, or it can re-enter rotation.
• Two great tips about discovering what you're wearing and what you're not. The first, from Shirley: "Every year - I hang all my hangers the opposite way (so the hook hangs towards me instead of away from me). Then as something gets worn, I place the hanger back the originally way. After a few weeks, you can tell which pieces get worn the most and which pieces can get donated!" Solvi, is going the high-tech route, and tracking her outfits with Dress Assistant. See her plans here.

Also, several folks "rediscover" items that have been sitting in their closets and fabric stashes. What a joy it is to find that we want is what we already have.

On a related note, I have just accepted a job (blogging, no less!) and so my first inclination was to go out and buy new work clothes since this'll be the first time in three and a half years that I'll have to enter an office daily. But in my new-clothes-daydreaming, I took a deep breath. And you know what? I realized I don't really need anything.

And when I really thought about what I wanted, I was surprised to find they were all things that I can't make for myself (at least at this point in time). I wanted a black bra, a belt, a pair of black heels (and maybe maroon...), stockings in various dark shades to wear skirts in the cool months, colorful scarves and colorful cardigans.

For me, the lesson was not so much that I wanted to make the bulk of my clothes, but that I'm getting closer to what it means to have a balanced and interesting wardrobe. Since I'm doing pretty good in the basics department, these are the foundations and accessories that I foresee will get me the most mileage out of basic clothes. To me, nothing sparks up a plain outfit like a spark of color. I'd be curious how you accessorize in the cooler months: Scarves? Tights?

There's been lots going on sewing-wise, I've just been too lazy to take photos. Most recently, I've sewn two A-Line skirts. The first, I posted a few weeks ago, was for the job interview.


The pattern was from Wendy Mullin's Sew U, and I (deludedly) cut a small and have to leave out the back darts because it was too tight. But look at the hem. I'd topstitched it as suggested, but there's all that rippling above the hem.

So I decided it was high-time for me to draft my own pattern using Cal Patch's Design It Yourself Clothes. I was worried about the waist measurement, as I'm new to wearing skirts but skirts always seem to me to be too tight and uncomfortable or too loose and shifting about. I posted this question on the book's Flickr group and got a response from Cal herself! I thought I'd post it here, to share:

believe it or not,if an A-line skirt is too small in the waist that can also cause it to ride up. being too loose can cause it to shift around but not usually upward. what i do is measure myself where i want the skirt to actually sit, generally my low waist (about an inch or two below my belly button). measure snugly, but not too tight. this should lead to a skirt that sits in the right place, but other factors (fabric choice, side seam/hip shaping, darts, lining or not) will also affect the outcome.

So I took my low hip-measurement and made it a bit snug. I had so much fun drafting the pattern! Really, despite the forthcoming explanation about what went wrong in this process, I just really love drafting.

Here's my pattern:


And I used an vintage skirt that I'd tried to refashion months ago and had been sitting in my stash half ripped apart. I'm not too good at fabric recognition, but it's a lightweight, slightly silky, and crisp fabric.


In the book, a suggested wearing ease is 1 inch for the waist, hip and sweep and the sweep has a suggested minimum measurement of 4 inches over your hip measurement. So for me that was 37.5+4 = 41.5.

What happened is that the waist was too loose and the hips were too tight (they'd pull in the front, creating horizontal lines) and the A-line was, well, way too A. At my height, I prefer my skirts to hit about 1-inch above my knee, so I also scaled back the sweep to a mere inch above my hip measurement. So here's the skirt, with these adjustments:


I should say that when I wore it, I was totally tickled. Actually, I like both of these skirts—perfect length and width for walking—but when I see the photos I feel a whole lotta "meh." And on the left of the photo you can see that strange dip in the skirt, and I can't figure out why it's there.

Here's the back:
And the side:

I realize perfecting a skirt pattern will take some time, but this process has made me realize that there are just a lot of skirt basics I'm unaware of and that I'll probably learn through trial and error. I suspect, besides fitting (it's still loose even though I've taken in the waist twice), this is largely a fabric choice issue. I'm probably best off trying to sew my revised pattern with a thick fabric.

But I'd love to glean some of your skirt know-how. A few questions I'd batter you with, if you were in the room:

• Does your height (and/or shape) affect the type of skirt you wear and your hemline? If you wear A-line skirts, what's a typical sweep for you?
  
• Do you prefer to topstich a hemline or do it by hand? Is there a benefit to one or the other?
• What fabrics do you prefer to use for skirts? Which would you avoid?
• Do you wear your skirt at your natural or low waist?
• What's a perfectly fitting skirt to you? Is the front perpendicular to the floor or does it dip in with you pelvis (think: Joan Holloway)?
• What's your favorite way to pair a skirt? (Okay, I'm recycling this one from the summer, but I'm still curious! I've read that tops you wear with pants should hit at low hip and tops with skirts should hit mid-hip and, alas, all my tops are too long ...)

I've obviously thought about this more than I should have. But really, I'm entering regular-skirt-wearing-territory for the first time in my life. Show me around? :)

Decluttering for Your Sanity, Your Style

It’s not about deprivation: it’s about prioritization. Sensibility and smart shopping are the new black.

—Nina Garcia, Style Strategy

I’ve been on a declutter campaign. Ever since I set out to find my personal style and start this blog, I’ve been trying to reimagine what belongs in my closet. And though I did a major wardrobe cull when I moved in May, I’ve regularly visited my local thrift store with donations from my ever-slimming wardrobe and fabric stash.

Cleaning out the closet can be a painful process for many women, so I’d like to share with you what inspires me, what works for me and my rationalization. We all hold onto clothes for a number of reasons, which I suspect are largely emotional. For example, the emotional-me protests, But this is the dress I had tailor-made for me in Shanghai! And the rational-me responds, And that you haven’t worn in the decade since. I’ve come to believe that having an excessive amount of clothes is actually detrimental to both my sanity and my style.

Sarai of Colette Patterns wrote a wonderful post about this very topic, and she notes, “Studies have shown that in many situations, the more choices we have, the less capable we are of making good decisions, and the less happy we are with the decisions we make. We hem and haw over all of our choices and then finally, in the end, choose something that doesn’t even make us happy.”

This happens to me often. I want wardrobe choices, but when I have too many clothes I spend way too much time getting ready and end up defaulting back to the first thing I tried on. And then the urge hits me that I obviously need more, since my closet clearly has nothing that suits me.

Nina Garcia in Style Strategy addresses these shopping urges. She says that “[t]aking stock of what you own, when done correctly and thoroughly, actually helps to dampen the urge to shop frivolously. Once you realize how many different options are already in your closet, you’ll be able to channel your shopping energy more productively.”

So cleaning out your closet is two-fold. You have fewer choices, allowing you to make better wardrobe choices. And you know what you’ve got, so you can focus on buying what you need (and probably a bit of what you want).

And sure you can wait until you find the Perfect LBD or cardigan (I make these excuses all the time) and replace the natty one you’ve been wearing, but consider Danielle LaPorte’s Law of the Ugly Chair:

In a past life, I did a bit of interior design work to pay the bills. This was a common scene: The homeowners and I do a walk through of their house. In the living room is a garish chair. Fugly. Usually a lounger, often with some kind of floral pattern. The couple has brought me in because they want fresh, contemporary, comfort. “What’s with the chair?” I ask. “We know it’s horrible, we hate it. But we haven’t had the money to get a new one.” Me: “Get rid of it this weekend.” Them: “But what will we sit on?” Me: “Sit on the floor. Pile up on the couch. You’ll figure it out. The sooner you get rid of it, the sooner the right chair will show up.”

She goes one step further, "The Divine Law of the Ugly Chair applies as much to furniture and stuff, as it does to lovers, jobs, and thought forms. Because: Going without, and holding out, is better than selling out. Always."

Wow. She rocks. Anyway, back to our closets.

Here’s what I’ve been doing. (I may be repeating some of this from a previous post! Sorry about that, I’m passionate about declutter!)

1. Begin with one big wardrobe cull.
Set aside a few hours for this. Go through everything. The partner-less socks, the laundry-day underwear, the favorite hole-riddled tees, the special occasion gowns. If you need advice or emotional support, ask over a friend who you feel comfortable hanging out with in your underwear (there will be a lot undressing and redressing!). I do this for my sister and I’m ruthless.

For someone who rarely shops, and certainly not retail, I had a lot more clothes than I thought I did. This is largely due to the fact that I shop at thrift stores (“Only $2! I’m sure I can pair it with something!”) and that I take all the clothes my fashionista friends donate to me, no matter if their style and coloring differs from mine. But it’s de-clutter time, no matter. This is triage.

There are three piles. 1) Keep 2) Donate and 3) Repair/Refashion. Here’s how I prioritize, in order. These are no-brainers but I have to remind myself because the emotional-me gets in the way.

Size—If it’s too tight or too short at all, it goes in the donation pile. I’m not getting any smaller. I have to be honest with myself, I’m a size two six. Mushroom-top is not attractive. Nor bare midriff, as I lack Britney abs.

If it’s too long or too baggy, but I love love love it, it goes in the repair/refashion pile. I can either adapt it to fit or use the fabric for something else. Hooray, sewing!

If I start making excuses—it’s kinda cute, I have nothing else like it, I made it myself, etc.—it goes straight to the donation pile. (I’m really bad at this, but more on that later.)

Color—We all probably have an instinct for what colors flatter us, and I’ll write more on this in another post. My challenge was that I had a whole bunch of stuff I thought flattered me but in reality made me look sallow. Sometimes it’s more fine-tuned than that: It may work perfectly as bottoms but not near my face, or the hue is deeply unflattering i.e. Orange-red (yuck!) vs. Blue-red (holler!). I also justified keeping clothes with the waffling mentioned earlier—but it’s perfect for work, it goes with everything, etc. → Donation pile.

Quality—Cheapskate that I am, this is hard for me, but sewing is introducing me to the value of quality, which I’m defining broadly. For me, quality is anything that makes me feel fabulous. Some things I consider.

Fabric: I’ve learned that I really love natural fibers like cotton, wool, and linen, but what's more important is how I feel in the clothes. I have some rayon knit, and I feel utterly luxurious in it. Definitely keeping. I’ve got some perfectly-hued though synthetic-looking polyster. Totally tossing.

Trendiness: Do I feel funny or trendy or costumey at all when I wear this? Does it make me self-conscious? Donation pile.

Details: I have ten black shirts, but only wear two. What details make the difference? A slimmer fit, a defined waist? Note details that work, donate or refashion the rest.

Whew! Are we tired yet? When I go through one of these wardrobe culls I usually end up with one to two garbage bags full of clothes. Put the donated clothes in your car (or wherever you’re most likely to deal with them) and bundle up the refashion/repair pile somewhere else so they don’t re-enter your wardrobe.

2. Keep on Truckin’
A lot of fashion books tell you to cull your wardrobe every season. I think that’s sound advice, particularly since our wardrobes change season to season. But this summer I’ve been a bit more hands-on: I keep a donation bag ready by the door.

See, a lot of times I talk myself out of donating something and place it back in the closet or in the refashion/repair pile instead. Or, if I’m really bad, I pull out a few items at the moment I’m handing over my donated goods. Ah! The emotional girl wins.

But now, when I try something on and it doesn’t fit, it goes straight in the donation bag. Or if I look in the mirror and think: This is why I never wear this blouse, you know where it's going. And then, when I’m ready to go to the thrift store, I just pick up my already-packed bag and I’m off.

This method works for me because it’s an easy way to fit in regular culling into my daily routine. And besides, my flimsy excuses can't withstand regular scrutiny.

3. Reap the benefits
The bonus of all this? I get to know that others might be able to enjoy the clothes I’m lukewarm about and, in fact, may be excited about them. And all the proceeds from the sales go to charities.

On a more selfish note, my thrift store offers me a 20 percent coupon every time I donate. So when I come in with my little bag of donated clothes, I also linger to see if I can find something I could really use for my wardrobe or home at a discount.

During my most recent visit to the thrift store, I gave up ten pieces and I came home with a 100% silk blouse and a Michael Kors linen tunic, both that fit well and are in flattering colors (total damage? $13). Next time I go, I suspect the weather’ll be cooler, so I’ll try and snap up some cashmere. This hardly feels like deprivation.

Further, I can attest now to the advice of the folks I quoted earlier. As Sarai said, it’s easier for me to get dressed (and feel great about what I'm wearing!) and I feel like I’m making room for what I really want. With less in my closet, I’m actually dressing better. To give you an idea, this is what my closet looks like:


I’m using Wonder Hangers because I don’t have much room, but space is at a minimum so I need to be picky. That's all my tops, skirts, and dresses. There’s many clothes in here that I’ve yet to find the courage to toss, but the donation bag by the door’s patient. It’ll be there when I’m ready.

4. Don’t forget your fabric stash!
I recently organized my entire fabric stash. Here it is, blanketing nearly all of my living room.


Yikes! I've got just as much fabric as I do clothes hanging in my closet.

I culled this stash using the same criteria: Size, color and quality. If the size of the scrap was too small to make anything, I tossed it. If the color wasn’t right and I couldn’t foresee it as a lining or to use as a muslin, I donated it. Ditto on the quality. I ended up donating two garbage bags full of fabric. And now I know what I have and I’ve also organized everything by color and separated them by wovens and knits. This'll make my sewing so much easier.

Thanks for bearing with me in this long post! The quality of my closet is something I consider often, partly because it’s the foundation on which I base my sewing: It’s the playground to discover what I like, what I don’t, what I have, what I don’t. This continued self-awareness, I hope, will allow me to develop a wardrobe that reflects me.

And what about you? Do you cull your closets and/or fabric stash? What works for you?

Late to the Lady Grey Party (and my first muslin!)

I'd mentioned, at the culmination of the Summer Essential Sew-Along, that I was joining Gertie's Lady Grey Sew-Along. Hundreds of women around the world have joined in to sew this incredible coat by indie pattern company, Colette. To me, this coat has that perfect combination of classic style and versatility with a high wow-factor. Check out that peplum! It'd also be an essential part of my Hepburn-inspired wardrobe.


But then a whole lot of nothing happened. I was overwhelmed by all the information and by all the precision and care of the fabric choices and muslin sewing. It was totally against my usual willy-nilly approach to sewing. So I put it off, put it off. Next thing I knew folks were finishing the coat and I hadn't even cut out the pattern.

Perhaps it's the introduction of fall, or perhaps pure envy at the amazing half-finished coats I've been seeing in the blogosphere. So this weekend I cut the pattern (a straight 2, even though I should've graded to a six in the hips) and made a muslin out of an old, black sheet. Not ideal, but I felt like if I didn't get started, the darn coat would never be made.

I have never made a muslin before and I'm so glad I did. Before I cut the pattern, I shortened the bodice by an inch, just where the pattern flares at the waist, to address my short waist. But I was mainly concerned (and rightly so!) about gaping lapels.

Here's the front (forgive the folded lapel):


See the gaping?


So I pinned it ...


And then drew a dart to take out that fabric. This is where I was singing hallelujah that all that information I'd previously been overwhelmed by was there. I would never had known how to go about fixing this without the Flickr group and Gertie's commenters!


The back was giving me some trouble, but I wasn't sure if it was because I was using a sheet rather than heavy fabric. Here's the back...


and side.


So I took a 5/8 inch tuck from the nape to the waist on the center back seam. I can't quite tell if it made that much of a difference to the back (I haven't trimmed seam allowances!), but it did line up the shoulder seam properly.


But it definitely made a difference to the side. Look at that lovely flare. Oh, I'm in love.


I could stop here and assume that the wool fabric is not going to wrinkle as badly, or I could continue to tinker. And I'm worried about taking in too much since it is a coat that will layer over other clothes and I need ample room. The armhole, as others have noted, seems a tad tight, but not impossible.

The back issue, I believe, is not swayback, because it's not that my lower back dips in but that the entire upper back is roomy. I think I have a narrow back and I'm not quite sure how to do that adjustment. Any tips? Advice welcome!

What I was not expecting from this muslin process was the renewed energy regarding making this coat. Now that I'm seeing the possibility, I'm psyched! It'll certainly be the most stylin' thing in my closet and I've license to wear it every day throughout the cold months. :)

After inching closer to a finished muslin, I was ready for fabric. I didn't want to purchase fabric until after the muslin stage since sewing a coat seems like much more of an investment than buying one. I'm not only referring to the work entailed, but the cost of fabric. Really, why is fabric so expensive? And why is really lovely fabric so hard to find?

Though I waffled on color, two dear friends talked me into red. At Joann's, the only red wool I could find was $25/yard. Yikes! For a coat that requires 4 1/2 yards, that's a pretty penny. I went to two other fabric stores and they were out of plain, red wool. Argh!

So for the first time, I purchased fabric online. I'm a little worried this may lead to fabric hoarding (and homelessness), but where else was I going to find reasonably priced fabric? Cheapskate that I am, I bought some red wool flannel twill at $6/yard and some black and white polka dot lining for $5/yard at Fashion Fabrics Club. Total bill? $47.

Even though I doubt I could've gotten it much cheaper, that's the most I've ever spent on fabric. It dawned on me that perhaps I'm getting serious, especially given my new roommate (who I've yet to play with!)


Oh my, I'm really in over my head, aren't I?

:)

Hope all is well with all of you.

SSS Lesson #6: Stop Complaining, You've Got What You Need

Hello, folks! I've been delinquent in the blogging department as I've been spending so much time with my computer for work, that the last thing I want to do is look at it in my free time. But there's been sewing a-brewing!

I figure it's too late to go through all my Self-Stitched-September photos now that it's the 9th of October, but I'd like to wrap up my crucial lessons. One thing that I kept thinking during the month was, If I only had (insert amazing wardrobe staple here), my wardrobe would be perfect/balanced/whatever.

So enter Lesson #6: Stop complaining, you've got what you need.

On a sewing podcast, a woman said she'd devotedly sewed through her fabric stash and then found herself with one piece of fabric left and felt completely uninspired. The key, she said, is not to have a stash so large that it overwhelms you, but to not have too little to feel like you've got no options. Finding that balance, I imagine, is hard, but there's something about that logic that makes sense to me. Sewing is about limitless choices, after all.

This sentiment is also akin to how I feel about a completely self-stitched wardrobe. Even though I feverishly attempted to sew every type of garment this summer, I didn't opt for a fully pledged SSS. I wanted the balance of my ready-to-wear.

One September obsession was The Perfect Black Skirt. Tasia, my skirt queen, whipped up a Colette Beignet pattern in black, and I convinced myself that if I could just steal it from her (or make it myself, of course), I'd be stylin' every day. But wait: I have three black skirts in my closet and I never wear them. So will one more skirt make a difference? Is there something about the cuts of these skirts that don't entice me to wear them, and if so, what cut would be flattering? Or do I not have sufficient tops to pair them with?

Anyway, with this line of thinking, they saw the light of day. The first is actually very Beignet-like, an Ann Taylor thrifted skirt, with several panels and buttons down the middle. The second, also thrifted, has buttons down each side. It makes me feel like a matador.



Complaint: But I still don't enough self-stitched skirts! Or tops!

Wah-wah.



I made both of these skirts when I started this little blog, but haven't worn them at all. For the pink skirt (a vintage skirt refashioned using the Beignet pattern), I took off the belt loops and omitted the pockets that were causing bulging. I also took off a little "lip" a the hem of the BurdaStyle Marie skirt, at right.

Hmm ... I'm still not overly pleased with these two, but it may be a lesson in length. The short-waist problem is obvious with the pink skirt, I might skim off an inch or two at the top like Jessica, and I might skim off an inch or two off the bottom of both skirts.

The purple gingham top, at right, is the newest incarnation of my very first wardrobe project completed this time last year, from a 1950s wiggle dress pattern. The sewing quality was simply awful and I'd tightened the skirt so much that there was way too much wiggling and way too little walking. So I never wore it. Here, I cropped the skirt, added a waistband and a fabric flower.




Reinventing duds: I also made some tweaks to a self-stitched white top from a 1950s pattern that I'd dismissed as a complete fail. I added interfacing to the peter pan collar for weight, and I tightened one of the front darts to make it lay correctly. I also fixed the clasp on these thrifted Michael Kors capris, which has been languishing in my closet for months.

And my failed Japanese tunic? I cut it up because I needed a gray skirt for a job interview, using the Sew U A-line skirt pattern.

Finally, remember my Saggy Butt Capris? Why complain about how something doesn't fit when I've got the skill to fix it? (Not to mention sage advice from all of you :), notably Taran)

So here's what I did.


Since my two Ruby shorts fit perfectly, I laid the rear of that pattern on the capri pattern. Wow, Look at all that excess! So I trimmed the rear and top accordingly, and I also shaved off 1/2 inch off the front hip and 1/4 inch off the back (thanks, Taran, I would've never thought about the hip curve!) and took in 1/4 inch on the outer seams all along the leg, and 1/4 inch on the inner leg at the knee. Here's the before and after a day's wear.

Before:

After:

Still a bit loose, but not voluminous in the hip.

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

Hooray! I assure you, the waistband's not pretty, but at least I can wear them now.

So all in all, that's nine pieces of clothing that's entered my working wardrobe. Perfect? No, but they certainly go a long way in making me feel like I have options. And I didn't have to look farther than my closet.

What about you? Have you breathed new life into old garments recently? Anything you can think of reinventing?