Pretty Sleepy Thing: The Avocado Lola Nightie

Last year, the amazing Sewing Princess picked me a lucky winner of a green knit fabric.

It arrived all the way from Rome. It's fabulous quality, soft and easy to work with. She calls it "acid green" I called it avocado. The inside of a nearly overripe avocado.

It's a beautiful color, but it doesn't suit the yellow undertones in my skin. If I was more pink-toned this color would give me a soft-sweetness. If I was darker, skin like mahogany, the color would evoke a sort of tropicalness, a meet-me-in-Miami chic.

I'd originally planned to make a sundress out of it—waiting for a tan that would flatter the avocado color. But alas, in the gloomy Bay Area, the knit just sat there. But finally, inspiration met matter: It would become a pretty sleepy thing, where comfort and quality of fabric trumps color (I think). The irony is: I'll probably wear it more often.

Dress crumpled and face sleepy: Morning!

(Wish I had better photos, but our tripod is out on loan!) 

I took the Victory Patterns Lola because 1) I love the way the dress feels on me, all those princess seams! and 2) the banded hem might solve my nightie problems -- waking up nearly naked because the whole thing has shimmied to my armpits.

Here's what I did:

• left off the sleeves and pockets and adapted the bodice using a yoga tank pattern I've had in my arsenal for a decade (New Look 6265)
• cut the bodice pieces twice, using one as a facing. 
• sewed the bodice/facing combo to the skirt in a single piece
• widened the hemband by 2 1/4 inches on the fold and lengthened it by an inch
• Took in the bodice seams -- from 1/4 to 1/2 inch

Final thoughts:

• The adapted bodice was too wide, hence a pleat in the middle. Not perfect but it's okay.
• The hem band doesn't really stop it from shimmying up -- but I generally like the look and might use the wider band on future Lolas
• Love sleeping and lounging in knits!
• The spaghetti straps + skirt make it so easy to layer with sweaters and socks

With our continuing crappy weather, I've been wearing this lots around the house and to bed. It feels like a real luxury to like what I'm wearing rather than being grateful that the outside world can't see me drowning in oversized sweats and holey t-shirts.

In other news, exhaustion's set in a bit. Work deadlines and volunteer deadlines and weekend trips and decluttering like a madwoman. I'm finishing up the world's ugliest, most unwearable sweater after three months of labor.  If I had my way, I'd lay around and read all day in my nightie.

Wishing you all lots of lounging! :) x

21-Pattern Giveaway!!!

Spring cleaning is upon me. I have many, many patterns. I combed through them and plucked out 21 that I'm highly unlikely to sew within the next year or two, either because I've got another pattern just like it, or I've realized that a silhouette doesn't flatter me.

I thought that I could drop these off at the thrift store, but I'd really like them to go to somebody who sews. This is really a grab bag of patterns—many bought at thrift stores or given to me. I can't attest that every pattern has every piece nor the tidiness of each package, but I think there are many lovelies and hope you do, too.

Here's the deal. Leave a comment by the end of Sunday, April 1. Winner takes all. Will ship worldwide.

Here's the haul:

Burda 7810, Young Fashion vests, Sizes 32-54
Vogue 8604 ,Very Easy Vogue, High Waisted pants and skirt with jacket, sz 8-16
Simplicity 2863, Knit dress and tops (Built by Wendy), Size XXS-M
Amy Butler Anna tunic, Size XS-XL
Simplicity 2927, Dress/tunic (Project Runway) Size 4-12
Simplicity 2178, Dress (Cynthia Rowley) Size 6-14
McCall's 7562, Dress (Vintage -- 80s) Bust 38
Vogue 9081, Dress (Vintage -- 70s), Size 8 Bust 31.5
Advance 9485, Dress (Vintage -- 60s) Size 14 Bust 34
Butterick 3795, Top, Skirt and Culottes (Vintage -- 70s, Daniel Hechter), Size 10, Bust 32.5
Vogue 7908, Jacket (Claire Schaeffer's Custom Couture) Sizes 12-16
Vogue 2569, dress (Vintage -- 70s, Paris Original, Nina Ricci), Size 8 Bust 31.5
McCalls 2501, Dress, Sizes 6-10
McCalls 8512, Dress, Bust 38 
New Look 6736, trousers, pedal pushers and capris, size 8-18
McCall's 7439, Blouse (Vintage -- 80s), Size 10 Bust 32.5
Simplicity 9958, Men and boys boxers, sizes XS-XL
Simplicity 4760, Men and boys pants and shirts, sizes S-XL
Burda 3403, Men's Vest and accessories, sizes, 36-50
Simplicity 5029, Men's Shirt (Vintage - 60s), Neck 15.5

Bon chance!

My Utterly Arbitrary "Rules"

My Dad's a numbers guy. As a kid, I played endlessly with his 10-key machine. Him and my elder sister make spreadsheets for each other. Family dinners often involve cost-benefit analysis. The irony is that, they've helped me understand that life isn't as tidy as a spreadsheet column. The numbers are goals, that the real value is time.

But, like them, I often see things in terms of numbers. I'll find myself in a thrift store mentally calculating: How long would it take me to make this same thing? How much would the fabric cost? Is this a project I would enjoy making? Or should I just buy it now? Or: How often can I imagine wearing it? Will having this give me more options or make me feel overwhelmed and shut down?

I started to find that I was mentally making arbitrary rules/guidelines for myself and attaching them to numbers or values. I break them all the time, but they serve as a useful shorthand for operating in a way that minimizes cost (usually confusion, stress and time) and maximizes benefit (ease).

So here's a peak into my neurotic, number-obsessed brain: 

3
Though I ideally would work on a single project at a time, I like the relief that a second project brings. But sometimes a second project begets a third begets a fourth. So Arbitrary Rule #1: No more than three projects at a given time (sewing + knitting), because it makes me feel more overwhelmed than relief.

3
The number of times I'll re-do something before saying screw it and barreling forward toward an imperfect garment. Life's too short to wallow in almost-failure indefinitely. My psyche just can't handle it and needs closure, one way or another. 

4
The number of a type of clothing in my closet. Four skirts, four knit dresses, four woven dresses, four pants, four tank tops, etc. It's not that I only own four, it's just that I can only process choosing between four on any given, rushed morning. Sometimes I just pick my favorite four of that kind and stash the rest away until I start wanting more variety.

The benefits:

• Easy dressing: Less in my closet, easier to choose
• Perceived scarcity: When I start feeling I NEED more, hey, guess what? There's others stashed away. Faux newness.
• What I wear: I get a handle on what I really wear. Some things never re-enter rotation and eventually get donated.
• Sewing: With more room in my closet, I see where my gaps are, either in types of clothes or colors. I discovered I have only one tank I love and I wear it to death. 
• Exception: Cardigans and shoes. I wear them a-plenty and they add color to my outfits, so I don't arbitrarily limit them.

8
I just made this number up, but it approximates the ideal number of patterns bought annually. I have SO MANY patterns and I know I can't resist new ones. Plus I love franken-patterning the ones I have or drafting my own. As of now, they take up a four drawer organizer and three huge binders.

SO, if I could think of a few (two? three?) lovely patterns each season that I'd like to add to my stash, that would be perfect. Enough newness, but I won't die under a pattern avalanche.

I've already purchased 6 patterns this year, so this is pie-in-the-sky dreaming.

12
The ideal number of major me-mades a year. I'm trying to add to my closet very slowly, but I'm sewing through a lot of stash fabric now so it's much higher.

But in my perfect universe, about once a month or so, I'd think about what I'd really like to make and take my time making that garment well.

Wee projects—a knit tee here, a tap pant there—don't really count.



20
The ideal number (-ish) of stash fabrics. Enough to give me ideas and allow me to play, but not so much that I feel overwhelmed. I'm about at 28 now. If I could achieve the 12 projects/year goal, this would be nearly two years worth of sewing, so I don't find this overly restrictive.

50
Items of clothing. More or less. I'm not counting each individual sock here, but the major players. I know I could get by (and regularly wear) a lot less, so this is a goal -- the heavy hitters + a few rookies to keep it interesting for rotation etc.

Dark neutral / light neutral / warm color / cool color
I tend to overload on neutrals. So I started to think that a perfect balance in my wardrobe color-wise would consist of having every type of garment in at least two neutrals (including denim) and whatever warm and cool color has my fancy at the moment. This is probably where the "4 of each type of clothing" idea was hatched. To give you an idea:

• Skirts: Dark denim, light chambray, red, sage green
• Capris: Black, denim, mustard, and light blue
• Short sleeve knits: Gray, white, fuschia, heathered blue
• Sundresses: Black and white striped, chambray tiered dress, red batik, purple slip dress

It's a handy shorthand to consider the array of color in my wardrobe. I also like thinking of things in terms of cool and warm colors--they pair beautifully with the neutrals but provide a different feel. Warm colors excite me, more wow factor. Cool colors are more staid but can also feel more casual, which I love.

Again, this doesn't mean I have only one black cardigan, but it did send me on a thrifting-mission to find a great red cardigan (which I did!) and gave me ideas about how to sew my stash to fill in the gaps (since it's much more colorful than my existing wardrobe). I also weeded out lots of duplicates that weren't being used.

Enough of my mania. What about you? Do you give yourself arbitrary "rules" or guidelines? What are they?

I bow to you, fold-over elastic (Burda Knit Dress 06-2010-109)

This #$%^*$* dress.

After the men's shirt, I wanted something fast and easy. With floral dresses on my mind (oh, I must be 40s-dreaming), I picked this jersey dress pattern from Burda Magazine June 2010, which I won in a giveaway from Debbie of Minnado's House last year.

The photo:

The pattern drawing:

It's a lovely pattern which meets all of my typical criteria: easy enough to make and wear with a special detail that makes it unique -- in this case, the gathered bust insets that end at the natural waist. It's a detail reminiscent of some of the patterns I've been oogling from the first half of the century.

Then I had some floral knit fabric, black with red flowers and green leaves. What a small world (and blogging world!): I bought this at the FIDM Scholarship Store in L.A., and so did Berlin-based Alessa on her round-the-world trip. Their stock—remnants from the garment district—changes regularly, so Alessa and I must've missed each other by days.

At first, this pattern was scary easy. I did the minor adjustments I could with my dress form, I cut out four pattern pieces and sewed it together in an hour. Easy as pie, right?

Wrong. It fit all wrong.  Saggy bust insets, loose, loose loose everywhere else. A little tug and my bra would be completely exposed.

So I reunited with my seam ripper (so much more annoying to do on a knit) and took the entire dress apart. Not touching the v-neckline, I took 2 inches of length out of the bodice. I also took in quite a bit at the side seams:

 

I was pleased with the fit. Now the neckline. Burda's archaic instructions left me lots to ponder. At first I thought of using the fold-over elastic I had, but I tried to use it once last year and failed, so I moved back on to creating an invisible band with self-fabric.

People, I did this and redid it. Four times. Wonky and gaping and just wrong. Tedious seam ripping that left holes in the knit. At one point, the boy had to remind me that, brain-wise, I couldn't access my problem-solving faculties when I was frustrated to the point of shredding the whole damn thing.

At my most dramatic, I felt like Santiago in The Alchemist (a book that was popular among my college chums), going on a long journey to discover the treasure at the very place where he disembarked.

The fold-over elastic. Duh. 

So I went slowly and hallelujah, it was a good day for the dress and I. My first Burda magazine make and first time successfully using fold-over elastic. We're friends now.

I wish you could see the bust insets. It's so flattering, I think. Really a lovely design. It feels like a grown-up sheath dress but as comfortable as pajamas. 

And my first labels! It's the name of my grandmother, who I lost last year. Perhaps that's a bit morbid, but I love looking at these labels and thinking of her everyday. She was the first seamstress in my life and she used to pin all sorts of charms to my clothes for protection (a very superstitious woman). It seems natural to have a part of her in the things I wear. 

So perhaps it is the journey. I can think of a gazillion things I can cover in fold-over elastic. And despite all the crazy seam-ripping, I'd totally make it again. Perhaps in a solid that can show off the design detail.

It's got me thinking: If you're working with a stable knit, the only truly tricky thing is binding the neckline (and armholes, if it's sleeveless). I'm pretty good at the mock bind, similar to the Sewaholic Renfrew, and now fold-over elastic. What are your sanity-saving tricks of the knit-sewing trade?

There's more knits in queue! Happy sewing, all :)  

Sewing for Others: The Boy Finally Gets His Day (Colette Negroni)

Earlier this year, I talked about some strategies for making less stuff for myself while still indulging in my hobbies. At the top of the list: Sewing for others.

For Christmas in 2010(!) I asked for two patterns: The Colette Rooibos and Negroni. I had grand plans to make the Negroni early in 2011 and then got sidetracked by own makes, challenge and sew-alongs. But in February, I dusted the pattern off. Together, the boy and I picked out the fabric, a chambray. He wanted to be part of the process: He pre-washed the fabric, cut the pattern, fabric and sewed the buttons.

This pattern, though beautifully done, is not for the faint of heart. Hidden yoke seams and curved flat-fell seams. I'm not sure I enjoyed making this. In fact, as I battled with loads of topstiching, I told him, "I hope I still love you when this is over." (Which I do, whew!)

That said, each time I tackled something that was new to me (the yoke, the sleeve placket, cuff, new seam finishes), I was elated. Another tool in the box. I can already think of a few things that might benefit from these more sophisticated techniques.

So, in all, it's a winner. There are two things I might change if I ever forget how much work this entailed and make it again:

1) Sleeve length. He's a tall boy with long arms and all his shirt sleeves are too short. We made no changes to the pattern, but they're still generous. He wears them rolled up anyway, but still.

And 2) Buttonhole placement. Argh! I must've marked them wrong because they feel awfully deep and unlike any of his other shirts. He doesn't care, but I can tell!

And after this feat, guess what's on the sewing table? Knits!!! Fast, easy and all for me.

Pretty Sleepy Things

Yuck. My beach-like weather has turned into rain and wind, leaving me indoors. And when I'm home, curled up with laptop or book or knitting project, I might be wearing my Lola or I might be wearing what passes as my pajamas. After all, lounging will eventually lead to sleeping. I kind of look like this:

The sleeping uniform, more or less

I have never really worn real pajamas -- plaid pants and button down tops. Nor have I ever done dressing gowns or shirts or chemises. It's all sweatpants and yoga pants and old t-shirts, cut-up or hole-ridden. All comfort, no style.

But on my path to making less, I've been thinking about what would make me feel luxurious and pretty underthings and sleepy things are at the top of the list. Really, who wants to look like this:

When you could look like this:

Holla!

What I'm trying to mentally work out is how to get closer to the latter while feeling like the former?

I could get jiggy with something like this:

From Free People, years ago

Or I could do the vintage nightgown route and don something like this

1940s Pattern

A few thoughts:

• Fabric needs to be comfy and breathable -- knits would work or a drapey woven. Preferably wrinkle free.
• I'm always cold -- little shorts and short skirts may be too little to keep me warm (but I dream of tap pants!). Likewise, I don't want anything that looks funky when layered with a sweater or with socks.
• Rompers are out of the question. I may have to use the restroom on occasion.
• On the fence about loose A-line-y nightgowns that most likely will end up scrunched up around my armpits in the a.m. (I move a lot!)

I think what I'm after is a category of clothing called "loungewear."

But what about you? What do you wear to bed? Or: what would you wear around the house and to bed that would be both comfortable and stylish?


:)

Guilty

Man, do we have ideas about our stuff. I was thinking this as I was reading through the comments on Coletterie’s post, “How Much Stuff Is Too Much?” I’ve been thrilled by these posts on Coletterie and elsewhere in the blogosphere — it aligns with where I’m trying to go: Living Big Lightly.

But the problem is, I fear I have the zeal of the newly converted. I really struggle with it, but I’m all in regardless. I want to talk incessantly about the joy of living with less and when I’m not talking about it, I want to get rid of more stuff. (I likewise am afraid I'll turn into an irritable and judgy misanthrope.)

What I don’t want is to be peddling guilt, for myself or others. Guilt over how much stuff we have, how many clothes, how much fabric, and so forth. I overuse the term (hey, I grew up in a Catholic household — guilt was currency, among other more positive things, like strength and self-sacrifice and love).

I also had the zeal of the newly converted to sewing when I started this blog and going through my blog roll regularly is something I still love. But there’s a change occurring in me — I used to relish the world inside my closet and now I'm seeking a wardrobe to equip me for the world outside of it.

For starters, I am going to stop using the word “guilt” or “guilty” and I want y’all to know that I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for your worldly belongings. I think this is a deeply personal journey and there’s no magical number of stuff we should or shouldn’t have.

In fact, for me this really isn’t about stuff. Grappling with my stuff is just a way to grapple with who I was when I acquired these objects—am I still that person? Are those still my aspirations? Does this still suit or serve me?

What I Want More of: Laughter and Movement. 

The gift from a lost friendship goes because it fills me with bad juju and loss. The harmonica my grandfather bought for me at the PX is proudly displayed on the mantel because it reminds me of him and the incredible role he played in my life.

See? It’s not the stuff. It’s all the emotional and psychological attachments to the stuff. It’s about how I feel with the stuff. 

So when I say I want to live with less, that means I want less:

• Confusion and indecision
• Reminders of who I once wanted to be and didn’t become 
• Objects that carry bad juju
• Time cleaning
• Longing
• Things that will likely not be used in the next year

More importantly, I want more:

• Time
• Clarity and confidence
• Experiences
• Flexibility
• Openness
• Gratitude
• Things that fill me with inspiration and wonder

Going through my stuff is just my way through, as flawed as it may be. But as someone who struggles with tidiness, “less time cleaning” is motivation enough (hallelujah!).

You’ll have your own ways through and I’d love to hear about them. I think once I comb my home and feel like the objects I own are a reflection of where I’m at, I’ll settle down on this hyper-decluttering stuff. I’m in the process of shedding old skins and the stuff is just the evidence, but thank you for bearing with me on this journey.

In more fun news: Dresses on the horizon! And knits! (Guilt-free :)

Biased: The 1940s Slip Dress

I recently said that my favorite dresses look a lot like the underwear of yesteryear: simple silhouettes, sleeveless and strappy. Great for warm weather and easy to layer in cold. So I took that hypothesis for a spin with Simplicity 1144, a 1940s slip pattern.

I also chose this pattern because I wanted to explore more garments on the bias. For a gal who largely wears simple clothes, a bias-cut garment makes me feel like I'm not just wearing something utilitarian, but luxurious as well. I can pull it over my head and it glides over the body. It feels so feminine, so carefree.

Yesterday I took my new slip dress for a maiden voyage on a stunning, stunning day in the East Bay. We ate Vietnamese sandwiches at the beach in Alameda. Shoulders and sunlight and sand. Life doesn't get better for me.

Purple again?? I know, I know. What can I say? Purple and green fabric is abundant at the thrift stores. But it was a great way to use some stash fabric and explore fabrics with drape.

Pattern: Simplicity 1144, 1940s, Full Slip and Tap Panties

Fabric Used: From the stash. Purple thrifted polyester crepe(?) It's got a nubby appearance, twisted yarns and a lovely drape.

Size: I was a perfect 16 in 1940s sizing (34-28-37), which is partly why I want to try patterns from that era. Since then a 34-sized bust got a noticeably smaller waist.

Pattern alterations or any design changes you made: Small tuck on bodice for small bust, shortened back piece for sway back, widened straps from 1/4 to 3/4 inch, shortened straps by 10 (!) inches, skirt by 3.5 inches + 2 inch hem. 3/4 inch side seam allowances, as provided in the pattern. Drafted front and back neckline facing.

Instructions: Spare. I recently bought the Colette Oolong, so I used some of the instructions on sewing bias fabrics from that pattern, i.e. sewing the long vertical edges with a narrow zigzag, letting the fabric hang both before sewing and before hemming.

What did you particularly like or dislike about the pattern?


It meets all of the criteria of what I'm looking for: A sleeveless, easy dress that can be dressed up or down. I love that I can pull it over my head and I love love love the way the bias fabric just skims over the body. The wider straps and sweetheart neckline, the gathers at the bust. Even though it's not what I would consider a typical waist-defining dress, I definitely feel curvier in it. 


That said, I did battle with the front inset that is supposed to be decidedly pointier than it is in my version. I know part of it is the fabric -- it stretched A LOT on the bias and I also had a hard time gathering the bust evenly. 


Instead of sewing the front inset right sides together, you press in the seam allowances on the front inset and then topstitch it atop the bodice and skirt pieces. For someone who HATES topstitching, this was really frustrating. I did this three times, first attempting to understand the instructions, then rebelling and doing it my own way and finally giving in and going back to the instructions. It all amounts to a sort of wonky but good enough inset. Live and learn. 


Beyond the inset, everything goes together like a breeze. Five pattern pieces, plus the facings, easy peasy.

Would you sew it again? Would you recommend it to others?

Absolutely. I know the inset will be easier next time around and I adore the fit and feel of this slip dress. I also think it's simple enough to make in multiple versions without folks realizing you're wearing the same dress over and over. Think: small polka dots or a loud floral print. A slightly stiffer fabric like voile or an even drapier one like rayon. You could adapt the neckline for a square neck or scoop. 

What about you? Do you like sewing/wearing fabrics with drape or garments sewn on the bias? 

In Praise of Casual

Despite the lack of it on my blog, there's been making afoot. I've found myself two-thirds done with three projects, all of which are trying my patience. In the meantime, I thought I'd share some images that have been inspiring me.
 

Juniors Pattern

I was recently in LA, where I met Sarai Mitnick of Colette Patterns at the Sew LA book release party and Christine Haynes, who's launching a new pattern line. I talked too much, ate too much fried food, and laughed lots.

During my visit, a friend took me to this huge warehouse of vintage dresses right on the LA river. For sewing peops, this is a dream. Dresses from every fashion era to fondle and try. I loved it, just like a love vintage fashion on other women, especially styled with hair and make-up. Just stunning, stunning.

But in that entire warehouse, I found two items to try on, and both were ill fitting. What I realized: I love vintage, but mostly on other people.

Wouldn't this make a lovely sundress?

The large majority of vintage fashion, for me, feels too modest, too formal or too matronly. The necklines are too high (hello, square jaw!), there's usually sleeves (crumpled under my omnipresent cardigans), cinched-in waists (breathe, Ali!), or long, long skirts (making me look shorter than I already am). I know, as sewists, we can make many adjustments, but I've been thinking of what I like versus what I'll actually wear.

In terms of vintage, the patterns I'm most likely to wear are summer or junior wear or undergarments as clothes. And of course, the 70s and all its drape and leg and comfort. The point of commonality is this: They're all casual, carefree, and youthful.

After my 90s post, it comes as no surprise that I love casual, no-nonsense clothing. So can we take a moment here and praise casual? In some ways, I think they can be just as stylish as sheath dresses and pencil skirts. They've got that tomboy allure.

70s: Drapey skirts and dresses, casual but lovely

In casual clothes, I feel like adventure is possible, that I'll never have to stop and change my heels or get zipped out of a dress when I'm about to pass out in the desert (true story, half naked in Tarra's car. It might have been the wine :0).

So here's some images I've been collecting in Pinterest that inspire me. And they aren't style schleps either. Here you'll find Jane Birkin, Anna Karina, Natalie Portman, Zooey Deschanel, Francoise Hardy, Mila Kunis, Sofia Coppola. Even though they're wearing denim and knits, tell me they don't look good.

What I love about each of these images: No one looks overdone. And they all look stylish.

So here's to casual clothes that look good, but more importantly, to clothes that can keep up with you. :)

Happy sewing!