Fushia Knit Top: An Experiment in Silhouette

Continuing along my red mini-wardrobe, I tackled the knits last week: the red tank and the fuschia top. The tank was a fail—the knit was too lightweight and, while I attempted perfect binding of neckline and armholes, I wasn't even in the neighborhood. Oh well. Onward.

I really enjoyed all your comments on the copycat post. Many talked about what you draft vs. what you buy, pattern-wise, and the fuschia top is an example of something I tried to draft two years ago and failed. So I went out and bought an equivalent: Kwik Sew 3763.

What I was after: A knit top with a v-neck that draped the shoulder. I'd read that women should use clothing to give the illusion of an hourglass, and thus balanced, shape. One suggestion for a rectangular gal was to bring attention to the shoulders, so that the waist looks smaller in comparison.

I'm not sure I buy that anymore—much preferring cami-like tops, hourglass be damned—but saving me from sewing sleeves or binding armholes was attractive.

Now that it's complete, I sort of feel like a linebacker in this thing and I really don't think it's doing anything for my "curves."  

Final thoughts

• I do love this color 
• First Kwik Sew pattern and first v-neck I didn't royally screw up! 
• Knit weight is really starting to matter to me -- I like a heavier, more stable knit. Compared to the red knit, this was a dream.
• The sizing was really off for me -- I had to put a 1-1/2 inch dart in the front armscye and take in the sideseams at the bust an additional 7/8 and taper down to the waist. And the shoulder seam seems (say that 10 times fast!) to extend much more than on the model.
• Make it again? Probably not. But I'll give it a chance in Me-Made-May

Up next: The red beret. 

For the Love of Red: Batik Sundress, Vintage Inspired

So much for slowing down. I made my mini-red wardrobe plans and I've made progress on four of the six items. Today: The Batik Sundress.

More than a decade ago, I was wandering around Jinghong, a southern city in Yunnan, China that borders Laos and Myanmar. It was the final stop after several weeks in the province and I had logged many an hour on sleeping buses, was run over by a very large pig on a very small island, popped firecrackers for the New Year in Tiger Leaping Gorge. Amid those snow-capped mountains—the foothills of the Tibetan plateau—I got so sick that I had to hitch a ride with the Chinese Army back to town.  As we moved south, we trekked in the mountains along the border, dreamed of music and water with Peace Corps volunteers on break. And finally, there was Jinghong: sunshine and lemongrass and color.

I stopped into a dressmaker's shop. She took my measurements and within a few hours had whipped up a traditional blouse-and-skirt combo with my chosen fabric.

I never wore it. Stateside, I looked ridiculous. I probably looked ridiculous there, too, but I loved the fabric and I loved that it was handmade, a souvenir from many moons ago.

So after a decade in my stash, I finally reinvented it into a sundress:

I was working with constraints. The skirt was a large rectangle, but there wasn't much of it. I couldn't use a pattern with lots of pieces—nor a full skirt—and I wanted to show off the print.

Using the June 2010 Burda magazine (won from Debbie of Minnado's House) I traced this basic pattern, 06-2010-125. I straightened the rear neckline, widened the straps and omitted the rear zipper.

All the while, I've been eyeing me some vintage sundresses and I love this notched collar detail I find on 1940s patterns. They also pop up in the 50s and 70s.

So I drafted a notched collar and facing pieces.

And just as quickly as the original was made in sunny Jinghong, I whipped up this dress in a matter of hours.

Final thoughts:

• I love Burda. Their sizing is closest to mine, I feel like I can whip up a straight 38 with minimal problems. Also, if I had a magazine from each season, I bet I could frankenpattern ANYTHING. Love that there's so many basic shapes.
• I love: the color, the wide straps, the notched collar
• No zipper, baby! It pulls right over my head. That was a happy accident.
• It's a bit light and wrinkly, but I'm hoping the cotton fabric will be perfect for hot weather

What about you? Sundress dreaming, too?  

Up next: The fuschia knit top!

Copycat: Inspired or Shameless?

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery -- or is it?

I really enjoyed Savory Stitches post this week, "Copycat Guilt," in which she asks if it's okay to make an indie designer knockoff.

As she says—and I would heartily agree—we rarely feel guilt when knocking off a big retail darling like Anthropologie. I'm certainly not above copying mega brands and small ones, too. It's been part of my sewing education and I'm not selling the FOs. In fact, half the time they're duds.

But think about it: When does inspiration become imitation, and is that okay? What role does imitation play in our creative work as seamstresses? Think of Sew Weekly's Make This Look series and sew-alongs that encourage knock-offs of silver screen loveliness.

Source

Considering Worth

I think the struggle is wanting to support independent designers while also having an equal or greater desire to exercise our own skill/creativity.

With such visual inspiration, it makes sense that we would be tempted to copy, adapting along the way (a moved zipper, pockets, different fabric, etc.). Also: I don't see it as some great privilege or that I'm saving a great deal of money, if one considered the YEARS I spent learning to sew. Sheesh, if I got a penny for every minute I spent with my (ergonomic!) seam ripper, I might have the beginning of a retirement fund.

That said, I'll be the first to admit that I really admired a dress from an indie designer and I could've tried to recreate it, but it filled me with guilt because the dress was also handmade. 

When pondering this issue, I often go back to this TED talk, "Lessons from Fashion's Free Culture." Johanna Blakley says, "One of the magical side effects of having a culture of copying is the establishment of trends. People think this is a magical thing. How does it happen? Because it’s legal [in the fashion industry] for people to copy one another.”



Copying Sewing Patterns?

Let's go down the rabbit hole a bit further. When I was taking pattern-drafting classes, my teacher told me, "At this point, you're better off just using your blocks."

My blocks—a term that I liberally use to refer to any well-fitting basic pattern—can be altered to nearly any design. But is it okay to copy sewing patterns, Big 4 or Indie?

Sure, I can buy the pattern and compare it to my block. But—given how much I hate fitting and struggle with it—it would be so much easier to begin with the block and draft it. I mean, I bet I could draft something that closely approximates the Colette Ginger (simple A-line skirt with a lovely waistband) or the Twinkle Sews A Plus A-line skirt (pleated front).

It's a conundrum for me. I want to support designers, but I don't want to make my sewing process harder—it is, after all, what I do in my free time. If I make it and it flops, I go out and buy the pattern. That happened with Simplicity 2443.

But what do you think? I know I've covered a lot of ground here—but do you think imitation sneaks its way into your sewing? Where do you draw the line? Is there a line?

For the Love of Red: A Plan of Sorts

A vague representation of what this could look like:
Two tops, two dresses, a skirt and a hat.

That's right, peops, I've got a semblance of a plan. Despite the plethora of awesome sew-alongs and challenges, I've been avoiding making plans because I was trying to slow down my sewing output and then life just got busy.

I've said many times that I love plain clothes with pops of color. In reality, that means I like basic colors: black, white, and its lovechild, gray; and shades of red—true red and regal maroon and its flirty sister, fuschia.

But for years I've been sewing blue. Pete Campbell blue, navy blue, heathered blue. It's the fabric I could find at the thrift store. Problem is, I don't like blue all that much, unless it's denim or chambray.

So. My life and the weather is warming up, so why not some warm colors to boot? That sounds like a whole lot of sewing fun for the next weeks. Here's what could be on the table:

• White and red striped sundress
• Maroon batik sundress
• Red knit beret
• Red sailor skirt
• Red knit tank
• Fushia knit top

Many of these will be franken-patterned/self-drafted and I've got all the fabric and yarn.

These are quick projects that'll work through my stash, shepherd me nicely into summer, and equip me for Me-Made-May. I actually think, since my wardrobe is so very basic, that this red-injection will breathe new life into it. Two dresses, a skirt, two tops and a hat, paired liberally with all the blacks and grays and whites I wear frequently.

Two are already cut. I'll keep sewing my little red heart out until I lose steam.

What about you? You have a favorite color that you wish was a larger part of your wardrobe?

(By the by, I've been having a helluva time commenting on Wordpress blogs. Bear with me as I sort this out!) 

Sewing the Gaps: LBD 1.0

Poor things, I've probably been boring y'all to tears with my loooong posts. Good news! Not too many words today -- I'm taking the redeye to DC, but wanted to share my newest creation with you: An LBD.

Looking to fill in the gaps, I realized I lacked an LBD. Sure, I had a formal one for office parties and funerals, but I wanted one that was made out of a sturdy knit, with little straps (so easy to layer), and a slightly A-line skirt.
 

I frankenpatterned New Look 6265 (which I used to adapt my Lola nightie) and traced a knit skirt. I took in the sides for a small bust and shortened the straps, cut up a thrift store dress, et voila! An LBD in one sitting.

I wanted it to be slightly above the knee for casual wear, but I might make it an inch longer if I ever make it again. But I love wearing this thing, so easy and comfy, I forget I'm wearing it!

A bit blurry, but paired yesterday with maroon tights, a cardigan, and a white scarf.

Inside of the dress -- the bra/facing. I used some stash decorative elastic -- so easy and fun! I didn't pull it tighter than the hem, per some internets directions, but I may sew it on in a 5/6 ratio next time.

And that's it! Easy to make and wear and super useful. It's in my suitcase now and I suspect you'll be seeing it lots in Me-Made-May.

For years, I was dubious about all the LBD hype but I think I kept buying LBDs that were either too formal, too cheap or too frilly, and they just sat there. But I think I'm finally seeing the world of possibility. I envision LBD 2.0 in a drapey knit with wider straps and a knee-length full skirt. Swish-swish.

What about you? You down with the LBD?

My Me-Made-Graveyard + Me-Made-May

Hey all, as I've mentioned, there's been a lot going on -- deadlines and travel. Plus the doc has me nursing an inflamed nerve in my arm which equates to less computer time, so I've been sluggish in the blogosphere. But that means less time on the computer, more time to sew!

What's that strange pillow holding up my computer?
And whatever  could it be stuffed with?

I was really inspired last year by Dixie DIY's decision to donate some of her handmade clothes. She said:

I want my closet and drawers to represent my personal style rather than my handmade disappointments. And most of these garments have been documented on the blog so it's not like I'm completely forgetting about them.

At home, my few cabinets were overflowing with fabric scraps and me-made clothes I no longer wore -- experiments gone bad or well-meaning efforts that simply didn't work out.

I didn't know what to do with all this fabric. My local thrift stores said they didn't accept fabric scraps and my me-mades, well, if I didn't want to wear them, who would? They bear the marks of a new sewer -- wonky hems and zippers, patched up and jerry-rigged. I know: I should embrace their imperfections, but at a time when I want a streamlined, perfect-for-me closet, they were on the chopping block, too.

So I cut up an old chartreuse tablecloth to make an enormous pillow and it became my personal me-made graveyard and a useful, albeit in progress, piece of furniture. And let me tell you, it's a relief to feel less pressure (given my emotional attachment to me-mades) to wear clothes that make me feel self-conscious.

Don't mean to get all touchy-feely on you, but I've been thinking about how I want to feel. To let the feeling be the end goal and work backward from there.

And in the context of this blog, I want the clothes I put on my body to feel: good to the touch, made for my body, made for my lifestyle. I want to feel confident and carefree. I want to feel connected to every object I own. My life is not set up to be making sacrifices for my clothes (the fashion expectation of "no pain, no gain"). Rather, clothes equip my life.

That's what I'm looking forward to Me-Made-May. It's really a celebration of the clothes you have a personal connection with (through sewing and refashioning) with everyday wear (hooray for usefulness!).

Upping the Ante? 

Zoe asked us veterans how we can challenge ourselves this year, which varies person to person. I participated in the first Me-Made-May 2010.

I was new to sewing and blogging and that first year, I think I was really learning how to sew garments. I wanted to try and sew every type of garment and it was a good education. Year Two: I was learning how to fit garments, adapt patterns, and learn more about fabric. It's an ongoing process but now, finally, I feel I can confidently make a garment that will be wearable.

So how to balance all these elements into a challenge? We've got sewing skills but a massively decreased wardrobe. To give you an idea, I sewed 28 garments last year, and I just counted 9 me-mades in my active wardrobe. 

Bear with me here as I sort this out.

I don't want to:

• Make clothes just because I can, as I've already built up that skill
• Make duplicates of things I already own: They fit fine, look fine, etc. Making a duplicate just because it's a me-made feels wasteful, especially if I have to go out and buy fabric
• Wear me-mades that I know I don't like just because of the challenge. There's all sorts of reasons I don't like them (too tight, too short, terrible color, awful drape)

I do want to:

• Make the most of the wardrobe I have
• Continue sewing to fill in the gaps, ideally using my stash --  I've got a number of UFOs hanging around, this would be a wonderful incentive
• Sew things I really want to wear or sew
• Own my style. As much as I love all the vintage and feminine loveliness in the blogosphere, I really like knits, basic colors (black/gray/dark denim) and warm colors (red/fuschia). Minimalist and slightly tomboy-ish.
• Heed my non-sewing life. Monthly air travel and daily bike commuting also has me narrowing my options to clothes that are versatile, easy to pack, easy to launder and easy to move in. 

So with all that set up, I think I'm back to my usual: One me-made garment a day.

'I, Ali or wardrobereimagined.blogspot.com, sign up as a participant of Me-Made-May '12. I endeavour to wear AT LEAST one handmade garment each day for the duration of May 2012'

I've capitalized AT LEAST because I want to wear more, but again, I'm working with a small pool of clothes so I want the flexibility to also use this as a styling opportunity in a small wardrobe. Here's to versatility and clothes that keep on giving!

And the winner is ...

Lettetia! Congrats, the pattern lot is on it's way!

Goodness, you all have been up to wonderful things with One Week One Pattern and sewing amazingness. Here's to you :)