Action Figure for the Freezer

Most folks would find a face staring at you from a freezer compartment a bit disconcerting, but my friend California Guy had made more than one reference to cryogenics and heads of loved ones conveniently stored for instant access. 

 It was clear that he needed an action figure for his freezer. It was also clear that he had forgotten my warped sense of humor. I don't know that this friend has ever owned an action figure, but he knows what they are. He has read more than one comic book in his life,  has played more than one computer game and has met more than one child. 

 It began with an 8-inch nude Hunter Dan. Binoculars and all those other goodies were gone. Only the intrepid hunter remained.

A little bit of paint, some sewing, some cursing, and oh my! a figure with a very slight resemblance to California Guy.

As these things do, the action figure began demanding things. He was a hero, he insisted. Where was his cape? He was not interested in a papier mache' flashlight. Couldn't he have something more upscale? A glass replica might do.  Oh, and by the way, he said, I needed to add more shirt at the bottom because he preferred the shirt inside the jeans.  One thing led to another, and I made 3 pairs of jeans before he accepted one. It's not that the third pair fit correctly. He had lost hope that I'd ever get it right.  

The hoodie, he said, had to be heathered light gray. My first attempt was the right fabric and the wrong size. Impaling me with his x-ray vision, he told me to make it work. I sewed in a couple of tucks and he allowed that it would do.

At one point I made the action figure an action belt of black elastic, holding the necessities of modern life, a flashlight and a cell phone.

 Inanimate objects at my house have lives of their own. I won't claim that they levitate, but quite often they disappear from a spot and turn up, sometimes months later, somewhere else entirely. Someday his action belt will turn up. In the meantime, California Guy will have to make do with a flashlight.

Fear of Zipper

The current trend toward underarm zippers in women's dresses brings back memories of being trapped in my clothing, unable to escape without help. I was 13, thrilled to receive a hand-me-down shirtwaist dress with slim skirt from the teenager two doors down the street. Even though I had the figure of an undernourished twig, I had to wriggle to get into the dress. 

Yes indeed, it looked wonderful. I felt very fashionable for about 5 hours, until I tried to get out of it. I unzipped the side zipper, which had been scraping my ribs all day. I unbuttoned the button-to-the-waist front. I rolled the skirt up to my waist; I crossed my arms. Pulling on the shoulders of the dress,  I tried to get it off over my head. The waist stuck at my shoulders. I tried to pull the dress down, but my arms were above my head. Finally I lay on the bed like a sausage until my mother came home.

I had to wear that dress several more times. We devised and practiced an escape route until I could undress without help. It was never comfortable, and never without fear of ripped clothing and dislocated shoulders. I was thrilled and delighted with when nylon coil zippers came down in price. Never again would I have to endure the torture of the underarm zipper!

Imagine living in the 40's and having to wear side-zipped clothing all the time. Eventually that scrape, scrape, scrape would raise a bloody welt. I wonder how any woman of that era ever allowed a man to hug her, to press buttons or zipper teeth into the tender flesh (bloody welt?) covering her ribs. Hugging and cuddling would be acts of aggression. There would be no need for any other forms  of contraception. Hmm. Perhaps the low cost nylon coil back zipper is the real reason for the Summer of Love.  

Now hear this! Side zippers are not for everyone. True, zippers today are less bulky than they were in the 1960's. They're not metal , and their teeth will not leave tiny bite marks on underpadded rib skin -- not without a lot of help. They may even be easier to insert in side seams. But I ainta gonna do it. I see no reason to endure panic and bruised ribs just to be able to use 12- to 15-inch underarm zippers instead of 18- to 22-inch zippers that march down my back. For me, the arm down the back contortion is infinitely easier than the wriggle-shimmy -yank. Having wriggled and shimmied, all too often I found the yank impossible. I cannot look at a dress with an underarm zipper without feeling an echo of the terror and frustration I felt at 13.
 

Entranced by Kay Whitt's use of pattern and color, I bought a couple of Sew Serendipity patterns without noticing that they are designed for under arm zippers. The pattern and fabric are still in a bag. In the unlikely event that I ever use one of these patterns, I will alter the back to allow for a seam and a zipper. I have lost  most of my desire to replicate that style, but I will probably make up a skirt or two from the book.

A Tale of Two Jackets

 I'm a fan of pieced work. I like wearing fleece jackets around the house. It seemed logical to piece a fleece jacket. I buy  fleece remnants to make hats and socks for Christmas. Sometime the fabric is too wonderful to be cut up for socks.  Sometimes it yodels, whistles and demands to be turned into a jacket.

 For jacket  number one, I had just a yard of a wonderful border print, and scraps of coordinating prints. It was 60 inches wide and could be cut  so the front and back of the jacket looked like related prints. I chose a very fitted pattern, with tight sleeves, reasoning that the stretchy fabric would make up for having to tug on the sleeves.  I learned two things right away. One is to choose a simple pattern; The second is to make sure the stretch goes from side to side, at least for the sleeves. I did not.

Books on sewing with polar fleece persuaded me that all was not lost, that I could cut in bits and pieces and zigzag them together, making a new fabric. This worked  just fine for the sleeves, but the shaping in the jacket body fought  me. When at long last I had the jacket almost right, I  wanted to shoot the author of the book. Her advice was to forget facings and make bindings for the sleeves, front edges and hems. When that was done, the neat  front neck edge wanted to flop. I let it, and stitched on an afterthought facing. This jacket should be called Rule breaker.

 Jacket number two was cut out recently, from two fabrics that had black backgrounds and colorful objects. I made sure the fabric all stretched the same way. I used prints in correlating colors. I used facings. I wanted it longer than the hip length pattern, and stitched on a 4 inch wide band. I should have sewn separate bands to the fronts and back, allowing for the swell of the hip. The pockets I cut out didn't work with the shorter length jacket, and the neckline seemed low. But the prints worked together. This is a sewing lesson called Think Before You Cut.

Two jackets are ready for closures of some sort. I may end up doing button loops. I'd like to do buttonholes, but the Artista is still intent on showing me who is boss. A book on sewing  with polar fleece  claims I can make a buttonhole just by sewing a skinny rectangle and slitting it. And you can.  I don't know how sturdy it would be. Another claims I should sew fake suede rectangles where I want the buttonholes, and sew a skinny rectangle inside it. On a test fabric, this looks likes bugs marching up the fabric. I'd feel happier with tiny zigzags, and the Artista looks at the buttonhole foot and just laughs. As finicky as it has been about how it is threaded and whether it will do a reverse stitch, I'm afraid to try.

I'm not even going to attempt a buttonhole of Jacket One. Jacket Two got a  buttonhole of the fleece  and straight stitch sort. I don't like it. I'll undo it and pray I come up with something reasonable.