Fabric Avalanche

Vogue 1244 ,by Koos van den Akker

It's time I used some of the stash that has taken over my basement. While Koos van den Akker and an anonymous designer for McCall have stash busting ideas, I can't say I'm inclined to use them.

There was an avalanche in my basement last month. A mid-April thunderstorm that caused flooding in many parts of Ohio also caused a terrified cat to leap at the nearest shelf. The flimsy gray metal shelving toppled, spilling its sewing notions and handmade doll clothing over 1/4 of the basement.  

Picking it up, I faced something I've known for years: I must sort, prune, and whittle away the stash. For fifteen years, I have acquired more fabric than I can sew. Friends who collected fabric died and left me their stashes. Other friends pruned their stashes and although I resisted mightily, I came away with fabric. I have quilt pieces deceased grandmothers cut out, of fabrics too delightful to ignore.

 Even though I sorted through and only kept things that I would use or things that answered some visual need, I've got  the monster of all stashes. It might be known as the stash that ate Ohio. I have given to young seamsters, to quilt groups, to service organizations, and in desperation, to Goodwill. I threw away some polyester double knit as being too ugly to exist on the same planet with me,  but I know it will be in a landfill long after I am worm food.

Fabric bought for humanscale projects sits neatly and obediently in boxes labeled pants lengths, dress rayons, wool, silk, linen. Everything else is in silky/sleazoid and quilty.

Quilty is a misnomer. Some of the stuff in those boxes could be used for quilts,  but most of it is just fabric bits too small to be folded neatly. I'm thinking seriously of cutting it into 3 inch wide strips and making tiered skirts until I run out of scraps, or in 2013, whichever comes first. I'd like to make one of Kay Whitt's 5-fabric A-line skirts, too. This means that I will have to start wearing something other than pants. 

Some if it is ditsy country-ish prints and silky sleazoid fabrics I'd never in this blue-eyed world wear, but is  the right scale for dolls 12 inches and smaller. At one point I sewed for charity dolls, creating wardrobes for 2nd hand Barbie and other fashion dolls that were given to an assortment of charities. I've got leftover dolls too, and no interest at the moment in doing anything about them.

McCall 6322

My box for red cotton prints is still red cotton prints, but blues have scattered, and the silky filmy things I hate to sew? They infest every box. Children and some adults adore fancy dresses for dolls. I used to try to get people to take their scraps, but they regard that as part of my pay. I am really not thrilled to be the repository for all fabric scraps in Ohio.

Stash Exploration

Playing with fabric is a very messy occupation. When I'm planning a project, I drag out every bit of fabric I think I might want to use, then winnow my choices down to about seven. I fold the rest and put it in a bag to be returned to the basement, where it stays in a bag awaiting the day of the next sorting. Sometimes the entire bag gets tossed into a box. There are many partial boxes, relics of previous sorting expeditions.

I do not have a neat system of storage that tells me where each item is. Nope. Fabrics are in copy paper boxes and bankers storage boxes. Patterns are in plastic crates. I happily go through the patterns , sometime sorting them by date. I can get lost in the graphics on pattern fronts.

There are too many zippers to fit in a single shoebox, so they went into a used plastic grocery bag. Periodically the bag disappears. Recently the bag disintegrated and was replaced. I have not bought new zippers in years. I suspect they propagate. What else could explain the preponderance of 7-inch zippers in colors I cannot stand?

Needles are in a plastic shoeboxes, supposedly visible. Buttons are everywhere. Some are in a shoebox, some in plastic candy jars. Odd loose metal buttons are in the plastic crate with bead supplies. Tiny doll sized buttons and buckles are in another shoebox in a cardboard drawer. All of this would be really nice if I were in the same room as my supplies, but they are in the basement. I shop the basement before each project, dragging out way too many things before making a final decision.

Lace is unruly. I only use a few inches at a time for dolls, but yards for humans. It was neatly sorted and pinned until  the basement flooded 4 years ago, and I ended up washing everything. Now 1/4 inch wide polyester lace mingles with poly/cotton eyelet, wide laces, vintage machine lace. Most of it is shades of off-white. Picture a ball of stuff the size of boxes that hold sneakers for teenage boys. Picture three of those balls. I am a little behind in my untangling.

There are years of stalled pants projects. One is obviously too small. but another needs minor tweaking and it will fit! Amazing. And I still have the fabric that will allow me to finish the project. Ah. Being a fabric hoarder is not entirely terrible.

Other pants news: the elastic-waist pants pattern produced by the PatternMaster book does almost fit without major alteration. I lowered the front waist by an inch and added an inseam pocket on the left, but otherwise sewed the pants unchanged. Their instructions for elastic waists leaves me with a too-large waist, even after 2 reductions. The book also has a pair of tailored pants. I should at least print out the pattern.

I also came across another way to copy patterns from existing clothing: cover the clothing seam to seam in masking tape, lift off the piece and put it on freezer paper, then add seams.

None of this gets me any closer to having a dress to wear to a wedding, but that is months away, and my battles were pants patterns have gone on  thirty years or more.

Pinterest is a site where you can share links to goodies you've found on the web.  Anyone can look, but you must request an invitation to join. Take a look at www.pinterest.com.

Sewing Books with Patterns

Even though I have cut out 3 muslins and have a pair of pants waiting for a zipper, I'm prowling through a stack of books with patterns the library bought within the past 5 years.

Are books with patterns a new fashion  in publishing? Some have three patterns from current catalogs and show enough variations to make life interesting. Are the patterns ever used by humans? Do they stay pristinely folded in their cardboard envelopes? I have 3 from earlier eras, all unused, plus several British books that require you to create gridded sheets and then to copy patterns. I lust for some of those fashions, but drawing grids is not my idea of fun.

 Each of the current batch has something I want to test. Sew U from Built by Wendy has a pair of pants I want to test. Sew U Home Stretch has a batch of dresses I'd like in anything but knits. Sew Serendipity by Kay Whitt speaks to me the loudest because she mixes fabrics  the way I used to. I may have to buy this book.

Although these are library books, there is no sign that anyone actually traced a pattern. They are still in their original folds. I did trace part of the pants from Built by Wendy's Sew U, but the printing on  Kay Whitt's patterns is so pale I can't see through the tissue to trace it.  Scary, eh? The one with a CD, Make Your Own Clothes, has been used.

I'm astounded, because pasting patterns together is horrible. Way back in the early 90s  I bought expensive pattern drafting software and entered data hopefully.  It took 2 days to align all the pieces of paper, and when I finished, I noted somewhat grumpily that less than 1/4 of each sheet had been printed on. I never made the blouse. What lunatic would offer free pattern making software with a book?

Easy-fit pants, they offered me. You all know how I feel about pants patterns. Just drop in your measurements, it said. And I did. The result looked pretty much like the bizarre drawings I come up with when I try to draft a pattern. "Watch our video on how to print." I couldn't. It wanted outmoded Adobe flash, and wouldn't work with  the latest. If it had worked, I would have known how to move pattern pieces closer together to save paper. I told it to print anyway. The printer spat out only 24 pieces of paper, labeling them by row and column. 

The glue-together laps are only 1/16th of an inch! Wonderful! I tried using a glue stick, but it doesn't hold for long enough to get the pattern together. Tape. It took less than an hour to put all the pieces together, even with the cats helping.

The pants pattern I printed is for an elastic waist. We'll see. There are more tailored looks, including jeans and an incredible short jacket.

You can have free pattern making software from PatternMaker because they want you to buy the deluxe package after trying the free version. If you mix and match pattern pieces like I do, the idea of having a pattern that actually fits to try up against the new ones is irresistible.

Pattern Panic

It's April, and the wedding is in August.  There's plenty of time for me to  make 10 different dresses, if I like. I spent hours poring over online pattern catalogs, and believe me, going to the fabric store and thumbing through pattern books is much quicker. I'm no closer to a decision. Everything for weddings seems to be strapless. No way. I'm 60. I don't do strapless. 

If I start now, I can make something complex. Only thing is, I want to wear a dress, and I haven't sewn any  for years. I fear that I will end up in an A-line  dress with a droopy arty jacket. I like sewing arty.

The bride will be wearing  vintage Jessica McClintock. Do I want to nod to her style and wear a 70's boho dirndl close fitted vest and filmy top? Could I stand to wear pastels? Lavender and mint green are her accent colors. I dunno. I didn't go for ruffles and lace in the 70's.

I have a vast collection of vintage patterns, but I am short. There is no way that I want to wear a poufy skirted 50's dress. I am not a cupcake. My pattern stash turned up variations on the same pattern, from different publishers and different eras. I'm headed toward sheath/shift/A-line, despite my indecent lust for patterns that feature clever cut and drape techniques.

I have a collection of vintage linen tablecloths just waiting to be transformed into something.

I'm leaning toward an a-line sheath with cap sleeves, and a  jacket of some sort.  The bride gave me a lovely vintage dress and jacket pattern for Christmas, but a dress and jacket of precisely the same fabric seems somehow  business like, not really celebratory. Perhaps  cotton lace or eyelet. A suit? Somehow that seems too businesslike. If I'm going to wear a suit, I want it to be Mainbocher. I love high fashion of the 40s and 50s, but  most of the high fashion stuff looks good only on very tall people.

I haven't sewn clothing  for myself for years. I've mended, made do and forced manufactured clothing into submission. I've made hats and vests, and socks, but I  haven't cut a pattern for a dress for years. It ought to be special. It ought to be fun. Fun for me is color, strip quilting, embroidered ribbon, lace.  Mostly, it is color.

Broadcloth large scale print with kimono sleeves and obi belt? Boat neck? Somewhere I have some vintage rayon damask given to me by the bride's mother. Could I dye it? Bead it? 

Panic now. Avoid the wait.

One Size Fits Few

This just in: I am not a complete idiot, nor am I malformed. The problems that plague me when I try to sew pants from many commercial patterns (Simplicity, Butterick, McCall) are not unique. I am not completely inept. I learned this with a trip to Fashion Incubator, a site for those who design for manufacturers.* What a relief!

Kathleen Fasanella discusses common industry problems, researches why they occur, and tells designers what they can do to avoid them. She bought a pair of manufactured pants for her husband, showed that they did not fit, sewed a gusset to make them fit better, and told us why no real human could have worn those pants to begin with. As I understand it, the mistake that makes many pant patterns fit poorly creeps in during the grading, when they enlarge the pattern for different sizes. If the additions are made in the wrong place, a whole set of fit problems can occur. I sort of knew that.

I love knowing what makes clothing work and why. There is even an answer for why the waistbands of pants seem to get smaller at a different rate than the rest of the pants. It's in the cut. If you cut the waistband alongside the pant leg, it shrinks at a different rate than if you cut it across the width of the fabric. It gets smaller faster. It's not my imagination. Henceforth and forever more, I will cut my waistbands across the fabric, even if I have to piece them.

Fitting a pair of pants is indeed almost as complex as, say, rocket science. Weight gain is not evenly distributed. Allowing for weight gain  requires knowing where you store it. If, unlike Lyndon Johnson, you store fat above the waist, you've got it made. Folks who store fat in their thighs have one problem. Those who get big middles have another. Each fat storage zone has its own shape, and sometimes the best you can do is to disguise it.

In other words: everything I was ever taught about fitting pants is only partially true. The rules that worked when I was severely underweight don't work now that I am normal and then some. I have curves. They are pleasant, but they are still curves, and pants patterns are designed to fit a median. No, let me correct that. Pants patterns are designed to go on  a variety of shapes. They only actually fit one shape well, and the rest of us must learn to put up with what we get, or change brands. 

Off I go to fiddle with  my stalled pants project. I've also dug out former college level sewing instructor Terry Jones' instructions for making pants. She very kindly posted them years ago during one of my prior rants about pants patterns. Terry Jones can make just about anything seem simple. Her instructions are calm, matter of fact, step by step, and I should have followed them long long ago instead of getting distracted by moving 3 times in 3 years and having sewing machine and fabric out of reach for 18 months.

*Anyone can read Fashion Incubator, but only those who have bought her book may comment on the site. This ensures that she only has to deal with informed commenters. I am grateful and happy to be allowed access to all this inside information.

I fought the pants and the pants won

At least I am consistent.  My second attempt at making a pattern from finished clothing turned out just the same as the first: too small. I'm not sure what happened. The originals are denim, on their last legs and fraying badly; the copies are waffle weave without give.

I made the pattern  measuring point to point and adding a 5/8 seam. The originals only had a 3/8 seam. The pants made from the copied pattern fit as if they were painted on. I let out two seams and now they only look as if I were poured in. The shape is right, but yuck.

At this point I am tempted to stop beating a dead horse. I could, I suppose, add an inch width to the side seams. But we all know that this will just encourage another problem to appear. Still, the shape is right.... I give in. I'll add strips along the sides and see what happens.

I have 30 years of pants patterns, many untried, all bought in the hope that it  would be the magical pattern that trumps all others. I've bought patterns in classic and funky styles, the same measurement as my hip and two sizes smaller, as someone advised. I've used one size for the front and another for the back. I've measured, slit apart, added. When the pattern gets to the almost good enough stage, I am beat, done, unwilling to face the reality of tweaking  pants patterns for months or years.

I could try a pattern from another manufacturer. I have determined beyond argument that Simplicity will not work for me ever. McCall is marginally better. I have twice attempted a McCall pattern pants pattern. The pants fit, but only because I altered them substantially.  I like loose but not voluminous, and the pants I made from a knitwear pattern are right in the crotch length but wide enough elsewhere for me and a few of my closest friends.

I have a vintage Stretch N Sew pattern, but  I don't want knit pants. I have an old Vogue, but I think I want a complete change: Burda. It is rumored that Burda has a long back rise, so there's an alteration I wouldn't need, right off the  bat. Burda has a completely different sizing system.  Instead of 10-12-14, it has horrifyingly large numbers, 38, 42, 46.  

Maybe I should try again to copy pants. David Page Coffin makes it look so simple in his video.  His 2009 book, Making Trousers for Men & Women, addresses a raft of interior details that make all the difference.  Coffin uses photos lavishly to illustrate techniques, and is generous with his descriptions.  I agree with a good many of his preferences, the use of Petersham as a waistband liner, cut-on waistbands, extra fabric in the back for expansion. I may never attempt a curved pocket welt, but it's in there.

Thank you, Qbookshop and Craftside, for claiming that my answer to a silly question won, and for allowing me to choose a book. Making Trousers for Men & Women  arrived this week  and is a very satisfying read. I'm thrilled to have it, but with my track record with pants, I don't imagine I'll be a good advertisement for its merits.

Suit Rescue

Small, gray, wool and impeccably styled, it was a suit from the 80's approximately the size of my niece.  The price was too good to ignore. I bought it and later made the niece try it on. She was in raptures. Her main concern was the length of the sleeves. Mine was that the skirt was too tight around her middle. Both of us thought that there were only one or two stains, and that they would come out when I soaked the suit in cold water.

The first soaking produced grimy gray water. The second produced water the color of weak coffee.

I used the waistband of the skirt to lengthen the jacket sleeves, and noticed yellowish stains on one sleeve. I released the darts in the skirt front and added another inch to the waist and hips by letting out the side seams. Because Petersham ribbon (stretchable grosgrain) is so hard to find, I used a woven braid to face the waist, and added a button tab at the back, made from the last bit of the former waistband.

It was all done except for the final pressing with steam and pressing cloth. I do this in front of a window, There is an abundance of natural light, and this showed more yellowish stains. All the stains I noticed, I scrubbed with plain cold water. So far, all have come out. Granted, the stains were faint and could only be noticed in strong light, but having seen them, I couldn't ignore them.

And this makes me wonder what in the world the cleaners of that suit did. If anyone had soaked the stained area in water before sending it through the dry cleaner, none of these stains would  have hung around.