Salme T-shirt…

This has to be one of the simplest and most satisfying makes ever! Once I'd downloaded the pattern, printed it out, and taped the sheets together, my Salme t-shirt took roughly 4 hours to make. It would have been quicker but I added top stitching and used French seams instead of bog standard ones. I found a beautiful, end of line, poplin in Fabrics Galore that Paul Smith used a season or so ago for his men's shirts. It's wonderfully crisp, so will probably crease like mad if I so much as breathe heavily while wearing it, but I couldn't resist the colour! The pattern actually recommends fluid fabrics, and so, because this poplin doesn't have the drape of a silk or jersey, I made a boxier version of the t-shirt with longer sleeves and only three pleats which has resulted in a smart rather than casual top. I'm happy with the result though, but next time (I foresee at least two more of these in my wardrobe)  I'll stick religiously to the pattern–five pleats and seriously slouchy. Not sure if I'm quite brave enough to go for the transparent look shown on the website, perhaps a very light knit would be more dignified–I'll leave flesh-flashing to toned twenty-somethings!

Elizabeth,
x.

The Factory Dress

I'm in dress heaven here, because I've made my first (but definitely not last) Merchant & Mills factory dress. As dresses go, this one, just like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect: not too fussy, a little bit retro (but not so much that I'll look like I'm off to a fancy dress party whenever I wear it), and it has to be the most ridiculously comfortable dress imaginable. It's also a doddle to make, although it is worth taking your time over the bodice and collar area to get the right amount of definition and to avoid unwanted wonkiness.

I used a medium weight wool knit, which is not what the pattern recommends, but it works well so was worth the risk. Moreover, as the temperature has slipped from mild to cold and frosty it's also beautifully warm–especially if teamed with t-shirt underneath. I pretty much stuck to the pattern, with only one deviation which was to use a Liberty tana lawn for the front pocket facings. It's kind of my little secret as no-one can see the tana lawn (unless I deliberately draw attention to it) but I know it's there, and that makes me happy. Using the tana lawn helped reduce any bulk where the top joins the skirt, that would have resulted had I used the plum coloured knit for both parts of the pocket, and while I could pretend that this was due to forward planning, in truth, it was just a happy accident!

The dress has been hanging on my wardrobe door for several days now, waiting for me to photograph it, but the weather has been too dreary. As it doesn't look like it's going to brighten up any time soon, I decided to photograph it anyway, so apologies for the gloomy pics, which really don't do the dress justice. Looking on the bright side however, now that I've photographed it, I can at last wear my new dress!

Elizabeth,
x.

Highs and lows of making…

High notes: my mitts are finished just as the weather has turned chilly and I've also been doing some more boro inspired sewing. So why do I feel so disappointed with my output?

Well, it's all down to the Plain & Simple Slouchy Fly-Front Skirt. Rather perversely, all the bits that were supposed to be difficult, such as the covered zip, were a breeze to do, but the waistband looks awful! I'm in two minds about whether it's worth trying to salvage: and, as the front on silhouette quite frankly makes me look more like a cartoonish version of Cecil B DeMille than the geekish Annie Hall chic style I was after, I'm tempted to sweep this one under the carpet. I mean, who wants a skirt that makes their thighs look bigger than they actually are?

Not a good look

To be honest, my disappointment with this pattern began before I'd even cut into the fabric. It contains several typos, and when I googled finished versions of the skirt, I didn't see one that made me think I MUST HAVE THAT! So, what have I learnt from this? Basically, never buy a pattern that doesn't show an actual example of the finished item–fashion drawings don't count!.

Determined to end the weekend on a high however, I did a little work on my white quilt. It wasn't much–a bit of patchwork and some hand sewing–but at least it turned out as expected.

Elizabeth,
x.

Sewing Patterns

I'm not an avid dressmaker, but I do, occasionally make the odd item to wear, and this year, I've made more than usual. In the past, I've always opted for Vogue, Mc Calls, or Simplicity patterns as they were most familiar to me. But the blogosphere has introduced me to a number of exciting independent pattern designers that I'd never heard of before (Colette, Serendipity & Hot Patterns, to name just a few), which perhaps explains why my dressmaking mojo has accelerated of late. I will never be an expert seamstress, who thinks nothing of making full bust adjustments, shifting zips, or swinging darts this way and that, to a pattern that isn't quite right, but would be perfect with a few courturish tweaks. All I want from a pattern is that what I end up with will look like the image on the packet, that the instructions are clear and consistent, and hopefully fuss free. Basically, when dressmaking, I want to be spoon fed – I'll leave getting clever to other stitching pursuits.

Some of the independent pattern designers really do make their patterns idiot proof for lazy numpties like me, others expect more from their customers. So far, my absolute favourite pattern has to be the Bebe dress by Serendipity studio. Everything about it was perfect: a standard size packet, good illustrations, brilliant instructions, and a tissue paper pattern. Okay, I may not want to make dresses from quilting cottons, but no-one is forcing me to, it was merely a suggestion. (I did read a comment from one customer though, who said that quilting cottons are great to wear in the dry Arizona heat).

I've been less thrilled with other patterns, so here's a run down of some pros and cons of the (admittedly) limited range I've tried so far.

Marcy Tilton trousers–one of my
favourite Vogue patterns!

Vogue patterns: well you can't go wrong with these, and, like McCalls, Butterick or Simplicity, the range is vast, they are widely available and easy to use. This one is my favourite, but I definitely prefer the trousers to the skirt!

I love this simple Summer dress–
which I downloaded
from the Burda website

Burda Style patterns: on the plus side, they are cheap as chips, with great instructions, there is also a huge selection to choose from, plus the gallery/forum/blog really makes you feel as if you're part of a sewing community. The downside is that the pattern is supplied as a pdf, which you need to print out, then assemble, while not forgetting to add seam allowances. That's fine if you have a printer, and preferably lightbox too, plenty of time and sellotape. Above is my favourite pattern, although I added a plain band of fabric, rather than lace, to the hem.

Merchant & Mills: I love their understated designs (and everything else they sell) but I'm not sold on the patterns coming as 'tailor's blocks', it just feels like a gimmick. The patterns are expensive, my fisherman's smock, was £20, but I guess the reasoning behind the cardboard block is that it will last longer than a tissue pattern. However, if you're using a slubby fabric (all of their garments are shown on flat fabrics such as linen) it is hard to draw round the blocks, which can lead to inaccuracies, and the best way to get round them, is to make a tissue paper pattern using the blocks as a template! You can just about get away with not doing that on a basic pattern, but on one of their more tailored pieces, you'd want to be exact. I've made the above smock a couple of times now, and each time, there's been way too much neck interfacing, and I've ended up lopping off the excess. It's a small quibble–but at £20 a pattern, it niggles!

Serendipity Studio: I've only made the Bebe dress, but I lurve it, and will definitely make another. The patterns are so user friendly, and they direct you to online tutorials, just in case you need extra hand holding.

Hot Patterns: these are what prompted this post. I want at least a dozen of them, they look oh so very Annie Hall, and I love this slouchy skirt, which is going to be my next make. Sadly, I was disappointed when I received the pattern. For a start, the packet is too big for some letterboxes–who thought that was a good idea? It is printed on enormous sheets of printer weight paper and the instructions are not on a separate sheet – although they do look easy to follow. Most annoyingly, is the inconsistent placement of sizes (it's a multi-size pattern), sometimes they are above a cutting line, sometimes they are beneath it. In one instance, I found my size under the cutting line (closer to where the size below sits) at one end of the line, and above the line (in its correct position) at the other end of the cutting line. Luckily I double checked before cutting, or I could have ended up with pattern pieces of varying sizes!

I realise companies such as Vogue et al can afford to pay more for professional pattern checkers and testers, and that independent pattern designers want to set themselves apart by offering something different – a fresh take on an old formula. But there is a danger in trying to be too clever by half, and, overlooking the basics.

Making my own clothes feels good: I'm not just mindlessly buying stuff I don't really need, and cheap labour (well, if you exclude mine) isn't been exploited. I'd like to make more, but it's easy to be put off when a pattern doesn't live up to expectations, or is misleading. So I'd love to know if you've encountered similar problems when dressmaking (and I'm talking intermediate sewers here, not borderline professionals), especially if you've made any of the Sewaholic or Collette patterns, as there are a couple I'd quite like to try my hand at.

Have a great weekend!

Elizabeth,
x.

Liberty Lawn and a new Summer Dress

Typical: I decide to make a Summer dress, and almost immediately, the sun hides behind a big fat grey cloud! Well, the forecast may be for wind, rain, and a drop in temperature, but I'm damn well going to make that dress–although I'll probably end up wearing it with tights and boots.

I'll be making the Bebe dress by Serendipity, which has (to my mind) a beautiful shape: flattering, and modest but not too stuffy either. As much as I love Colette patterns (and the trend for retro styling in general), I sometimes feel they are a little too cute and girly, best suited to those with racing snake hips and no more than a B cup bust. I also think there comes a point in a woman's wardrobe (round about the age of 35, depending on shape and size) when you have to ask yourself 'will I look like Bette Davis in Who Killed Baby Jane, if I wear polka dots/Peter Pan collars/Mary Jane shoes/hairbands? In my case, the answer is a resounding "YES", although I have to admit to owning two Peter Pan collar tops, but they are very grown up, very sombre, very navy blue.

Does it suit me?

Back to the dress: I'll be making the longer version with puffy sleeves. My colour palette will be predictably restrained–all those clashing prints are a bit too 'court jester' for me, and I really don't understand the appeal of making a dress from quilting cottons. For the skirt and bodice I'm using a chambray, while for the sleeves and under bust trim, I'll use this Liberty Lawn, which I've completely fallen in love with. Liberty Lawn is something of a revelation to me, I've read plenty of blogs where others extoll its virtues–softness, lightness, a luxurious touch and fabulous drape–but I simply wasn't attracted to it. But this fabric is a total winner: it doesn't scream 'Liberty' print, it just suggests a subtle, almost batik pattern to me.

I haven't put scissors to cloth yet, so would love to know what you think. Will I run the risk of looking as if I've raided an overgrown child's wardrobe, or is this, as I hope, a dress for a grown woman?

Elizabeth,
x.

Hooks, eyes, and preserving my modesty

During my enforced purdha from the internet I've been making stuff, most of which I can't show you because it is destined for publication elsewhere. But I promise, I have been busy and not just lying on a chaise lounge eating bonbons.

For a start, I made a skirt but I'm not quite sure whether I like it or not. Below is a picture of the skirt (and trousers) as seen on the pattern envelope, and here it looks fine. Besides, I'd made the trousers before and absolutely loved the results, so I naturally assumed I'd fall in love with the skirt too. But there are two things about the skirt that really annoy me. Firstly the pockets are so deep that if you put anything heavier than a hanky in them, they swish and bash against your shins causing severe bruising if you do anything other than stand still. The second thing is the pocket zips: the instructions clearly state that one half of the zip tape should be sewn to the top of the skirt, meaning that it isn't concealed and looks like a big fat mistake!

On the model it looks great… 

I even liked the trousers…

Nevertheless, I've worn the skirt, and bit by bit it is growing on me, but not before I almost lost it on Wapping High Street. You see, I'm an impatient dressmaker, who often can't be bothered with pesky finishing touches, such as adding hooks and eyes or press studs. So the first time I wore the skirt I had to walk with my hand placed firmly on my hip to stop the back zip coming undone, and the skirt falling to the pavement.

It's all in the details!

It isn't the first time this has happened to me either–oh no! As a teenager, I used to make quick skirts by chopping the sleeves and necklines off old T-shirts, adding a hem then threading some elastic through it for support. Except I didn't always have elastic to hand. That didn't stop me though (I was as impatient then, as I am now) I would simply tuck the ragged end of the tube into my tights, and head out in complete youthful confidence that I looked brilliant.

One day, a friend commented on the length of my skirt, which reached nearly all the way to my ankles. Confused, I looked down to find that the tube had worked its way loose from my tights and turned into a giant snood for my lower legs. My bum and thighs were on show to the world and I was a mortified teenager!

So, you would think I might have learnt something from my youthful indiscretion, or could it be that I'm really a closet exhibitionist?

Elizabeth,
x.

A Fisherman's Smock

Simple is best.

I made a top: a simple unadorned top, but a top that tops all other tops when it comes to my quest for plain, fuss free clothing.

Recently, I've avoided making my own clothes because past experience has revealed I have terrible judgement when it comes to choosing a pattern that results in an item of clothing I'm actually happy to wear. I've lost count of the number of dresses and blouses sent to charity shops, or given away, not because they are badly made, just that they are totally unsuited to my lifestyle. I've made 50s style dresses with boned bodices and diaphanous skirts, pussy bow blouses, and slinky Beatnik t-shirts meant to casually slip off one shoulder, which I'm sure would look fabulous on someone who's as flat as a pancake, or looks like the model on the pattern envelope.

And that's the trouble–I'm not the girl on the envelope, so the result all too often looks disappointingly different on me. Add to this, that when selecting patterns, I enter a kind of sartorial twilight zone, where I really do believe I will wear halter-neck tops and skater dresses, and I usually end up with something that only ever gets worn by a coat hanger!

But last year, I found a pattern on the Merchant & Mills website, and knew instantly, that this, at last was something I would make AND wear! As you can see, it's a humble top, totally lacking in bells, and whistles, and that always makes me happy. I can throw it on over anything and it hides a multitude of Easter egg sins, and because it's made from a medium-weight tweed, it keeps me lovely and warm throughout what is turning in to the longest ever Winter in history.

Look, invisible pockets–what do you
mean, you can't see them!

I especially love the invisible pockets, which I decided not to accentuate with another line of stitching (as the pattern suggests) since, then, they'd no longer be invisible and the top would lose a little of its magic. The pattern is supplied as pre-cut stiffish card, thus giving the impression you are working with professional pattern cutter's blocks. I feel this is an unnecessary gimmick and would much have preferred a traditional tissue paper pattern that I could pin to the fabric, as I found it impossible to mark round the blocks with tailor's chalk on to my slightly slubby tweed. This meant that my pattern pieces weren't as accurate as they could/should have been, which isn't too much of an issue on such a simple garment as a fisherman's top, but certainly would be a problem if making a Merchant & Mills pattern that requires a neater fit. Fortunately, it won't cause a problem the next time I make this top as I intend to use a light chambray for the upper part, and a dark blue linen & silk mix for the bottom third, both of which fabrics will be easy to mark.

Oh yes, I'm on a roll now, and feel a renewed interest in clothes-making slowly taking hold of me. But I've learnt my lesson, and from now on, I'll stick to the basics and avoid anything with boning or pussy bow necklines–you know–the kind of thing they wear in Mad Men!

Elizabeth,
x.