Never Unpick Again!

I began sewing as a 9-year-old after I was given a toy sewing machine that really worked. I excitedly traced my hand and thumb in a mitten shape on two pieces of red calico fabric, cut the mittens out, sewed them all around the edges, and then was extremely puzzled that my hands wouldn't fit inside.

What was going on? I'd traced them to my actual hand size.

I didn't know about seam allowances then, but I learned all about them, and unpicking, as a 12-year-old Home Ec. student. It also helped that my grandmother Alta was a professional seamstress. As a nearly 6-foot-tall teen, I sewed a lot of clothes simply so they'd fit my long arms and legs. If something didn't get put together right, I unpicked it, even though it wasn't easy to cut all those tiny little tight threads and avoid cutting the fabric itself, I knew if I didn't, I'd never want to wear that puckered article of clothing.

So I was amazed to see this dress in a store, actually for sale rather than stuffed in a rag bag alongside my sewing failures.  

Do you see what I see? You may initially think, as I did, that perhaps a clueless new employee simply buttoned the dress buttons wrong, but LOOK AT THE HEM! IT'S EVEN! So why isn't the collar even?

Even the front placket is off. Who thought that this design was worth selling? A 9 year old with a toy sewing machine?

However it was created, I can imagine that it was sent to the runway in order to automatically turn it into the next big fad.

One thing it proves is that if I'm willing to wear whatever I sew with pride, and perhaps a high priced tag trailing from the sleeve, I never need to unpick again! 

Do you like fads? Do you sew? What kind of handiwork do you do?

Clothing Transformation Inherited

My grandmother was a professional seamstress, sewing wedding gowns, prom dresses, and tailoring anything, even turning men's suits into form fitted smart women's suits. She even sewed drill team uniforms for the Utah State University Aggiettes. 

(Hey, I didn't choose the name!)

My sister said I should take some "before" and "after" pictures of clothes that I fix, because I alter a lot of my own clothing, but don't think about the process it until after it's done..

Well, I didn't take before pictures of this tropical dress before I fixed it to fit me, but I remembered in time to show you what the color looked like before I got my fabric markers out.

(Confession: I actually started working on it pre-photo, but left that part out of the camera frame.)

I wore this a couple of times as a black and white tropical dress, but  in my mind that isn't tropical,

so... 

I left the dolphins white, and ADDED SOME COLORS!

Do you like black and white clothes?

Do you like colorful clothes?

A dress made out of WHAT?

My dad saved everything, including every necktie he ever owned!

Now that he's gone, what should we do with them all?

They could be re-gifted...recycled...donated...or made into a dress.

What?

Yes, made into a dress.

Impossible, you say?

Is it impossible to fly to the moon? Break the four minute mile? Write a book? Not to me, it isn't.

My son Bron said it looks like a Tinker Bell dress. Well, Tinkerbell didn't get her dress from her dad's neckties.

Don't be afraid to create!

The Incredible Shrinking Dress

It was one of those rare finds, a dress that not only looked good, but was affordable. Well, it would look good once I took it in, since it was a few sizes too big. But I have a great imagination, and when I finally got the dress home and re-sewed the seams to take in the necessary inches, it fit me great. As a bonus, it felt good, too. The first day I wore it, I got at least five compliments. It definitely worth the time and trouble to take it in, because comfortable as well as cute is a rare combination.
We would have lived happily ever after, too, if I hadn't washed it.
I know, I know, it's my own fault for not reading the care label. But, see, the thing is, I 100 %, absolutely, positively, cannot stand clothing tags touching my skin. It doesn't matter if they're sewn in the neck, side, or waistline of clothing, if they're touching my skin, they're evil. So I always cut them off. Thus, I sealed the fate of the wonderful dress. It shrank.
When I discovered the laundry room disaster, I was next to desperate. I do have other clothes, it's true, but not all of them are cute and comfortable. So I carried this broom-handle skinny strip of fabric around the house, searching for some way of making it normal sized again. I tried a folding chair, I tried the back of the rocking chair, I tried pulling and stretching it with my hands, but it shriveled back to impossibly small as soon as I let go.
ARGH! If I'd only left it big before I washed it, it would probably have fit me just right once it was washed. But how's a girl to know?
I finally tugged it over the back of an upholstered chair. It didn't all fit on there, the shoulders weren't wide enough, but it was all I had and I left it overnight to dry.
The next day, voila! The skirt was wide enough again, wide enough for this woman to wear with a little bit of swish to spare! But wait... what's this? Two bumps right at hip height where the chair ended and the dress continued on. Great. Just where I don't need extra inches.
Next time I go to the fabric store, I'll just have to look for some fabric to match. I can cut some strips and sew them into the sides. After all, cute and comfortable don't come along every day.