It's probably not advisable to try to get a sewing task finished before catching a train. Usually that kind of pressure results in dreadful mistakes. But today, my white waiter's apron was started and finished with enough time to stroll calmly to the train.
Unpicking is not fun, but there is a sweet satisfaction in fixing an error. The original stitching unpicked then put back together correctly and neatly. Ta-dah!
I do enjoy making things. Today's mission was to make bias binding for a waistcoat I'm making. I know you can buy it already made and perfectly ironed, but doing it myself is very satisfying and means I understand much better how it works.
Twas quite the pleasure to put on my finished 1890s suit this weekend to bring Ballarat's Umbrella lady, Mrs Muller, to life. The many layers of joy in doing so warrants a longer post, so I shall restrict this one to the dressmaking. I am absolutely delighted by how well the jacket turned out and
A peplum hem is long. Much longer than I expected. Eventually I got there, after hand-stitching the outer fabric, then machine stitching the lining (a little bit of a cheat), then hand-stitching lining to the outer. The wonderful thing about repetition is how it improves skills - by the time I finished it, I was
I'm not sure how I feel about the very thin, brown paper that dressmaking patterns are printed on. Regardless, it is very satisfying having cut out all the pieces, with their numbers and notches, fold lines and seam allowances, ready to cut out the fabric. I don't think I've ever cut out this many pieces
Took up the school dress to the requested length. Did it badly. Remembered how to use the hemming stitch. Unpicked and rehemmed the school dress. Daughter is horrified - too short. Unpicked the hem. Stitched the old hem back on. Rehemmed the dress again. Daughter is happy. Mother is pleased that she has practiced her
The creation of my 18th century gown is a long, slow process, but given there are no deadlines right now, that's alright. I have taken apart the jacket to make it fit me better, as I think I cut the pattern and forgot to check my measurements against it. I've adjusted the darts and shoulders,
I am falling in love with my sewing machine again. Like any new love it is taking over parts of ordinary life, in this case, the dining table. It sits there looking at me as I go about my day, pleading for attention, and I cannot resist. Despite bloodshed (with the scissors not the machine),
I default to my sewing machine over a needle and thread ninety percent of the time. Today, however, I picked up the needle to craft my bows. Seated on the carpet in the north sun flooding my lounge room, I sat and stitched my satin bows into gathered plumpness. Twas a beautifully gentle and relaxing
