Ye Olde Renaissance Pleasure Faire

We got up super-early so that we could get out there in
time for the opening ceremony. Here I am in my full garb!

On Saturday, Elaine and her fiance, Mu, came with me to the Ren Faire in Irwindale. Mu is a real faire person, having worked at the faires in both NorCal and Tucson, and he got Elaine into it, and she got me into it, and The Dreamstress made me believe that I could make my own costume, and that is how I ended up at the faire in my own home-made garb! It was seriously so much more fun (and accurate) than my first Ren Faire dress-up experience.

Oddly enough, my black unlined unfinished-seam polyester fake suede bodice from last time (which was really so many kinds of wrong) was made using the same pattern that I used for my kirtle. This time, though, I have three additional years of sewing experience under my belt, and more knowledge about historical costuming thanks to many hours of research. Last time, I thought one could just throw things together in a generic, vaguely historical fantasy wench sort of look; knowing what I know now, I look at my uncovered, unsecured hair and crimson tiered skirts with a sort of cringe-face. I have to say that Mu was incredibly gracious last time in lending me a hat to cover my head and a belt for my pouch and generally helping me make the best I could of my thrown-together costume. This time, I still had to borrow his belt (not having located a suitable one in my thrifting adventures), but I felt much better about my whole outfit.

It was pirate weekend at the faire, so there were many, many people in generic pirate-y things, and I have to say that I was very tempted to just go as a generic pirate queen, but I'm glad I went as I did. We had lots of fun wandering around looking at the wares (I did indulge in a tiny working brass spyglass), eating overpriced faire food (a surprisingly tasty cottage pie), admiring the nobility's costumes (and wondering how they could stand so many layers on a sweltering day), watching various naughty minstrel shows (I especially enjoyed the Merry Wives of Windsor and the Poxy Boggards), and watching demos and learning about various artisanal crafts (leather stamping, quill pen making, blacksmithing, weaving, and blackwork embroidery).

One of the first things we did was make little stamped leather necklaces at the kids' table. Yup, that's right, and of course I chose a triceratops horned dragon. I'm just a kid at heart, what with dressing up an all.

With a "real" dragon.

Don't drop the Queen! The procession was very grand, and the costumes incredible.

The Merry Wives of Windsor, with some incredible stripe-matching to make the chevrons in their bodices.

The very nice lady at St. Ives who showed us how to clean, temper, hollow out and carve feathers for quill pens.

Blackwork embroidery on a standing frame.

Spinning and weaving.

Totally random: there was a Nazgul wandering around! I snagged a picture with him and his incredible armor.

We came home hot and dusty and tired, but it was so much fun. To cap it all off, Elaine and I indulged in all-you-can-eat Korean BBQ, thereby adding another layer of smoky smells to our wandering-around-sweating-in-crowds smell. All in all, an excellent day. I'm so glad that Elaine and Mu were willing to drive out from Tucson to go to the faire with me!

And because I've been forgetting to post poems, for this last day of National Poetry Month, one of my absolute favorite geeky poems:

The Day the Saucers Came, by Neil Gaiman

That day, the saucers landed.
Hundreds of them, golden,

Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,

And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,

Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us

And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow

But you didn't notice it because 

That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,

Was the day that the graves gave up their dead

And the zombies pushed up through soft earth

or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,

Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,

But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was

Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us

A ship built of dead-man's nails, a serpent, a wolf,

All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could

Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out

But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke

And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites

Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities

And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold

While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,

But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day the zombie day

The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came

And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day

All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the

Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day

Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,

And all the bells of London were sounded, the day

Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,

The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,

You didn't notice any of this because

you were sitting in your room, not doing anything

not even reading, not really, just

looking at your telephone,

wondering if I was going to call.

And if you wanted to hear it read aloud, I like this version because it sounds so grave and important. Thanks for bearing with all the random poems this month!

Four Sew Weekly Challenges in One Dress!

I have fallen dreadfully behind in Sew Weekly Challenges. I think it started when I couldn't think of anything to make for the inspired-by-art challenge; my favorites all lend themselves to costume-y pieces, and good heavens, I've got enough costumes as it is. Then I got into getting ready for the Ren Faire, and things just fell further and further by the wayside. Well, I'm remedying that situation by completing four challenges in one fell swoop: is that a record? Please let it be a record! Anyway, here's the potentially record-setting dress:

Look! I'm a giant! With a giant, but perfectly fitted butt.

Side view: I am so happy with the fit!

Challenges accepted:

1. Mad Men: This is the curve-hugging sheath dress of Joan's, as I knew I should have just done in the first place, only in a totally not-Joan fabric. But I took the time to really fit the dress, even in the above-the butt area that usually ends up saggy. Because Joan would never wear a saggy-butt dress.
2. Pantone Colors: Here are Cabaret, Starfish, Sweet Lilac, Driftwood, and Cockatoo, all in one fabulous fabric (Odyssea by MoMo for Moda).
3. Very Important Pieces: I only had 1.5 yards of this fabric because I got the end of the bolt, and it's so unique that I knew I had to save it for something deserving of its awesomeness. This was the kick I needed, and I had barely enough for this sheath dress. 
4. Local Color: A marine print for the city of my heart, The City By The Bay, San Francisco, where I grew up and am so excited to be moving back to for the summer! I was so thrilled that it was a gorgeous weekend -- so sunny and warm and clear and totally unlike its usual foggy self -- when my husband took pictures we were able to see all the way down to Ocean Beach and all the way over to the Colma Hills. That is very rare indeed! I wanted to hike up (because there are four huge hills) to the reservoir so we could get a shot with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, but we had a wedding rehearsal to get to, unfortunately. 

Staring down at the ocean while my husband worries about us getting run over.

This dress, in case you don't recognize it, is yet another version of my TNT McCall's 5845.  I finally got around to recording my changes to this pattern: wider and lower armscyes, lowered front neckline, raised back neckline, narrowed center back seam at the top, longer and more scoop-y back darts in the skirt.  I also attempted to put in a back vent, but was thrown off by the lining. It's a little wonky inside, but nobody will see it, right? Oh wait, except that I once again tried flipping it inside out to wear: when I walked out into the living room, my husband's first comment was "Goodness, how many dresses did you bring with you?!" See, I did such a good job with lining it, he thought it was another dress! Okay, the fact that I used an old patterned sheet for the lining probably had something to do with it, but come on, give it to me.

It's like Miss Lavender goes to Hawaii, the sheath dress version!

The hem is finished with seam binding and invisibly catch-stitched. I love how it looks from the outside! The inside...ehh. I tried following Sunni's tutorial but was totally confused, so I ended up just winging it. And here's another question: when you make something with this many colors going on, how do you choose a thread/zipper color? I went with a cockatoo-ish thread for the fuschia zipper because that's what I had...I guess I could have hand-picked the zipper and switched colors for every section of color.

A closer look at the inside.

The back with the zipper and non-matching thread. Hmm, I should probably put a hook and eye at the top there.

Fish-scale belt! And a close-up of all the phaeophyta, and the weirdly branched sea creature tentacles?

Summary:
Fabric: 1.5 yards 44" wide 100% cotton twill for the shell, poly-cotton blend sheet for the lining
Notions: 22" zipper, seam binding tape
Hours: Six-ish, mostly because of zipper issues (I had to rip it out and put it in several times), trying to figure out the vent, and hand-finishing the hem
Will you make this again? Almost certainly, as this is my sixth incarnation of this pattern, albeit only the second one with the actual skirt pattern, and even then with some significant changes...
Total cost: $8 for the fabric (yay for end-of-the-bolt discounts!) and $2 for the zipper, so $10! When I showed it off for my very frugal dad and told him how much it cost me, he approved (actually even my dad, who tends not to care about/notice clothing very much at all, was impressed with the level of fit I managed to get on this dress). 
Final thoughts: This dress is what a bizarre Joan+Ms. Frizzle cross would wear for teaching about marine ecosystems. In other words, I love it. I am also pleased that I have a fish-scale belt to go with it! I think Ms. Frizzle would approve, although I'm still working on aquatic earrings and shoes. I only wish sheath dresses didn't get so wrinkly across the hips from sitting, but oh well, you can't expect to have your cake and eat it too (and this dress is definitely cake!).

My city is so beautiful when it's not shrouded in fog!

And for the perfect San Francisco poem (only the fog tends not to move on):

Fog, by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on. 


Now I need to get started on that kirtle that I thought I had all that time to make. We're going to the fair(e) this Saturday, eep!

Thoughts on Teaching and Sewing Confessions

That is exactly what it looks like: a neon pink
leopard-print nightgown (fabric donated to me, then gladly
re-donated to her, because when would I ever use it?) She
loves it though -- wears it every night, according to mom.

So I've been going over to Small Human Being's home almost every Wednesday since the beginning of the year, and it has definitely been a learning experience for all concerned: SHB, of course, SHB's mom, SHB's younger brother, and me! This is the longest series of sewing lessons I've ever given -- before I left San Diego, I held a biweekly sewing club with some friends of mine, but we only ever made non-apparel items over a couple of months. With SHB, her young age, and her goal of "being a fashion designer," I've had to think more carefully about how to approach sewing with her. We started out with making up our own simple patterns based on her pre-existing clothes, which works pretty well since she's a SHB, and therefore mostly cylindrical without the sticky-outy bits that we grown women must put in darts for.

Anyway, after several sessions involving a pillow (non-fitted), a purse (non-fitted), a muumuu (non-fitted), curtains for her room (non-fitted), a gathered knit skirt with an elastic waist (non-fitted), and a nightgown (non-fitted: are you seeing a trend here?), we have finally moved onto something that is not elastic or slip-on: Butterick 5443, an actual zippered dress. Thankfully, it is also something that I excel at: the sleeveless fitted bodice and full skirt look! This project is actually more of a me + SHB's mom kind of project right now, as she has expressed a desire to learn how to use patterns. I think my sketch-a-rough-pattern-on-wrapping-paper-and-think-apart-how-it-might-go-together approach scares her. As we started going over how to decipher the yardage charts on the back of the envelope, the layout diagrams in the instructions, and the pinning and cutting, I realized that I am not a very disciplined sewist.

See, despite having a science background, when it comes to my sewing, I'm very fly-by-the-seat-of-those-pants-that-I-have-never-made. I'm all about fudging things when I can, considering the measurements to be mere suggestions (much like lane markings in rural Taiwan), and making very, very good friends with my seam ripper. Tim Gunn's "make it work" is my mantra not because I try complicated things, but because I wasn't paying attention to the recommendations in the first place. You know all my Pattern Review reviews? They all say "I didn't use them" as the answer to the question about the clarity of the instructions. I think that's why I'm so hesitant to tackle sleeves and pants: those things require meticulous measuring and marking and cutting and following directions. Anyway, all those issues came to the forefront when I tried to explain things like matching the grainline arrow on the paper pattern to the fabric, or making sure to pin before cutting. I had to remember not to just eyeball it; I want other sewists to learn good habits from me, which they can then discard later if they choose.

So here are my sewing sins, as were brought to light through teaching; please don't judge me too harshly!

• I usually don't pay attention to grainline. I usually eyeball it and try to get close, but when one uses old sheets as yardage, cutting layouts usually don't apply.
• Okay, let's face it, I never look at the cutting layouts, even when I do have standard-sized yardage. I think today was the first time I did so seriously, and even then I managed to screw up on one piece. 
• I don't pin before I cut. I just arrange things more or less right, and then cut carefully with a couple of books as pattern-weights, and hope things don't shift too much. 
• I'm really bad at marking my changes on patterns I plan on making multiple times: every time I've sewn M5845, I've had to bring in the top of the back bodice when inserting the zipper...I guess I have a narrow upper back? Anyway, I was sewing yet another version of it yesterday night, and I guess it's been awhile and I forgot about that, because I had to rip out my zipper eight times to get it right. Also, my knit tee block invariable ends up too loose at the waist, which is an easy fix, but it's still a little silly to have to redo the side seams every. freaking. time. At least now I've documented these changes, so hopefully I won't have to make these mistakes again?
• I never used to finish my seam allowances, but I've tried to change that since seeing Neeno's and Leimomi's glowing examples. It's still a bit of pick and choose, though, when I use seam binding and when I just pink, but at least I'm thinking about it? My consolation is that I've seen blouses from the 30s that survived just fine with pinking only, so I'll just wash my things carefully...
• I don't trace my patterns. Not even the vintage ones. I cut them out, but I will say that I don't make changes to the pattern tissue. Those changes all happen as I'm sewing on the actual garment, which might explain why I don't have any of them documented for the future. 

 

See? Just pinked! And it's survive

I conclude my sewing confessions by saying (hopefully, knock on wood) that none of my garments have turned out terribly despite the grainline ignorance (well, minus a couple of slightly wonky knit tees that didn't matter), and nothing has fallen apart in the wash yet, but I suppose I should really try harder to be careful, especially now that I'm teaching others the art of dressmaking. It's kind of like the one time that a student walked in on me prepping for lab without my goggles on (my excuse being that it was all in the fume hood and the partition was almost all the way down). I will say that the one area I never skimp in is ironing. I always press my seams flat, to the sides, and then open from both sides. But then, that might just be because pressing is what saves my garment from looking as terrible as the fudged meaurements/cuts/seams would have predicted.

Do you have any sewing confessions? Or are you all just super-duper angelic sewasaurus rexes?

See, that's all of you perfect little sewasaurus rexes over there in your clique, with your pattern instructions and pins and tracing wheel and cutting diagrams, while I'm the awkward one in the corner cutting up vintage patterns and eating Fray Check.

And finally, one of my favorite poems about teaching: 

Did I Miss Anything? by Tom Wayman

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full two hours

Everything. I gave an exam worth
40 percent of the grade for this term
and assigned some reading due today
on which I’m about to hand out a quiz
worth 50 percent

Nothing. None of the content of this course
has value or meaning
Take as many days off as you like:
any activities we undertake as a class
I assure you will not matter either to you or me
and are without purpose

Everything. A few minutes after we began last time
a shaft of light suddenly descended and an angel
or other heavenly being appeared
and revealed to us what each woman or man must do
to attain divine wisdom in this life and
the hereafter
This is the last time the class will meet
before we disperse to bring the good news to all people on earth.

Nothing. When you are not present
how could something significant occur?

Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human experience
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been gathered

but it was one place

And you weren’t here

Posing in Mah Elizabethan Undawears

I look dubious because I'm standing outside in only my shift! Good heavens! Mercy me!

I don't know if it's called a shift or a smock or a chemise, or all three are interchangeable, but here I am in mine. This makes me the Elizabethan equivalent of a centerfold. Only it's the awkwardest centerfold ever.

Close-ups of the details.

So yeah, I'm done with my shift/smock/chemise! Like the pair of bodies, it's made using Drea Leed's custom pattern generator (but with the construction directions given here), and like the pair of bodies, it's more hand-sewing than I normally do on a project. The collar and cuffs and neck slit are all done by hand with a combination of whipstitching, backstitching, and slip-stitching. I even worked up the courage to put in the ugliest underarm gussets ever. I can see that this is a technique I'm going to really need to work on before tackling those Vintage Vogue patterns in my stash. The resulting garment is exactly like every loose, mostly shapeless nightgowny thing I've seen, but it's super comfortable and the sleeves are excellent for being dramatic. Also, it makes an excellent base for a pirate outfit! Gosh, I really wish I could get away with wearing this out of the house on a regular basis. Dressing up is too fun to save for just one day a year.

With my red underbust corset, black boots, and a generic RTW gathered gray skirt. And unbrushed hair, because obviously pirate queens have better things to do than brush their hair. They're too busy buckling swashes.

I also need some giant gold earrings to make this work. And possibly a dirk between my teeth.

And in honor of my generic piratry, a poem from one of my favorite must-read-aloud poets:

Pirate Captain Jim, by Shel Silverstein

"Walk the plank," says Pirate Jim.
"But Captain Jim, I cannot swim."
"Then you must steer us through the gale."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot sail."
"Then down with the galley slaves you go."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot row."
"Then you must be a pirate's clerk."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot work."
"Then a pirate captain you must be."
"Thank you, Jim," says Captain Me.

Yucky underarm gusset. I think it would have made more sense to attach it
to the sleeve first, then sew the entire thing onto the body, instead of
this awkward fudging at the corner.

Summary:
Fabric: Three yards of 35" 100% cotton muslin
Notions: None! Unless you count the very anachronistic satin rattail cuff ties...what is one actually supposed to use? Lauren or Leimomi?
Techniques: Hand-worked eyelets at the cuffs, hand stitches, underarm and shoulder gussets
Hours: About six, but again, that's mostly due to the hand-sewing.
Will you make this again? I would like to make one for my husband (but obviously shirt length and without the side gores) to wear for a pirate outfit, but then he's not into dressing up so that's pretty unlikely.
Total cost: $6
Final thoughts: Good? It seems a little large for me, but that's easily fixable for the next time. I'm also concerned about the billowiness of the sleeves when it comes to fitting underneath a kirtle/through armholes. But then, a quick googling reveals that there are definitely some similarly huge ones out there, so I guess it's okay?


Now it's on to the kirtle, which will be equally materially inaccurate, being made from an old blue bedsheet and lined in the linen-rayon blend that I originally got for the shift, only it was too stiff. I may make a slight detour for a bit of a sewing break, though, and whip up another more modern dress. I've been totally ignoring the Sew Weekly challenges in favor of trying to push out this Ren Faire outfit, but now that it looks like I have plenty of time...oh gosh, I just jinxed myself, didn't I?

Finished Elizabethan Pair of Bodies!

It's been a long process, but my woefully historically inaccurate pair of bodies is done!

Note my vague attempt at Elizabethan fashion in the form of those collar ruffs, the lady's shoulder poofs, and the gentleman's elaborate doublet. They are obviously a pair, and the blood, the X-ed out eyes, and tongues sticking out indicate that they are most decidedly dead, and therefore are only bodies, a mere shell of a human, no longer possessed of their souls.

Just kidding. I promise I'll stop with the pair of bodies jokes; I just can't resist. I really meant that I'm finished with my conical torso-shaping "corset," although that term wasn't used until much later. Unfortunately, I haven't got any pictures of it on me since it's back-lacing, and I can't do it up myself. It will have to wait until the weekend of the faire when Elaine is here to lace me up. Until now, pictures on Cecily will have to suffice. It's not quite a true representation of what it will look like on me, since unlike Cecily, I am not made of foam, my bust is smaller, and my torso is longer and less cylindrical. But it still looks pretty good, at least to me...mind you, I am not sure what one is actually supposed to look like, but if I were to answer the Pattern Review question, "Did it look like the drawing on the pattern envelope?" I would say yes, almost exactly.

As I mentioned before, I used Drea Leed's Custom Corset Pattern Generator for the pattern; it was easy to use and her directions, while they could benefit from some real-life photos, are perfectly sufficient. Even the boned-tabbed version, which she describes as the most difficult, is not actually that hard to make, just time consuming. I did change the front busk into just more boning channels, as my initial experiments with a wooden paint-stirrer stick down the middle just felt weird and uncomfortable. Other than that, I followed her boning patterns, but with slightly more room between the pairs of bones where the tabs split in order to have space to cut and bind the tabs.

Here's what the inside looks like. It's the same upholstery canvas I used in my 1912 scalloped skirt.

Close-up of the tabs. I wasn't entirely successful at making all my stitches invisible, but I'll just file that under the "good enough" category. I also didn't know what to do about finishing the back edges, so I ended up folding over the outer fabric and stitching it down to make another boning channel. 

I am really happy with how the binding looks with the outer fabric! Even those hairpin turns weren't that bad!

Don't you like my anachronistic lacings as well?
All I had was a couple of mismatched shoelaces. Also, note the extra eyelet.

Summary:
Fabric: The outer fabric is a poly-cotton tablecloth from a bag of donated fabrics, the inner fabric is upholstery canvas of unknown content from the same bag. Not ideal materials, I know, but they were all that I had in my stash that wasn't stretchy.
Notions: Plastic cable ties for boning, narrow double fold bias tape for the binding, jeans top-stitching thread for the eyelets
Techniques used: Hand-worked eyelets, sharp turns with bias binding
Hours: Ummmm...let's just say a lot. I don't think I've ever done so much hand-sewing before! Just to give you an idea of how long it took, binding four tabs took me all of The Importance of Being Earnest.
Will you make this again? Even though this took forever, it was nowhere near the nightmare I was afraid it was going to be. I'm pretty sure it will be a while before I need another pair of bodies, but I would not be opposed to making another one (another pair?).
Total cost: The fabric was free, but the bias tape cost $2 and the cable ties were $8, so all in all, $10.
Final thoughts: I feel like I can't have final thoughts about this yet, seeing as how I haven't worn it properly, but so far things look good? I know that the waist could be smaller, and I accidentally made one eyelet too many on one side (asj&g#@!), but mostly I have decent thoughts about it?

Why, Cecily, how marvelously conical your torso looks today!

And for a poem from a similar time period, my favorite of Shakespeare's sonnets:

Sonnet 130, by William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

And if you prefer your poetry read aloud, you can even have Severus Snape/Judge Turpin read it to you!

Spring Rain

Why is it that it rains every time we need to go to Costco? Anyway, whenever it rains I think of this poem, one of my favorites:

Spring Rain, by Sara Teasdale

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.

I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.

The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light’s stain.

With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say… .

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain. 




The pair of bodies is so close to completion -- just four more tabs to bind! Unfortunately, I already know that they're too big in the waist; it's going to lace almost closed there...oh bother. I guess I should've taken into account the relative squishiness of my waist when using the CCPG. Also, the shift/chemise/smock is on its way to completion as well! Looks like I might be able to make my Ren Faire deadline after all, although part of me is still the tiniest bit sad to not go as a generic pirate queen.

A Series of Easter Poems

Not sewing related, of course.

The Coming, by R. S. Thomas

And God held in his hand
A small globe. Look he said.
The son looked. Far off,
As through water, he saw
A scorched land of fierce
Colour. The light burned
There; crusted buildings
Cast their shadows: a bright
Serpent, A river
Uncoiled itself, radiant
With slime.
On a bare
Hill a bare tree saddened
The sky. many People
Held out their thin arms
To it, as though waiting
For a vanished April
To return to its crossed
Boughs. The son watched
Them. Let me go there, he said.


The Crucifixion, by Steve Turner

You were one with the Father.
Then the Father turned his back on you.
You felt forsaken,
hanging there between heaven's thunder
and the dank spittle of earth.

For that moment you belonged nowhere.
You were love, cut off from love;
truth nailed down by lies.
You must have wanted to explode, to disintegrate,
to disappear into a void.
But that was forbidden.
And that was the test.

Your blood burst through your skin
and ran down like sweat.
Your sweat ran cold
and drained into your heart.
The universe caught hold of your pain.
The sun went blind with grief.
The earth shivered in shock.
History was torn in two.

I stood at a distance,
my collar turned up,
like a murderer witnessing
a wrongful arrest.


The Morning That Death Was Killed, by Steve Turner

I woke in a place that was dark
The air was spicy and still
I was bandaged from head to foot
The morning that death was killed.

I rose from a mattress of stone
I folded my clothes on the sill
I heard the door rolling open
The morning that death was killed.

I walked alone in the garden
The birds in the branches trilled
It felt like a new beginning
The morning that death was killed.

Mary, she came there to find me
Peter with wonder was filled
And John came running and jumping
The morning that death was killed.

My friends were lost in amazement
My father, I knew, was thrilled
Things were never the same again
After the morning that death was killed.

So-so Springy Sampler Sheath

You know how when you start embroidery, you're supposed to make a sampler of all your different stitches? And it's not really meant to be a treasure-forever piece, more just for practicing techniques? Well, this dress is like that. I started it as a wearable muslin of sorts, just to test out a new pattern (McCall's 5927), and I wasn't a big fan of the fabrics I used. But they were very springy, and I wanted to make a new dress for Easter.

Pretty insides!

This dress is supposed to be lined, but since this was just a muslin, I didn't bother. Also I was feeling lazy because of spring break, and I didn't want to go through the trouble of thinking about how to do a lining when there are sleeves to deal with. So instead of lining it, I finished the neck and armholes with bias tape, then slipstitched the tape to the dress. I also finished the hem with seam binding and slipstitched that, too. I've gotten much better at making my stitches invisible, but it still takes me forever. Which begs the question -- should I be trying to become a faster hand-sewer, or just bask in the process? I feel like trying to speed up makes my stitches sloppy, but it really takes an abominably long time for me to do just one armhole. I think I spent at least two hours on the hand-sewing on this dress (2 episodes of The Big Bang Theory, 1 episode of Chopped).

I do like how the hem looks with the pop of pink.

Where blue is the skirt fabric, and black is the bodice fabric, and red is stitching.

I also chose to practice my flat-felled seams on the shoulders and bodice sides. They're fairly unobtrusive in the sea of white, but I didn't feel like they would work on the skirt. The skirt went together quickly and quietly; I much prefer sewing tucks to darts, but the hip pockets feel weirdly tiny after getting used to my normal, huge, side seam pockets. I did this weird thing on the waist seam where I almost flat-felled it, but instead just finished the one side and stitched that down over the other, trimmed waist seam. Is there a name for that, or did I just make up a fake seam finish?

Not quite in focus, but you get the idea.

The last technique I tried on this dress was an arrowhead tack on the back vent. It's not a real vent, you know, the kind where there's an overlap and a little slanted seam; this is just a split where the center back seam stops. Given how violently I walk, I figured it could use some help holding together. I didn't use embroidery floss, as it seemed a bit like overkill; normal sewing thread seems to be doing just fine and suits the scale better.


After I finished the dress, I checked the weather forecast for San Francisco this Sunday, and it's supposed to rain. Of course it is. So I'm not even going to bother bringing this dress; instead I just quickly snapped some pictures downstairs outside the apartment building.

My first experience with hip pockets!

It looks okay as long as you're far away and the lighting is kind of dim.

And it wasn't until I was going through the photos that I noticed it -- the dreaded nipply bust dart. Curse the dim light in my sewing room that let me miss that in my multiple fittings! A quick googling revealed that even the esteemed Gertie has had this issue before; that made me feel better instantly. More googling unearthed a helpful tutorial for fixing my darts, and a brief stint with my seam ripper and sewing machine produced this:

Also note how invisible my stitches are for the bias facings!

Not entirely fixed, but much better. I think the problem with this pattern is that there's only the two giant darts, and so all that width needing to be taken out of the waist kind of necessitates a pointy dart. When I curved the seam to fix some of the pointy-ness, it ended up making the bust a little too large, since less fabric was being taken out in the dart. Rather than futz with this pattern to get it to work, I think I'm just going to be lazy and stick with my TNT bodice pattern, M5845, and just modify the armholes and neckline to work with the sleeves and all.

Or would that be a swayback adjustment? Or a sway booty?

Summary:
Fabric: 100% cotton, with tiny white dots, for the top, and 50/50 cotton/poly blend tablecloth for the skirt (this is the same fabric I'm using for my pair of bodies, which I'm pretty sure is anathema to real corsetiers, but it was the only fabric I had that wouldn't stretch)
Notions: a 22" cream-colored zip, seam binding on the hem, bias tape for finishing the neck/arms
Techniques used: Slipstitching, flat-felled seams, arrowhead tack
Hours: Five-ish, but mostly because of the hand-sewing.
Netflix queue: Lost in Austen, and the aforementioned TV episodes
Will you make this again? Almost certainly not. Besides the bodice dart issues, I'm also not happy with the fit of the skirt in the back -- I lack a booty to fill it out. Actually, I may use the front of the skirt with the hip pockets again.
Total cost: $4 for the zipper and bias tape; the fabric was donated, and therefore free.
Final thoughts: I guess when you start out feeling meh about the fabric, it's not surprising when the final dress is just so-so, too. Also, I don't really like how this is supposed to be a sheath dress, but it's not actually fitted; I feel like it makes me look more rectangular than I actually am. Although, I think I would like this a lot better in a more wintry fabric, like a thick plaid or houndstooth something.  Maybe I'll try it again in a couple seasons when I've forgotten about all of these issues.

This picture, pre-dart-fix, pretty much expresses my sentiments on this dress: just meh.

I feel a little out of sorts sewing-wise; my last two dresses haven't made me very excited at all, and my Ren Faire outfit is taking too long to be able to sustain any sort of excitement over it. I'm feeling the need for something more retro, vibrant, fun, and me. Not that I am always retro, vibrant, or fun. But you know what I mean. Sooo...it's back to the crazy bedsheet stash! Also, I am totally recanting my vow to not make anymore dresses with fitted bodices and full skirts. You all are so right -- if it works, why stop? If the sewing police come to my door and demand to know why I'm not moving on as a seamstress, I'll go all sewasaurus rex on them and wave my pair of bodies in their faces with my ineffectually tiny arms.

Ignore my atrocious rendition of a clipboard, pen, citation, and badge. Also, this was a pun begging to be made.

Continuing in the theme of animal poems, and appropriate for my doodle:

The Riddle of the Dinosaur, by Bert Leston Taylor

Behold the mighty dinosaur,
Famous in prehistoric lore,
Not only for his weight and length,
But for his intellectual strength.

You will observe by these remains
The creature had two sets of brains,
The one in his head, the usual place,
The other at his spinal base.

Thus he could reason a priori
As well as a posteriori.
No problem bothered him a bit,
He made both head and tail of it.

So wise he was, so wise and solemn,
Each thought filled just a spinal column.
If one brain found the pressure strong,
It passed a few ideas along.

It something slipped the forward mind
’Twas rescued by the one behind.
And if in error he was caught
He had a saving afterthought.

As he thought twice before he spoke
He had no judgment to revoke.
For he could think without congestion
Upon both sides of every question.

O gaze upon this noble beast,
Defunct ten million years at least.

Written in 1912 (how appropriate, too, that we are celebrating this poem's 100th anniversary!), back when it was thought that Stegosaurus had an extra bundle of neurons in its butt to help control its hindquarters.

I Promise, Sewing Has Been Happening

It's not just been all making up ridiculous blog awards and drawing on the iPad here, it's just that the sewing I've done hasn't been photographable yet. The pair of bodies was coming along swimmingly (if somewhat tediously -- all those boning channels!) until I discovered that I was three bones short. And hardware stores aren't open round the clock, so I had to wait to get more cable ties. Also, does anyone else find it awesome that there are bones in my pair of bodies? I love sewing terminology!

I've also been working on my Easter dress, which I'm not even sure it will be warm enough to wear on Sunday, as I will be going back to The City for my brother's baptism. And everyone knows that, as Mark Twain never actually said, the coldest winter is a summer in San Francisco. What that makes April in SF, I don't know, but let's just say that my Easter dress is a flimsy little unlined cotton thing. But! It has sleeves! Of sorts. And it's got a slim skirt! So there you have it, at least it's not a repeat of every other dress I've made, ever.

Speaking of which, a hearty thanks to all of you who had such nice things to say about my failed Peggy dress, and who encouraged me to go on making the same type of dress if that's what suits my figure best. I'm still not sure what I think, as there's a tiny niggling voice in the back of my head that says if I'm not moving on to trousers and coats in silk and wool, I'm not progressing as a seamstress. If only the thrift stores here in The City of Culver City sold bedsheets made of more challenging and sumptuous fabrics, and not just cotton-poly blends! I do have one piece of very nice thrifted wool yardage, but it's just too daunting to think about just yet -- the pre-steaming, the thick seams, the fact that I would have to use a suitably nice lining and not just muslin, the unlikelihood of ever thrifting more if I mess up, and oh, that it's going to be summer soon? It's so much easier to just sew up fun sundresses that average $5 apiece. Tanit-Isis was right, this is the absolute worst time of year to be swearing off sleeveless sundresses.

Please excuse my prattling. Here, have some pictures of animals behaving cutely instead (courtesy of our trip to the SD zoo for spring break):

Polar bear butt! *snicker* It's swimming with a bone!

Elephants hanging out in an awfully futuristic-looking enclosure. It looks like a Planet of the Elephants movie or something.

But if you zoom in, it turns out that the elephant on the left is actually telling a hilarious joke to the other elephant,
who is not amused at all.

Or maybe the elephant was just reciting some of Ogden Nash's ridiculously clever poetry about other zoo animals:

The Lion 
Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness. 

The Panther
The panther is like a leopard,
Except it hasn't been peppered.
Should you behold a panther crouch,
Prepare to say Ouch.
Better yet, if called by a panther,
Don't anther.

And lest you think I am too felid-obsessed:

The Praying Mantis
From whence arrived the praying mantis?
From outer space, or lost Atlantis?
I glimpse the grim, green metal mug
That masks this pseudo-saintly bug,
Orthopterous, also carnivorous,
And faintly whisper, Lord deliver us. 


I do love me some cleverly rhymed poems.

The Joys of Hand-Worked Eyelets (and Other Things)

I finally got started on the pair of bodies (aka Elizabethan corset) that I was planning on making for the upcoming Ren Faire. I used Drea Leed's Custom Corset Pattern Generator, modified it according to her instructions for the strapless, boned tabbed version, and then dived right in. Unfortunately (historically accurate purists, look away!), I don't have room in the budget for coutil right now (Richard the Thread is close by and reasonably priced, but they have a minimum order of five yards!), so I had to make do with the rest of that donated upholstery canvas for my strength layer. The other layer is part of a tablecloth, also from that same bag of donated fabric. I tried stretching both and they seemed fairly sturdy; I know it's not kosher but this is really a practice corset anyway. I'm not a rennie or historical reenactor, so this is more for the experience of making one, and if something comes up in the future I can try my hand with more appropriate materials.

Cream-colored tablecloth with light green swirls + floral home-dec canvas, eyelets in gold jeans thread.

Speaking of inappropriate materials, my wooden busk is a paint stirrer (thanks to the nice employee at Dunn-Edwards for just giving me four even though I didn't buy anything!) and my boning is going to be cable ties. If I were using metal grommets, I could have even more hardware store materials in this, but no, my one nod to historical accuracy is hand-worked eyelets. I never thought I'd say this, but they made me incredibly excited. Like, so-excited-I-couldn't-sleep excited. Once I got the method worked out and my eyelets started looking more regular (and I got faster at it), I just wanted to put eyelets in everything! I think my husband thought I was crazy. Anyway, here's the tutorial I used. I took her advice and used topstitching thread (leftover from hemming jeans for someone) to do them, and it is indeed a pleasure to work with. Although, I am thinking I might need to get some beeswax if I keep up this hand-sewing thing. It took me all of Strictly Ballroom (I love that movie so much!), which I just discovered on Netflix, to finish the eyelets. The first one took about fifteen minutes, but eventually I got it down to two minutes each!

The other thing that's been keeping me up is excitement over the Paper app by 53. It's a sketching/notebook app that comes with various "pens" and a pre-set color palette, and it is seriously awesome. I am rediscovering my love of drawing through it. So much so, I decided to start a tumblr just for my sketches (almost entirely of Walnut) since Blogger isn't the best for posting lots of pictures. I'm still learning the nuances and idiosyncrasies of the app, and Walnut keeps getting up halfway through my sketches (it's like he KNOWS I want him to stay still, that contrary old thing), but it is really so. much. fun.

I love how his mane is so big and fluffy, it starts swallowing up his head.

Today's poem is the first poem I remember loving. I had to memorize a poem for recitation in seventh grade, and this is the one I chose. Do you remember the first poem you ever read/loved?

Father William, by Lewis Carroll

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment -- one shilling the box --
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!" 

I was initially attracted to this poem by the drawings. The expression on the son's face is the best.