The House of Tatterdemalion

I'm moving!

2007-01-22T19:38:00.000-05:00

So posts have not been sparse only because I'm lazy and lacking (and also, here's my sympathy plea, sick), but also because I've been working on a new blog. I've been wanting to switch off of Blogger because it's grown to be constraining--or rather, I've grown. I was going to switch to WordPress.com, but I got an even better offer. I'm moving to the Ethereal Land, where taxes are cheap, I get free tech help from the Technical Exorcist, and being crazy is the norm. I am also currently the "editor" of the Arts Section of the Ethereal Voice.

I was going to double post between here and there until I got my new blog looking/working right, and maybe imported a lot of my old posts. However, that's obviously not happening, or at least not happening as quickly as I would like. So you can come visit now, instead. I won't be posting any more to my Blogspot blog, but I'm not taking it down either. It may be your main source of archives for quite some time.

Picky About Poiret

2006-12-30T13:45:00.000-05:00

This is a continuation on my mini-series on the book "The Secrets of the Couturiers" by Frances Kennet. (All quotes and page numbers are referencing this book.) I include the same disclaimer as previous, that, in the large picture, this book is quite brief. I leave room for adjusting my opinions as a learn more from other sources, but this piece is written solely on the information gleaned from this book.

I am loathe to even call Paul Poiret a designer. He didn't even want to be a clothes designer. He wanted to be a painter. Either his skill was insufficient, or it simply was not satisfying enough to his ego, temper and personality. In either case, it's quite a shame that he instead inflicted himself upon women and their clothing; and quite as shameful, if not more so, that women put up with such second-rate goods--and what is more, encouraged it.

As near as I can tell, Poiret's main goal, was to shock and domineer over as many people as possible, and since he entered the field of "fashion", "people" generally meant women. If everyone else said "right", he not only said "left" but he dragged as many people as he could along with him. If the standards for models was curves, he wanted curveless models. If everyone else was using lilacs, "swooning mauves", light blues and "all that was soft, washed out, and insipid", he by default wanted strong "reds, greens, violets and royal blue".

Don't get me wrong--I don't care for insipid, washed out colors, and I'd much prefer a strong, deep red any day. But there's a difference between being stubborn and contrary because that's what you truly believe, and being stubborn and contrary because you are simply too much of an antagonistic, ornery person to do anything else--that is, to be rude simply for rudeness sake. Poiret did not care where he flung about his rebellion and scandals, as long as it got the reaction he wanted. If his collection didn't shock and offend somebody, then it was a failure (and trust me, he didn't have many failures). All of this, naturally, was sold under the title of "originality".

Perhaps I would not be so incensed by all of this--after all, I do have a rather contranarian streak myself--if it his entirely objectionable personality didn't show through quite so clearly. On page 29 his quoted as saying:

"Yes, I freed the bust, but I shackled the legs! Women complained of being no longer able to walk, nor get into a carriage. Have their complaints or grumblings ever arrested the movement of fashion, or have they not rather, on the contrary, helped it by advertising it? I made everyone wear a tight skirt."

To which I respond, with as much grace and consideration, "It sounds as though someone needs a solid kick in the backside!" And I am not entirely sure if it is Poiret, or the idiotic women who agreed to it. The book claims that ". . .in 1910, he was able to introduce hobble skirts, practically preventing his ladies from walking. And then all of Paris wore them."

First off, there is the serious problem with associating any aesthetic good with hobble skirts. Second off, there is the problem of claiming that either art or fashion trumps bodily functions, like walking and living a life. Those "designers" who hold to that thought are arrogant, egotistical, and care nothing (not even the safety and well-being) of those they claim to design for---but only of glorying in their own power and making others subject to their twisted will. The final point of disgust and revulsion is that this package is often sold as "free" or "unbound" from "conventional restraints".

Good design is not about making people suffer in the name of art. I have said it before, and I will say it again: Good design is when pleasing form marries inseparably with true function. Those who think that either can go missing without harm to the design have no idea of the challenge set out before them.

The only thing that leads me to any respect of him at all--or, at least, the only thing recorded in this book--is his "Martines". He created "a school for girls from limited backgrounds, where they were paid an income, given regular meals, and, after a short period of formal training, were left to their own devices to create design ideas. . .the girls were sent to factories to see cloth being woven, to the atelier where Dufy worked on dyeing and printing the couturier's fabrics, anywhere where Poiret thought they might find educative inspiration. The girls variously created rugs, ceramics, textiles, furniture ideas, and were paid a bonus on the designs that went into production."

There, at least, was a good idea, even if his fashion was not.

Is There Anything New Under This Sun?

2006-12-30T10:31:00.000-05:00

How did I get on to this thought? Here's the web-trail for those interested. I started out at the rather famous "English Cut" blog, clicked from there to another tailor's website (unfortunately mostly dead--the website not the tailor), and from there to Julian Roberts nearly unnavigable website. I had seen Julian's and Sophie's on-line cutting tutorial, but this was the first time I realized there was more to the site than what I had seen earlier. As with last time, I was impressed with his technical ability (especially his ability to approach things from different angles), but not with his artistic sense. Seeing more of his work and his writing stirred up some thoughts in me. They may seem rather unrelated to you, but if you've poked around his site, you can probably get an idea how they are all intertwined.

People who are in "creative" fields often insist that there are new things left to be created. People who buy "creative" things are apt to say "There is nothing new under the sun." The curious thing is that this saying doesn't upset the consumers--who will gladly go ahead and buy whatever it is, even if they already have 16 just like them at home (in fact, some people seem to be even happier if they can bump their collection up to 17 by buying whatever it is). It's the artists that get all upset by this thought. They tell you the cyclic nature of things can be thrown off. They tell you that you just need to think out side the box, need to work without boundaries and rules and all that constrains---and if you do, there really and truly are new things left to be created! They can be so earnest on this point, so desperate.

They have to be. If you really believe you are capable of creating something new, you must believe you will continue to do so. To say there is nothing new man can create can fill people with fear, because if there is nothing left to be created, then there is nothing left. What we have is what we get. And if what we got just isn't enough to make us happy, then it is a terrifying thought that we can create nothing truly new.

The same can be said of rules. The only time you have to be afraid of rules is if you don't like what the rules are telling you. Someone who would like to be able to fly would very like much to believe that the laws of gravity don't exist--because that law is counter to what they wish to accomplish. When you see the same rules or boundaries being repeated, it points to a lack of new creation. In an effort to overcome this shortfall, they claim to work outside of all boundaries--and in doing so, join the many others that are, and have, and will claim to be working outside of all boundaries.

The curious thing is that they believe they are buying freedom by throwing off rules, and to my eye, they are merely gaining new masters. The work of thought--of consciously guiding your hands, of taking what you have, things that have poured into you through all your senses and ability to perceive, and re-arranging it like a kaleidoscope--they can seem themes repeating themselves. They can see there are limits. And so they throw off the mind, so as to be free. They try to work instead from emotion--to let the adrenaline of the moment carry them through, to work an idea as soon as it is conceived, before it has any time to grow or mature. This, they say, is freedom. This raw emotion, this roughly hewn mass (or mess, if you prefer), this is new.

If it is new, why does it all look so old and tired to me? And why must it be new? Would it really be superior if it truly was a change, was something new? They like to mock people who are afraid of change, and they have a point. But to say that all change is good is as much a lie as saying all change is bad. Even if this was something new, it cannot use that alone as a claim to greatness.

With out rules or boundaries, things are shapeless and without from. It is only by shaping them and containing them that they gain meaning. A 6 month old child can bang on a keyboard and produce all manner of letters and combinations on the monitor--but where is their meaning or worth? The artist can throw away all guiding thought, and be reduced to producing the emotional temper-tantrum of a two year old---with more technical ability, but with no more meaning or purpose. Ah, the sweetness of freedom; now we are free to scream mindlessly and flail our limbs! So much greater it is than movement or voice guided by purpose or thought! This is the very essence of man!

Well, I don't know how much I can argue with that last statement, but I think it is a very sad statement, not a grand statement of accomplishment. They cling to newness, to change, to rebellion--at the cost of all else. They must: what they have is not enough, and if they deny they can ever attain to anything better, they loose all pretense of hope. And without hope, who can live?

Foreign Sewing

2006-12-16T13:32:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading an interesting article in yesterday's WSJ. (Friday, December 15, 2006, The Jetrosexual Look [Don't look at me, I didn't name the article. But that's what you'll have to search for if you want to look up the article yourself.], Loretta Chao and Mei Fong.) It was about how people were taking designer clothes/pictures to Asia, and getting them knocked-off by tailors there. Some highlights:

The article did have some interesting information on making knock-offs: Make a jacket that looks just like an Armani? Fine. Put an Armani tag on it? Wicked, wicked. Under proposed Federal regulation--make a knock-off for sale of a design not yet 3 years old? Big trouble. Take the same design and make it yourself or get a tailor to custom make it for you? Green light. Sort of. There are always those that tie themselves in knots. The executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America says, "I don't like the word unethical, so I don't want to use that word. But it's unfair." Please pardon me while I roll my eyes. Armani itself has no problem with it; a spokesman said it had no impact on business, and that "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." In fact, most designers quoted in the article were quite reasonable. According to the article, Steven Alan, one designers who was getting his designs custom knocked-off, says copying his shirts is difficult because he uses expensive, hard-to-find fabrics, but he doesn't mind if an individual tries to copy older items. "If I had a great coat and it wasn't made anymore, I would try to have it made again, too," he says.

The reviewers obviously had no concept of sewing. Some disappointments were not being able to find the exactly right fabric (duh!), having it take too long (they were there for all of 4 days, and the shop had to mail the shirts--four days in which to find the fabric, re-construct a sewing pattern, fit the pattern, and actually sew the thing together. I'm not surprised they had to mail it), and too many fitting sessions (four, for a burgundy-and-gold evening suit, which I some how can't imagine is the easiest thing in the world to sew). The reviewers might be a little naive, to boot. Important tip? Don't trust the concierge; some take commissions from the tailors. Guess how they found that out? 4 concierges sent them to the same cruddy tailor.

Biggest "surprise"? The quality. Of course it varied quite a bit from shop to shop, as did price (some places "knocked-off" for the same--or even slightly more--price as the orginal, and some were quite cheap). But in several cases, the knock-off was deemed of even higher quality than the orginal. This is no doubt a shocker to some who still cling to the notion that anything made in China is worthless. But as the article pointed out, "Even the high-end Italian manufactures are getting their stuff spun or woven in China now," says Phillppa Watkins, a textile specialist at WGSN, a London-based textile and apparel research firm. "As the Chinese production gets better and better, it's putting European mills out of business." I've met a lot of people who think that anything made in the USA is de facto better quality than anything made in China. They think the only reason why anything gets outsourced to China is the cheaper cost. The fact that the Chinese might know what they're doing doesn't even cross their mind. Obviously plenty of "cheap" things are made, but I have far more doubt in American production quality than I do the products coming out of Asia--because the Chinese might know what they're doing, and the Americans obviously have no idea what they're doing--if nothing else, at least as far as textiles are concerned. (As evidence against me, somebody might dredge up some fancy polymer fabric being made in the US--to which I reply, case in point! Natural fibers rule!)

If wishes were horses. . .

2006-12-09T21:20:00.000-05:00

I have recently been examining the stock of equilter.com. Somehow, I can never find what I went there looking for, but can always find something that I really, really, really would like to have. Currently, I've got this feeling I need this, even though I don't know what I'd do with it. If it wasn't $40, I'd buy it in a heartbeat, anyway. It's about 7 feet by 8 feet, so it's pretty huge. But soooo cool. I'm half tempted to buy it, and machine quilt it with a flannel backing and some warm batting, and give it to a brother as a quilt. It has a nice, uncivilized feel to it, and I love how the hair on their heads and beards gets worked into all the celtic knots.

Are you Worthy?

2006-12-08T21:08:00.000-05:00

I have recently been reading--OK, studying, it doesn't take that long for me to only read a book--Secrets of the Couturiers, by Frances Kennet. It's basically a brief history book, though at the end of each chapter it gives ideas of how to incorporate the featured designer's ideas. In reality, those pages are have little to do with the book, I think. Especially since they were adapting these ideas to 80's styles (the book was published in 1984), which, as everyone knows, are not worth repeating.

This book is, as I said, brief, but still more in-depth than anything I have gotten my hands on yet. (I know there are books out there on individual couturiers, and I do hope to get my hands on them at some point, but I am a little bit leery of finding them to be nothing but the telling of the scandalous tales of their lives in juicy detail.) As such, I know this book only shows a window into the world--how can you really sum up the entire work of a man in a few short pages and a picture or two? With further reading, I'm sure I'll revise my opinions, at least somewhat. But this post is based off of what I have here and now.

Why do I have such an obsession with couture? Well, to be perfectly honest, just because I named my blog by playing off of couture tradition, and I don't want to loose my joke. The rest of the 'couture' world worries about fashion and luxery, and here am I, working with cheap fabrics and making layman's clothes, and yet--still striving for extremely high standards and lots of handsewing. I know perfectly well that the very thing that keeps a language from becoming "dead" is it's ability to change. There are few words that haven't changed, at least some what, in meaning. But I cling to my understanding of the word couture--that is, sewing with extremely high standards and lots (or completely) hand sewing--because that is my joke.

But as I research the word 'couture', I discover no one knows what it means--or rather, everyone knows what it means to them, and to each their own meaning. What people mostly know is that 'couture' is a word with good standing and reputation, and exclusivity--which of course means everyone wants to claim it to themselves. One wants to claim to be the pinnacle of fashion, and so slaps the name 'couture' on velour tracksuits. Others wish to claim the prestige of 'couture', and claim that it implies nothing more than custom work indvidually fitted. They slap the word 'couture' to their work, too. And so, with much pomp and ritual (as all things couture must be), I follow suit.

Slap!

Couture is high standards and much handsewing. Therefore, I am couture.

Don't give me a hard time about claiming couture. I just defined it, and I can assure you I can meet that standard. I mean, I'm currently in the process of spending many hours thread tracing by hand--a task so time consuming that even Susan Kahlje of Bridal Couture often does by machine instead--all my markings (including grainlines) into $1/yard muslin. It's going to wind up being the interlining to a cheap (perhaps $4/yd) cotton print, and turned into a summer dress I intended to fully live in, including sweat in and get dirty in. Le Maison de Tatterdemalion, c'est moi. Or something like that. Yes, I am crazy. Or at least absurd. But I like it that way.

Anyway.

So one of the things that I found interesting to do while reading this book is to see how the author handled the word "couture", and the things that would get the most emphasis on each of the couturiers. What, exactly, defines couture? Interestingly, even every individual couturier gave a different answer to this unspoken question. Even couturiers do not all agree on what it means to be a couturier. And the author is also herself inconsistent.

In the introduction, 'couture' means something akin to 'art by medium of cloth and able to be put on a person'. On page 9, she says that "The most interesting discovery to come out of any research into couture clothes is how variable the standard of workmanship, or of finish, can be, not just from one designer to another, but from one garment to another." That would seem to blow my definition out of the water, but she roundly contradicts herself on that point throughout the book, speaking of high workmanship of a couturier. As an example, when speaking of St. Laurent on p. 111, on St. Laurent's prediction of haute couture having only five more years left to live, she says "Perhaps his recent successes point the way toward a future where excellent quality and extremely high standards of workmanship will again rule the day." So I yet have grounds to cling to my smirking name.

But what, exactly, does garner the most praise as a successful couturier? Well, for the most part, he-who-has-the-most-money-wins. What did you expect? The traits of being an excellent "business man" or woman, and most especially being able to interpret the mood of the moment to the best sales, were the most defining parts of being a couturier. Claire McCardell got to be included, even though she didn't match Le Chambre Syndical's definition of couture, simply for her astronomical ability to make clothes people wanted to buy.

But, by far, the funniest story is about Charles Fredick Worth, the Father of Couture (as he is nearly always called). You see, as near as I can tell, Mr. Worth was almost as much the Father of Ready-to-Wear as he was the Father of Couture! Worth's major accomplishment, besides decorating dresses with passamentrie much like one might decorate a cookie with icing, was to commercialize the Paris fashion industry. On page 19, it is written "Parisian fashion has always been a subject of admiration and envy all over the world--Worth understood its appeal, objectively, and had the energy and showmanship to turn style into a major business." And again, she says "It is interesting, and at the same time a sad social comment, that Parisian couture had to fall into the hands of a man in order to become an industry, world-renowned."

Although Worth designed for the haut monde, the high world, the upper crust, his shop put out an absurd amount of clothes. The upper crust, besides being good for, and interested in, not much else besides wearing fancy clothing, were apparently in need of a new dress everytime they sneezed. Or more often, if the mood struck them.

"And besides," she writes on p. 21, "the volume of work his ateliers were required to turn out called for some simplification in cutting and sewing; on one occasion in 1866. . .Worth produced no fewer than 1000 ballgowns, each to be made within a week." And simplify he did.

"A description of his work, given in a catalogue from the Brooklyn Museum in 1962, explains:

Each pattern must have done yeoman work at the House of worth. An oblong skirt drapery introduced in the late 1860s continues basically unchanged into the late eighties. It may be trimmed with fringes, bands or fluting, or finished with rosettes, but the pattern remains the same. The gracefully pointed edge of an 1870 skirt is used again and again in the 1880s and 1890s until it disappears under the skirt to trim a turn-of-the-century petticoat. . .His gowns were made of many standard interchangeable parts--one sleeve could fit a variety of bodices.

"

Reminiscent of factory interchangeable parts, yes? So much for one-of-a-kind cuts. Not only that, but his workmanship wasn't always the hottest, either. On p. 22 she mentions "It is interesting that many of the original Worth gowns, particularly the evening wear, display a strange mixture of perfection and lack of finish. Quite often the edges of dresses made in satin or brocade are not hemmed at all, but have elaborate, heavily jeweled edging hand basted over the raw edge, or ribbons casually gathered and festooned down the side of an unfinished overskirt opening."

So much for quality work!

But, for all of my mocking, I don't deny that he was good at what he did. From the work of his that I have seen (and I would like to see more), it was carefully balanced. He managed to make things look opulent without making things look cluttered. He certainly had an eye for detail and proportion. And, of course, he very popular among the rich and famous, and most of all, he made lots and lots of money.

His son, Gaston, went on to organize the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture Francaise, the great grand ol' bureaucratic organization that is currently dictating who, exactly, is legally able to use the words haute couture on their work. According to the Wikipedia, the rules are simple: to be designated as haute couture a minimum of fifteen people must be employed at the workshops and must present to the press in Paris each season (spring/summer and autumn/winter) a collection of at least thirty-five runs comprising outfits for daytime wear and evening wear. I cannot seem to locate the rules in the Chambre's own words, but Claire Shaeffer (in Couture Sewing Techniques) goes so far as to say they insist that the workrooms themselves be in Paris.

And do you want to know what the crowning joke for all of this is? Charles Fredrick Worth, the Father of Couture, the leader of French fashion. . .was an English man!!

Contemplating my Blogger-button. . .

2006-12-04T20:50:00.000-05:00

One of the cool things about a blog is that it's not rigid. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be. I suppose no website needs to be rigid, it's just some forms are better at embracing change than others. I'm not talking about my up-grading to Blogger Beta, though I did just do that. I'm not geeky enough to get all sentimental about that. The gears that grind behind the scenes just don't make my palms get all sweaty. But I have been thinking about the content of my blog. Ironically, I'm contemplating making it a little more rigid. Maybe.

When I first started this blog, I mostly wanted a dumping ground for my sewing related thoughts. When they all hang around inside my head, it actually starts to get a bit annoying. How many times can you think the same thoughts without getting sick of them? Putting them in writing was a good way to get them out of my head, leaving my mind clear to think other things.

Then people started commenting, and, just as I knew I would, I got self-conscious.

Everyone who knew I had a blog kept telling me how I ought to market myself, leave links all over the web, not let a single email leave my finger-tips without have a tagline with my blog link in it. It's not that I didn't know how to do these things, how to attract people, it's just that I was unsure that I really wanted to do that.

That statement, of course, lead to the suggestion that I just write it all out and put in on the refrigerator, because less people would see it that way. I hate it when people go all black-and-white on me, because I'm often seeing things in grayscale, a kind of pastel black, if you will. It's not that I want to keep it a secret, it just that things get so complicated when you start involving other people.

Well, then, why don't you just shut off comments? Well, I didn't say that I didn't like comments, it's just that it makes me self-conscious--I can't write "to myself" anymore, and I start writing to my audience. Is that a bad thing? Maybe. It depends.

It's something like singing in the shower--presuming you are good at singing. You're having a good time, anyone who hears you is having a good time. And when you come out the shower, and they say "Wow, you're great at singing!", and everything's fine. It's when they catch you mid-shower, and start putting in requests for songs that things start to get a little uncomfortable; and then you just can't sing the way that. . .well, the way that you sing in the shower. You become conscious that someone is listening to your every keystroke. . .er, note.

Perhaps that thought doesn't bother confident singers. And perhaps I might not get quite so edgy if I didn't realize that I have the personality that is perhaps most appreciated by older brothers--people who don't take me all that seriously and find my excited emotional state hilarious. But I am conscious of the other type of people, the people who get upset by heavy-handed hyperbole, or scorching criticisms, and impossibly demanding standard that even I don't expect anyone (myself included) to be able to live up to. (Hey, just because I know it won't happen doesn't mean I can't want it!).

In theory, I say I write the way I want to write, and if you don't like it, don't read it. In real life, I struggle with trying to please people. Usually I don't realize I'm doing this, but when I do, I try to sit back and examine the situation a little better.

In this case, I realized I was no longer writing my blog for myself. I noticed that I had become conscious of the people on the other side of the bathroom door, and wasn't really singing what I wanted to be singing. Sometimes that showed up in posting when I really didn't feel like posting; sometimes by carefully guarding my words so they would be less likely to be misinterpreted. What it all came down to, though, was that I wasn't really enjoying all that much any more, and it felt more like a chore. No way! I have enough "ought to do"'s without adding a blog to the list!

I still don't want to lay down rigid rules about what I am and am not going to. But here are some things that I have been thinking about, which will be influencing the direction this blog will be going for the time being.

I don't really want to talk about my projects, at least not in a detailed how-to-do it sense. Or a look-what-I-did sense. There are a lot of other blogs out there like that, but to tell you the honest truth, usually by the time I actually finish something, I'm so darn sick of it I don't really want to waste another brain cell on it--even for showing it off. When I finished it, I'm done. I don't really want to talk about it, or look at it, or explain it. When I'm done with it, I'm done with it, and it's boring. At the very least, I don't want to do that here, and I don't want it to consume much of my time. However, the emotional angst of actually working on the project? Oh, yeah. I hope somebody out there has a degree in grief counseling. . .if not for me, then for my traumatized listeners behind the door.

I do still intend to post some pictures, but I refuse to feel obligated to. A picture paints a thousand words, yes, but a thousand words can be a whole lot more satisfying. At least for me. But maybe that's because I don't take good enough pictures. Or maybe because I can fit a thousand (spoken) words in about 75 seconds. (The trick is to leave out the spaces. Technically, all people need is the words, not the spaces, so it saves time. Sometimes. Most people's ears aren't calibrated to 1000 words/75 seconds, and I spend more time repeating myself than I have saved time. Which is sad. Some people just stand in the way of progress and efficiency.)

I'm thinking I am going to promote my blog, at least a bit more, and actually get the much-nagged-for hit counter. But I'm thinking I'm going to have to change my motto-line under the title for my blog. While it is still true, it doesn't really capture what my blog is about at the time. Something more like "Hysterics: proceed at your own risk." I would like to think that at some point I could dredge up some serious thoughts, but generally, I tend to present even serious points in rather. . .blunt? powerful? um. . .emphasized?. . .emotionally elevated?. . .ways, and if you aren't willing to put up with that (or find humor in that), you probably won't enjoy my blog. I still want to write the way I want to write, but I just feel like that people ought to have some sort of warning about what they're getting into. You know, like a surgeon general's warning "WARNING: Drinking alcohol can make you drunk and impair your reasoning". Or, "WARNING: if you spin around with your eyes closed for 5 minutes, you may become dizzy." Or "WARNING: The opinions expressed on this blog are opinions!"

Ironically, I'd like to post about more serious things. Not necessarily in a serious way, mind you, and not, in the grand scheme of things, all that serious. But your typical watch-me-sew blog doesn't usually try to study past couturier's (in this case, I use the word simply to mean people who designed clothes in an influential way), which I do. And then I intend to post about it. (And I don't expect to be in complete jaw-dropping awe of them. I just don't do very good with that whole groupie thing.) I am interested in pursuing the subject of sewing to a much deeper level than sewing-the-latest-fashion and making-cute-clothes. Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with that, but it's just not me. I want to look into pattern drafting, design, wide varieties of fabric, sewing from the past--both near and distant history, as well as around the world--, sewing for practical purposes, sewing that is so time consuming it's considered impractical--those sorts of things. For me, my interest in sewing is not about being current, but about turning the whole subject inside out and examining it all. Quick and easy just doesn't enter into the discussion here, because that's not my goal.

I would like to post more regularly. Oh, I know this one is a bit pie-in-the-sky, especially since I just got done complaining that one of my problems was posting when I didn't feel like it. But writing is good for my thought process, and I find it helpful to me to write. The trick is to plan for it, instead of leaving it for the last minute and then guiltily banging something out.

So when are these changes effective? Oh, some of them immediately, and some of them gradually. I'm not going to rush out and put my hit-counter on right this second, for instance. But hopefully I will have another post this weekend, baring unpleasant interruptions from the rest of my life.

Discussing the Duro

2006-10-22T15:39:00.000-05:00

The whatsis? The latest, now beginning to depart, rage was the Duro Dress. It's been popular enough that many people have heard of it or can recognize it on sight, but most people don't really know why it's called "Duro". Well, this is the Duro. A lot of times when people first see it, they squawk, "What?! This looks like some 70's day dress!" Yes, that was sort of the point. (You'll have to scroll down the page on that link.) He had an interesting start that surprised even him. Naturally, since he became screaming famous, knock-offs have abounded, including in the pattern world. You can find Duro's at Hot Patterns, McCall's, Simplicity, Simplicity Plus-sized, Butterick, and perhaps others that I haven't found or have forgotten about.

And I? What do I think about it? I bought the McCall's version. What? I bought a raging fad? Must mean it isn't really all that popular of a fad. (Or else I've got a fever.) Sure enough, there are a fairly large number of people who just don't "get" the Duro. There are those that say it is unflattering; or looks like maternity wear; or looks 70's; or only looks good on sylphs; or just plain looks like a sack. I think we get closer to the truth of the matter, though, when we start hearing complaints about it "not looking sleek enough", or "not very sophisticated".

As I have repeatedly said, who you are greatly influences what you want to wear. Generally speaking, those who live in the city wish to wear city-wear. And, generally speaking, those that don't, don't. Also, as I have mentioned before, fashion isn't practical. And if you are really living a country life, you must dress practically, because dressing impractically will greatly hinder you in everything you do, not to mention having the large probability of causing you bodily harm.

So when I look at the Duro, I like it for the same reasons many people don't like it: it's practical, it's comfortable, it provides complete range of movement, one could easily imagine themselves washing dishes after dinner in the heat of the summer, or picking cucumbers in the morning. Thus, it is very nearly anti-fashion. One does wonder what his mother and aunts were doing in 1970s Lagos (again, you will need to scroll down on that link to see what I'm talking about).

Now perhaps this is not all that is being spoken against the Duro. I must confess that I think it needs to be carefully handled in ordered to come out right, and all the non-carefully-handled dresses certainly give the rest of the versions a bad name. But this is where personal tastes in clothing comes in, so probably a lot of people will be disagreeing with me from here on out (if they didn't start before this).

I find that there are two common problems concerning the inset bands. One is to use a band that is a very harsh contrast and has little or nothing to do with the rest of your fabric. Usually when this is done, they use black; but sometimes even an extremely dark version of a color that is in the fabric is used. Regardless, the effect is harsh, discordant, and hard--probably an effort to "modernize" or "make more fashionable". The other problem is to use the same fabric for both the bands and the dress. This spoils it completely--what is the point of the design lines then? It is usually done in an effort not to "appear too trendy" or have a more "timeless" design. The funny thing is that both of these examples are quite common--they're both shown together on the Simplicity pattern, for example.The Duro looks best when the bands are done in similar, though different, fabrics. The idea is to harmonize the fabrics, while still allowing there to be enough difference in color/texture to show the design lines.

Another major problem is using the wrong kind of fabric. With this design, it is essential that you use a very soft, very drapey, non-bulky fabric. Anything less, and of course you will find the dress bulky and un-flattering. There are gathers in this design. Done in a drapey, non-bulky fabric, this simply provides soft fullness, and even shaping. Done in a bulky fabric, these gathers build up mass until they overwhelm the wearer. Anything that makes crisp or full gathers should be avoided for this dress. You would be better off going with a fluid (choke) polyester, rather than a bulky weave of cotton. Of course, the best thing to use, in terms of drape, would probably be silk--but I am sure rayon would be nice, as well. And it's not to say that cotton wouldn't work--only that you should be very aware of the weave and drape of your fabric. So go ahead and use cotton--but a soft cotton, not a stiff one.

Many people also complain of a "maternity wear" look. I think this issue is the biggest problem when people put too much of an emphasis on the under-bust band. Remember, the key here is to harmonize, not make harsh lines. The bands don't all even have to be of the same fabric. Look at this McCall's pattern, especially the Green Lady. Now look at Simplicity's pattern, the lady in Paisley and Black. Which one looks more like maternity wear? To my eye, the black lines harshly divide up the body: bust and belly. The green dress is a dress with a sash. The eye is not so quickly focusing on a horizontal line across the body, but has time to appreciate the up and down lines on the bodice, visually lengthening the torso. If you would most like to maximize this effect, I would make the up-and-down bands in a slightly more dominate fabric than the under-bust band. (I say "dominate" because a lighter color generally tends to cause something to appear to take up more space. Using a much lighter color at the waist would be counter productive.) Small buttons up the front would also encourage the illusion of length.

However, I would advise against making the under-bust band the same color as the skirt. Because there is fullness both above and below this band, it can read as an area of strain if it is done in the same color. When it is done in a distinct yet harmonious fabric, it does read as a sash--controlling the fullness and pointing out that just because there is a lot of room in the dress doesn't mean you need every square inch of it to keep your body covered. Of course, Hot Patterns and Butterick skirt this issue (no pun intended; it just popped out that way) by using A-line skirts instead of gathered skirts.

You must also be aware of skirt length in order to avoid the "maternity wear" look. The shorter the skirt, the more it looks like maternity wear. The under-bust band comes closer and closer to visually cutting the body in half, and it draws more attention to the waist and the gathers there. Look again at the McCall's and Simplicity patterns, but this time pay attention to the skirt and bodice proportions. Which do you find more flattering? To my eye, the Lady In Paisley looks like she is wearing an over-grown top--perhaps her older sister's clothes? The Green Lady looks like she is wearing a dress, albeit a very loose and relaxed dress.

Another thing I have noticed that I think contributes to the "sack" complaint is sleeve length. Often times this dress winds up with a 5/8ths sleeve. It is not a short sleeve. It is not a 3/4 sleeve. That means it looks like you screwed up. Either you were trying to make a short sleeve, and picked a size to large, or you were trying to make a 3/4 length sleeve and you ran out of fabric. Of course, neither could be true. The McCall's and the Simplicity both seemed a little confused about that. Well, let me be definitive for you--do one or the other, but don't hedge your bets. Personally, I do like a long short sleeve. But I define that as a sleeve that, when you bend your elbow in a right angle, just barely or not quite touches your forearm. As soon as you get beyond that, the sleeve starts to look like an "oops" instead of a deliberate choice. Also, if you have ever worn sleeves like that, you will find that they tend to catch on your elbow, which is very annoying.

Then there is the issue of fullness. How much do you need and where do you need it? The McCall's pattern places the gathered fullness of the skirt at the center front; perhaps you would also be getting fullness when you tied the sash in the back. The Simplicity gathers the whole skirt around. I think that's going a bit overboard--you can have your soft fullness and freedom of movement without adding the bulky gathers all around the your body. I'm inclined to go McCall's way, or perhaps even a gathered panel in the front and in the back. But I wouldn't have any intention of putting gathers over my hips (unless I was going for the full hoop skirt look) because it would visually imbalance me. If your shoulders are wider than your hips, you may wish to do gathered panels over the hips; but otherwise, fullness right over the hips will draw the eye downward and make you appear heavier than you are.

Bodice gathers are just as important. Most people seem to realize that the bust gathers are taking the place of darts. Therefore, I was quite surprised to see that anyone who has gathers in the back bodice only has them at the center back waist! If you are using kimono sleeves, you really don't need gathers in the upper back bodice. But if you have set in sleeves, it makes more sense to me to put gathers in at the back of the neck as well, and use them to replace shoulder darts--thus giving you a much nicer range of motion in the back. Having back waist gathers only is like having a back waist darts only. In order for anything to fit you properly in the back, it really ought to have both waist darts and shoulder darts. If you intend to convert your darts to gathers, you ought to treat all your shaping the same.

Bottom line? If you are looking for a sleek, edgy, fashionable clothing: the time is past, if it ever was time, to make this dress. If you can't resist trying anyway, I suggest you go for the Butterick (or the Hot Pattern; the styles are pretty much the same, but the price tag isn't). But if you are looking for a comfortable dress for any manner of practical things, with a bit more in the way of distinctive detail and comfortable fit than a burlap sack: not only can you make this dress work, I think you'll enjoy it. My vote is for the McCall's.

Hey, look!

2006-10-14T14:35:00.000-05:00

Look at this. (I actually first found it at Dressaday, but couldn't find a way to permalink to the post.) Now look at this. I can't help but think that this green top is trying hard to turn into a dress.

That's all.

There haven't been any inflammatory articles even tangentially related to sewing; there aren't any more sewing books in my local library system (libraries don't seem to be too thrilled about stocking all the sewing books I still want to read); and I haven't finished any more crazy projects. Yet. I have quite the doozy (in terms of both craziness and project-ness) that is nearing completion, and that is mostly what I've been working on. If I can squeeze it out of my fabric. There will definitely only be shreds and scraps leftover by the time I'm done. I'd like to say I'll be able to blog about it by next weekend, but if I even pretend to be realistic, it won't be for two weeks. In true reality, life will probably get in the way again, and it will be even longer.

A Good Home

2006-10-07T11:39:00.000-05:00

By the way, I found a good home for all the patterns I wanted to get rid of. I got sick and tired of messing around with eBay, but I found a pattern orphanage. I hope you enjoy them all, Krystin!

And that means that I now have my sewing room back. Yay! Life seems to have settled somewhat, so hopefully my sewing will progress in leaps and bounds.

Models, coat hangers, and clothes.

2006-10-07T10:59:00.000-05:00

Recently, there's been a big fuss over Madrid banning models who's Body Mass Index is less than 18. I can't understand what all the fuss is about. A lot of people (the modeling agencies and designers, duh) are getting all up-tight because it "discriminates against naturally skinny people" or "people with a gazelle like figure" (yeah, right). When my sister was going through a major growth spurt, she was tall and skinny. So skinny, in fact, you could see the bump of her liver through her skin--if you poked it, it would quiver. As near as I can tell, her BMI was still 19, above the cut off point for the models.

But regardless of whether or not this has anything to do with health, I can't believe anyone would need to be told this--because I cannot understand why anyone would want prisoner-of-war zombies to model their clothes. They claim that they want "clothes hangers" so that they eye is not distracted from their designs.

I'm sorry, but I'm always severely distracted. Their bones jut out. Their eyes are flat and expressionless, like it is nothing more than a body without a soul. Their make-up is in shades of grey, black, purple, and green giving them the impression of a corpse beginning to rot. Their hair is pulled back so tightly or cut so horribly that they look unheathly, like they're loosing all their hair. Their legs are so concave, you wonder how they can possibly loose that much weight without also getting the distended stomach of one starving. I find their physical appearance so pity-inducing, so vile, that I can rarely ever remember what it was that they were wearing. If someone told me they were starving citizens of a third world country, wearing whatever rags they could find, I would believe them--except for the careful lighting and high-heels that makes it apparent the whole thing is horrifyingly deliberate.

I also don't understand the claim that they want a "coat hanger" for their designs. Even if you call it art, aren't clothes meant for the body? Until a piece of clothing is filled with a body, it is a lifeless piece of mangled cloth. It is only on a body that it comes to life, interacting with the appearance and shape and movement of the person. If they truly want coat hangers, why aren't they using coat hangers? Why do they even pretend that it would ever go over a human body? Why not just make it an art display of mangled piece of cloth on coat hangers?

To me, it is like drawing in 2-D. It is making a deliberate choice not to draw in 3-D, with it's depth and shadows, shades and subtle shapes---and instead drawing in the style of a child's coloring book--flat, life-less. How can you call that an advancement? Without the richness of a body with shape and fullness, the design is dead.

Then again, that might be my problem. I might be expecting depth and life to my art; but this is probably modern art--full of flatness and deadness. I never did care for modern art, philistine that I am.

A completely and Utterly Useless Rant

2006-09-30T17:59:00.000-05:00

And I do mean rant. You have been warned.

So there was this article in the Wall Street Journal a few weeks ago (September 11, 2006, The Marketplace section; the article was written by Ben Winograd and Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan) that incensed me to no end. The article was titled "Can Fashion Be Copyrighted?"

This is the part where you imagine me with fireworks coming out of my ears.

The article says:

The central question is whether fashion design is an art worthy of protection or a craft whose practitioners can and should freely copy one another.

That, to me, seems a little too narrow. There are so many different ways to spring-board off of this, one hardly knows where to start. If one really wanted to get to the central issue, I suppose one would say the question is if anything can truly be copyrighted. Is anything really totally new? Isn't everything influenced, referenced, or copied in part from something else?

But, if we accept them at their premise, that the question is whether fashion design is art or craft, one would still think that the article ought to be about defining what makes art. Is the goal of art to make money? Can art really be copied, or does all art carry part of the artist? What makes art important?

Instead, everyone is arguing over whether or not knockoffs actually help the fashion industry (how can you possibly call it both an industry and an art?!). The idea is that if knockoffs actually help the industry, they should stay legal. But if it harms the "artist/industry/designers", then, de facto, it ought to be illegal. In other words, as far as most people are concerned, this is neither an ethical question, a question of art, or a question of protection. It's only a question of economics.

"If copying were illegal, the fashion cycle would occur very slowly, if at all," they write in an article to be published in the Virginia Law Review. While they concede copying can harm individual designers, they say Congress should protect industries only when piracy stymies--rather than encourages--innovation.

So how about the consumer? Aren't we being discriminated against if we're not allowed to buy a cheap knock-off? (And by knock-off, I mean a garment that looks similar, but doesn't claim to be the same, not someone pretending to be someone or something they're not.) Why should the high-end commercial artists be able to lock us into paying exorbitant prices? Isn't this what a free market is about? Open competition? These people are trying to get three years worth of protection for designs for everything from dresses to belts and eyeglasses. Why should the industries get the protection, and the consumers get abused? The proposed regulations "would cover the overall appearance of the item in question, barring even those made with inferior fabrics."

Some people do think that it's good to knock-off designs, and bring them within the price range of a mere mortal. The article says:

But fashion designers--who invest time and money drawing sketches, ordering samples and making adjustments--say such arguments ring hallow. Designer Catherine Maladrino. . .maintains that copying isn't the only way to bring fashion to the masses. "If you're creative, you can design original designs that are affordable," she says. "You don't have to knock off what other people are creating."

Well, no duh. And just because you are creating "original" designs doesn't mean you have to make people pay through the nose for them.

It's a well-known fact that those who are good at mass producing are rarely good at making "original creations", and that people who are good at creating are rarely good at mass production. Sometimes these two beings get together in a symbiotic relationship, with each helping the other in their weakness.

Usually, though, the one "creating" charges high prices, can't meet demand, or relies on a one-trick pony for all their business, wanting to lock it in as theirs and theirs alone. Then they throw a hissy fit when someone else finds a cheaper way of doing the same thing.

And I don't really buy into the whole idea that mass-producers are spared a lot of work--I'd bet that any company that knocks-off a design still has to order samples, make adjustments, source fabric, and get whatever patterns they need drafted. They only thing they're "stealing" is the design idea--which the "original" designer undoubtedly came up with after seeing something(s) similar, to begin with! So they have no excuse, because the very things they judge other people for doing they are guilty of doing themselves!

The only person in the article who seemed to have their head screwed on straight was a Mr. Valvo.

. . .Mr. Valvo says he's been copied so much he now shrugs it off when he sees styles that imitate his work. He finds the idea of legislation "insane". He says "Fashion is more evolutionary than revolutionary--you're always inspired by something else. Besides, I don't think anyone copying me would be able to do it in the same way."

Exactly.

I think that mass producers will be mass producers, and it's stupid for those that aren't to pretend to be. If your strength really is your creativity, stop throwing hissy fits. You're only going to be able to be "original" with one design for so long, then, move on. Make something else original. Your strength lies in constantly changing and creating, not locking in the market. The mass producers will always be trailing behind you--you lead the way. If all you really care about is the design, you should be pleased with the integrity of your own design, and view the popularity of that design as witness to the quality of your work. And if all you are really worried about is making money, maybe you should quit being a designer--and make knock-offs instead.

Defining Designer

2006-09-20T13:53:00.000-05:00

Several months ago, I was excited to hear that one of the articles in an upcoming Threads magazine was titled "Be Your Own Designer". Clothing design is something I'm quite interested in, after all. However, upon receiving the magazine, I found I was quite disappointed with the article. For those of you who don't have the article, I'll give a brief summary of the article (but, of course, since it's been filtered through me, it will be the article as I understand it):

Don't design individual garments; think in terms of collections.
Gather images that appeal to you aesthetically; especially gather colors and color combinations.
Look for themes in what you have gathered.
Invent a title to help you define the look you envision.
Flesh out your collection with details and sewing patterns.

My first disappointment with this article was how little the "professional" design process had been adapted for a single person.

A "professional" designer is creating a line to be sold, and many pieces are a very good idea. They are trying to appeal to the largest group possible (for the most amount of customers). What looks "a little over the top" to one customer could be perfect for another. What may seem "subdued and boring" to one might seem "refined and understated" to another. Having the same thought repeated in many ways increases the likelihood that it will be presented in a pleasing way to the most amount of people.

A lone person may be much more concerned with getting one piece right (for an important event), or may not want such a single-story wardrobe (different moods, company, activities, occasions, or just plain tiring of repeation could all influence this).

This rift between "professional" and "personal" design can also be seen in the method for selecting a theme. A "professional" designer does not have someone specific in mind. She (he, them) is trying to appeal to as many people as possible without knowing any of those people on a personal, detailed level. It is therefore important to come up with something as interesting, aesthetically pleasing, and unified as possible, even if that something doesn't make sense on a personal level.

Take, for instance, the author's example of using "Marlene Dietrich on Mars" as title for a collection. Who, besides Marlene Dietrich on Mars, would want to look like Marlene Dietrich on Mars? (That's a hypothetical question; please don't answer it.) The thing is, while the designer may have "Marlene Dietrich on Mars" in their mind while designing the collection, that very well may not be what the consumer sees at all. While the phrase may help the designer keep themselves focused, it's really a rather abstract thought. What the designer thinks and what the consumer sees can be totally different. Maybe some people would see the collection and think "Space age glamour!"---but just as likely, they would merely think "That's great dress!"

The "personal" designer, on the other hand, wouldn't want to design something for "Marlene on Mars"--unless she (or whomever) actually wanted to look like Marlene on Mars. For certain, every time the personal designer looked at the dress, she would think "Marlene on Mars!", not "What a great dress!" There is nothing wrong with designing clothes with specific thought in mind; but if it is not a thought specific (or personal) to you, it won't work out very well for you.

This, then, is the distinction: "Professional" designers are designing for large, general audiences. "Personal" designers are designing for a single, defined audience. The former can afford--indeed, benefit--from being a bit vague. The latter would do much better to be specific.

For instance, I could title a theme "Feminine Troll". It would use linen and wool, and leather accents. The buttons would be wood or bone. The garment shapes would be utilitarian, and a bit unrefined--more boxy than fitted. However, I would also incorporate details such as pin-tucking or embroidery, and certainly use colors, not drab neutrals. While this might work splendidly to fulfill my theme, would it really suit my entire wardrobe? Can the whole of me and what I want to be and wear be summed up in two words with broad meaning? I don't think so. I think it would make an interesting garment collection, certainly, but I don't think I'd want to buy the whole collection, purge my closet of nothing but, and wear it every day.

If I had written a designing process (and I am not a professional consulting designer for several commercial fashion lines, just a highly opinionated blogger), it probably would have been like this:

Examine your goals for the piece(s). What will you be doing while wearing the piece? What mood do you want it to set, or what do you want the piece to say?
Gather images and colors that develop your goals. Pay attention to shape, texture, color and color combinations, and especially details, which can make all the difference.
Subtract elements until you are happy with what you have. There's nothing like going over-board to ruin a good idea. Choose only the elements that are the most effective and work well together. Leave the other elements behind for some other day.

If you'll notice, I basically turned the "professional" method upside down. She has you pick images and colors first, and then a goal. I have you pick the goal first, and then find colors and images. She has you pick the bare-bones, and then flesh out. I have you start with a lot, and then subtract. This might work well for a "personal" designer, but any "professional" designer would probably find it abysmal.

If I already had my own opinionated ideas on how to design, what did I want out of the article? I wanted to learn more about how to convey ideas or emotions with fabric, proportions, shapes, colors and textures. Many are the people who tell you to make "design boards" (bulletin boards of inspiration), but few are the people who tell you why they chose that proportion, that shape, that color. One is left with the idea that it's all about "listening to your inner self", a rather mystic process that cannot be taught, only experienced, as one is guided along by their "art".

It's true that some people do have an "eye" for artistic things, just as some people are talented in music. But that doesn't make it mystical; both can be improved through practice and study. Having some one tell me why they made the design choices they made has always been far more helpful that the seemingly far more numerous advice on gathering inspiration. Inspiration can come easily enough; refining it to something more than inspiration is harder.

More and More patterns

2006-09-06T13:21:00.000-05:00

I just listed another dozen or so patterns yesterday, and I hope to upload more scans to my Flickr soon (today or tomorrow). If anyone sees a pattern they like that isn't currently listed on eBay, please send me an email at tatterdemalionshouse at gmail dot com. Listing patterns is time consuming and quite miserable; you will be saving me much time and grief (or at least tedious time-wasting, which amounts to the same thing).

Birthday Girl!

2006-09-06T12:19:00.000-05:00

I have a friend by the name of Abigail. Her oldest daughter is about the same age as my youngest sister. She recently threw an impromptu birthday party for said daughter (Millie), and invited me and my sister. By "impromptu", I mean she gave me all of two days' warning.

As soon as my sister found out she was invited, she went about scheming to wear her "Fancy Dress". I say scheming, because, unlike many people predicted, she doesn't wear this dress non-stop. I think she finds it too much of a bother. In fact, she usually only chooses to wear this dress when she knows she will have an audience to admire it.

"Sure, sure," I thought. "Outshine the birthday girl."

And then, the other, trouble making side of me says, "Not if the birthday girl had a fancy dress, too!"

"I can't make a dress with this short notice!" Speed sewing is not my strong point.

"Couldn't hurt to try, could it?"

"But where would I get the fabric?"

"Oh, you have some fancy pink remnants. Millie loves pink."

"I didn't make a fancy dress out of that earlier because there wasn't enough!"

"You don't have to use a fancy pattern. . . the fabric would be fancy enough."

thoroughly talked into it, I commenced to making a dress. In less than two days.

Alas, speed is not my strong point. I was sewing the buttons on in the car, and I never did finish the seams allowances. Super-model Millie sure can make my sewing look good. . .

When Millie discovered the pink thing at the bottom of the gift bag was a dress,I couldn't decide which reaction was more amusing:

Abby: Did you make that?!

Me: Yes.

Abby: In two days?!"

Me: Yes!

Abby: Are you CRAZY?!

Me. Yes!

All other proceedings ceased, in favor of trying on the dress. The dress was then put through all necessary testing--for instance, does it properly twirl?

I think the dress passed the test.

The dress has been cleverly made with 1 pink satin remnant, 1 plus-sized discarded silky-polyester blouse, some of this mystery peach pebbly-crepey-shiny synthetic fabric, and some of this synthetic pink mock-embroidered organza, a few lengths of ribbon that didn't match the color of any of the fabrics, and 4 buttons from my great-grandmothers collection. Here, you can see the peach fabric peeking out from behind the transparent pink fabric, and you can see the detail on the buttons a little better.

I hear Millie has been wearing it whenever possible. Which is good, because it certainly won't be fitting her next year. (Don't worry, she has two younger sisters.)

But I think, not to be too presumptuous, that probably there's a pretty good chance that I might be invited to her birthday party next year. ;)

What you want to wear. . .

2006-08-28T12:55:00.000-05:00

I had to laugh when I read this comic. You see, it says about 88.56% of what I wanted to write a blog post about, only it uses just 4 panels (instead of what might wind up being 4 pages).

There is an overwhelming large amount of sources telling people what the ought to wear, or ought not to wear. This always bemuses me.

As the comic above so sucintly put it, clothing talks. It may say "I'm rich," or "I do what everyone else does," or "I'm an old codger who doesn't care how I look or what people think of me," or "You didn't expect me to be awake when I got dressed this morning, did you?" or countless other things. But regardless of whether or not one puts thought into their clothing, the clothes that they choose to wear do speak. A conscious dresser may choose to refine that message, or to even send a false message. But even if one does not use one's conscious dress, one's subconscious is still involved, and a message is being sent.

So if someone tells you what to wear, or what not to wear, do you think that all they are trying to change is an outward appearance that has no meaning at all? Or do you think they are telling you that they don't like what you're saying and, here, say this instead? One who proclaims the "right way to dress" is also proclaiming "the right things to say".

There are those that would protest that not all "appearance advice" is like that; it's merely advice on how to look aesthetically pleasing. It educates people on things like proportion and colors, and the like. This is true, to a degree, but I often find it very unhelpful. After all, 88.56% of their advice boils down to: You will naturally be drawn to what is most flattering to you. Pay attention to what you most like to wear and what you get the most compliments wearing. There. I summed it all up for you, and I didn't even make you pay money to find out.

There is, though, the other 11.44%, which we mustn't forget. This goes back to what I was saying above, about making a conscious effort to refine the message we display. One can learn to better communicate with clothing; an eloquent speech with clothes will usually be recognized as such, even when the philistines can't quite discern all the subtleties that you put into it. But, just as one might take English courses to improve one's writing ability, the point is still not so much the writing as much as what is written. That is to say, although speaking clearly and powerfully will help, it is the thoughts and ideas that are expressed that are important.

People who work with costumes are working with the language of the clothing to it's fullness (which is one reason, I think, why I'm always drawn to costumes). People working with their every day wardrobe may not be working with such extremes, but there is a language and a message nonetheless. The first thing that a costume technician needs to figure out is what, exactly, needs to be conveyed by the costume. If you wanted to refine your wardrobe, you would also start here. What, exactly, do you want your clothes to be saying about you?

This post has been banging around in my head for quite some time, but I particularly wanted to post it now, because school is starting soon. With school comes the endless debates about mandatory school uniforms. (The ideas behind voluntary uniforms [e.g. for certain teams, sports, or jobs] are also be very interesting, but are, alas, beyond the scope of this post.)

People against mandatory uniforms (usually students) often complain that it denies them their creativity. No, it does not. Your creativity is not bound to your clothing. Does it deny you freedom to express what you wished to express, in the way you want to express it? Yes. It does not effect the inside of you, it merely effects your ability to communicate as you wish.

Do you think the people enforcing these uniforms think that they will change the insides of people? I hope not, because I think that's very foolish. What they are doing is, in effect, putting their hands over their ears and singing "La la la! I can't heeeaaarr you!" You must show up, we don't like what you are saying, you will stop saying it. It doesn't matter whether it changes what you believe or think. What matters is whether or not they can hear you saying it.

In the end, they really have very little choice. If someone is standing next to you spewing words you find offensive, you can usually leave. Or turn up your ipod. Or put your hands over your ears. But in the situation of compulsory attendance, the teachers can't simply decide to stop associating with the students, and hang out with a different group of people. Or choose which people they allow in the class. They can't even put their hands over their ears; the only equivalent of that is walking around with their eyes closed, and you have to admit, that isn't very practical.

So they make mandatory uniforms. Now they aren't hearing (or rather, seeing) whatever it is they don't want to hear (or see). But it doesn't change the students, or what they think, or believe. Some students might complain that someone else's ideals are being forced upon them, but they must remember that what is being repressed is merely their communication--not who they are. A fine line, yes, but an important distinction. I find the idea of someone's inner self being so weak that it is could be changed by outward appearances to be far more disturbing than the idea that someone might force me to wear a uniform. The important part is on the inside, not the outside.

Even if one is not being compelled to wear a uniform, this is still an important thing to remember. Taking someone else's advice on what to wear and how to appear is about as effective as wearing a uniform. It is a very weak effort indeed, unless you already agree with the one giving the advice. You will appear awkward in these "assigned" clothes, and out of place. Your words and your actions will give you away for what you are, even if your clothes do not.

People often dress to "fit in", but this means that all the compliments go to the clothing. As it has been said before, the point is not to have clothes that get the compliments, but clothes that compliment you. That is to say, when people see you, they shouldn't be inclined to say "Your dress looks great!", but rather "You look great!" This is why so much advice on appearance boils down to "Wear what you want to wear." Any thing less, and the rest of your self rebels against what is worn, and it is apparent to those who see you.

Endless advice might get you great clothes. But if you want to look great, someone else's opinion won't help you very much. What is mostly required is self-examination--what you like, what you do, what you want, what you want to convey, how you want to appear. This, more than any one else's opinion, is what really matters.

First batch is listed. . .

2006-08-28T12:13:00.000-05:00

Well, I did manage to get 13 patterns listed on eBay on Saturday. It took me a lot longer than I'd hoped. (It also took about $5 in listing fees, so I have to sell at least one pattern just to break even.) I still have several crates of patterns that I haven't even scanned in yet, never mind listing the ones I have scanned. I know I could do "lot" sales, but I hate to do that because then no one really knows what they're getting.

Anyway, if you see something you want, bid on it, because I doubt I'll have the time or patience to do any re-listing. If it doesn't sell, it'll probably get sent out in the recycling. At this rate, I'll be lucky to have list them at all!

The 'hoarder' part of me cringes at the thought of recycling all those perfectly good patterns. The part of me that has to work in my cramped sewing room is getting perilously close to unceremoniously chucking them all.

Clothing and Fashion

2006-08-22T15:39:00.000-05:00

People, of course, ask me what I'm interested in. When I indicate that I'm interested in sewing, they often respond, "Oh, so you want to work in the fashion industry!" as though there could be no other possible reason for sewing.

"Well, not exactly," I say. You see, I don't want to design fashion. I want to design clothes. Now, undoubtedly some of you are rolling your eyes, because of course when they say "fashion industry" they mean clothes.

I disagree.

Occasionally, in keeping my eyes out for interesting and creative clothes, I do get suckered in to visiting fashion sites. Sometime a few months ago, I did. It was supposed to be about international fashion, and I thought it would be interesting to see how different countries and cultures approached their clothing. As usual, I found nothing useful, and regretted visiting; the site had nothing to do with clothes.

For instance, the first two pictures I saw was of a stick-skinny model walking towards the camera on a run-way, wearing a tight, short dress. It was a grasshopper green, I think it was made out of silk, and about mini-skirt length. I think it had long sleeves. The second picture was of the model walking away from the camera. The same green silk, the same long sleeves. . .but the back of the skirt had been carefully cut away so that the model was mooning the camera, the entire audience, and anyone else who cared to look. I kid you not. That was the greatest "feature" of that dress--the ability to moon people without hitching up your skirt.

This is no lone incident. At every fashion site I have ever dared to peak at, the models have not been so much clothed as unclothed. This leaves me to think that, by and large, most designers main dilemma is trying to figure out exactly how much fabric they must use in order to call it a "look" or a "piece" or even sometimes a "garment".

Sometimes I imagine the designers planning their runway shows:

"I think it's time for knits to be 'in', so lets have this model wear chunky knitted socks, and a nice, long scarf."

"That's all? Don't you think that's a bit skimpy?"

"Really? You think so?"

"Yes. She should definitely be wearing a hat."

"D'you know, I think you might be right. A wool flannel plaid with ear-flaps, maybe?"

"Sure, with a real, stuffed duck on top."

"Excellent idea. We can call it the 'huntress' look."

This is where we get into the quibble of whether fashion has anything to do with clothes. Fashion is "The prevailing style or custom, as in dress or behavior." Clothing, on the other hand, is defined as (by varying sources) "1: Clothes considered as a group; wearing apparel. 2: A covering." or "Articles worn to cover the body." or "Things worn to cover the body." or "covering designed to be worn on a person's body" or even "Clothing is defined, in its broadest sense, as coverings for the torso and limbs as well as coverings for the hands, feet and head." You see, by definition, clothing covers the body. Fashion, on the other hand, has no such bounds. Since it is only the "prevailing style or custom", it is possible for 'fashion' to mean "walking around buck-nekkid with only a pair of dark sunglasses"--if it's in fashion, it's in fashion, regardless of what is or is not covered.

Clothes are sometimes fashion, but fashion isn't clothes. In fact, I'm much more inclined to call those skimpy rags popularly known as "fashion clothing" as simply "un-clothing"--fabric that is, by and large, meant to leave as much as possible uncovered. This un-clothing has no other use (besides leaving things uncovered)--it is neither comfortable, nor practical, nor protective, and nearly all the time, it doesn't even look good.

I have therefore learned, in the manner of Pavlov's dogs, to avoid association with (among others) these words: Fashion, fashion-forward, trend, trendy, style, stylish, diva, current, and even, alas "modest", which for some peculiar reason often seems to mean "just because it looks like all my un-clothing is about ready to fall off doesn't mean it will". Which, one has to agree, is indeed more modest than un-clothing that not only looks like it will all fall of, but, in fact, is also in a regular habit of doing just so.

What, then, is left for one who is interested in sewing, but not in fashion? Well, there are always the old reliable stand-bys--like sewing hot-air balloons, and repairing worn out belts on your car, and sneakily sewing shut the legs to all of your brothers pants. But some of us like to consider the possibility of actually sewing clothes.

Yes, clothes. Clothes that work. And by work, I mean to fulfill the intended function of clothes--to cover, to be comfortable, durable, protective, practical, and aiding you in your activities, whatever they may be. People seem to often make themselves subservient to their clothes, forgetting that clothes are a tool for people. They put themselves through discomfort and inconvenience for the sake of wearing the "right" clothes, instead of using clothes to lessen their discomfort and inconvenience. Often this is done with the claim that form and function can't mingle--that it has to be uncomfortable and inconvenient in order to look good.

This, then, is a common argument: Yes, I wouldn't be caught dead in many things labeled "fashion". But "clothes" are so utilitarian, so boring, and so flat out ugly, I wouldn't be caught in them either. Therefore, I will stick to wearing whatever is in fashion that I can talk myself into wearing.

Some people think that one cancels out the other--if it looks good, it can't be very practical, and if it's practical, it must be ugly. Of course, everyone's idea of what "looks good" varies, but combining form and function isn't considered weird for most things--cars, appliances, electronics--in fact, most things you buy. People want things to work, and to look good. But for some odd reason, they make an exception for clothes. Clothes, it seems, don't need to work. Or rather, un-clothes don't need to work; clothes don't look good.

I think that designing clothes that combine both form and function can be done; it just takes more skill. Do I make a claim to great skill? No. But that is what I aspire to.

Update

2006-08-22T10:53:00.000-05:00

I now have an ebay account, "tatterpatterns". I hope to start listing this Saturday, so tell all your friends, neighbors, co-workers, relatives, or any one else you know who might possibly want to buy patterns!

Paypal will be accepted (in fact, encouraged).

Patterns will be shipped in flat-rate ($4.05) Priority Mail envelopes, which I realize is a bit more inconvenient (expensive) for the buyer. However, this lets me devote more of my time to verifying the contents of pattern envelopes, writing accurate and helpful descriptions, answering any and all questions quickly, listing more patterns for you to chose from, and shipping promptly. The good news is, I can usually fit 4 patterns in an envelope, snugly but comfortably. (No mashing or man-handling of the patterns required to get them to fit.) In some cases, such as larger patterns (e.g. designer patterns, or other patterns marketed with a larger envelope) or thicker patterns (patterns using massive amounts of tissue paper), I may not be able to ship as many per envelope. I would be delighted to combine as many orders as can reasonably fit, to make your shipping money go further.

A sneak preview of some of the patterns I will be listing during this pattern sale can be found here. (I don't know how many I'll get listed the first day, or which ones I'll be listing first.)

Anyone with a collection of patterns themselves may want to arrange a trade with me, instead--look over at Krystin Baker's forum for more details.

Patterns, patterns, and more patterns

2006-08-14T12:45:00.000-05:00

I recently was given several crates full of sewing patterns. I picked out the ones I wanted the most, but I still have several crates full of patterns, taking up very precious space in my sewing room. I'm hoping to soon start selling them on E-bay. If you want a sneak preview, you can look at them at Flickr. There isn't much there yet (I've only just uploaded 44 of them), but I will be adding more to them later.

I'll keep posting updates here, but unfortunately the pressing need of getting these patterns out of my sewing room is cutting into my blog writing time. I do have a (much longer and hopefully more interesting) post half finished in my "drafts", and hopefully I'll have time to get it finished sometime this week.

In the meantime, feel free to browse my patterns. An E-bay selling spree is imminent!

Where have I been?

2006-08-04T11:41:00.000-05:00

It's been almost exactly a month since I last posted.

I have not dropped off the face of the earth, nor have I lost interest in sewing, or talking about sewing, or ranting about sewing. I do, however, have a good excuse (for once!) for not posting.

In general, I try to mostly keep this blog on topic. Sites that are supposed to be about a certain subject and then devolve into nothing but chit-chat on the author's daily life bother me. There isn't anything wrong about chit-chat on the author's life, but I feel cheated, because the site promised one thing and delivered another.

There are some things, though, that feel so momentous to the author of this site (me), that I can't seem to keep my thoughts from drifting back to them. (Or taking almost 4 straight weeks off of posting a single word.) So while you may not have any need of reading what I'm about to talk about (it's not about sewing, and you may not care where I've been), I'm going to write about it anyway. (But, don't worry, it's not about the finds on my latest shopping trip or a cute thing my pet did this morning. Slightly more momentous than that.)

I live in the north-eastern part of the U.S. In late June, there was severe flooding (the rivers crested on June 28th). The peculiar thing was that it was flooding the highly affected the rivers, but not so much the creeks and brooks. Living out in the middle of nowhere, we saw our local brook rise considerably, but nothing out of the ordinary. I've seen the brook higher during spring melt-off, when all of our snow turns to water and runs off. The rivers, on the other hand, rose to the point they were beyond any sort of control; they spilled over flood-walls and ruined houses that were no where near the flood-plains of the river.

So, in the beginning, it didn't really affect me. I was still high and dry, and I rarely come out of the middle of nowhere to the beginnings of somewhere. About two weeks after the flood, however, things started to change. We were contacted, asking if we would be willing to volunteer in the clean-up after the flood.

Having never experienced a flood first hand, the first reaction we had was "What? It isn't all cleaned up already? It's been two weeks!" No, it is not all cleaned up. And in the beginning there were a lot of volunteers, but they had dropped off dramatically. Some of that was probably due to the fact that most people do tend to stop thinking about disasters after the first two weeks (unless it directly effects them), and part of it was due to the volunteers they did have burning out.

So on July 18th, a small crew of family and friends took the half-hour trek out. We made it clear we didn't want the easy jobs--it would be much easier for them (the church organizing the clean-up) to find people willing to do the easy jobs. If we were coming all the way out to help, we wanted to help the people who needed it the most. The dispatch ladies took us at our word; we asked for hard jobs, and we got hard jobs.

And who is we? Mostly girls and children (that is, people under the age of 18--the youngest we ever took was 11). My 4-years-older-than-me brother was the only man in our crew on the first day. Other than him, there was me, two other girls, and 12-year old boy.

And what is a hard job? Moving water-logged furniture out of a finished basement, with no direct opening to the outside. Including a table, couch, several easy chairs, a pool table, an ancient freezer and all the carpeting.

All in all, the 85-year-old widow we were helping didn't really think we'd get much done, as everything would need "a group of men" to get it out. Needless to say, she was pleasantly shocked when we did get it all out--and tore out all the ruined wooden paneling besides--by 6 pm. Never underestimate a good work ethic and a determination to get things done (also known as a good dose of pig-headedness). The pool table came up in pieces (my brother "disassembled" it with a circular saw and a sledgehammer). The freezer also came up--my brother harnessed it up with a strap; he pushed, we pulled, and up the stairs it went. The rest of the furniture was carried up between me and my brother. The soggy carpet (in some places you could pretend it just smelled like river mud, but in other places it smelled distinctly of sewage. Joy.) we sliced, rolled up, hooked the strap around it, and hauled away. Hard work, to be sure, but doable.

After that, we usually managed a crew of about 10 people, but it was still mostly young women or children. Sometimes we'd have an extra man or two (besides my 4-years-older-than-me brother), but we were never a, shall we say, physically imposing crew. We worked Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday the first week, and Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the second week. Over those six long days, I have accumulated a lot of stories--sad stories, that make you want to cry, stories so gross it would make you want to gag, even a few funny stories. (If you ask, I'm sure I could be easily persuaded to tell a few.)

But mostly, we worked. The dispatch ladies were very good at finding the place in the most need and/or the most work--usually both. After the widow at the first house had stated nothing could be done without a group of men, we joked that we had all been made into men. It doesn't take a genius to see that we were only joking, though. My brother was a man, and he could bounce back easily. We weren't men, and there were bound to be consequences, even if we could do the work.

The last Wednesday that we went out, we had a crew of 13 people--All of whom, besides my older brother, were young women or children. We got to the house at 9:30 in the morning, and took about an hour off for lunch. By 3:30 pm, we had moved 5 dump-trucks worth of trash out of the house. We know, because we stood around and gawked when the road crew came by to pick it, and counted how many trucks they filled.

I slept for almost all of Thursday.

My body had held up for the work before--sure, there had been the odd dream or two, but I was able to do the work each day. But now, my whole system crashed. I lost almost all appetite--on Friday I ate a small bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, no lunch, half of a large apple for afternoon snack, and only a small amount of dinner; each time, I felt full. I couldn't get anything done, I kept staring into space.

This persisted throughout the weekend, but by Monday, I was ready to work again, and we went one last time. We almost might have not bothered; the second half of our crew was also exhausted (they didn't sleep all of Thursday, or perhaps they might have had a bit more energy), and what had been easy to do on the first day had become quite difficult by July 31st. (My older brother, annoyingly, had bounced right back, and didn't get what was up with all these tired people.) Many people couldn't focus. We still put in a day, but it was a day of light work: we tore out some walls and ripped up some floors. We did the work, but it was clear this was our last day.

That was Monday. Now it's Friday. I have been trying to get caught up a little bit on some of the things that piled up while I was otherwise occupied. On Thursday I helped some neighbor's get their hay into the barn (everyone's been quite delayed in getting their hay made, due to the frequent down-pours), and I seemed to have all of my strength back. So I have bounced back, if not as quickly as some people, and I do hope to post more soon, if possible. I know you're all on the edges of your seats.

European Cut, part II: My experiences

2006-07-08T16:23:00.000-05:00

"Taking accurate measurements is by far the most difficult and challenging part of sloper drafting. You must deal with a 3-dimensional body to be translated onto 2-dimensional paper."

This is how Elizabeth Allemong begins the first chapter, to which I respond, "No kidding!" Not only is the body 3-dimensional, it also moves, shifts, stretches, compresses, wiggles, and generally doesn't stay put. The ironic thing is that as far as I can tell, getting accurate measurements is typically considered fairly easy, and drafting is considered something scary and complicated. Hah! Not so at all.

Since the book is written as though it were speaking to a professional dressmaker, it assumes the one taking the measurements will also be the one drafting and sewing. However, it's impossible to take accurate measurements of yourself, so for this part I pressed my sister into service. Actually, she was quite willing, thankfully. Although she found it dreadfully ironic to read and follow directions geared toward professional seamstresses (she loathes sewing, and doesn't even want to get near the machine), she understood what it meant to me. (If you don't have a willing volunteer, I suggest bribery in the form of baked goods. In particular, I have a recipe for a low-fat chocolate cheesecake that one of my brothers describes as "so mocha it's a form of humane execution in some states". It's also a good thing to keep on hand in case the measurement session doesn't go too well. The one caution is that if you eat too much of it, your measurements would change, and you'd have to start all over again, and that would feel like a catastrophe. If anyone is in need of the recipe, let me know.)

My first disagreement is when she says "Don't ask her to turn around. You will walk around her to take front and back measurements. Don't take any chances that she might change her stance, or you will have to start measuring all over again." Well, my sister and I tried to follow this exactly in the first measurement session. But, we're not very quick; it was hours long (I think at least three). Standing absolutely still for three hours is not good for you; your muscles start cramping up, and near the end I started feeling a bit faint and light headed. By our last measurement session, we were down to two hours, but I still don't recommend you stand utterly still. Maybe if you are much faster than we are--maybe if you only had to stand still for an hour--but if your experiences are similar to mine, I suggest you move around a bit.

I especially think you should move around while your body is being marked up for measurements. Stay comfortable and relaxed. Then, when you are being measured, try to stay more still. However, I still suggest you move around enough to stay relaxed. I suggest you do turn around, instead of being walked around. I think it is more important that you stay relaxed and comfortable, because that will lead to you standing the most naturally. The longer you have to stay in the "same" position, the more you tense up, and start standing in ways that are un-natural to you. And trust me, it is quite difficult enough to stay relaxed while someone scrutinizes you from all directions, without being told to stay still on top of everything else.

Some of the marks are hard to make, especially where they require a straight line. The human body is curved, and to get a straight line on it is difficult. My sister found that using my small quilter's ruler as a guide helped considerably in getting a straight line.

The measurement chapter was one place where I sometimes wished there were photographs. For one measurement, I remember my sister saying,

"Hmm, now, how do I take this measurement?. . ." A pause while she reads the book. "Well, according to this, for this measurement your arm should be chopped off."

Apparently, the illustration had removed the arm for clarity of instruction, but my sister had a bit of difficulty figuring out how to take the measurement. As in it would have in the illustration, my arm got in the way of taking the measurement. She managed it in the end, but a photograph showing how to cope with the reality of limbs-that-get-in-the-way might have been helpful.

For the most part, though, she found the measuring part to be very easy; the marking of all the reference lines was the most difficult. Where, exactly, do you mark the shoulder line? Where is the right point for the shoulder point? This required much pressing and feeling, trying to find the joint. Everyone makes it sound so easy to find, so I'm assuming that since I had more-than-average muscle development in that area made it harder to find (the tissue was firmer, and harder to feel the joint through). If you have a more average muscle development, I would assume it would be easier to find the joint--or at least, I hope so, because otherwise it's quite a bother.

Marking the neckline was also tricky. She tells you to mark it in the back "just above the prominent vertebra." I think this is much too high. I was never happy with the way it fit with the neck up this high. Although I could get it to hug my neck, there was loose fabric for about an inch before it smoothly fit my back. I tried the recommended darts, but they actually exasperated the problem. In the end, I lowered the back neck to just below the prominent vertebra, and that worked much better. I did use the recommended darts, then, and it fit much better. I also don't think it's optional to leave the darts by the neck instead of moving them to the middle of the shoulder. I actually liked how it looked to have the darts by the neck, and it was one less step to not move them. However, I think I achieved a better fit when I moved them to the shoulders, so that's what I recommend.

She describes the waist as "the narrowest part of the waist", but as I mentioned in a previous post, my sewing mentor suggested I put them where my back curved inward the most; the most important part being that the waist be completely straight--not tipped up in either the front or back. This worked well for me for the bodice and skirt sloper, but in my final set of measurements, I took two measurements, one where my waist was narrowest, and one where my lower back dipped in the most. I intend to use these measurements when working on the torso sloper. (By the way, bluecatahoula, if you're still around, I got The Costume Technician's Handbook for my birthday, and although I've been enjoying it, I can't find the reference to where to put the waistline. Mine is the 1992 edition; I confess I haven't read it thoroughly yet. Do you think it was one of the "edition" changes, or ought I just sit down and read it cover to cover?)

Another measurement I had trouble with is the chest measurement. This is the only "whole circumference" measurement she has you take, and for every set of measurements I took, the sloper was consistently tight in this area. For my final draft, I added 5/8ths of an inch, and then I still wound up adding another half inch to it. For this measurement, the tape measure is level in the back, but dips up in the front, above the bust. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why. The line is drawn straight on the paper; why do you measure a curved line? If this works well for other people, I guess I'll just have to come up with another conspiracy theory about why my body is non-standard. At any rate, if I ever have to go through all of this again, I'm going to take the measurement totally parallel the whole way around.

Ironically, the skirt gave me a lot more problems than the bodice. (By the way, you should most definitely take all the measurements the same day. Do not try to take the bodice measurements one day and the skirt measurements a different day. Ask me how I know. Actually, don't ask me how I know; I'd rather not talk about it. Trust me on this, it won't save time, either for you or your designated measurer. Thank goodness for patient sisters.) The bodice back had 26 marked points. The bodice front had 23 marked points. The skirt front has only 15 points, and the back only 18. The skirt was even more simple than the bodice, if you can imagine that, but I still had more trouble with it.

The first problem was, yes, trying to take the measurements in two different days. The first time we tried taking the measurements, it took about 3 hours--without taking any of the lower torso measurements. We couldn't take anymore at that point. Needless to say, this caused problems later on. Once we had taken another set of measurements--this time, all of them--I tried again.

The back wasn't too bad. She accounted for my figure type in the back; a big rear. (One of my brother's thought I was being overly self-conscious when I described myself as have a big butt, but the only way to get the skirt to fit was to use the instructions she included for those "with very protruding buttocks".) Don't worry, she also includes instructions for average, and flat, and a few shapes in between.

However, getting the right hip curve was a nightmare; I finally resorted to pin-fitting, and then copying the curve. Part of this was caused by the fact that at that time I didn't have a hip-curve ruler. Part of it was complications with my protruding thighs.

Getting the skirt front to fit was even worse. This was due to the fact that my body type wasn't taken into account here. She did have instructions for those with a flat abdomen--but not protruding thighs. And I didn't start out this whole project with the knowledge that I had protruding thighs--this I learned the hard way. Secondly, this threw off two dimensions--vertically and horizontally. It was obvious it would throw of the width measurement, but I didn't realize at first that it would throw off the height measurement as well.

This is why: when she has you measure your center front skirt length, the tape measure goes straight down the center--not over your thighs! I thought that perhaps the situation could be solved by using thigh bridges, as she had instructed to use bust bridges earlier. However, the bust has a definite apex and dropping off. The thighs were a different story. You couldn't tell exactly when they became "protruding" or when they stopped "protruding". Perhaps if I had used several bridges, I could have obtained an accurate measurement. As it was, several attempts didn't get me an accurate measurement. In the end, I left myself with well over an inch of seam allowance in the center front, and manually adjusted it during the muslin fitting stage.

The second problem was width. Getting an accurate front thigh circumference measurement was hard; again, I had to leave myself seam allowance and adjust later. It was also a problem because her book didn't explain what to do with that extra width. I originally started by adding the extra space at the side seam--that is, the side seam was further shaped to make allowances for my thigh; it curved out more below the hip point. The back skirt side seam was straight from the hip point down, and the front skirt side seam continued to curve out beneath the hip point. In the end, I did wind up putting in front darts--not for my abdomen, but for my thighs. The side seams hang straight down from the hip point. I added the extra width to the whole skirt front, and darted out the excess at the waist. These are looong darts, but they work to make the skirt fit without out pulling and straining.

The first thing everyone asks is "But wouldn't those look really weird?" I suppose; if you left them that way. A straight "pencil" skirt is never going to look right on me, no matter what. If you make an A-line skirt, the darts are closed at the waist and opened up at the hem--so no darts are sewn. When making pants, I intend to always use a waist band, and ease the darts instead of sewing them. So, although those long thigh darts are necessary for a pencil skirt to fit me, you probably won't ever wind up seeing them on my finished garments.

The third problem was my abdomen measurement. I finally wound up just leaving it out. There was no use in putting it in when my waist and thighs were both more protruding. However, this meant that I had no "high hip" measurement (as the high hip measurement is taken at the same level as the abdomen height, and the abdomen height is supposed to be where the abdomen protrudes the most), which meant I couldn't draft the skirt back according to her directions. Instead of adjusting the dart length to make sure the high hip measurement was accurately reflected on the paper, I left my darts at the guideline length and hoped that was good enough.

The sleeve head is based off of the armhole measurements from your finished bodice, so don't draft your sleeve until you are sure that your bodice fits right. Ask me how I know. Actually, don't ask. Let's just say I've drafted several sleeves. So far, not one of those sleeves is for my final sloper. Since I've drafted several sleeves, and the sleeve is based off of the sloper measurements directly, I'm pretty confident it will fit right in. Every sleeve I've drafted has been a very tight fit, so don't try for a really snug measurement on your arm or you won't even be able to get the sleeve on your arm.

On my first reading of the book, I was disappointed that she gave so little information one what to do if, perchance, the sloper didn't fit. She says "If the bodice does not fit well, mark the ill-fitting places with a black pen, directly on the muslin. No adjustments are made to the center front and center back seams." And that's all.

Upon further reflection (and many attempts later), I realized a very good rule of thumb: If you can't tell what is wrong, and quickly and easily fix it, you screwed up on the measurements. Don't bother try to alter it; take new measurements and try again. You will quite possibly be tempted to just experiment, and try this or that, thinking surely it would be quicker than taking all the measurements again. Well, if my experience is an accurate example, it wouldn't be. There's no point in altering; otherwise, you'd might as well not even bother with the sloper. All you will do is waste more time before you finally decide you really need a new set of measurements. Ask me how I know. Actually, don't.

As she points out, the fit of the sloper depends on three "ifs": If you drafted right, measured right, or stood naturally. So that means either I cheat when I get measured, or my sister had difficulty measuring, or possibly, I made drafting errors. But since the drafting part was the easiest, I'm inclined to blame the previous two. Neither my sister or I remembers doing anything different any of the times she measured me, yet each time, the measurements came out slightly differently. And each time I sewed up the sloper, there were miscellaneous wrinkles (many of them) that I couldn't figure out how to fix.

With the final set of measurements, the bodice had one glaring problem--not enough room in the bust (see above comments on the chest measurement). I let out the side seams a little, and then the bodice fit nearly perfectly. That's how it's supposed to be. If you have lots of miscellaneous wrinkles you don't know what mean, you're in trouble, and it's time to dig out the cheesecake. My only other practical advice would be to try to get the measurements over with as soon as possible. The longer you stand around, the more time you have for standing un-naturally and getting stiff. The biggest difference between the first and last set of measurements was that we were both familiar with what was going on in the last set; and consequently, she took less time and I was more comfortable and relaxed.

As you may have noticed, I had quite a lot of trouble with drafting my own sloper. Yes, I did. I must say (honestly) that I mostly didn't enjoy it--or at least, I didn't enjoy the "getting measurements taken" and the "sloper doesn't fit" parts, which were the great majority of the time spent working on this sloper. But the question is, was it worth it?

This is when I realize what people mean when they call their projects "their babies". People who don't have babies frequently ask "Is it really worth it?" I mean, the kid takes over your life! It wakes you up, screaming, every night. You're constantly sleep-deprived, you get hardly anything else done--could it really be worth it? And like a new mother, I defend my baby. Yes! It most certainly was worth it. Okay, it didn't wake me up screaming every night, but it was very time consuming. And, okay, it doesn't look like much (mostly it looks kind of sack-shaped. What can I say? I have a sack-shaped body). But what I have now is a foundation--and foundations rarely look like much. However, you can build many wonderful things off of a well made foundation--and without a good foundation, you can't build much.

And what is my end conclusion about the book? It's a good book, and I like it. Unfortunately, it wasn't omniscient, but luckily, I didn't expect it to be. It's a very good guide to show you in the right direction, but it will still take time and work on your part. If you're willing to work through to the end, you will have a good end product, but it might take you several tries. Learning new skills usually does, and, as with most skills, you get better with practice.

Since purchasing this book, I have also acquired a few other books on pattern drafting, but I haven't found anything I appreciated as much as this one. (I hope, of course, to write more later on other books I have, but as usual, my writing is getting squeezed out of my schedule by other things, so don't hold your breath.)

New Vogue patterns

2006-06-26T16:04:00.000-05:00

I felt like posting some quick commentary on the recently released Vogue patterns. (I look, but rarely buy.)

Long tiered skirts and fitted jackets are now "in":

Example A

Example B

I like jackets, and always long skirts, but I don't think I care for the tiered look. Reminds me of a feather duster.

How Hedious.

It ain't quite the Elizabethian Ruff, but it is a sure-fire way to make sure you keep your chin up. (The smile on your face is, apparently, quite optional.)

Thing one I don't mind the grey/brown one, but the other two would make me choke.

Thing two

Look out, drunk designer on the loose! (Poor thing can't even draw a straight line any more; scroll down and look at the technical drawings.)

Sombody really ran out of fabric.

Military is "in". I like double rows of buttons, so I guess I actully like something that's in. My grandmother would be so proud.

A sneaky re-issue. (I saw this pattern about a year ago. Now it's new again. Go figure.)

Big collars are "in":

There's a dead thing for a collar,

and

another huge collar.

If you want to look like a dork, wear this.

This one has interesting shoulder tucks.

I think this skirt has double inverted box pleats in the front? I like the black and white ensemble, but how come people always pick puke-y shades of green? It looks like split-pea soup, or something.

European Cut

2006-06-13T14:54:00.000-05:00

European Cut, by Elizabeth Allemong (it's available here) is the book I used to draft my own sloper. I've decided to do two posts on it--one as a description of the book, and one a description of my experiences with it. I tried combining the two, but it made for a long and incomprehensible post.

The reason why such a thorough description of the book is necessary is because it's not available in most libraries. This makes it very hard to get an idea of what the book is like (unless you do like what I did--have a brother in college who uses his university privileges to interlibrary loan one of the two copies in a library, just for you). I would probably not have boughten the book if I hadn't been able to get it out of the library; at the very least, I would have ordered it with trepidation. However, in the end I found this to be a very helpful book. So I shall try to make this post as detailed as possible.

The book is business like. It is written with a custom dress-maker or home sewer in mind. It is not chit-chatty, but it provides all the necessary information--without leaving anything out! I once heard someone describe the writing style as "a bit dry", but I thought it was perfect. There are no extra words to distract me, but all (well, almost all) of my questions were answered. It is clear and easy to understand, and it does hold your hand step-by-step. It does not assume the reader has any previous knowledge with pattern drafting, truing, or moving darts.

The book is also obviously self-published; it is plastic spiral bound with laminated covers. However, the fact that it was self-published, for the most part, has no bearing on the quality of the material. There are no typos or unclear instructions, or missing steps. It is a well prepared manuscript, even if the binding isn't of the highest quality. However, the illustrations for measuring are not professional.

She begins with a list of suggested supplies. Some I used, some I didn't. Here's what I used:

measuring tape
eyeliner pencil
masking tape
1/8" ribbon
1/4" wide elastic
floral stem wires
scotch tape
yardstick
regular 12" ruler
8"x4" quilters ruler
24"x6" quilters ruler
roll of tracing paper
mechanical pencil, pen
cheap french curve from A.C. Moore

Believe it or not, the only thing I had to buy for this, specifically, was the eyeliner pencil. I'm just not a make-up kind of girl.

Next follows a measurement chart, and several pages for doing calculations on. These all look very intimidating, but in reality, I didn't even wind up using most of the pages for calculations. The math is simple enough that I did a lot of it in my head. However, some are more difficult, and the pages help to keep you on track and walk you through the math. It winds up being very easy. She encourages you to photocopy these pages and use them as necessary (which I did). Having a separate sheet with all the measurements makes things a lot easier.

Next comes a whole chapter on how to take measurements. This was my first sign that I really wanted the book: she doesn't have you take complete circumference measurements. All the other material I've read on taking measurements has you take a total circumference, e.g., a bust measurement wraps totally around the body at the height of the bust; a waist measurement wraps around the whole body at the point of the waist, and so on. In Allemong's instructions, you are to take the front and back measurements separately, e.g. front waist, and back waist. This makes so much sense, I can't understand why anyone would do it any other way. (I should note that you are actually taking 1/4 circumference measurements. Since you only draft one half of the back, you only measure one half of the back. However, you have a very asymmetrical body, you will want to measure everything separately--left back, right back, left front and right front--and draft them all separately as well.)

The second thing I liked was that she instructs you to mark all reference lines (waist, bust, shoulder, side seam, center back, center front, etc), right on the body with the eyeliner pencil. There's another stroke of genius! How else will you know if you are measuring to the same reference points? Most measuring directions assume clothes that already fit, e.g., measure along the shoulder seam, from neck to shoulder point. But, if one has fitting clothes, one doesn't need a sloper. And if one doesn't have clothes that fit, how is one to know where to mark the measurements? Others direct you to take multiple measurements from the same point--neck to shoulder point, and shoulder point to center front, and the like--but don't give instructions on how to make sure you measure from the same point. Although using an eyeliner pencil to mark reference points is a very small part of the book, I appreciated the book's attention to detail and accuracy.

Another detail for accurate measurements is the instructions for the use of "bridges". This is so that the tape measure doesn't fall into valleys, for more accurate measurements. For example, the bust bridge is put in place so that when the center front measurement is taken, the tape measure follows the same path the muslin will--over the bust height.

She takes into account for different body types, including those with dowagers humps, rounded shoulders, "spare tires", and different hip shapes. She also accounts for different abdomen shapes: flat, normal, average, and large.

She does not have you take the crotch depth measurement by having you sit on a chair and measuring over your hip curve. This was another measuring practice I never understood, and I find her method much more accurate.

Next comes the drafting of the actual bodice. This is easy. Her instructions are clear and simple. You need your measurement chart filled out and sitting right beside you, but if you can draw a straight line (with the aide of a ruler) you can draft the bodice. All points on the paper draft are numbered for easy reference, and the out-lines of the actual sloper are shown in bold. You can understand instantly why you are drawing the line you are a drawing, and watch the shape of the sloper quickly form right before your eyes. It makes a lot of sense, and so is easy to follow--since you understand what you are doing, it is a lot harder to get confused.

She rarely uses "standard" numbers (e.g. make a line so many inches long). It is either a measurement directly off of your body, or a guideline. If it is a guideline, she explains in which way it is likely to differ. At one point, she suggest you draw a guideline of 5/8ths of an inch, but explains that "for a client with very erect posture, this guideline may be 1/2" or less. The lower armhole curve will be cut a little deeper than the curve for a client with normal posture. For a client with very stooping posture this guideline may be 3/4" or more. The lower armhole curve will be cut shallower than the curve for a client with normal posture." Mine wound up being 3/16th of an inch! Understanding why a guideline of a certain length is given teaches you how you should differentiate from the guide, and it in what way. That way, you can truly have a custom draft, instead of a draft for the "normal".

Both the bodice front and bodice back work up pretty quickly and simply. It does take a little bit of time at first, but that is because there are many steps, not because it is difficult. I did have some difficulty with drawing the armholes, but I attributed that to either not having the proper French curves, or from simply needing non-curvy armholes. In any case, I was still able to get the proper armhole curves, I just was a bit more creative with my French curve.

Next comes the skirt. I did not have a hip curve ruler. I suggest that you do have a hip curve. The instructions for the skirt, are, if anything, even easier to understand than the instructions for the bodice. I'll speak more on my experiences with the skirt in my next post.

Next is the sleeve. The sleeve is the trickiest part to draft. It uses the most calculations and the most math, and the hardest time understanding what is going on and whether or not it will work. I basically took a deep breath and worked my way through it, trusting it would work in the end. If you take it in one small step at a time, it's not too bad, but it does make you feel a bit dizzy when you first look at it. The sleeve has the most marked points--39, plus a couple of letters. At some points toward the end, it starts to get a little confusing. I wish she had highlighted each new step as she showed you how to do it, just so that it would be easier to pick out your spot on the paper.

Again, though, if you can draw a straight line with the aide of a ruler, you can draft the sleeve. The instructions are clear, and break everything down into small steps. The resulting sleeve is quite obviously asymmetrical--which is good. The sleeve cap is based off of the armhole measurements on your sloper. The back armhole is longer than the front armhole (as it is on your body). Thus, the sleeve reflects the bodice. Instead of pretending that the sleeve is symmetrical and winding up with a lot more ease in the front than in the back, the sleeve draft takes into account the fact that the body is asymmetrical, and the sleeve ought to be as well. The sleeve is also darted at the elbow. It is a very, very, very close fit.

She also includes directions for making a two-piece sleeve. Another interesting thing she includes is instruction on how to draft a sleeve for a dress pattern--not a sloper. This interesting, because she includes no instructions how to change a sloper into a dress pattern. But, it is also very helpful. If you have, in the course of your alterations, gotten an armhole that fits, but now are stuck as to how to get the sleeve to fit the hole, here's your solution.

Next is the torso, and then the pants. I have not yet made either; but here is what I observed from reading it. The pants are based off of the skirt sloper, so the majority of the work is already done by the time you get there. The trickiest part appears to be adding the "sitting wedge" which is adjustable according to the size of your bum. Of course, it's a simple enough of a thing to change that if you get it wrong, you just re-draft. But it a judgment call. She gives guidelines of how much to add for a sitting wedge according to appearance--again, in terms of flat, normal, full, very full, etc. That can be a difficult call, but at least you know what to change and how to change it.

The torso is based off of the bodice, with a shorter hip-length extension. The torso is used in making shirts (from tunics to t-shirts) and dresses without a waistline. Ease as is added in at the waist. The darts match. If you drafted a skirt and bodice separately, the darts wouldn't match. Since you draft the hip portion as an extention of the bodice, the darts match. I say "match". In some cases, they would be described as double pointed darts, and in the back, that is what they are. However, in the front, they can take on various shapes depending on the shape of the wearer.

Finally, she goes into indepth, step-by-step instructions on how to true and blend your sloper patterns. Then you are to sew them up, and try them on. I am disappointed that she didn't include any photographs of how the finished sloper should fit. She describes that there should be no gaping, and that "The back, sides, and front of the bodice should be smooth, even though the fit is very close. If the bodice is too tight, strain will appear." I would have much more appreciated a picture of what a properly fitted sloper looked like.

She clearly states: "Your success in fitting will depend on three "ifs." If your client stood correctly during measuring (no cheating), if you took correct measurements, and if you did not make mistakes in drafting, the slopers should fit perfectly, or nearly perfectly." Well, thanks to her very good instructions, I don't think I've ever made drafting mistakes. Other mistakes? Well, I've got another post for that.

My summary of the book would be that it is very thorough, gives great attention to detail, and has the highest regard for accuracy and a job well-done. This isn't a "short-cut" job, or a "make it quick'n'easy". But just because the sloper is made without short-cuts doesn't mean the instructions are difficult to follow. She has done an excellent job of breaking the task down into small enough steps that it is easily and clearly understood, even by people with no previous drafting experience whatsoever.

I hope to have another post on my experiences shortly.

Sewing Cabinet

2006-06-05T19:14:00.000-05:00

I've mentioned in the past that I've inherited sewing supplies from my great-grandmother. Well, this sewing cabinet is one of them. My great-grandfather made it for her; we speculate perhaps out of old packing crates. I asked my grandmother, and she said she didn't remember but it would be just like him. It has corks glued in for holding thimbles, a rack for thread, and lots of pockets. I'm considering re-doing the pockets at some time, because the elastic is all shot, and, I'm sorry to say, washed out pink, faded olive green, and a shade black just aren't my favorite colors. But it'll be awhile before I get to that.

The other cool thing is that it just so happens to almost perfectly match with the desk one of my older brothers made me! He found these huge old boards in the basement, sanded them down, and varnished them. Voila! Two desktops! I have them arranged in an "L" shape, and I'm putting the sewing cabinet in the corner to hold my various sewing things, in an effort to stay a little more organized.

Stupidity, squared

2006-06-05T18:37:00.000-05:00

Stupid thing to the first power: Leaving the window open.

Yes, they predicted rain. They'd been predicting 70% chance of rain for the last several days, and we'd never get more than a sprinkle. Yes, I did wake up and hear the torrential down-pour. Yes, I did think to check to see if it was coming in the windows---of my bedroom. No, there was no damage to the sewing room. Why? Because of the nice pile of fabric right underneath the window, including a lot of yards of muslin, a lot of yards of a cherry/cranberry colored fabric, and my favorite cherry-and-vines-on-a-cream-background fabric, soaked it all up like a sponge.

Stupid thing to the second power (and exponentially much stupider): throwing them all in the wash together.

Yes, I do know that red fabric often bleeds. Yes, I do know you are supposed to sort by color. And yes, I did even happen to see that the red fabric was dripping kool-aid like puddles of dye whilst sitting rain-soaked under the window. Yes, I still did throw them all in the wash together. No, I have absolutely no excuse whatsoever. The closest thing I can scrounge up for an excuse would possibly be that it was the first thing I did that morning, and my brain was sleep-fogged. But that's a pretty lame excuse, even for me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!!

So, after opening the washer and feeling of mild shock (and perhaps nausea), copious amounts of hot water and oxygen bleach, I have managed to reduce my cherry-kool-aid muslin to apple blossom pink, and a pale peach. That I don't care about. My print fabric appears to be about as good as it was going to get. The selvedge is uniform messy-child-drinking-cheap-beverage pink, but since the rest of the fabric had been dyed (cream), it seems to have fared pretty well. There are a few splotches here and there (I think from where the red fabric had been dripping onto it in the middle of the night) that I can't seem to get out, but I'm hoping--with a careful cutting--that I can still get my dress out of it.

It is just so immensely stupid. I get this pattern I like, buy fabric I like, find out the pattern doesn't fit me, wrestle fruitlessly with pattern alterations, learn how to draft a sloper, begin re-drafting the pattern design from scratch, and then leave long-awaited fabric under an opened window so that it gets rain soaked, and then toss it in the wash with an un-washed piece of red fabric!! I mean, really! What was I thinking? I did not get what I deserved; if I had, the fabric would have been totally unsalvedgeble. As it is, my ego may have suffered more than my fabric, which I do not regret.

Sloper?

2006-06-01T19:05:00.000-05:00

When you say you are building a house, people have at least an idea of what goes into it, and at least a vague idea about foundations and basements. When you say you are making a cake, people think you mean "from a mix", but know what you mean when you say you are making it from scratch. When you say you are making a sloper, you get a blank look, and they say "What's that?". Sometimes they're even interested in hanging around long enough to listen to the answer.

What is a sloper? First I'll give a general answer, and if your eyes haven't glazed over and you haven't come up with a polite comment with which to shift the conversation to something more interesting to you, I'll try to give a more indepth answer.

When I'm trying to describe what a sloper is to my younger WarCraft-modding brothers, I explain it as a skin; reducing the body to polygons, or planes. To other people, I describe it as a body-map, that accurately shows the space a body will take up. Sometimes I say it's the basic building block of making a pattern. Usually, the conversations goes something like this:

"What's a sloper?" Blank look.

"Well, a sloper is a skin tight dress, drafted to your own personal measurements. Once you have this, you can add ease and manipulate the sloper to create styles that fit you perfectly."

"But skin tight? Wouldn't you want to have more room than that? I'd think it would be awfully uncomfortable!"

"No! The finished garment isn't skin tight; it's just to make sure that you know the shape of your body--then you add extra room."

"Oh. Um. . .gee, doesn't that cloud look interesting? Sort of frog shaped, or something?"

Sigh.

Like I said, a properly made sloper is drafted to your exact measurements, and fits sort of like a second skin. Among other things, if you take the paper form of your sloper and lay it over a pattern, you can see exactly how your body differs from the pattern. You can see where the pattern is too small--it's lines lay inside the lines of your sloper. You can also see how much room you have--maybe too much room--by the lines that lay outside the sloper lines. Or, just as often, you could be a different shape than the pattern. The sloper shows the body.

The best thing to do with a sloper (in my very un-humble opinion) is to learn pattern drafting, and use your sloper for the base. By adding ease--extra room, especially at the sides, so that the garment is not skin tight--and manipulating the pattern by adding seams and shifting fullness, you can create almost anything you can think of.

Now, if watching paint dry doesn't seem particularly interesting at the moment, I'll continue to the slightly more picky stuff. There are a lot of words that people use interchangeably, which really aren't. Some people are very fussy about getting the meaning "just so"; for now, I'm only worried about telling you how I use the words so you don't get even more confused by my mumbldy-jumble. My mother used to tell me that if I didn't know how to spell a word, I ought to pick a spelling and stick with it. If I couldn't be right, I ought to at least be consistent. Well, I give no guarantees that this list is accurate, but it, as far as I can manage it, will be consistent throughout my site:

Sloper: as defined above, this is a skin tight garment, drafted to individual measurements, for the purpose of created customized sewing patterns.

Block: The industry's version of a sloper; this is a garment that is drafted to be skin tight on the company appointed "size", and used in the production of commercial patterns.

Moulage: The French word for sloper. As near as I can tell, the biggest difference is that "moulage" is harder to say than "sloper".

Fitting Shell: A garment that has a small amount of ease built in, and must be adjusted to fit the individual.

All pattern companies use a block in the production of their patterns. If your measurements don't match those of the company block, it's advised that you buy their fitting shell, adjust it to match your shape, and make all those same adjustments of every pattern of theirs you buy. If you don't like that choice, you can draft your own sloper or moulage, and make your own patterns. A sloper is customized; a block is standardized. You don't draft a block for personal use, and the companies don't use a sloper. A fitting shell has to be adjusted; a sloper (if it's drafted properly) is made to fit, and needs no adjustment. (Let's please not talk about what happens if you screw up on the drafting.) Both a sloper and a block are used to the same purpose (manipulated to create patterns). If your sloper is the same as a company block, you wouldn't need to make any adjustments at all. If your sloper differed, then any pattern would have to be adjusted.

So when you make a sloper, you are doing the sewing equivalent of building a house from the ground up. Altering every pattern you buy is like re-modeling.

Contact Me

2006-05-27T14:08:00.000-05:00

You can now contact me through email at tatterdemalionshouse at gmail.com

I've wanted to get an email address up here for some time, because I'm often more comfortable emailing someone rather than making a public comment for all the world to see. So if you're shy like me, here you go!

(And I know the address is way too long. It's absurd. Who in their right mind would start an email account with the name tatterdemalion? I don't know, but whoever it is beat me to it. Gmail offered me names like tatterdemalioniester, and tatterdemalionator, and tatterdemalionneccasary, but I declined. tatterdemalionshouse it is.)

Chapter IV

2006-05-27T13:15:00.000-05:00

This one I just finished. I used McCall's 4695, sans pemplum. "What?" you say. "Isn't that kind of pointy part in the front a pemplum?" No; if you look at the pattern, the main bodice part (can you call it a bodice when it's men's clothing? Or are you supposed to call it something else?) is pointed. Here's what happened:

The pattern runs from chest sizes 34 to 46. This dude's chest measurement is 32". I thought that, seeing as it was sized for men, a 34 would be slightly loose and a bit too long. Loose I was okay with, but I cleverly straightened the front to make it shorter. A test fitting on a similarly sized brother (this was a birthday present again, so didn't want to give it away), showed that this made it much too short! So I added on the part I had cut off, hence, the seam. Unless you want a skin tight garment, always go up one size when using this pattern. And even if your subject has not yet started growing up too much, don't trim any off the bottom. On the test fitting (the testee had the same chest measurement but was taller), I don't think I could even get away with leaving the pemplum off. He certainly needed the length, and I only just got away with leaving it off as it is. I doubt this doublet will fit him for more than six months, tops.

As you can see, the doublet was made to go with his cape (which is a royal purple, not a "girl-y" purple, thank you very much!) When I made this cape, it swept the ground. Not it's only a little more than knee-length. It won't be long before he's taller than I am!

I try to use fabric leftover from making the cape, but in this case, I only had scraps. And I mean scraps. I had one really long piece of selvedge (which had no sequins on it), and one small, irregularly shaped scrap with sequins. I squeezed out the collar and cap sleeves with the scrap, and cut the selvedge piece in half (it was about 2 inches wide) and made the stripes out of that. (And it was a nightmare trying to get them to line up.)

I had to actually buy the base fabric for the doublet, a plain navy poly/cotton broadcloth. The reversible cape (the other side also had a nice deep hood for hiding one's face in) used navy poly felt. Never again. Not only does it pill terribly, but I was accused several times of trying to cook them alive--it's like wearing a blanket. (Their accusations never stopped them from wearing the capes, of course.) Needless to say, making the lined doublet out of the same felt was totally out of the question. I was afraid the colors wouldn't match, but they seem to go together quite well.

There are only three buttons, again, from my Great-grandmother's button collection. However, in this case, they are very cool buttons.

The original pattern used frog closures, not buttons, but I thought these added a more medieval flair. Besides, I didn't have any frog closures on hand!

Yet another reason to begin at the beginning. . .

2006-05-27T13:05:00.000-05:00

I've kind of been doing birthday presents in a theme or series. . .but I didn't start posting pictures at the beginning, which has been driving me nuts. This is the first one, which I did before I started my blog, I think. I was on a really short deadline, and just threw it together. It's basically just two pieces of tissue lame sewn together, with a bound neckline and some bobbin embroidery and sequins. (It goes with his cape, which is red felt and green tissue lame. The whole thing is terribly gaudy, but the younger the kid, the more they like gaudy stuff. He loves it.) It used to also have a belt--a length of pre-made sequin trim in the matching colors--but I think it's either lost or destroyed now.

I used different designs on the center back for each side.

Here you can see the decoration in better detail. The green is the "inside" right now, but when he wears it so that the red is the "inside", the center back motif you see right now will be on the outside. (Did that make any sense?) Quick and dirty, but it serves it's purpose. He'll probably be needing a new one soon enough anyway, seeing as they're all growing so much.

Bunads

2006-05-25T19:07:00.000-05:00

I recently discovered that a 'bunad' is the Norwegian traditional costume. In particular, I've been looking at them at this site. It's an incredible treasure trove of details, rich in embroidery, unique constructions and proportions, headscarves, wedding crowns, purses, silver fastenings, sashes, simple but elegant shirts, capes, aprons, men's costumes and women's. It's hard to choose favorites, but I was struck by the Rogaland's men's bunad, for it's combination of simplicity and opulence. It has a distinct look of non-fussiness, while at the same time being ready to rise to any occasion, no matter how momentous. It also doesn't look as uncomfortable as some of the very cropped coats in men's bunads.

It's even harder for me to choose a favorite women's bunad, as I like the way many of them look, and I think I'd want to combine details from many of them. I love the way the bodice back is cut in the Lofot bunad. I love the Telemark bunad, especially the very, very full skirt. I like the down-to-earth look of the Old Ringerike. The Voss apron and shirt might be my favorite shirt and apron, though it's hard to pick. And the Voss bridal costume is breath-taking. You should look at all the details in the beaded embroidery. I kind of get the feeling that the people from Voss were pretty well to do, as they have quite a bit of silver in their costumes. The Oppland bunads have an incredible amount of embroidery in intricate detail. It's all very inspiring.

Here's another interesting one, and it also sheds a glimpse into reality, as they note "On hot days during haymaking, they wore only the light everyday shift." Yeah, I'll bet! This one has a more unusual shirt for a bunad (most have white work embroidery), as well as more interesting information. This bunad has an interesting detail--the back of the bodice is fluted. If you go looking (I can't seem to re-find it) you may find the picture that shows the invisible lacing placket in the bodices of many bunads. (As a note that may help you when looking around the site, they sometimes use the word "skirt" as we would the word "jumper". Their "skirt" covers the entire torso, and fits like a loose fitting, sleeveless dress. I can't tell if that's always the way they use the word, though.)

I love looking at traditional costumes, and I've always found it mildly disappointing that the U.S. doesn't have any traditional costume. (How come everyone else gets to have all the fun?) It's only to be expected, of course, since the U.S. largely a country of immigrants. People in Norway trace themselves back to a particular part of Norway, but the people in the U.S. usually find their ancestors in other countries. I suppose that means I ought to go looking for the traditional costumes of Sicily, Ireland, and I think Germany (all places where my ancestors have come from).

Judging books by their covers (or people by appearances)

2006-05-23T17:54:00.000-05:00

There was recently a discussion on a message board (which is now ten pages long, and you have to register in order to read more than the first page) on the topic of judging people by appearances. The lady who started the discussion asked this question:

"Is it really true that you can't judge a book by its cover or a person by his/her clothes? Is it true that you shouldn't?"

Or, as she phrased it again later on in the discussion (page 6):

"1) Do people make judgments about others' dress styles? and
2) Is it OK to do so? (Because the presumed answer to #1 is "Yes.")"

On page 4, she comments:

"1. It is in the nature of man to judge. I mean "judge" in both of its definitions given in the post above. Whether the judgments are good or bad/right or wrong is a separate issue.

2. Not only is it in our nature, but it is a part of what comprises intelligence. When we are in kindegarten our teachers teach us to see/classify/categorize CONCEPTS (shapes, colores, sizes). Distinguish the squres from the circles, the blues from the reds, the big objects from the small objects. When our children can make these distinctions, they are said to be progressing well academically."

My first thought here is that she seems to be blurring the lines between "judge" (decide whether good or bad) and "classify".

As an example, say you see a dog and a cat walking down the street. Now, you have already decided, far before you saw these two particular animals, that all cats are fiends from the underworld, and all dogs are man's best friend. So when you see these two animals, and you are disgusted by seeing the cat and delighted to see the dog, is that because of how they look? Or is it simply because, upon appearance, you classify the cat as a cat and the dog as a dog? You have already judged both of these categories (cat = bad, dog = good), far before you even saw these particular animals. You perceive the cat to be part of a group which you have already judged. Seeing the cat doesn't cause you to judge it--you've already judged it before you saw it, and seeing it only allowed you to classify it as part of a known, judged group.

So it is, I think, very often with people. It isn't the clothes themselves that cause people to "judge" someone (decide the person is good or bad), as much as it is their clothes allow people to classify them with a group they already know (and have passed judgment upon, either in their favor or against it).

It also seems to me that people are more likely to change their perceptions (classifications) than their judgments. As an example, a totally pretend Joe Blow says:

"Gee, when I first saw you, I thought you were just poor white trailer trash, but now I see that you're really much smarter and more polite."

Our straw-man Joe doesn't repent of his judgment (he still judges that people who live in trailer parks are dumb and rude), but does repent of his perception (he thought, based on your appearance, that you were someone who lived in a trailer park, but now he thinks you must not). Of course, things might become very uncomfortable for Joe if he discovers you actually do live in a trailer park, but nonetheless, his first instinct is not to reverse judgment, but to think he misunderstood something. He believes that as long as he knows all the facts in the case, he will make the right judgment. If his judgment appeared to be wrong, that was simply because he didn't have all the facts.

So, before I could answer the question the lady asked, I would first have to get her to better define what she means by "judge". Is it really true you can't judge a person by appearance? Judge what? Judge whether the person is good or bad? Or judge that the shirt they are wearing is indeed orange? Do people make judgments about other peoples' dress styles? How do you mean? Certainly I judge whether or not it's a style I like or would wear; does that "judgment" effect how I treat them?

As I stated above, I think it is most common that people will judge first (before even seeing a person), and then look for clues to classify people in to their ready-made judgments. Will they use clothing as a clue to how to classify them? Of course. People begin to classify upon the first contact; more often than not, they see (a person's appearance) far before they hear (what they say, what they believe, how they act). If they discover later that the person's appearance didn't give them all the facts, they will re-classify a person as suits them. Very rarely will someone actually reverse a judgment they have passed upon a group of people.

Is it true that you shouldn't? Is it okay to do so? Again, the question is "judge" in what sense of the word. If you mean "judge" in the manner of right vs. wrong, good vs. bad, well, now you've opened up a religious question. All moral questions come back to a person's religious beliefs (or anti-religious beliefs).

If you mean classify, then I would say that anyone who is classifying would be wise not to limit themselves to only one criteria. If someone means to classify, I would think that appearance (clothing) would be a perfectly reasonably place to start, especially since that's usually the first data one gets. Of course, if one first comes in contact with a person over the phone, they will start out by classifying your voice, your speech mannerisms, your personality, and goodness knows what else. (Who, besides me, imagines the person on the other end of the line, and most particularly when you don't know who it is on the other line? Your mind tries to fill in the rest of the missing information. So it is when you see someone first. Your mind sees the appearance, and tries to fill in the rest of the missing data.)

A lot of people get irked by being "classified", particularly on the basis of appearance. Some people feel they shouldn't be judged by what they look like, but only what they act like (note: isn't how you dress is part of how you act?). Some people think that it is very judgmental to judge people. Some people think they are too unique to be "classified". Some people don't mind being classified, as long as they're classified correctly. And some people really couldn't care less what other people think of them.

My advice to people who don't like being classified is to be weird. I don't mean "weird" as in "shocking", or weird as in "weird just like everyone else". Weird people are people who don't fit into most of the standard categories. Weird people are strange simply because people don't understand them. Weird people do get classified; they get classified into the "weird" category. This is like that bulging "Miscellaneous" file in your cabinet. Everyone who is classified as "weird" goes together simply because they don't go with anyone else. This means that you get into that happy gray zone where the person has classified you ("Weird, man, really weird."), but still has no clue what you are like.

I am weird.

And you probably figured that out without ever needing to see me.

Pattern Addiction

2006-05-13T14:30:00.000-05:00

Krystin Baker estimates she has about 3000 patterns. She's trying to get them all scanned in and up on the 'net for all to see. (Just the front covers, not the actual pattern pieces.) It's a cool place to look for inspiration. She's also accepting "donations"--if you have patterns (particularly old ones, since they are harder to get a hold of), you can scan in the front covers and email them to her. They get added to the collection as well.

I've sent her a couple dozen so far. My favorite right now is this on this page, the wedding dress in the right hand corner (number 9677). The reason it's my favorite is because it has the most family history. It's the pattern my grandmother picked out for her wedding; my great-grandmother sewed it for her. Grandma was had an hourglass figure, including a teeny tiny waist. When my Mom wore it for her wedding, they had to let out the waist. My mom has always had this funny notion that she was 'fat' when she was young. Apparently this started with not matching the measurement chart on the back of patterns--her waist was "too large" compared to her bust, and thus, she was fat. I think the much more obvious thing is that she had a small bust compared to her waist. Besides, she clearly remembers being only 110 lbs. when she got married (I think I weighed 110 lbs. when I was 12!).

Needless to say, should I ever get married, I will not be wearing the same wedding dress. Besides the most obvious fact that won't fit (not hardly), it has also been aging. In the picture of my grandmother wearing it, the dress was snow white. When my mom wore it, it had turned cream, or ivory. When I saw it last year as we moved my grandparents to a new residence, it was now beginning to have a distinctive yellowish cast to it. But I am still very pleased to have the pattern, and the accompanying family history.

Another pattern of mine that makes me smile every time I see it is one on this page, also in the lower right hand corner, number 3249. The girls on the front cover are wearing white gloves! This cracks me up to no end. Anyone who has ever seen 3 year-old-girls knows that how long those gloves will stay white: for just as long as the girl isn't wearing them.

The most distinctive feature of that pattern, however, is that there are also darts. Darts on a 3 year-old's dress are just about as hysterical as white gloves. I think the darts are little more than glorified pin-tucks. I've always thought of darts as much as design lines as a means of providing shaping, but it still amuses me to see them dresses for toddlers. The darts are there simply to give it the "style" of a fitted dress, even though the darts don't provide any fitting themselves. (If you look at most 3 year-olds, their little tummies are sticking out. There is certainly no inward slant from chest to waist!)

There's one on this page that I think is particularly ugly, and as many things ugly, unique. It's 6405, the designer sack dress. It's white, with a green border, and apparently it's been designed to make the wearer look as shapeless as possible. The funny thing is that they actually went through a good deal of trouble to make sure that the dress did actually have shaping. It doesn't seem apparent from the front cover, but if you look at the back of the pattern(which is right beside it, I scanned that in, too), you can see that the front actually has darts. Why they should go through the trouble of putting darts in a dress designed to look like I sack, I don't know. I suppose they wanted the look of an un-wrinkled sack, which of course is just so much more sophisticated than a wrinkled sack.

Another one, on this page, that does have unique shaping without being ugly. In the lower right hand corner, there is a long evening gown, 6094. I don't believe I've ever seen such an unusual empire waisted dress. The dart turns smoothly into the waistline. It looks a bit peculiar, but I wish I could see it made up, how the seaming comes out in real life.

If you have patterns of interest, please consider uploading them so the rest of us can see, too!

In Response to Kathleen Fasanella

2006-05-12T12:20:00.000-05:00

Kathleen Fasanella has a blog called "Fashion-Incubator", which I sometimes read. Yesterday, I saw a post that made the wheels in my head grind a bit. Since I couldn't figure out how to interact with her post without using sketches, I'm interacting with it here, instead of the comment section of her blog. If you want to have the slightest idea what this post is about, you should go read hers first. Her post is about curving the center front and center back lines, as opposed to leaving them straight, but that's a simplification, so you really should read the post first.

First, my disclaimer. I'm a hobbyist only, at this point, and I've never been professionally trained in pattern drafting. So maybe I'm all washed up; but here's my two cents anyway. Read at your own risk. ;) Oh, and also that I am no where near an artist, so if my drawings look like they've been done by two year-olds, I'll hire my six-year old brother to draw anything else I need drawn in the future!

It's going to take me awhile to get to my main point, so please be patient with me.

The first thing she addresses in her post is the center back seam, so I'll start there, too. (First I must point out a few minor differences. In her "A" picture, she has a back block with a completely vertical center back seam, and a dart in the middle of the shoulder. My drafting book {and there are many ways to draft} instructs a slightly diagonal center back seam, and a dart next to the shoulder, which can then be moved to the center of the shoulder if desired. I drew my sketch accordingly, partly because that's what I'm familiar with, and partly because I think it helps illustrate my point better.)

Now, the center back seam in my final sketch in this series looks similar to the center back line in her "B" picture. What I did was move the darts to the center back line; the dotted lines represent where the center line used to be. What this means is that the final sketch has a curved center back, but no darts. (Due to the unending flexiblity that Blogger offers, some of the following pictures will appear too small, and some too big. You may not be able to see the details of some of them unless you click on them, which opens up a larger version in a new window.)

In Kathleen's "B" sketch, the center back is curved, and there are darts. What I think is happening there is that the extra fabric is being split; some is being taken away by darts, and some by side shaping. Here's a sketch to show what I mean:

The darts are cut in half, and half the dart is taken from the side seams. The first sketch shows the shoulder dart being divided. In the second sketch, the dotted lines show where the center back line used to be, as well as how big the shoulder dart used to be. The waist dart is also divided. In the last sketch, the dotted lines show where the center back used to be, and how big the waist dart used to be. My final sketch (sans dotted lines) looks quite a bit like her "B" sketch. (Except that hers was drawn better.)

Her next set of sketches involve the bodice front. Basically, to paraphrase (but please read her post; I don't want to misrepresent her), she holds that the center front line needs to curved as well, in order to keep the neck-line from gaping. She holds this is particularly important for people with "egg-shaped" chests. (What I call having a "deeper front to back" chest, which I believe I do.)

This is the problem I believe she's trying to address (I may have misunderstood her).

Okay. In my first sketch, I show my best attempt of a typical bodice front. Those of us with rounder ribcages (or egg-shaped, if you prefer) often run into the problem that once we get enough room for our rib-cages, the neck is much too wide. The long arrow in my first sketch represents 1/2 of the front bust measurement--in my case, 9 3/4", which is what I'll use. The curved arrow is the neck measurement of the typical bodice--I'm going to make up a convenient number and call it 4 3/4". Now, if I wanted to get the neckline small enough to match mine--3 3/4"--I could whack a whole inch of the center front (dotted line). However, then the bust line would also loose an inch, leaving it 1 inch much too snug! Bad fix. Very bad fix.

In the second sketch, I represent my understanding of Kathleen's fix--slanting (in essence, a dart) the top part of the center front line. This shortens the neck line down to what I need, and it also leaves the bust measurement intact.

In the final sketch, I show my fix. My fix is to not mess around with altering pre-drafted patterns, but draft one to my own measurements. In this fix, the neckline is only 3 3/4. The extra inch of fabric isn't at the center, but at the side, underneath the arm. So in this fix, the center front line is still straight, and both measurements are in agreement. This is the one part of my post I can stand firmly on my own experience. This is a close up shot of the neckline of the sloper I just cut out last week. I'm not claiming my sloper is perfect, but it does have an absolutely straight center front seam, and it certainly does not gape at the neck. The fit is quite snug.

Kathleen uses several examples of princess lines (and, incidentally, just did a whole post on princess seams). All of her pictures of various methods of princess seams intrigued me, as none of them were the way I understand to make princess seams. (As I mentioned before, there are a lot of different drafting methods.) Here's a sketch to illustrate how I understand princess seams to be made:

In the first sketch, I show what my bodice front looks like before I move any darts. European Cut has you draft two bodice darts, one ending on the waist, and one ending right underneath the armpit. Before you sew up a muslin sample, you are instructed to move combine the two darts. You slash open the waist dart, and close the upper dart, as shown in my second sketch. In the second sketch I also show a dotted line for where we will open up a new dart. If we cut along that dotted line, and move half the width of the waist dart into that cut (by rotating the rest of the bodice side), we get my third sketch. Two mostly vertical darts, meeting at the bust point. The dotted line shows where the old dart used to be. As you can see, this is now basically a princess seam. Both halves need to be gently rounded and trued, but the basic shape is there. This how I understand to get a pattern line that follows the silhouette of the body, as you can see in the fourth sketch. (I don't know how this method of getting a princess seamed pattern measures up to other methods; perhaps there are flaws with it that are unknown to me.)

The point of this example is to show that a princess seamed bodice is just a bodice with invisible darts. Another example of an invisible dart is the shoulder seam; both seams are slanted, even though they look straight when sewn up.
No one thinks of sewing a "dart" into the shoulder seam, but basically that's what it is. If you were cutting the front and back out of the same piece of fabric, the shoulder would have a big dart running from neck to shoulder point in order to get the fabric to lie neatly across the slanted shoulder.

In essence, I think that she is making a false distinction to say that we must have both a curved center line and darts. You can have both; this is a perfectly valid solution. But you can also have only all darts, or only all curved sides seams. In the end, they're the same thing. A curved side seam is just darts that have been moved to the side. Medieval dresses were often closely fitting and without darts--only a center and sides seams. I imagine a pattern for a bodice front would look like this:
The darts "were" there. They were simply moved to the side and center seams. It's like saying you need to have pleats and gathers. You can have pleats and gathers. You can also have just pleats, or just gathers. They accomplish the same goal (removing fullness) but in different ways.

She says you need to have either a curved front seam or princess seams. I think that a curved front = princess seams = bodice darts, which can be rotated into one dart, bust to waist. If you can make the conversion one way, you can make the reverse conversion.

Not only is having a curved center seam as well as darts acceptable, it may very well be a better solution for, as an example, women with large busts. If all of the fabric take up was gathered into one dart, it would make for one very big dart, which would be hard to sew without it looking very pointy (not a good look). Splitting up the fabric fullness into a dart and the center seam could reduce the dart without reducing the shaping.

So while I agree that Kathleen's solution is valid, I don't think that it is necessary for everyone in order to get a good fit.

The Anatomy of a Troll

2006-05-09T17:59:00.000-05:00

Several years ago (I don't remember exactly when, maybe it was like a year and a half ago? Two and a half? It feels like forever), when I was first starting out my dreadful fitting saga, I was getting on the computer to post my fitting problems to the on-line sewing community for help. (Which, I'm sorry to say, wasn't very helpful, in my case.) A few brothers asked what I was doing.

"Trying to get help figuring out how to alter this pattern to fit me."

"Oh." Pause. "Why don't you just buy one that fits?"

"I can't find any that fit!"

"Oh, that's easy!"

"Oh, really?"

"Sure, just get on-line and go to the place where they sell dress patterns for trolls."

"There isn't a company that makes dress patterns for trolls!"

"Oh, well, dwarves, then. They have dwarf throwing contests in England, don't they? They must have patterns for dwarves."

"I really don't think they go throwing around dwarves while they're wearing dresses."

(Brother no. 2 speaks up). "I don't understand why you even need a pattern."

"Because I don't know how to---"

"But it's easy. You just get a burlap sack, and you cut three holes in it. Ta-da! See? Easy."

"Yeah, why don't you just do that?"

At this point, they generally lost interest. Seeing that their utterly brilliant logic was once again being wasted, as pearls before swine, they no longer found it agreeable to pursue the issue any further.

Perhaps, if nothing else, you are wondering why I didn't object to the fact I was being described as a troll. Well, one can't over-look their equally amazing powers of perception--it was a rather apt description. At barely 5 foot and 1 inch and 135 pounds, the Body Mass Index puts me at 25.5--over weight, but not yet considered "obese". However, as is a common rant against the Body Mass Index, this has a fair amount to do with the fact that I (insert horrified gasping noise here) lift weights! Short, stocky, more muscular than the average (which isn't saying too much, I'm afraid), hairy, ill-tempered, near-sighted---well, it does rather describe a troll, doesn't it?

Have I solved all fitting problems? Not yet. (I'm keeping the optimistic "yet" in there, thank you very much.) In the process of trying, though, I've discovered a rather lot about my body shape, and the supposed "average" shape, that I never knew before. Hopefully this post will help other women, weight-lifting or otherwise, to discover what it is that differs from the "normal"---after all, finding the problem is the first step to finding the cure, right? Besides, I'll end the post with "Fitting solutions for these problems--coming soon!"--and up-date the post in another, oh, thirty-five years. If you can't swallow any of that, then I will have to put a in a sub-plot, called "Why on earth isn't there a pattern company catering to trolls so I wouldn't have to go through all of this work just to get something that fits me relatively decently?" and we'll call the whole thing a therapeutic rant. Which usually aren't that much good for the one ranting, but can occasionally put the listeners in near hysterical giggles. (But then, I think that is often more because of my facial expressions than my actual choice of words, so perhaps you all are missing out on the best part.)

We shall start with the bodice front. Apparently, most pattern drafters think that the typical women has spent most of her life lying flat on her back with a baby elephant using said average woman's ribcage as a cushion for sitting upon. I can find no other reason to account for the fact that they draft the bodice front as though---well, as though the ribcage has been sat on by a baby elephant for one day too many. Yes, yes, they put darts in, and all that jazz. But the front is drafted to be very wide and shallow, as though one were only two dimensional, and if we all turned sideways no one could see us. The front is wide enough it keeps wanting to slip off the shoulders. At the same time, it doesn't allow enough room at the sides (beneath the arms), causing it too pull and strain at the sides as the rather flat pattern tries to wrap around a rather round rib-cage. This means that the bodice front is simultaneously too large AND too small!!! How utterly brilliant! I don't think I could have dreamed up anything more sadistic if I tried!

And, as further proof of their brilliance, you can't add more to the sides without messing with the armhole, and if you mess with the armhole, you have to mess with the sleeve---The sleeve! That great accursed thing that no one can understand or properly alter! In one breath-taking move, the pattern drafters have got you cornered. I'm pretty sure they have a little check-list:

#1. Is the garment too small? Check.

#2. Is the garment too big? Check.

#3. Will the Cursed Ones---I mean, Consumers--have to alter the sleeve, regardless of what problem they're trying to fix? Check.

I can just hear them giggling up their sleeves, even now. Someone must have gotten a big raise when they dreamed up this problem.

I'm trying to side-step the whole "sadistic pattern drafters" issue by drafting my own patterns. The problem is that, as they say, a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing. To paraphrase, not knowing what you're doing can get you in a lot of trouble.

For instance, the waist. Where, exactly, is your waist? If you had to mark out, in a straight line, where you waist was, where would you put it? Well, the standard advice from great fitting gurus (who might also be laughing up their sleeves; that is of yet undetermined) is that your waist is (a) where ever your side creases when you bend to the side and (b) where there is the greatest amount of indent on the side of your torso. By both of these criteria, the small bit of knowledge I grasp to, my waist is right exactly after where my ribcage ends. This is where I was putting in all of my attempts at drafting, until someone pointed out with crushing logic that, regardless of what the supposed experts say, putting your waistline there looks stupid (agreed), and the whole point of drafting your own is to get it to look right. So either bring it up a few inches and call it "empire waisted" or down a few inches to where it looks right. Well, duh. I should have realized that.

This means that my waist is at the place where my back bends inward the most, running right along the top of my hip bones (not the joint, the ischium). This makes complete sense; that's where I always put my waistbands anyway. I don't supposed I would have ever considered putting it higher, if I hadn't been told that my waist was where I bent at the side, where I was most indented.

This brings me to my second great mystery, moving from the bodice front to the skirt front. Why, why, why do they put darts in skirt fronts? Darts point to a bump. Where is there a bump below my waist? If I put my waistline up high at the end of my rib-cage, then I suppose I get a bit of a rise. But a careful scrutiny of a fitting shell pattern showed that the waistline did indeed fall at the top of the hip bones, not the end of the rib-cage. They showed, and all the gurus claimed, that the "abdomen", the lower torso below the waistline, protrudes. This flabbergasted me.

I mean, yes, my waist does protrude a bit. I think I fall within the healthy range of fat for women--18%-20% (as opposed to the 10%-15% for men), and of that percentage, some of it expectedly falls around my belly button, causing me to have a domed belly--wait, did I say fat? Scratch that. I keep forgetting that the word "fat" is now politically incorrect--it's "feminine fluff". And if there's a bit more than might perhaps seem proper, then it is shortened down to "fluff". Remember that, now. (I'm terrible at being politically correct.)

Anyway, the point was, I don't bulge out below my waist. My waist is my most protruding point. And I couldn't for the life of me figure out why on earth anyone would. I finally found my answer in, of all places, a weight-lifting book. (Frederic Delavier's Women's Strength Training Anatomy.) Page 109: "Ptosis: Inferior displacement of an organ, most often because the structures normally maintaining it have let go. When the abdominal wall lacks tone, it cannot retain the viscera, and the belly collapses and creates a pocket in which the loops of the intestines rest." This weirds me out considerably. I don't like the idea of my guts all falling in a heap. I'd much prefer that they some how all stayed in place, regardless of my muscle condition. Guts just seem like an altogether much too important part of the body to go moving about like that.

I am happy to report that all of my guts are firmly in place. Thank goodness. Does anyone else besides me find it disturbing that this condition is considered the normal? All the fitting shells have these front darts. How on earth can it be considered normal to have your guts falling out? Though I suppose that perhaps in may be a reason why the "normal" also has a smaller waist measurements--if all of your guts have decided to take up a southern vacation home, I suppose that means they've evacuated from the more northern waist, which I suppose means the waist can collapse inward more, causing this supposedly normal person to have a narrower waist.

What happens when you put in front waist darts and you don't need them? This. See how the skirt is all poofy in front, even though it's supposed to be a fitted skirt? The darts create a "pocket" of fabric for something that isn't there. This lady obviously needs the darts. She isn't fat, but she does bulge out a bit below the waist.

So, hypothetically speaking, since I don't have a "protruding abdomen", my skirt should fall straight down from my waist, right? Wrong! Here's where that dratted weight-lifting comes in. Whoever the heck it was that decided the "normal" person was someone with a totally atrophied muscular system certainly never includes this as a "fitting problem". It's called--"protruding quadriceps"! This terrible condition happens when you actually use your muscles, namely the ones on the front of your thighs. (I'm not talking about "saddle bags", or lumps and bumps on the side of the legs, but the muscle groups on the front of the thighs.) My skirt situation is thus:

(a) belly domes out with fat--I mean, fluff.

(b)belly slopes back inward, due to the fact that guts are comfortable where they are, and are not currently considering a move to a more southern-ly retirement home.

(c)quadriceps--on both legs--bulge out from (shockingly!) physical exercise. The front circumference measurement across the quadriceps exceeds the front circumference of the waist!!

This is a scandal!! My thighs are bigger than my waist! And it's not like I have a teeny-tiny waist either! And no one tells you how you're supposed to make a skirt when your legs are sticking out further in the front than your waist does! Do you put in darts, pointing toward the muscles in your legs? That would work, I suppose, but it would look awfully weird. And how are you supposed to deal with the whole fact that there is an indent between waist and thigh? Right where I'm supposed to be taking the abdomen measurement (where my stomach is supposedly sticking out the most), my stomach is sloping inwards. By the time I'm level with my hip joints, there is a definite indent. There is no way to tell what width the skirt should be between waist and protruding quads, so I just have to wing it. (The actual measurement wouldn't help me, because I want the skirt to fall evenly from waist to thighs, without indenting.)

But this is certainly one reason why I have to wear loose-fitting jeans. My quads usually have to "borrow" fabric from the back of the pant leg, as the "normal" person who wears jeans apparently doesn't put their quads to much use. Or else the jean designers are just as sadistic as the pattern drafters. I'm sure there is a conspiracy in here somewhere.

Moving along, we come to the bodice back. I can't see my back, so it's very hard to make diagnostics. My first clue that something weird was up was that everything seems to strain across my upper back, leading me to wear, um, loose t-shirts. Once the shoulder seams are falling off my shoulders by a few inches, I have enough room to comfortably maneuver without feeling the fabric tighten and constrain across my back. This also means that, in any dressy-type blouses, by the time I get the shirt big enough I'm not in danger of ripping out every back seam the garment has (and perhaps creating a few new ones), the front is as loose as a burlap sack (a large burlap sack), and the sleeves look like they belong on some supposed primitive pre-human whose knuckles drop down below it's knees. What does that make me? An Incredible Hulk? I mean, Hulkess? I think I'll just stick with troll.

A digital picture of my back proved the fact that I have, an, um, back. And, from all appearances, an un-normal back. The whole "normal means disintegrating muscular system" is making more and more sense all the time. Apparently, it's decidedly un-normal to have a healthy, well used body. So sue me! I actually use the muscles on my upper back. This, apparently, is another fitting problem.

I also have a bunch of probably-also-abnormal muscles popping up around the back of my neck, making it awfully hard to figure out where the "shoulder seam" is supposed to fall. It also gives me the added "bonus" of making my already short neck look even shorter.

Next comes the skirt back. My version of the saying "No if's, and's, or but's" is "No hips , and a big butt." I am practically straight-up-and-down at the sides. I pin-fitted some Pattern-Ease (translucent interfacing for the purpose of tracing pattern on to) about my hips; the resulting curve wasn't curvy. If I mark my hip joint as point A, and my waist at point B, and draw a straight line connecting the two, the resulting line is at exactly 98 degrees. I am seriously serious. I went and got my sister's protractor and checked. At the point where my hip curve actually curves out the most, it's 1/4 of an inch away from touching line AB. My hips curve out only 1/4 of inch, how's that for un-normal?

My rear, on the other hand, is either full of enough explosive muscle power to take me to the moon, or else is carrying around enough supplies to get me through a particularly brutal 7 year famine. I choose to believe the former, thank you very much.

This pretty well concludes my rant.

Please don't conclude that I think the entire industry ought to switch to drafting to my exact measurements; my rant is more against the ridiculousness of calling any body shape "normal", when they're so obviously all different. It's not truly against the pattern drafters or clothes manufactures, or any body shape, or lack of shape. No doubt, if you have ever struggled with fitting issues, you're thinking something along the lines of, "That's nothing! You should see what I'm up against!" or else, "Just wait until you get old, then you'll really having fitting problems." Quite true, I'm sure. I'll probably be writing some rant entitled: Why isn't there a pattern company that caters to aging trolls who still haven't figured out how to alter for their fitting problems?

Jack the price up, so it's cheaper! (A minor rant)

2006-05-03T14:32:00.000-05:00

Okay, so this morning I was browsing around a bit, and discovered, as I have many times before, people raving about Loes Hinse patterns. In particular, the "love the styles and the lines!". This boggles my mind, to begin with. To my eye, there is little that counts as either style or lines, but rather a lack of both. Simple basics to fall back upon, yes, but nothing that I would call distinctive. Kind of the clothes equivalent of elevator music, or something, soft, muted and a bit bland. But, okay. I am all for everyone choosing what ever strikes their fancy, and I'm not trying to say they shouldn't like it. They're not my thing, but that's not my rant at all. Here's the rubbing point.

For a pattern for a pair of pants with an elastic waistband, and I think all of two, perhaps three, pattern pieces, guess what the price is? $16. Mind-blowing.

Then we go over to Hot Patterns, who everyone says are "expensive patterns" or "not exactly cheap". Here we have a much more complicated pair of pants, complete with many pockets, a separate waist band and a back yoke. Price for the pattern? $15.50.

I pointed this juxtaposition out to my near-by brother. He suggested that I start my own pattern company, and make really simple patterns, so I can charge more. Quite honestly, I can't see what makes a two piece pattern cost $16, except, I suppose, for the fact that she seems to put a good deal more work into her cover photos. So maybe it's $5 for each pattern piece, plus $5 for the cover photo, plus an extra dollar for good luck?

To be fair, most people would universally say that all independents are "expensive". I think what this really means is that "they don't go on sale". Vogue pants? Well, they sell at retail for $25, but Vogue kindly let's you have them for 40% off--$15. Meanwhile, the general public won't buy them unless they're on a $3.99 sale at Jo-Ann's. McCall's pants are supposed to sell for $16.25, but they put them on sale for 40% off, which is $9.75---and sane people won't buy them till they go on sale at Jo-Ann's for either $1.99 or $0.99 each. Butterick has a similar deal.

Anyone with half a business brain can see that the major companies will always be able to produce things at less cost than the smaller companies. The funny thing is that usually people complain about the independents being "expensive", and don't stop to think for a moment that the major corporations are majorly, majorly ripping you off. The very fact that Vogue would dare to even pretend to charge you $25 for a single pants pattern is infuriating. The fact that they think we're all stupid enough to feel honored when they pretend to give you a 40% off discount is disgusting; that even with a 40% of discount they're still charging $15 is indecent. It's a package of mass produced tissue paper. And, even yet with all of their major company advantages, they still won't price lower than the independents, who have greater cost!

Next time I hear about how nice the companies are being for ever putting their patterns on sale, I will gag. And if I ever manage to sell two pattern pieces for $16, I will probably also gag, which just goes to show I'm not a very good entrepreneur.

At long last, the fancy dress!

2006-05-03T13:48:00.000-05:00

The back view. Hopefully you can see all the details, like the beads on the bow, and the silver fancy top-stitching beside the zipper and at the sleeve hems. I purposely did the rolled hems on the over-skirt in a darker color, because I wanted to highlight the edges. What you hopefully can't see is the fact that I inserted extra fabric by the zipper, and that there is currently a safety-pin (hidden under her hair) cinching up the dress so it doesn't fall off her shoulders.

What gives? Aren't those to contradictory things? Why'd you add the extra fabric, just to make it so big it was falling off her shoulder?

Well, there are three theories to what went wrong the first time.

A. Since I cut the dress out when I was sick, maybe I accidentally chose the wrong (too small) size. I didn't have enough fabric to re-cut.

B. Perhaps I simply forgot that young kids grow in the space of two months, and I actually chose the right size the first time, and she just grew.

C. All of the above.

At any rate, after I got back to working on the dress after a month long hiatus, I started getting this sneaking suspicion that the dress looked too small. Checking her current measurements against the bodice, I found they matched exactly! Imagining a straight-jacket of a dress, I frantically squeezed as much extra space as possible out of the dress. I took apart everything I had already sewn together with 5/8th seam allowances, and re-sewed with 1/4 seam allowanced. The sleeves have three pleats in them, but there was originally also some easing as well. I took out that easing, and added 9/8ths of an inch more fabric at both the shoulder seams. I also added about 3/4 inch wide strips along the zipper.

At this point, I started getting bad vibes that it was probably going to be too big. I squelched those as firmly as possible, because, see reason B above. Kids grow. I want her to be able to wear this thing all summer, and even better if she could wear it next year, too. So I forced myself to make it too big. Which it was. Hence the hidden safety-pin.

The front. D'you like the butterfly insert? It's a kind of crepe-y burn-out fabric, and the threads that remain in the burn-out areas have vague coloring. This piece was overlaid on top of the same fabric as the bodice, giving more complete coloring to the butterfly and flowers. There's more silver top-stitching on the front, too. This is bobbin embroidery. I wind the thick, metallic silver thread (or should I call it fine cord?). Then I use regular thread in the needle. All top stitching is done with the right side of the fabric face down on the machine, which means you can't really see what you're doing too well. A few times I did make mistakes, and had to go back and pick out stitches, and then try to put them back in with the patterns matching.

Can you tell? I messed up the most on the front (doesn't it figure), and had to fiddle with it for a good deal longer than I would have liked.

Everyone thinks this is a "Cinderella" dress, openly stealing from Disney's animated movie. It's not. For one thing, as I told my brother "Cinderella's dress was a lot less fancy!" For the other thing, despite all appearances here, my sister just isn't a handsome-prince-come-rescue-me -Disney type of girl (she just doesn't want to trip on her skirts here, trust me). What she really is, is a give-me-a-sword-and-I'll-whack-the-monster-Tolkien type of girl!

Admittedly, she's still in training. She not yet up to fighting off Nazgul yet--heck, things that go bump in the night are still too much for her (those things are my job, apparently). Right now, she settles for whacking innocent bystanders, or else brothers. (Everyone knows that brothers are never innocent, no matter how they're standing.)

So far, she has done everything I predicted she would do with her dress. With in minutes, it was indeed muddy. She's tried to wrinkle it, but the polyester is strangely resilient to being wrinkled. And, she perfectly accessorized it with her (rather dirty, I'm afraid) chicken hat, and my pair of uber-cool sunglasses. Alas, I unfortunately do not have a picture of this stunning out-fit, because I was busy with other things at the time, such as assembling the castle cake for her.

Everyone always thinks I'm nuts for making such a fancy dress as nothing more than a child's play costume. "But it's so much work for her to ruin it by running through mud-puddles in it!" Nonsense, on all levels. It seems much sillier to me to go through all that work and then have her only wear it once (perhaps twice) to fancy occasions, and then grow out of it. What a waste!

Secondly, I made the dress for her (not me, or anyone else). Kids never care about mud-stains; it wouldn't ruin it for her. Besides which, it would make her very miserable to wear the dress and be scolded every two minutes to keep her dress clean. What's the point of giving her something that she'll be miserable wearing?

I say, I hope she gets a good long time of play out of the dress, and that it becomes a fond childhood memory for her. This, to me, would be a thousand million times more gratifying than to have it pristinely packed away, where she never even remembers she had it, and never got to properly wear it out. Yes, wear it out. That's what it's meant for, not being saved to look at later, and never used.

Going, going, . . .not quite gone yet.

2006-04-26T18:52:00.000-05:00

Alas and alack, there hasn't been much posted here lately, has there? But that's because I'm working frantically at finishing up the Fancy Dress, which comes with many stories all it's own. Since her birthday is this Monday, I daresay I ought to be finished with it soon, and then perhaps I can grace the Internet with my wonderful and breathtaking presence a bit more frequently.

But don't hold your breath. I'm a bit scatter-brained, and seem to squish blogging in little cracks and crannies of the day when it's least expected. . .and often times when I'm supposed to be doing something else, besides.

However, I can tell you with great certainty the tales (and pictures) of the Fancy Dress are worth your wait. It was (is) definitely a fun project, and the results are (will be) worth many superlative adjectives that of which my befuddled brain cannot currently conjure, so you'll have to imagine your own, or make them up, or wait till you see the actual Dress before making any kind of descriptive noises.

At any rate, stay tuned!

Starving Artists

2006-04-26T18:08:00.000-05:00

Some people on sewing boards have a tagline that goes something like this: "Asking me to mend your clothes is like asking Michelangelo to paint your kitchen." I think this is supposed to dissuade people from asking, but around here, that saying would be met with, "Don't get any paint on the stove, Mike, it's only a couple years old." To tell you the honest truth, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if Michelangelo had to do utterly boring, menial work before he became rich and famous. (The phrase "starving artist" didn't just pop up out of nowhere, you know.)

As for me, there are certain mending jobs I like more than others. This one here is my most recent. This my Grandfather's jacket; it's older than I am. As you can see, the closure is unconventional for such a garment--that's part of my mending job. He's lost quite a bit of feeling in his fingers from diabetes complications, and traditional buttons and buttonholes are quite difficult for him to work. So step one of "fixing" this jacket was changing the closure to one that was easier for his fingers to work. I bought the buttons from M. J. Trims (I was happy with their service, and shipping was prompt), as well as the cord. My painter sister and I spent altogether too much time trying to decide on the right color for the cord. In the end, I think we got a pretty good color, but I only hope that I got the right kind of cord. It seems like it might be prone to snagging, and I hope that doesn't cause complications during use.

That was the easy, and also most satisfying part. Putting buttons on always is. In a few brief moments, you can change an unusable garment into a completely serviceable garment. How powerful you feel!! Hemming is boring, but not too terrible. Since I, and my entire family, is short, hemming is something get stuck with fairly often, though many of us just choose to ignore the fabric puddling up around our ankles. Mending rips and tears--while fairly easy--is by far the most futile, pointless mending job there is. Sure, I know how to patch the holes in the knees of jeans (another task I'm called upon to do fairly frequently), but it seems so silly and pointless when I take a good look at the fabric and realize it's all on the brink of disintegration. What difference does it make if I reinforce the knees, when the thighs are all begining to fray? Who cares if I re-attach a pocket coming loose when the entire rear is about to wear out?

So the second half of the repair job was less pleasant. The lining was tearing all over the place, and he wanted it mended. I realized, after looking at it a little closer, that the 'best' solution would be to entirely replace the lining. However, the same closer look showed that it had two inside welt pockets that cut into the facing. I'm not afraid of doing welt pockets, but I don't want to mess with wholes already in the facing, and in the process destroy the jacket worse than it was to begin with. Besides, if the lining was already older than I was, I'm fairly confident my mending job will last it the rest of it's life time.

This is a fairly straight-forward repair; a tear following parallel to where the sleeve meets the body. It wasn't too badly frayed. I sewed it shut using a ladder stitch, which makes it look almost identical to the pre-existing seam beside it. (My repair seam is on the left, the construction seam is on the right.) The dead give-away is that at either end of my repair seam, it opens up like a pleat--a very small pleat, but a pleat nonetheless. Other, more frustrating repairs had to be made on tears that were quite old, and had either frayed badly or stretched out of shape. I briefly entertained the thought of trying to iron things back into place, but I got scared off by the "dry clean only" tag, and I didn't know what affect the steam would have.

Here's my sad attempt to mend near the pocket. The weight and stress of things being taken out and put into the inner pockets had caused them to rip loose from the lining. They were too distorted to line up properly, hence the fact I sewed the lining to the interfacing up a the top there. You can see how the end of my seam opens into a pleat. My only consolations are that 1. It's all on the inside of the jacket, so it's not likely to be seen, and 2. The lining on the jacket is so wrinkled, hopefully no one will notice.

I did managed to repair all but a dime sized hole one the inside of one sleeve (no swamp colored silk scraps laying around, or even anything of a similar hand, so a patch is out of the question). If I was really daring, I would have discussed replacing the lining, but every time I see that welt pocket poking into the facing, I loose my nerve.

But it still reeks of futility. The fabric simply wearing out. I can stitch it together, but what's the point? Well, the point is prolonging it's functionality, which I've done. So hooray.

When I'm a real artist, rich and famous, I will say, "Mend? Mend? I will not mend your coat. I will make you a brand new coat, that is even more beautiful than what you have ever had before, and I will make it for you in just 7 days." But until then (I can't seem to make anything in just 7 days, much less tailored jackets), I do my share of kitchen painting.

Work cut out for me

2006-04-26T18:04:00.000-05:00

Alas, not by wonderful little elves who do all the work while you sleep. Here's the whole strip from the last picture, cut out and stacked. Shortly after cutting all of these out, my much abused, several years old, purple-handled Fiskars scissors broke. It was completely unexpected. They were still one of the sharpest pairs of scissors in the house (which just goes to show how dull most of the scissor in the house are), and the plastic handle just snapped. Bummer.

Endless work

2006-04-26T18:00:00.000-05:00

Here's the juggling ball pattern pieces marked out and ready for cutting. This one endless strip has enough pieces for 6 balls (which means 24 pieces). I sew them together on the curved lines, and then trim them down to 1/4 seam allowances.

A Quick Thank-you. . .

2006-04-16T18:50:00.000-05:00

. . .To my brother, who kindly picked up an invisible zipper for me when he came down this weekend. I usually get my sewing notions from the nearest little fabric shop--well, actually, I tend to think of it more as a "general store" and my Mom always thinks it's some sort of tourist-y gift shop. It has a fabric/notions section, but also tourist-y gifts, and a dry food goods section (we get all of our granola supplies from there). It's only about 8.5 miles away, so it's very convenient. Unfortunately, although they had a zipper in the perfect color, it wasn't an invisible zipper (the zipper itself isn't invisible, but the manner of installing it the garment renders it more invisible than a standard zipper). No invisible zippers at all.

The nearest JoAnn's, on the other hand, is about, according to Google Maps (haven't actually timed the trip myself, but it sounds about right), 38 minutes away. I really, really, really hate to drive 38 minutes out to pick up one stupid invisible zipper, and then drive 38 minutes home. It just does not make sense. But I really, really wanted an invisible zipper. (If you note, I really, really, really didn't want to drive out, and I only really, really wanted it.) I would have simply done without, but my brother graciously picked it up for me on the way here.

But it was the wrong color. That wasn't his fault; JoAnn's simply has a terrible stock of invisible zippers (though I could simply leave this sentence as "JoAnn's simply has a terrible stock" and it would still be just as true). I wanted a zipper whose pull tab matched the bodice of the Fancy Dress I am working on for my sister. He got a zipper that matched the skirt--a lighter shade of blue. So it still goes, but I would have be quite ticked to drive 40 minutes out of my way just to find out that I still couldn't get the zipper I wanted, and still have to drive 40 minutes home.

Is this to say that my only to choices for buying fabric are a tiny stock of quilter's cottons 8 miles away or a pathetically stocked JoAnn's 40 minutes away? No, not at all. Just about anywhere you throw a rock (provided you give it a good heave; you won't hit anything if you just give it an easy toss over the back fence) you hit a fabric store--a quilt store, which sells nothing but quilter's cottons! I am surrounded by quilting stores, which don't believe in clothing construction, do not sell zippers, and the only buttons they have are in "country" colors of rather dirty looking blues, reds, greens and yellows.

I don't have anything against quilts--I'm working on a few of them myself. And I don't have anything against quilter fabric; some of it is quite breath-taking. I do have something against supposedly "country" colors, but that's a different rant. I just wish that things weren't so one-sided. Is it any wonder I usually sing "The internet is my friend, the internet is my friend"? Some people complain that you can't buy fabric when you can't run your hands over it and observe it's drape, but when your only other option is sewing with nothing but quilter's cotton and gross buttons, the internet comes off looking blindingly good. Most on-line stores have swatching services, and it's awfully hard to find an internet store that has as bad a selection as the nearest JoAnn's.

As far as the zipper goes, I think I once heard you could change to color of the pull tab with a bit of nail polish. Unlike most girls, however, I don't have any nail polish, and certainly none in a deep royal blue. I can certainly make this work, but the perfectionist part of me is irked. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a royal blue invisible zipper that is 14" or longer. One of the ump-teen million quilt stores around here ought to switch to garment sewing and actually keep a decent selection of zippers on hand!

(But still, a thank-you to my brother, for being willing to take the time to do my shopping for me. I'm sure JoAnn's is even lower on your list of places you'd like to be than it is on mine.)

Juggling. . .

2006-04-13T13:46:00.000-05:00

I made those. I'm supposed to be making more now.

Not only can my brother hold them all, he can juggle them to boot!

It's actually rather boring to make juggling balls, which is really why I'm writing a post about it, instead of doing it. My excuse is that, if I post about it now, I can tell everyone about the The World Juggling Federation competitions airing on ESPN2 tomorrow (that is to say, April 14) at 2:30 PM. If I post about this next week, it'll be too late to tell you all to watch it.

Making juggling balls is tedious, and sometimes a bit brutal. The tedious part is the nature of the juggling balls; the brutal part is the nature of the fabric. I'm making them out of this fabric at Denver Fabrics, which is a heavy duty vinyl. I made a dozen balls out of cheap vinyl, with no knit backing (just a fused fuzz), and the balls all discinegrated within a few weeks of heavy use. Drat. Then I bought a swatch of a much more expensive, but thin and supple vinyl. Although it sewed up nice, it ripped just as easily as the cheap vinyl. So I picked this fabric out, for it's "superior tear strength". As far as that goes, so far so good.

The bad news is that it's miserable to sew with. It's very thick, which means it's very difficult to sew the final seam. With all the bulk of many folded layers to one side, it causes the machine to skip stitches, unless you go through many contortions to prevent that, and even then it still sometimes skips.

After thusly sewing 4 pieces of vinyl together, I have to turn it right side out, which requires a bit of stretching of the vinyl, which requires a bit of hand strength. Then I stuff them; I used lentils. Most commercial and/or other crazy people making their own tend to use millet, which is rounder and lighter. However, the boys like a slightly heavy ball, and lentils are cheap, easy to find, and durable. I used to just stuff them pleasantly firm, but within 2 minutes of handing them off for use, I would get complaints that they were to "soft" or "squishy", and when I snatched them back I would, indeed, find them soft. The superior hand strength of boys quickly renders them limp. So now I have to stuff them till they are hard enough that David could use them to take out a couple of giants. Then, after they have been thoroughly abused, they soften up to "pleasantly firm."

Next comes the really fun part-- stitching the stuffing hole closed by hand. Handstitching by itself isn't brutal, but since I've stuffed them so full, I now have to force the opening closed with one hand while I stitch it closed with the other hand. I cannot pull the thread to close the hole, because that puts too much stress on the fabric, which can make the stitches rip out. As it is, I need to double stitch the opening shut, to keep the stitches from ripping out.

Doing this all once is all right. Doing this nine times in a row causes severe hand cramping, as my hand strength really isn't all that great. And, cutting out 36 completely identical pieces, sewing them all together in a completely identical way, is really utterly boring. I am not in the slightest bit surprised that Michael Ferguson got repetitive stress from making so many juggling balls (so my brother tells me). In fact, I'm impressed he put up with it for 20 years and 40,000 balls.

Fergies are six panel balls, and mine are an inferior 4 panel. Some day I'm going to figure out how to make a six panel juggling ball. The drafting of a 4 panel pattern was quite mathematical, but I can't quite wrap my mind around how to approach, mathematically, a 6-panel pattern.

My pattern makes a juggling ball a bit on the small side (though, be warned, if you are making your own, any fabric you use will stretch, so you will have to make a ball "smaller" than what you want your finished size to be). This is so that small hands can use them--see, even I can fit five into my tiny hand! Juggle five, no, but arrange and stack five, yes. I can juggle four, but so can my 9 year old brother, so big deal. (I wouldn't have to hold the juggling balls like this, though, unless I was juggling 9. For juggling five, it would be three in one hand and two in the other.)

Although these balls do seem to be extremely durable (at least so far, I suppose I shouldn't speak to early), I don't care to get any more of it for juggling ball purposes. The next fabric I'd try would be this patent leather lycra, which I think is the same type (or at least very similar) to what Dube uses for it's "Squosh Beanbag" balls. If nothing else, I hope it wouldn't be so hard on the hands, and I wouldn't have so many problems with skipped stitches. (Though, of course, I would need to use the right needle for it, I think a stretch needle.)

Welt pockets and my first pictures (hope they work!)

2006-04-05T14:55:00.000-05:00

When Ann Steeves wrote in her recent Threads article "Is it any wonder that we sewers avoid welt pockets like they're plutonium?", I knew I was going to have to try out welt pockets--and soon! With a description like that, how could they not be fun? Of course, since her article was all about how to make welt-pocket construction fool-proof, making welt pockets was actually pretty easy and straight forward, though at least it was still more fun then hemming pants. (Which was another thing I had to do--and soon.) So here are my welt pockets, my first two welt pockets I've ever done.

Unfortunately for the vest, I couldn't do any fittings, as it was a birthday present, and little boys want birthday presents to be a surprise. All while I was making it, I kept thinking that it looked too wide, and I repeatedly measured it and found it to be all right. Of course, my instincts were right--sort of. It wasn't too wide, but it looked funny because it was much too short! Oh, well. My brother seems to be quite happy with it anyway, judging from how often I see him wearing it. Sometimes he wears it with his newly acquired cowboy hat, and sometimes with his matching, equally gaudy, cape I gave him last year. What can I say? Yellow is his favorite color, and of course, anything that glitters is gold in the eyes of kids.

Arm Chair General

2006-03-21T19:08:00.000-05:00

An Arm Chair General, by the way, is a phrase I first read in one of my brother's computer game magazines. It was used by someone pointing out that people playing computer games based off of true historical battles face very little of the struggles and problems that were really happening. The Arm Chair General can have the "same" troops and tactical situations, but doesn't have to deal with things like lack of food and other proper supplies, and troops that are hungry, exhausted and demoralized. Suddenly the "same" troops are quite different.

So this is my Arm Chair General rant against sewing magazines. I realize that I see very little of what is "really" going on, but from my comfy armchair in front of the fire (as opposed to a muddy, cold foxhole, with no food and little clothes. . .), here is my rant--and I do mean rant:

Actually, this rant first started when I received an issue of Threads that quite disappointed me. In fact, it disappointed me enough that I actually went through the magazine and categorized every page: of the 92 pages that was this magazine, 30 of them were ads. Then there was the 2 pages of advertisers index, and the 2 pages of yearly index. There was only 28 pages of actual articles, as opposed to "features" and ads. And by "features", I mean 3 pages of tips, 2 pages of question and answers, "embellishments", which in this case was 1 1/2 pages devoted to telling you how to cut holes in a t-shirt, 2 pages of "readers closet", 4 pages devoted to what they call pattern reviews, 2 pages for to basic skills, 2 1/2 pages devoted to notions, of all things, 1 1/2 pages of letters to the editor, 1 whole page to contributors, 2 pages telling you what was in the magazine, 2 pages were counted as the front and back covers, 1 page for a silly closing story at the end, and, with more information crammed into than all the proceeding "features" put together, the 4 page master class. In case anyone was wondering, and didn't obsessively go through the magazine categorizing things themselves.

There were about 30 pages in the whole magazine that I actually felt like paying for, and at about $5 an issue (if you subscribe), that means that every page practically ought to have been gold plated. In fact, I was so steamed that I wrote them a nine page email telling them how they ought to be running their magazine!

But not so steamed that I didn't chicken out. I never sent the email. Instead, I now resort to the tactics of an annoying child who mutters sotto voce (although in this case, I think I'm being a bit more high pitched and shrieky), who then, upon confrontation, informs the confronter that "I wasn't talking to you!" The depths I have been lowered to. . .*sigh* (Besides all this, I think my email was probably at least a tad more civilized. Maybe.)

#1. DON'T BRING IN NEW READERSHIP BY DUMBING DOWN THE MAGAZINE!!! There are hundreds of ways to learn the basics of sewing, and easy sewing, from countless books, classes, on-line classes, other sewing magazines, patterns geared toward beginners, live tutorship from friends/relatives, etc. etc. etc. etc. The most obvious thing is this, which I quote from my own, unsent email:

Learning how to sew can come from many ways, not just magazines. But someone, somewhere, has to show people that sewing is just as relevant today as it ever has been. In order to get more people sewing, you don't necessarily need to teach them how to sew. The main problem is that sewing is "out of style", not that people don't know how to sew. I think that what people need is a reason to sew.

You need to inspire people who would never have thought of sewing to give it a try--to show them how unique it is, how it is so flexible to so many different situations, how it can be so much better than what you can buy. You need to show people that sewing isn't just for boring mending jobs and new curtains. You need to meet people where they are already at, and show them why sewing is right for them.

The second thing is much more crass, but probably just as (or more) likely to work. Bring on the celebrities! Many celebrities, minor or otherwise, sew their own clothes (or their Mom's do), often times even creating their own designs. For one of many examples, Q'Orianka Kilcher of New World, designs and sews a lot of her own clothes. (A quick Google search turns up several links backing this up. Here's one I found quickly.) Here's some photo's of Q-Orianka Kilcher and some of her clothes. We're not talkin' Home Ec projects, here. She obviously knows what she's doing. Imagine, now, if Threads had run an article on her shortly after New World came out--her sewing, in particular, I mean. Not only would she have incredible celebrity pull on those who previously were not interested in sewing, but it would also be an educational and interesting article for those that already sew.

#2 STOP WRITING CEREAL-BOX BLURBS AND PASSING THEM OFF AS REVIEWS!!!! I mean, really! All they're doing is giving free advertisement, on top of the already 30 pages of ads! I am so not paying for ads! I am paying for reviews that keep me from wasting my money on products that I don't want or don't work!! If I was in charge, there would be thorough, in depth, grueling reviews with high standards. Reviews that told the truth, not pretty stories, and pleasant lip-service. If I was in charge, getting awarded a "Thread Editor's Choice" award would be a true honor--not a "given", not taken for granted, not the equivalent of a graduation ceremony for pre-kidnergarten. I would put books, websites, vendors, notions, pattern companies, and most of all, sewing machines through rigorous testing. (Including past models that are still being sold used or refurbished.) After people read my reviews, they would know what they were getting. All this stuff about recycling blurbs on websites and dust jacket covers is complete junk, not even worth the pages it's printed on. This leads me to my next great complaint:

#3 WRITE EXCLUSIVE MATERIAL!!! Tons of people found out about Hot Patterns through a tiny ad in the back of Threads. I waited with baited breath to see what Threads would say about Hot Patterns. They wrote a recycled blurb about Hot Patterns, and referred you to the Hot Pattern website. What? What! Are you out of your mind?! There are hundreds of people who want to know how they're drafted, how the new sizing system compares to traditional sizing, what the instructions are like, whether or not the styles are actually wearable on mere humans (as opposed to the freaks of nature drawn on the pattern descriptions), and all you tell us is that the patterns are smoking hot and can be purchased online?!? What is wrong with you people?! We already know that! We've already seen their ad! We've already been to the website! We've already scoured the collection! You've got the patterns! Tell us what they're like! If I had been in charge, I would've done a thorough comparison between the new and old sizing, to say the very least.

Not only that, but I wouldn't be sitting around waiting for people to come beg to write articles for me. I'd be begging, pleading, cajoling, bribing or whatever to get inside couture atliers and take pictures and ask questions. I'd be following museum displays on clothing and textiles. I'd be traveling to different countries and researching how traditional national costumes were made. I would be writing exclusive, interesting, in depth information that could be found, and only found (or at least, easily found), in my magazine. I would be getting behind the scenes where "normal" people aren't allowed--and then bringing the "behind the scenes" to the "normal" people. "Normal" people rule the internet. And that brings me to my next complaint:

#4 LEAD THE WAY, DON'T FOLLOW!!! Threads currently runs a "Pattern Review" section. It is so silly. It is competing almost directly with the internet. The designs they pick out have already been scoured over as they are announced on-line. People have often times already sewn them up, and even already reviewed them, and reviewed them much more thoroughly than Threads "has the space" for. This is pathetic. (Now, this may seem a little contradictory to the previous complaint, but Hot Patterns was--or rather, is--a new pattern company. I don't think that every Hot Patterns new design collections need to be researched and revealed by a sewing magazine, but a new pattern company certainly ought to be, especially one with such a dramatically different sizing system.)

What I would do would be to show people how to draft their own patterns to suit the season. When gauchos very first became "in", there were no patterns for them. In fact, people have very little control over whether or not people in charge at the pattern companies will get to things that are considered "in". Now, if Threads had been on the ball, they could have shown their readership how to take a Tried and True pants pattern, and turn it into a gauchos pattern! Much more helpful than pattern descriptions passed of as reviews, and much more empowering and educational. Even if you didn't want to make gauchos, you could still learn more about pattern design and manipulation. I'd also give a thorough comparison between the many ways to get yourself a basic sloper, be it by book, book on CD, sloper services on-line, computer programs, or whatever.

#5 STICK TO THINGS THAT REALLY MATTER!!! If I read one more "article" on pins, I am going to scream. And also, if I read one more stupid tip on how to keep loose threads from following you around the house, I'm am going to throw a hysterical temper tantrum! With the quality of tips they've been publishing, I wish they would just take the whole tip section out. And if you mean to help beginners, trust me, there are many times over more beginners confused about fit (what it's supposed to look like and how to get it), what pattern size to select, and what sewing machine to get, than there are beginners standing around in the notions aisle, dreadfully confused as to what kind of pins to get. Please, people! You can do better than this! Oh, and please get rid of the stupid clip-art that explains nothing, or explains things that don't need explaining (like what a bottle of 'Lectric Shave looks like, or an egg-cup full of pins--for goodness sake, who even has egg cups anymore, besides the fact that we don't need a picture to demonstrate how to use this hypothetical egg cup to hold pins!). If you are going to go through all the trouble of printing something, can't you at least print worthwhile stuff that educates, inspires, and informs?

#6 LIBERATE THE MASSES!! (Sort of.) If I were in charge, I would make it so that people no longer had to depend on the pattern companies for the designs they wanted--I would teach pattern design on a monthly basis in the magazine. If I were in charge, I would liberate people from insane charges for cleaning and maintenance on their machines--I would have articles on machine repair and cleaning! If I were in charge, I would have rigorous standards for Editorial Awards, and manufacturers and businesses would fall over themselves improving their products and services, so as to be worthy of such a prestigious award. In short, the entire sewing community and businesses would be under my sway and rule, and whatever I spoke would be! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!!!

And also, Ha. No, number 6 isn't really one of my goals (tho' I do think it would be great to include machine repair/maintenance, esp. for the older machines, and teaching pattern drafting, and rigorous testing). The real point of #6 is to bring me back to the metaphor I started out with at the beginning of this post, namely computer games. And everyone knows the end goal of every computer game is world dominance, and ruling everyone else with an iron hand. I've never actually been one for computer game playing, but I think I've managed to pick up some of the right attitudes from my brothers.

Besides the right attutide, also integral to any computer game is the "load" button. This is essential, crucial, the core of any strategy--if things go wrong, reload and try again! Quick re-loading is a skill my brothers perfected, so that the ending animation never had a chance to finish. This actually caused them quite a bit of trouble in Prince of Persia II, where in one level you are actually supposed to die! How unfair is that? I mean, yes, you do come back to life again, provided you don't keep re-loading before the dying animation finishes, but how is one to know that?! Moreover, when one of my brothers wanted to improve computer game AI (artificial intelligence) so as the computer would have a better chance of winning, he "modded" Warcraft so that it would re-load when it lost, and then you would have to go back to fighting it again and again! (I found this utterly hysterical. However, the other brother, the one who was supposed to be losing to this newly modded AI, quickly realized that the computer always re-loaded when it had only 3 buildings left. So he destroyed all but 4 buildings, leaving the computer defenseless. Then he destroyed the remaining buildings at the same time, so the computer didn't have time to re-load, and hence, lost. The moral of the story is still to re-load, just re-load faster!)

Life, alas, is not like a computer game. There is no "re-load" button. If you devote years of your life and endless amounts of your money to making a sewing magazine, and then in the end it all goes up in flames--well, you can't just say, "Shucks, guess I'll have to try something different," re-load your saved life, and get back all of your years and money. When they're gone, they're gone. This makes one a lot less likely to invest a lot of one's self in something one is not really that passionate about. I mean, yes, I would love to have a sewing magazine like this. But, unfortunately for all the peasants--I mean, the sewing community--it's not something I really want to do.

And that leads to another point. There are those who, at times, prefer to take over the world. Like my brother, playing Call of Duty, snarling something akin to "No guts, no glory!" and then charging single-handedly into an enemy foxhole full of machine gunners (and yes, that was promptly followed by re-loading. . .). And then there are others, who, like the stereotypical girl playing "house", just want to live in a perfect world, without first bringing it to total submission by means of force. In this case, I am the little girl. I am not actually very likely to snarl "No guts, no glory!" and charge into the Threads head-quarters for a hostile takeover. No, I am much more likely to sit here and whine that no one is taking my perfectly wonderful ideas and putting them to use, and moping over the lack of proper sewing magazines.

If anyone else wants to steal all of my good ideas and take over the sewing world, be my guest. But if you mess up, I'm going to write a scathing blog post about you!!!

(P.S. If anyone finds this post while searching for a computer game, please let me know so I can once again giggle myself silly over the juxtaposition of bloody computer games and genteel sewing. Tee-hee!)

Non-Fussy Sewing . . .Sort of.

2006-03-05T20:54:00.000-05:00

I spent some time this weekend working on my sister's Fancy Dress. I enjoyed myself quite a bit, because you don't have to worry about anything when sewing dress-up clothes for little girls.

Permanent wrinkles in the fabric? Doesn't matter; she'll get it all wrinkly anyway.

Doesn't fit right? Doesn't matter; she'll out-grow it in a couple months anyway.

Colors don't quite match? Doesn't matter; she'll probably wear it with hiking boots and her most beloved chicken hat.

And whilst thinking all of these happy thoughts, I realize that I hadn't lined up the side seam right; the armhole seam didn't line up with itself by about 1/8th of an inch.

Instantly, I ripped out the entire side seam, lined it up properly, and re-sewed it.

It was only an 1/8th of an inch! It's dress up clothes for a soon to be 4-year old! No one is going to be checking her armpit to see if the seams line up properly!

But it didn't line up! Operator error! Must FIX! OR WE'LL DOCK IT FROM YOUR PAY!!!!

It's one thing when the wrinkles in the cheap polyester fabric are permanent---there's nothing I can do about it. They're there, and they aren't coming out. But if it's MY FAULT, I just can't stand it!

Or maybe I just can't help myself. I don't think I would have ripped it all out if it had only be a 32nd of an inch. I don't even think I would have ripped it all out if it had only been an 16th of an inch. But a whole, huge, hulking, tremendous one-eighth of an inch? Who could bear it? I mean, really!

Other than that 1/8th of an inch--which I fixed!---I've been really happy with the way it's coming out. The sculpted, pleated sleeves came out really well. The burn-out overlay for the triangular inset came out perfect, though I did have to thread trace to make sure I got the part I wanted.

Now I've just got to figure out how to post pictures, so I can share my brilliance. Or, at least, anyway, my perfectly lined up seams on cheap polyester that's permanently wrinkled, and not quite color matched. Which is the same thing, right?

Time Dig

2006-02-26T17:12:00.000-05:00

You know those cut away pictures, where they show you the layers of history, buried in layers? Well, this weekend I cleaned my sewing room.

Oy!

I'm just finally getting over a particularly nasty cough that lasted me at least 4 weeks. In my typical hard-headed fashion, I mostly just ignored it, but after a while it began to effect my brain (which is why, even though I promised four parts, I've only posted three so far of my latest rant. Or whatever you want to call it). It's called being tired, I think. Actually, I've heard that if you get tired enough, your mental capabilities are very similar to when you're drunk. So you can imagine my ability to write was. . .impaired.

Anyway. So my sewing room was in dire need of getting cleaned before I got sick. Then I was sick, and not only was I ignoring the fact I was sick, I also had less energy, so I had to pick and choose a bit in what I did. Needless to say, I also ignored the fact that my sewing room needed to be cleaned, and continued to sew (and make an even bigger mess).

Then I finally got lectured enough on how I ought to rest, and I finally started taking a break. Then I asked my little sister, whose birthday will be coming up shortly, which she'd prefer, a stuffed animal or a dress? She replied, "A fancy dress!" Oh, well, that changes everything! Fancy dresses are fun. In fact, Fancy Dresses count as resting. Cleaning your sewing room mostly certainly does not count as rest. Now, a proper Fancy Dress uses scads and scads of Fancy Fabric, of course, and Fancy Patterns that use scads and scads of tissue paper, and if one is uncertain about anything, one must compare several Fancy Patterns. (Mine are Simplicity 7210, Simplicity 4899, and Simplicity 4980, which is now out of print, but uses the most fabric of them all. It's sort of similar to Simplicity 4451, or maybe Simplicity 8953.)

So I'm sitting there in my sewing room, fabric spewing out of my fabric chest all over the room, miles and miles of tissue paper floating about, and, of course, that it is the time my Dad chooses to poke his head in the room. He looks in, his eyes grow large as he looks about the room and tries to take it all in, and finally he just raises his eyebrows and grins real big at me. "Yep," I concede sheepishly, "Having fun, but making a really big mess."

I finally got to cleaning my sewing room. The first step was trying to get all those miles and miles of UNFOLDED patterns folded back up and put back in their envelopes!!! Do you suppose that would require super-human ability? No, because I did manage it, and last I checked I wasn't super-human. Then all the fancy fabrics (read: glitzy cheap polyester scraps that will some how turn into a princess dress at the stroke of midnight, provided you have some pixie dust) had to get un-spewed.

Then there were all the many messes leftover for the Happy-Baby present I made for a friend of mine, finishing it only several days after her due-date (thankfully the baby was late, so my present wasn't). She uses cloth diapers, so I had made her several in the "Fuzzi-Bunz" style; it was quite an adventure, as I'd never made cloth diapers OR used fold over elastic, AND I had quite a time getting the sizing right on the pattern I'd printed off the internet. Needless to say, not only were there fabric scraps and leftover notions, there were also piles of printed patterns deemed Not Acceptable.

In the mean time, I keep also shifting around the large piles of tissue paper and muslin pieces, some of which were past attempts at a sloper, some of which were refinements toward a perfectly fitting sloper, and some of which were the sad results of Drafting While Intoxicated (or sick and tired, as the case may be). Sorting them out to figure out which was which was not going to be an amusing task.

Other pattern pieces floating around included the "Oatmeal Bib" (for when the kids do everything imaginable with their oatmeal EXCEPT eat it) that I'd drafted, making a few with leftover fabric to send along with the diapers; 256 or so attempts at a bra draft (I'm getting closer, but I'm still not there yet. If you loathed bra shopping as much as me, you'd realize this project is worth at least 347 attempts, but who's counting?); an equally ridiculous number of attempts, as well as several successful renditions, at creating a perfect sphere for the reason of juggling balls (I did, brilliantly, figure out the exact mathematical formula for drafting a perfect, 4 panel sphere, which I think ought to get me some sort of statuette or something, commemorating my stunning mind. Unfortunately, the execution of said pattern didn't go so well; all 12 balls are already splitting and having their seams ripped out due to inappropriate fabric. The faux leather didn't have knit back, so all of that dreadfully boring sewing will have to be repeated); the 4-years-of-wrinkles Simplicity pattern that I swear I will someday make into a dress that actually fits; the pattern I cut out of newspaper for my youngest brother to make a simple shirt out of (which he did, today, but unfortunately that pattern also appears to have been DWI, as it some how has no ease whatsoever in the torso, but he seems fairly happy with it anyway); and several long scrolls of paper containing the quilting pattern I'm trying to get hand-quilted onto this quilt for my parents.

Besides this, there is the usual amount (for my sewing room, anyway) of fabric yardage pulled out for inspiration and never put back (well, more fabric than usual), junk that missed the garbage can (well, a bit more garbage than usual), tools and implements that were used and never put away (well, more tools that usual), yards of muslin for being cut into pieces and finding out it doesn't fit right yet, and pins that missed the pincushion. There is also the boxes of books and magazines, yet to be unpacked after the renovation; and the boxes of inherited patterns from my Great-Grandmother; and sawdust from when the boys were had the angle saw set up on my sewing room floor; and lentils that I had been using to stuff the juggling balls with; and, in general, total chaos.

But it's all picked up now, so don't get too scandalized!

Couture, considered IV: What next?

2006-02-13T16:53:00.000-05:00

Surprise, surprise (not), the couture houses are dwindling. There is a smaller and smaller market for hand beading, hand sewing, hand overcasting, expensive, extravagant dresses. Why? And what next?

The "why" is easy. Why is because you have to make an argument for hand-sewing. Why is because what is "in" and "stylish" is changing so quickly. Why is because you still have to fly out to Paris to get it. Why is because a lot of people don't know what couture is. Why is because the houses are known for their style, not their fit or construction, or unconditional guarantees. Why is because extravagant dresses are rarely applicable to current situations.

What next is trickier. If you want to know what they are doing, you could read this article at the NY Times. The short story is that they are consolidating, and that many of them are rolling out high end RTW as their main sources of income.

But personally, I don't think that's the way to go. I don't think hand sewing has to be done away with, or watered down. I think it just has to adapt to it's new environment. In essence, haute couture has to loose it's haute to survive--no more Paris regulations, no more unending extravagance and opulence. (Unfortunately, the word "couture", by itself, has already been high-jacked, so they would have to come up with a new word, preferably something easy to pronounce. . .)

I find it full of irony that back in the middle ages, everything was made to fit, and only the poor bought second hand clothes that came in someone else size. Here we are, with all our advanced technology, food from every corner of the world at our finger tips, and we all scrounge around trying to find "our" size, like peasants in clothing stall. We can mass produce fabric and fibers, but everyone is wearing clothes that don't fit them. Back then, you could have your own personal dress-maker, and embroiderer, and lace-maker, and hat maker, and goodness knows what else. Your style was your style--you told them what to do, not some high flutin' designer.

I think this is what couture needs to do now. Not stay in Paris and make people come--go out and find people who want what they do. Not set fashions and trends--they change too quickly for people to make an investment in them. Leave trends for the mass producers to change at the drop of a hat. Not become ready-to-wear, not make even one more not-my-size garment, but custom size to individuals. There are professional shoppers popping up, existing to do nothing more than help people find clothes that flatter them among the mighty ocean of choices. Who knows that the same service is part of a couture garment? People have too many choices, and not enough of them are pleasant. Women stand in front of closets full of clothes and wail, "I have nothing to wear!!"

This is where couture ought to come in. Right now, it's all about fancy ball gowns. But how much do you suppose someone would pay for a pair of jeans that fits and flatters? What? They already have designer jeans, paying $700 for the privilege of buying abused jeans, and then they have to pay astronomical prices to get the darn things altered enough to fit them half way decently. Why not start out from the beginning and get it right the first time? Hand top-stitching is even more unique and appealing than machine top-stitching. Jeans go everywhere. Everyone wants them.

How much do you suppose the would pay for a swimsuit that fits and flatters? Talk about exclusive, she'd probably be the only woman on the beach that felt that way about her suit!

The perfect wrap top, that didn't gap? The "little-black-dress", that was uniquely hers, that was perfect for any situation? For having a closet full of clothes that makes people say "How lovely you look!" every time she wears them? For clothes that were timeless and classic, and withstood the raging whirlwinds of fashion?

They do say, you know, that you can't put a price on happiness.

I'm sure it must sound ludicrous to most people, to have your "special" clothes be your ordinary clothes, and your "ordinary" clothes to be special. Custom made jeans, and run-of-a-hundred-mills fashion items. Fashion might once have been "dictated" by the couture houses, but not any more. Fashion changes too quickly. Fashions are fads, fads are fashions. Couture ought to be supplying those staples that don't change, the timeless clothes they don't need to get rid of because they're "dated". Couture ought be to giving people the comfort and fit they can't find in fads. Couture ought to be making the every day life more pleasant.

The problem is that the people with the money and the inclination to buy such things either don't know that it could ever be--or what exactly, it would be. "Couture" doesn't cross their mind, because they aren't that "fancy". Custom designed, custom fitted, and high workmanship--these things might. But most people don't realize what they're missing. It's not until they have something that fits them perfectly that they realize how poorly everything else fits. It's not until someone shows them what couture can be that they'll want it. (How's that for classic advertising--the thing you never knew existed, but desperately needed, that you now can't live without!!)

I'm not saying that they would need to totally get rid of the temperamental designers and their extravagant creations--just that those two things need to take a back seat to reality. There will always be a place in for fancy opulent dresses. . . once or twice a lifetime. Couture can't sustain itself on that any longer, but reality changing doesn't mean you need to get rid of those skills, just that those skills need to adapt to a new reality. Of course, there are those that would say if it isn't about extravagant designs and temperamental designers, it's not couture. Fine, then. It's not couture. Let's ditch couture, and bring in whatever it is that makes top quality clothes that are relevant to your comfort, your style, your body and your life.

Couture, considered III: Why me? (and maybe why you)

2006-02-12T19:03:00.000-05:00

Well, why not?

Ok, ok, seriously. If you consider couture to be fancy ball gowns with huge skirts using yards and yards and yards of fabric, it would seem really hysterical that I'm interested in it. Where I live, anything more than jeans (not the designer type) and t-shirts (not the designer type) is considered dressing up. Myself included.

Part of it, I admit, stems from my personality quirks. Machinery and I do not get along very well. Not on the whole; it's not like I'm boycotting all machines. It's always a very personal vendetta. I think the darn stuff picks on me. Like dogs, they smell fear. They'll work perfectly fine for everyone one else, and as soon as they're alone with me they start acting up. (With no witnesses. Great.) The more complicated they are, the more likely they are to break, get "confused", and generally need to be beaten into submission.

So do I do all my sewing by hand? No. I did save up my pennies, and buy a very high quality sewing machine, but a totally and completely non-computerized sewing machine. Everyone thought I was nuts, but the more complicated a machine is, the more likely things are to go wrong. The simpler the better.

And this doesn't just have to do with sewing, either. It works the same way with cooking, too. I like to knead my bread dough by hand. I have this heavy-duty mixer that could do it sitting right on the counter, and I still like to knead it by hand. Using the mixer is noisy, and it makes me all tense. Kneading by hand is calming and relaxing. I chop most of my vegetables by hand, even though the food processor is sitting on the counter. (An exception being onions, which I cry over so much that I think it would only be fittingly polite if people sent me condolence cards, and maybe some flowers.) People think I'm nuts. "Why are you making things difficult for yourself?! You're making it take twice as long, and a lot more work."

Okay, then. Requirement number one: Be Crazy. (Otherwise known as: appreciate working with your hands and don't be put off by extra work. Or time.)

I like the way the cooking analogy works. There is fast food and fast sewing---hamburgers and fries, and 2 hour sewing projects. There are homecooked meals and home sewing--casseroles made with canned soup, and pot roast. . .and clothing that is quite a step above fast'n'easy, but is still quite willing to cut corners for convenience and time. And there are those special gourmet meals that are almost as special to make as they are to eat, and those special garments that are almost as special to make as they are to wear.

In my cooking life, I mostly make home-cooked meals, strive for those special meals, and occasionally resort to fast food. My sewing life seems to be following in the same path. What I do, and what I would like to learn to do, are often different. But I do work toward it. (I suppose this is where I'm supposed to say Requirement number two: Don't Be Complacent, which teeters dangerously on the edge of Don't Be Satisfied, which, while closely related, is different.)

Finally, I have to admit to myself that I don't just want to learn to sew well with my hands. I want to sew well by machine, too, as the circumstances call for it. I am not going to hand sew a pair of grungy working jeans, but I sure would like to be able to make them well enough to stand up to the rigors of wear and tear (and be more comfortable and fit better than what you could buy). And, really, hand-sewing on any $10/yd fabric would be silly. But when I start seeing the prices spiral upward, $30/yd, $60/yd, $80/yd. . .and sometimes more!! ($150/yd. for beaded silk, for instance.) I don't think I could dare to put something that expensive under the machine. If I put that much money into it, it wouldn't be a run of the mill sort of garment. Considerable time would be spent in the design, and in the construction. So, also, I would say Make It Count and Be Appropriate.

Which brings us back to the question of why on earth would a jeans-and-sneakers kind of girl want to learn fine sewing for fine fabrics? Because I want to. That's enough of a reason for me, and enough of a reason for you, too.

Drooling. . .

2006-02-05T13:01:00.000-05:00

Among the many plagues of the sewing world in general is trying to find decent fabrics. Although some people are lucky enough to actually have a brick-and-mortar store near them that actually has fabric that they are delighted to buy, most of us have nothing other than Jo-Ann's, Wal-Mart, and Hancocks. (Unfortunately, both my local Jo-Ann's and Wal-Mart are shrinking their fabric selections, and I don't have a Hancocks anywhere around.)

The only resort for those of us so deprived is the internet. Unfortunately, there's no road-map for the internet, so most finds are made by suddenly stumbling upon stores one never knew existed before. In helping those hoping to stumble upon something delightful, I offer two sites that I drool over.

My favorite place to drool is at Denver Fabrics. I have ordered swatches from them, and one cut of fabric, and was happy with both. Denver Fabrics has a great, huge selection, is well sorted and easy to navigate, and I like their service. They include lots of information on their site about the fabric they're selling. And they have good prices, and good pictures and descriptions. Among the many things you can find here include small leather hides, silk weaves of all types, linen, velvet (including, thank goodness, non-stretch leather, and leather with rayon and cotton instead of poly!), and a wonderful selection of wool, as well as denim (in many weights, stretch and non-stretch) and corduroy. I try desperately to avoid visiting this site, as it makes me want to buy a truck load of fabric. I just went and visited it again for the first time in months, and the selection has only improved.

My second favorite place to drool is Trim Fabrics. I've only ordered from here once, with good results, but again, it has a big selection. However, it's unfortunately not organized as well, which makes it seem more hectic to browse. You truly get lost over here, looking at the scads and scads of fabric. Their descriptions aren't as good, but their pictures are even better. Denver fabrics is more reliable and consistent in it's offering; with Trim Fabrics you never know what you will find, and that's part of the fun. You're more likely to stumble upon something breath-taking and unique at Trim Fabrics. Denver Fabrics has more solids and a wider scope of fabric types, but Trim Fabrics has more prints, or tone-on-tones.

Both places also have good trim sections; not surprisingly, Trim Fabrics is much larger. Their lace trim alone is just staggering, and the most beautiful lace trim I've seen anywhere. If you're looking for that "extra something", you'll probably find it here.

Couture, considered II: Why by hand?

2006-01-28T17:24:00.000-05:00

Yes, yes, it is highly ironic to have finished my last post by saying I no longer feel I can use the word "couture" , and then still using the word in the title of my next post. I just have a lot of different thoughts on this subject, and I felt I couldn't reasonably get them all in one post, so you will have to bear with the irony.

Why by hand? Is it really any better?

The first thing that comes to my mind is a chef, chopping his (or her) vegetables by hand. Are these professionals living in the dark ages? Haven't they heard of a food processor? I mean, really!

There are two things to consider. The chef, well practiced, can chop vegetables by hand much faster, easier and precisely than the rest of us mere mortals. The time saved by using a food processor is much greater for mortals than for chefs. The second is the integrity of the work. The food processor generally mauls the vegetables, and spews the flavorful vegetable juices all over the place, and often giving the vegetable a more unpleasant texture in the mouth. With chopping by hand, there is more precision (once the skill is acquired), the juices remain contained within the vegetable pieces, and the uniform pieces are more pleasing to feel in the mouth.

A small gain for the high price? For a mortal, perhaps. For the chef? No. The quality is necessary, and them time difference is much smaller.

This is not unique to the culinary realm. Machines are made to help close the gap between the unskilled and the highly skilled. The machines tend to fall to the "unskilled". The highly skilled continue to use their hands. It is no different with sewing.

Now, you will note that I said they "continue to use their hands", not "no machine can match the work of hand work." While I do actually feel that a statement like that is true, it is getting increasingly harder to defend. (Isn't it a sign of the times where once one had to defend getting rid of human workers in favor of machines, and now one has to defend working by hand instead of by machine?)

The English Cut blog comes to mind again. (Yes, I did get a lot out of it!) In this post, Mr. Mahon speaks of the difference between a fused canvas, and one that is pad-stitched by hand. In the comments, someone brings up machine pad-stitching, and asks if there it really makes a difference whether it's by hand or machine. Mr. Mahon responds with this post. He was rather forced to admit that the machine could probably do an equally good job, but argues for hand work anyway. He says:

"Strangely, this little dash of humanity is often what gives a suit that je ne sais quoi, that ÂI donÂt know why, but I just prefer this oneÂ. I think you know what IÂm talking about."

What do you mean to say? That humans make better mistakes than machines?

In a word, yes.

If we were to accept as fact that the workmanship of hands and machine were equal (which is debatable), there would still be a reason to consider hand work. This is at first readily scoffed, but only because it is coming from people who are already strongly biased for handwork (like me). But consider. . .

. . .why are old farm houses said to have so much "character"?

. . .what draws people to old european buildings and towns, that they are considered "charming", "quaint", or any other word you wish to use?

. . .why are heirloom garments treasured?

. . .more importantly, why are homemade cookies best?

. . .and which will you save, the dress your grandmother made for you by hand, or the one she purchased that was mass made, and everyone has?

. . .what do you think when examining the seam stitched by hand? . . .what do you think when you see stitches worked by hand?

Why do you suppose people market their food as "just like Grandma's!" and "homestyle" and the like? No one believes that any "grandma" made those plastic-wrapped cookies. No one really believes the can of beans tastes like it was homemade. But they want "grandma" and "homemade"--so they are influenced to buy it.

You could say this plays off emotional need, and doesn't apply to all things handmade. But then why the awe when one sees something handmade? Why does one alway want to reach out and touch, and feel, and examine? Why do we want to run our hands over hand-hewn beams cut a 100 years ago or more? Why do we want run our fingers over hand embroidery, ancient and yellowing? Why do we wish to examine every detail made by hand?

You may call it character, charm, a connection to the past, or anything else you like. But the mass produced objects are set aside; the items made by hand are cherished. Behind the one sits cold machinery, behind the other sits a human. We see their hands. . .the character of the machine makes itself known, and the character of the human makes itself known. People are people, and are inherently drawn to things that people make.

Now, is this the only reason to work by hand? Are machines equal or superior in everyway but the sense of comfort and home that they fail to give?

Here I must remember that I'm supposed to be talking about couture, and gather myself together. Actually, maybe I should have remembered that a long time ago, but I guess I got a bit carried off. Because I am no expert (unfortunately), I turned to Claire Shaeffer's book Couture Sewing Techniques. This part here is from the beginning of Chapter two:

"When I visited the house of Christian Dior in Paris, I asked Dior's archivist Marika Genty how the construction of haute couture garments differs from that of luxury ready-to-wear. Marika immediately responded, "They're made by hand." Her comment was repeated at every couture house I visited. . ."

Taken alone, this would seem to say that machine sewing is not used in haute couture. However, in further reading, Claire Shaeffer clarifies this.

"Unlike the seams on ready-to-wear and home-sewn garments, seams in couture are often sewn by hand, with machine sewing reserved for structural seams and darts."

(Which makes me wonder what non-structural seams are. . .but that's beside the point right now.) Now, if this statement was taken by itself, it would seem that machine sewing is always best for "serious" sewing. . .however, Shaeffer talks about it more later on.

"Today most sleeves are set in by machine because the method is less expensive than hand sewing. However, at Huntsman, the most expensive bespoke tailor on London's Saville Row, the tailors prefer setting the sleeve by hand since hand sewing is always easier to control than machine stitching. They use a hand-sewn full backstitch, which is much more elastic than the machine lockstitch. I've also seen fell stitches on designs by Yves Staint Laurent and Schiaparelli, but this stitch is generally considered old-fashioned and, in any case, is not a good choice for the home sewer because it's difficult to sew invisibly. If you want to set the sleeve by hand, choose a full bascktitch."

And. . .

"The next step is to baste and sew the crotch seam. Since the crotch seam receives considerably more stress than most other seams on a garment, however, you may want to srengthen this seam as you sew it so it will not rip. In the bespoke workrooms at London tailor Gieves and Hawkes, the technique used on men's trousers relies on a hand-sewn backstitch to build stretch into the crotch seam so that it lasts for the life of the garment. I've never seen this technique used in women's couture graments, but I've seen many ripped seams on womens's trousers!"

Now, call me cynical, but from my reading of her book, I would generally say that hand sewing still seems to produce the best results, even though some people have been shifting to (cheaper, quicker, easier) machine sewing, even in structual seams. I am sure people could find exceptions to this; the more they were inclined to argue for machines the more likely they would be to find them, too. But I still feel comfortable in saying, that, as a general rule, excellent handsewing is still superior in workmanship than excellent machine sewing. (The sewing machine, of course, has it's own, different advantages.)

Better enough for mere mortals? Perhaps not. Perhaps we will stick with our food processors. . .but when preparing something truly special, maybe we ought to go the extra mile, and work by hand.

Couture, considered I: What does it mean?

2006-01-23T20:00:00.000-05:00

This is the first of 4 parts that are sort of all inter-related. I have been frustrated in my writing of them because the only chances I get at writing is when my mind is least focused. I finally decided I just needed to get these thoughts out of my head, even if I couldn't write them as well as I wanted. For one thing, they address an issue the keeps cropping up, so I keep having very repetitive thoughts. I must drive them out! Nonetheless, let me know if you want something clarified. . .Or just general want to discuss the matters.

One of the things I (delightedly) got for Christmas was Couture Sewing Techniques by Claire Shaeffer. This was the first thing that every informed me there was such a thing as couture sewing, the book that got me interested in it, and as far as I'm currently concerned, the most authoritative book on the subject currently out there. First, of course, is my humble pie, as she does mention them using sewing machines at times. The worst part is, she mentioned it in passing, and if you hadn't happened to read that part, you would read through the rest of the book without realizing it. They do thoroughly hand baste it so that it is practically sewn before it ever gets under the machine so there is no chances of distortion or stretching.

Well, that isn't actually the worst part, the worst part is that I'm afraid I did that with Roberta car's Couture: The Art of Fine Sewing, slandering her needlessly. I remember I was very tired the day I read that book, and in hurry besides, because it was due the next day, and I could easily have missed the all important paragraph talking about thorough hand basting such that the machine couldn't eat all of your hours of hard work laying out your fabric perfectly on grain. In which case, I repent in ashes and sackcloth--except I don't know if they sell sackcloth anymore, so it might just have to be dust and burlap. (Oh, bothers, can't I just get away with skipping my shower and wearing a scratchy wool sweater?)

Anyway, since writing my posts on couture books, I have been seeing the word pop up in more and more different places. Of course, this is probably due more to an extra sensitivity, not to it actually popping up in more places, but it has gotten me thinking. That, and Roberta car's description of what couture is. (Speaking of "popping up" and "what couture is", I just saw an article in today's Wall Street Journal. It defined "Haute Couture" as "Clothes that are handsewn to order by fashion houses that use fine materials and meet other French government requirements. Ten designers now have the designation, including Chanel, down from 40 in the early 1960s." Actually the article was entitled "A Stir over 'Semi-Couture': New niche invokes high-end design, but critics call it a marketing ploy." Semi-Couture was defined as "some designers have begun using this term to describe clothes that are machine made but in limited quantities. . .sometimes using fine materials like those in haute couture clothes." But enough of this tangent, and back to our originally scheduled program. . .)

My hard-headedness in saying that a basic cornerstone of couture is sewing by hand is challenged in my own thinking. Certainly there is quite a bit of hand sewing done there, but is that a basic rule of couture sewing, or is it just a means to the end? When Charles Worth, the supposed Father of Haute Couture was opening his house, sewing machines were only just beginning to be invented. High quality sewing was in no way related to sewing machines. Hand sewing persists, but not as a rule--thou shalt only sew by hand--, but as a means to an end of highest quality in workmanship. There are yet things that must be done by hand to have the highest degree of workmanship, or even be done at all.

So what was a founding rule of the couture houses? If one remembers that couture means "sewing", and haute couture only means "high sewing", we are left with asking what the "high" refers to. I have always said it refers to workmanship, and put all of it's emphasis on that. However, a more honest appraisal might be that I want it to only refer to workmanship. The "high" sewing was sewing for "high" people--aristocrats and royalty. But of course they were opulent and extravagant--was this any less of a founding principle than workmanship? I want to say no; it doesn't matter what the style or thought, so long as the technique is of high quality. Tastes in fashion differ so much, it seems impossible to judge whether a garment has indeed a high enough level of style and opulence and extravagance to warrant being called "couture" (or "haute couture"). Nonetheless, an objective look at who the couture houses still market to, and how they are regulated, leads me to confess that yes, haute couture, high sewing, is as much about extravagance and "high" people as it is about sewing techniques. (Much to my great disappointment, and another score for Roberta Carr.)

So having felt out "haute couture" a bit more, I see that the word still does not refer to what I want to talk about. Is "couture" any better at encompassing what I mean? What does couture mean? Why, but that's irrelevant! It doesn't have to mean anything, it's just, you know, advertising.

I remember once reading a children's book, titled Frindle. Frindle?! What on earth is that supposed to mean? It means, in the book, some kid had a great grasp on the fact that a word doesn't have to mean, in and of itself, anything. It doesn't have to be related to other words, or languages, or anything. All that matters is how the word is used, and what people in general understand it to mean. In this book, the kid decided he was going to change the name of an ordinary household object, so that everyone called it by something other than what they had. He picked a ball point pen, and decided to call it a "frindle" instead. The first day he went into a drugstore and asked if he could buy a "frindle", and of course, the guy behind the counter thought the kid was nuts, but eventually sold him the pens--I mean, frindles. The kid got a bunch of his friends to do the same thing, and by the end of the week when someone asked to buy some frindles, the owner just asked "Black or blue ink?"

In the book, the word "frindle" came to mean "pen" throughout the nation. The kid picked a totally nonsensical word that meant nothing, and changed it to mean "pen". So it no longer mattered why it was called "frindle", it was simply accepted that those plastic thing-ys that you write with were frindles.

I feel like the same thing has been done with the word "couture". It no longer matters what the word is supposed to mean. It means what the common person thinks it to mean. And the first thing that pops into the common persons mind when they hear the word couture--do you really think it has anything to do with sewing, much less custom sewing? It has to do with class, with attitude, with velour track suits, with the implicit statement that it is cutting edge, hot, worthy of a high price. Here's a short-sleeved "hoody" sweater. It's made of a cotton/poly blend terry. Zip closure. Machine washable. Made in USA. Savvy. (Yes, that's part of the description.) And, of course, it has a $128 price tag. Because it's couture--Juicy Couture! Mass made, sold all over, and couture. Juicy Couture is the first hit if you Google "couture".

So regardless of what "couture" ever meant, it is no longer relevant to what I want to talk about. Even if it did mean what I mean at one point, it ceases to do so any longer. Couture is just an advertising buzz word, meant to draw the young things with lots of money to spend, and a desire to spend it on clothes.

So to me, I feel I can no longer use the word "couture", except in reference to books that have it in their titles. It's meaning has changed, if it ever held what I thought it held. I thought "couture" was a high compliment, a rare thing, and now it is a cheap splash of glitz, splashed all over products in hope of luring people in.

In fact, I can find no word that encompasses the things I want to talk about. Some people use the word "bespoke"--as in "bespoke tailoring"--, but I refuse to be part of the crowd stripping that word of all meaning. Bespoke tailoring, as I understand it, is a quite specific term and it refers to tailoring, to suits, not to any form of garment you happen to be making at the time.

I suppose, if I was clever, I'd come up with my own "frindle"--a word that means what I want it to mean, even if it just a nonsensical one. Then all I'd have to do is hold enough sway to convert everyone over to my word. But first I'd have to find people interested in even having a need for such a word--people who wanted to talk about it or practice it. And that, by itself, would be quite a trick.

English Cut Blog

2006-01-22T12:43:00.000-05:00

. . .can be found here. This is a blog that has something for everyone--customers, people interested in learning tailoring, and people who are interested in the cultural aspects of a tailor on Savile Row. I am mostly interested in learning tailoring, and find this site to be fascinating. Unfortunately, it isn't updated very often. This always used to drive me nuts, until, of course, I started my own blog. Suddenly, a bright light shown forth! Ah, maybe he's got a life other than spending fruitless hours writing fascinating posts in hope of enlightening the silent lurkers!

If you do check this site out, please do not be the 153,000 person to ask whether or not he tailors for women. The answer is yes, he does. (In fact, I'd almost be willing to bet that if you paid him enough money, he'd be willing to tailor for anything, up to and including your pet goat.) He has answered the question of women's suits a few times, but generally doesn't reply to the comments. If you doubt me, search on his site for "women", and you will find his post where he clearly states that he cuts for women of all sizes. While we're on the subject of ladies, I have to share this quote from his blog:

"Ladies are often asking me what opportunities there are for them in the business. Quite simply, they can and do the same as men, often a lot better. However the only real restriction which I've seen is that I've never known any ladies do the actual measuring of customers.

They'll often get the measurements from a colleague, then go cut a suit as well as anyone, hidden in the back of the shop. But sadly many of the customers don't feel comfortable having the 4" brass end of a tape measure thrust up between their legs by a lady.
It's not Savile Row that's against it, people have tried. It's the customers who are, and from a tailor's standpoint there's no point in digging your heels in- because as with all businesses, the customer ultimately is paying the wages;"

Yes, indeed!

Web Trail. . .

2005-12-31T14:36:00.000-05:00

It's a gray, clammy, cold Saturday afternoon, so I'm websurfing. I started with a Google search of Alix Gres, whom I've heard very little about. I saw one picture of her work in a book, and it intrigued me. I'm glad I looked. . .here's where I've been:

First stop is a site called "History of Fashion and Costume". It's huge site, one which one can easily get lost in and spend lots and lots of time. (Did I mention you lose track of the passing of time? I just remembered I had a batch of bread in the oven that was trying to burn!!) Alix Gres may be found under "Fashion Designers" under the "G" listing (for Gres, Madame Alix). From what I looked at this site (as previously said, it's huge, so it may very from place to place) it is thorough but brief, much like reading an encyclopedia. Although I learned a lot about Alix Gres, there were unfortunately few photos of her work. I wish they had a gallery. The listing for "Costumes" was another place I got lost, which is about historical regional costumes. Ancient costumes include listings from Sumer, Egypt, Crete-Minoan, Greece, Etruscan, Rome, and Byzantium. It not only speaks of clothes, foot-wear, head-wear, jewelry, common motifs, and armor, but also brief descriptions of the peoples and how they lived.

Stop number two is the Metropolitan Museum of Art (here, specifically costume). I'd briefly been here before, but since the site is trying to cover all of art (and not just clothing) it's harder to find what you want. When you do find it, though, they have great pictures! I saw a piece of this dress on the History of Fashion and Costume, and had been dying to see what the full dress looks like. (This shredded ivory silk chiffon and tiered silk organza dress by Alexander McQueen reminds me of a wild goat. Apparently, having read it's description, it's supposed to reminiscent of a sea-shell.) This is all that they have on Gres. . .do click on the links for the descriptions. Often times they talk about how the dress was constructed, and point out things that you might not otherwise notice.

Kent State University always has just enough to get you interested, and then leaves you hanging! Their exhibition on Spirals and Ellipses: Clothing the Body Three-Dimensionally has several pieces of Gres', but that's all that they have of hers (as far as I can find).

And that was pretty much the end of my browsing. There were a lot of links to books, and several in French, and a lot on perfume, but no more easy-find, easy-read. I find someplace talking about a relative un-known, turning up in my search merely because he is supposedly inspired by the likes of Alix Gres and Madame Vionnett. So I looked him up (Chado Ralph Rucci, here's a bunch of pictures from his Fall 2004 show). According to Fashion File, he's the first American designer to be invited to the Chambre Sydicale de la Courture Parisienne in over fifty years. Kent State (as well as lot of other people, in their own phrasing of it) he is "impervious to fads and to the increased theatricality of the couture world". They also say "The quality of Ralph Rucci's work is exceptional in both his ready-to-wear and couture garments. His trademark meandering seams and gussets allow for better fit and ease of movement and, like most of the hand processes he and his staff develop, are a great source of pride." While this all sounds very fascinating, I'm sorry to say that his designs struck me as rather boring. To be able to examine the construction details in your hand must be very informative and striking. But when you can only see them from a distance, his work is taken down to nothing but design; and his lines and colors don't capture my imagination or my attention.

And that is the end of my browsing for today. . .

Interesting Post. . .

2005-12-17T17:39:00.000-05:00

That last post was a practical joke on myself. It drives me nuts when people write blog entries like that, so of course I had to do it at least once myself. When I see other people doing it (one of my uncles does it all of the time), I want to say, "Hey, get back here and explain yourself!! Why was it interesting? What is it about? What does it make you think about? Why were you there? What will you do differently? I want some answers, people!"

So here is the interesting post, to follow the interesting link. In every art field, there is "modern" off-shoot. You know, your "modern" painters, your "modern" sculptors, etc., etc. Well, the short story is that this is a link to a modern pattern drafter (though I guess in the UK they call it a pattern cutter?).

As with most "modern" art, either you like it or you don't. And if you like one form of modern art, you will probably like most forms of modern art. So if you like modern art, you will probably like modern pattern drafting. It has much in similar in that it likes to defy traditional conventions or appearances. To some, it merely looks random, without thought or meaning. It likes to be shocking, or look messy or sloppy to those who aren't sophisticated enough to appreciate it.

I, of course, am utterly un-sophisticated.

(Saw that comin', didn't you?)

So why do I say that it is interesting? Because it is technically very interesting. Hmm. That makes it sound as though it is interesting, but turns me off in some other way. Which I guess is partly true, but I think what I meant to say was: Because it is, technically, very interesting. Or perhaps: Because it is very interesting, technically.

Or maybe I should just use more words and explain a little better what I mean. I don't care for most of the end results displayed on the site. They appear, to me, to be messy and random, with little thought, and rather ugly and hard on the eyes. Artsy, and unappealing. However, I find the means used to achieve those ends to be quite fascinating, and intriguing.

The site itself is also interesting, in that I found it very easy to navigate--but it was totally different than most page designs. Also, most of the pages were hand written with hand illustrations. The instructions were well written, in that I could follow them pretty well, though I won't truly grasp it completely till I try it myself. I also appreciated the fact that, while Julian (I'm assuming, probably wrongly, that the kind of ghoul-ish looking guy--no offense, but he does look it-- at the bottom of the page wrote everything) obviously enjoyed the whole "freedom" and "lack of rules" look, he wasn't too heavy handed. Since I didn't have sort through a bunch of words about "breaking out of boundaries", I could much more easily grasp the technical methods he was explaining.

Now, me being more of a boundaries type person (read, "control freak"), my immediate thought is, how can I take this and control it? This is obviously an out-working of one of the things he says in page eight of the basics, namely "Whoever implements them, automatically adds something of their own style to them."

Let's take, for example (since it is both the technique I most easily and quickly grasped, as well as the one I'm most interested in trying out), the technique of cutting out a shape, and then filling the hole with a different shape with the same size perimeter. He starts out by explaining it with basic shapes, the easiest for the mind to grasp, but quickly shifts to random shapes, as all modern art does. But my mind is still stuck on the more reasonable shapes (tee-hee!).

If you look through the "RCA students" gallery, you can get a few good examples of how people import their style. Emily Parson, for example, is being very, terribly, unendingly clever by cutting out the shapes "P" and "e" (wonder what they stand for?), and inserting a triangle into the "P" and a rectangle into the "e". So, yes, on paper her design seems to be thought-out and with reason. But, the finished product? Nothing is recognizable. It is clever for cleverness' sake alone, because once it is completed, no one can see how clever she is. Only she (and anyone she shows her sketch to) knows her cleverness. So then she is clever, but so clever that no one knows how clever she is, which makes her even more clever, because she has made herself so clever than no one can figure out how clever she is.

In the next entry, Emma Palmer shows what a less clever person can do with it. (Which must mean that I am not only un-sophisticated, but un-clever, too, because it is a lot more like what I'd like to do with it.) The shape of the original cut is still obvious to the viewer--in fact, more so, because the contrasting insert stands off of the skirt. By using a softer, sub-ordinate fabric to be inserted into the stiffer, dominate fabric, it makes the original cut-out to be twice as striking. (Outstanding, even, if one were to get clever with words.) Very deliberate, very effective.

Yujin Jung is also thinking more along my lines. As soon as I read about cutting a hole that connected to the hem, and then using an insert whose perimeter was greater than the hole and using the access as extra fullness in the hem, I immediately thought that it could make a really cool godet. This skirt, while having a very striking godet, still looks slightly awkward to me. If it were me, I would bring it under the iron fist of control, you can be sure of that! (Oops. I just realized that Yujin Jung has quite a few garments displayed. I was referring to the black skirt with the gold and white random-godet on it.)

These last two showed what some of the most "obvious" "controlled" things one might do with this technique. Emma made a very strong design line, making a sweeping curve across her skirt, and Yujin made a very dramatic godet. But my mind is springing off. . .

Supposing you made a "bustle back" skirt using this method? Using a subordinate fabric to fill in several horizontal cuts down the back would probably achieve this style, though with a much different effect. A cross between ruching and ruffles.

It could be used instead of a decorative collar, slicing into the bodice around the neck, perhaps even a much larger hole at the center back, giving the illusion of a hood pulled off the head and left to hang down.

It could be used as a repeating motif along the circumference of a hem, or at sleeves hems, or running down sleeves.

One could use it to make a 3-D pattern all over a fabric, and then cutting the decorated fabric and made into clothing.

How about a row of un-tucks down the front?

How small could you make the cuts and still have an effective design?

Which works better, "random" filling shapes, or structured filling shapes? (e.g. a "scribbled" shape, or a triangle?)

There are other techniques that seem to have potential to my minds eye, but are harder for me to grasp. For instance, the displacement technique looks interesting, but I can't wrap my mind around it well enough to figure out how to control the variables. I'm sure if I practiced it, it would make much more sense. The tube technique is the least appealing to me, because it's affects appear to be much more limited and uncontrollable. It will always involve large amounts of fabric and lots of draping and build-up. Nonetheless, this too looks like it would be an interesting technique to play with. (The first thing that comes to mind is to weight all the drape to the back, so the front appears smooth but the back is full; again, playing off of the bustle back design.) What one could do when combining techniques (either those presented here, or other more "traditional" techniques), is truly mind boggling.

In fact, one of the most frustrating things for me about the designs on the site is their randomness. I keep looking to see ideas brought out, explored, built upon, progressing from here to there with interesting side trails. Instead, they appear to be totally random, coming from nowhere, and going nowhere, and rather hard to grasp upon and build off of yourself. What they see as playful and inventive, I see as confused and incomplete, a technique that has yet to be mastered and executed with the end result in mind. They want to be led by their creation, and I want to lead my creation.

At any rate, I am grateful that they were willing to share their knowledge and experience willingly (and also freely!). It is unique and innovative, and has sparked several ideas in my mind. I am sure that my style will not be their style, even as much as their style is not my style. But it has opened me up to a new way to think about manipulating fabric, and I hope I don't forget it.

Oh, and one last note. On page seven he says, "Being an amateur is always an advantage." This always brings a huge grin to my face, but not because I think he's off his rocker. Much to the contrary, it makes me grin so big precisely because I think I do know exactly what he means. I think perhaps I could write a whole post about it. But not tonight.

Interesting Site. . .

2005-12-17T17:36:00.000-05:00

I just saw this interesting site.

http://www.blowpr.co.uk/JULIANandSOPHIEsite/school/basics/index.htm

Carr Couture

2005-12-15T15:20:00.000-05:00

“Couture. . .the Art of Fine Sewing”, by Roberta Carr, is the second of two “couture” books I got out of the library. (The other having been previously discussed.) At the time I got these books out, I hadn’t realized quite so well how large of a difference there is between different versions of “couture”. My definition–or, at any rate, what I was looking for in couture–is a high level of technical skill, and a very specific skill. “Couture” sewing is not sewing used in every day garments; nor is it’s sole goal to be sturdy and withstand abuse. “Couture” sewing is supposed to be about not disturbing the fabric as it is made into garments–the sewing should not effect the drape or hand of the fabric, where ever possible the seams should be matched perfectly. There are no “short-cuts” in “couture” because couture is the long way. “Couture” always has impeccable details of the finest quality.

One time I read somewhere–and, alas, I do not remember where, or I would tell you—that one should never take the description “couture” to one’s self, but wait until it is given by someone else. If one has to say that one is the leader, than obviously one’s position as a leader is already in jeopardy. If you’re truly the leader, you don’t need to say it, and no one needs to ask. Couture sewing doesn’t say “Look at me! I’m couture!” But it doesn’t need too.

This is how I view “couture”. It is sewing of the highest level of workmanship. Just as there is fine furniture, miles and away above the typical furniture one can buy, there is also a higher level of sewing. Although the styles of work may change upon taste, the level of construction, precision and technique remain as high as possible. Wether it is an ornate, highly decorated chair, or a chair of sleek, modern design, huge amounts of time and skill are invested in it to make sure that it is without flaw. No one would expect a Joe Handyman with a set of power tools to make the finest level of furniture, and especially not in just a few hours. In the same way, wether it is a simple sheath dress, or an ornate ball gown with a long train, skill and time must be invested to make sure they are perfect.

As a less-than Jane Handyman, I don’t expect to start cranking out couture sewing after reading a few books. But I would expect my “couture” books to talk about things that are more difficult, more detailed, and harder to achieve than what would be found in a typical sewing book.

Happily, this book did a better job of fulfilling those expectations than the first couture book I’ve talked about. Unhappily (but not unexpectedly), the author and I still seem to have different ideas of what “couture” means.

For those of you who don’t care two beans what “couture” means, I shall first just talk about the book.

This book does address some “couture” details, such as Doir roses, which she shows you how to make, step by step. It is also more thorough (and thicker, at 200 pages), and organized well. My favorite chapter was the sleeve chapter, which has the perhaps one of the most complete chapters I’ve ever seen on sleeve styles. A particularly interesting style was where you make a center front seam in a sleeve (it runs down the length of your arm on the side, as though you have just cut the sleeve pattern in half lengthwise), and insert 3-D geometric shapes into that sleeves. I say 3-D, but it’s hard to give an accurate picture using words. If you placed circles in the sleeve, you wouldn’t wind up with several spheres sticking out of the side of your arm, but several flat disks–round, but flat. These shapes aren’t inset into the sleeve, as though a hole had been cut out and a different piece of fabric put in it’s place. The are raised, above the surface, and distinct from the sleeve, but still connected. It looks more as though the sleeve has sprouted shapes.

The good news is that, even if my words don’t bring the proper image to your mind, this book was well illustrated. It also has several pages of full color photographs, but unfortunately, the photographs didn’t do near so well at showing details. Many of the garments were made out of black, and we all know how hard it is to see details in pictures of black garments.

The instructions were thorough throughout the book; Carr made every effort to make the book accessible and encouraging. This is a good book to introduce someone to the world of “couture”, and it includes several pages giving brief descriptions of past couturiers.

And now, everyone who dislikes negativity of any form, please plug your ears, avert your eyes, hum loudly, or leave the room. Because here is the part where I disagree with the author. She not only has a different idea of what “couture” means, but she is also very inconsistent.

The book opens by saying:

“Couture! Just the sound of the word conjures up glamour–the finest–the best–fanasty. Yes! Couture is fanasty in so many ways. It’s a dream, a vision, all those beautiful people in exotic places celebrating the happiness of life. . .”

Obviously, this is very far from what I hold “couture” to mean! Shortly thereafter, however, she began talking about “perfection” in construction, so I forged on. She went on to talk about cutting out bodice pieces one side at a time, on a single layer of fabric, already cut down to a smaller and more managable size. This made it easier to block the pieces of fabric so that they were perfectly on grain. She made a point of telling you not to smooth out wrinkles to the side after pinning it on grain–those wrinkles indicated that those places in the fabric were out of grain–and had you steam them out instead.

All well and good. This sounds like a terrible amount of work, but it makes sense.

Then she goes on and has you use a sewing machine.

No, I am not a luddite (but close!). But even I, Jane Handyman, can see my sewing machine stretch out seams, pull things out of alignment, and leave twists and puckers. Why, after spending hours and hours on arranging my fabric so that it was perfectly on grain, would I stick it under the machine needle? If that small amount of stretch doesn’t matter in “couture”–why go through all the work of carefully blocking out each individual piece and steaming out off grain places? Why not just fold the fabric in half and cut it out that way? There wouldn’t be too much off grainness that way–some, but enough for her “couture” to worry about?

Part of me wonders if perhaps she was told to make sure that any home sewing could take home her book and learn to sew the “couture” way, and she realized that very few home sewers will put up with much hand sewing with their fancy new sewing machines sitting right next to them. “Couture is Judgement!” she says, encouraging you to make the call yourself as different issues come up. Perhaps she just used her “judgement” to decided that machine sewing everything wouldn’t make much difference. She makes many and repeated claims to perfection being a necessary part of couture, but can’t seem to bring herself to actually hold to it. She even says

“My field is couture. Oh, you know what that means–structure, hand-stitching, shaping, attitude, and beautiful fabric.”

But for her, it seems that attitude and beautiful fabric trump structure, hand-stitching, and shaping. For her, attitude and beautiful fabric is the heart of couture; the rest is a nice after-thought, but not overly important. In her epilogue, she tells this story:

“On a trip back to Rhode Island to my cousin’s 25th wedding anniversary, I needed a fancy dress. Very few of my family had seen me since I opened my fabric store and sewing school. I wanted a prosperity dress. Mary Margaret, a modern couturier, and I teamed up. I designed and she masterfully executed a black chiffon with satin and gold stripes dress. She would surely tell you of the hours it took to perfect the miles of double bias ruffles that fluttered around the neck and down the back. . . It’s the kind of dress that never asks the question “How are you doing?” The answer is revealed in the dress.”

To her, this is the epitome of couture–to parade wealth, stature, honor. To me, this story was the epitome of how we are different. To me, the construction is what makes it couture; to her, the attitude and appearance. I also felt sad for her that she felt the need to wear a “prosperity” dress to visit with her family. I can more understand the desire for a “prosperity” dress when one is amongst strangers, but family is where you are supposed to be loved and accepted regardless of how much “prosperity” one has, or what kind of clothes you are wearing. (I do, however, believe in dressing for the occasion. If anniversary party was formal or fancy, it would have been rather disrespectful to the whole event to show up in jeans and a t-shirt.)

When one who is learning how to play the piano watches a master pianist, who has practiced for years on end and refined their skill continually, the beginner will not be instantly assured that playing the piano perfectly is easy and accessible to all. But they will be challenged to improve, to continue to practice, to strive for a greater level of skill. In the same way, I would rather see a “couture” book that challenged me, that showed me what to strive for, even though I could not reach out and take it right away.

I found this book to be interesting, and even inspiring at some points. But I didn’t find it to be very challenging. She wishes to make couture easy and accessible to all, but as with all things in life, the more you are willing to put in, the more you will get out. Exclusiveness cannot be had by all, or it is no longer exclusive. Couture cannot become easy and accessible to all without ceasing to be couture. As the saying goes, “Remember, you’re special. . .just like everyone else.”

Couture? Haute Couture? Juicy Couture?

2005-12-06T09:56:00.000-05:00

Ack! I'm guilty of lack of clarity in terms!

I just discovered that I wasn't just talking to myself; someone had actually read some of my writing. That does tend to happen when you put it on the 'net, but always shocks me when it does actually happen. I could have responded to the person in the forum where the question was posed, but I'm afraid of speaking to crowds. So instead I'm going to speak to myself and this brick wall here, and if anyone else happens by, they can eavesdrop. (Or comment.)

Here's the piece of writing in question, from my post "Quibbling with the King":

"I mean, to me, "couture" brings to mind lavish hand sewing of highest technical ability. "Designer techniques" speak to me of secret and stunning methods previously un-heard of to the common seamstress.

While he did have valid tips, they struck me as just that--tips. Nothing ground breaking, inordinately, or particularly unusual. Just helpful hints. Nothing really couture either; almost everything was done by machine."

Now, the question is, does couture have to be by hand?

Before we answer that, one must ask: what does couture mean?

Strictly speaking, "couture" just means sewing. It's French. (Or, according to the first French-English dictionary I found with a Google search, dressmaking.) And, just as technically, "haute couture" means high (or elegant) sewing.

But what do people use these words to mean? Well, the term "haute couture" is a highly regulated term. You can't use this word, even if you use the same techniques as couture houses, unless you belong to the Syndical Chamber for Haute Couture in Paris, employ 15 or more people, and present collections at least twice a year, with each collection having at least 35 different outfits.

What do they use the word "couture" for? Well, the term "couture" is a highly unregulated term. You can use it for whatever you want; no one can stop you. Confusing? You bet!

Some people use it to mean the same technical sewing as a Haute Couture house--the only difference being the people who do "couture" (as opposed to "haute couture") don't belong to the Sydical Chamber, don't have 15 employees or more, and don't present collections twice a year.

Some people use it to mean custom-made clothes, no matter what techniques were used.

Some people use it to mean very high end Ready-To-Wear.

And some people use it to mean "this object is high quality and exclusive", regardless of whether or not the thing actually has any relevance to sewing (or exclusiveness) at all.

So here is where I am wrong--just because something says it's couture has nothing to do with whether or not it was hand sewn.

Here's where I'm right. The word couture does always bring to my mind lavish amounts of hand sewing.

And this is the really big question: In which way was Kenneth King using the word "couture"?

I cannot remember for certain whether "haute couture" sewing techniques have machine sewing in them. I thought not--that a machine never touched the garments--but that remembrance is very shaky, so I won't hold to firmly to it. The main portion, certainly, is done by hand, as well as all embellishments and details.

The reason why is obvious only to perfectionist, and that is exactly what "haute couture" sewing is supposed to be all about. The difference may not seem huge, nor obvious, to most people, but people who worry too much about the details can always tell. It's for the same reason I insist upon hand-quilting the king sized quilt I'm making in honor of my parent's (now past) 25th wedding anniversary. I could machine quilt it, it is true. But when I compare hand quilting to machine quilting, the former is undeniably better. It is softer and more supple, instead of stiff and rigid. It allows the fabric and batting to maintain their natural drape, instead of becoming firm and slightly uncomfortable. It looks better, and it feels better.

Now, do I despise all machine-quilted quilts? No, and far from it. Will I hand quilt every quilt I make? No, and far from it! If I had really wanted to make a top-notch quilt, I would have hand pieced it together as well, instead of using a machine, but I didn't. Hand sewing is for those special things that we are willing to put more work into it, not for common everyday things. (As I'm sure you've picked up, "haute couture" is supposed to be the exact opposite of common.)

Machine sewing is easier to master, but masterful hand sewing produces much better results. A 6-year-old can sew by hand or by machine, but their machine sewing will probably always be better. Someone qualified to work in a couture house will be able to sew with both machine and hand sewing, but their hand sewing will out-strip the work of the machine.

Kenneth King's book was certainly about sewing (couture, of a type), I won't deny that. It just wasn't the treat (couture, of a different type) I expected it to be.

Patterns and Fit: Practice

2005-12-04T10:15:00.000-05:00

Note: This is the second post in a two-post series. "Patterns and Fit: Theory", was the first in the series, and this post refrences back to it frequently. Please scroll down and read the "Theory" post first. It'll make this one make more sense. Honest.

"The times, they are a-changin'. . ."

"Okay, class, after a conglomerate streamlines, simplifies, and stagnates, what comes next?

Yes, that's correct. They usually die a long, lingering death. In the meantime, new companies appear. Smaller, more nimble and agile, these companies set out to solve the problems that the complacent Hutts were content to let the populace suffer with. They rapidly out-strip the old monopolies, and a fierce competion between these companies keeps progress moving forward. Gradually, these smaller companies begin to battle for dominance. One, or several, move to the top, and squash the rest of the competition, turning themselves into conglomerate monopolies. And so goes the wonderful cycle of life. Remember, you can always see past conglomerates looking down at us from the stars. . ."

It has begun.

The Big Four (abbreviated as The Big$, representing the Butterick-McCall-Vogue conglomerate and Simplicity) are struggling. The products are being held in derision by more and more people. Small, independent companies are rising to the challenge. And, of course, they are not using the same methods as the Big$.

Now here is the part in contraversy. Why are they dying? What are the new challengers doing that is most importantly different? Very simply, it's very complicated. No single thing can be picked out as most important, or a most driving force. For this (one-sided, unless someone dares to comment) discussion, we will be looking solely a the aspect of fit. (This means that we will be brutally ignoring Simplicity, whom many people claim is in the process of an in-house shake-down to get back in the game instead of decaying like a prehistoric animal. As far as I know, that shake-down does not include an over-haul of fit, so it is sadly not relevant to this post.)

In fact, although there are many independent pattern companies, only a very few seem to be addressing fit. (Some one say this is proof that fit is not a key component to a pattern companies success. But I would say the proof is in the pudding; let's see which ones last.) The two that I will focusing on are the two that have most caught my attention. HotPatterns, and Modern Sewing (an affiliate of Vilar Soft).

First we shall look at HP--which, in the sewing world, most certainly does not stand for Hewlett-Packard. Nearly everyone in the sewing world knows it stand for HotPatterns, and also knows of HP's mind-boggling take off. To quote the owners:

"We had an initial inventory of 3000 pieces-we were expecting to sell about 500 pieces a month to begin with, given that we are a new company with a new product."

"First of all, we have received an absolute torrent of orders-literally more than 10 times what we expected-which has meant, despite starting with what we thought was a reasonable stock of patterns, we have had to re- print our patterns again & again. We are currently setting up the 5th print run. . ."

Not only was there a huge, unexpected demand, but they were also stabbed in the back by their cruddy fulfillment company. (It's quite a soap opera to watch, really, as long as you're not one of the ones with money involved.)

Now, HP does not use fit as a selling point. Their selling point is highly fashionable sewing patterns, followed by the fact they don't use flimsy tissue paper, and good instructions. Nearly everyone in the world (except for un-fashionable people, but who on earth is un-fashionable?!) agrees they are very "hot". Everybody likes the non-tissue paper, but that is considered standard for a non Big$ company. So that is their theory.

But in practice? They are stellar at selling their own products. They could probably sell their patterns even without fashion sketches. Say you're selling a "Pirate Queen Swagger Coat", and anyone who ever wanted to look like a Pirate Queen swaggering about rushes to buy your coat. Incidentally, there's a LOT of women who want to look like a Pirate Queen swaggering about. But when people get the pattern, what are the two things they rave the most about? Good drafting--the pattern pieces fit together beautifully. And Fit.

You see, though HP has barely mentioned it in their PR efforts, they have totally revamped the measurement and sizing charts. Now, pre-HP, this was considered much too impossible for the Big$. Too much time, too much money, too hard, too impossible, too confusing. At the same time, "plus sized" women complained that the Big$ designed their plus sizes beyond stupidly. When you gain weight, regardless of where you gain it, your bone structure doesn't gain weight. Your shoulders stay as narrow, your neck the same size. But the Big$ simply scales up a regular pattern, meaning as the bust and waist and hip grow, so to does the shoulder width and the neck circumference.

HP has essentially drafted patterns for three different body types. With their usual brilliant descriptions, they have called the three sizes "Slinky Girl", "Glamour Girl", and "Curvy Girl". Now, in previous Big$ lingo, the closest equivalent would be Petite, Misses, and Women's. But "Petites" just meant they had "shorten lines" on the pattern, Misses just meant regular, and Women's just meant they scaled up a few sizes.

For HP, "Slinky Girl" means that they are drafted for AA/A/B cup lady. Slinky girl sizes range from 6 to 14. "Glamour Girl" means they are drafted for B/C/D cups, and comes in the sizes 12 through 20. The "Curvy Girl" is for D/DD cups and has a size range from 18 to 26. This, if we remember what the nay-sayers were saying before HP, is impossible. HP is not advertising a better fit. But nearly everyone who has put together one of these patterns has less altering, and in some cases--no altering! Are people considering this a small, un-important feature? No. Most certainly not.

Yes, right now you will mostly hear about "beautiful drafting" or "So stylish".

But even the hot HP has a Plain and Simply category. If someone has the choice between a princess seam blouse that fits nearly or completely perfectly from the envelope, or a princess seam blouse that needs to be altered 6 ways from next Sunday, which will they choose? Which will someone recommend to a beginner who is just learning to sew?

Obviously the female shape has changed since the last set of blocks was made (if for no other reason of different under-garments or lack thereof). But even more obviously, not all women are the same "typical" shape, no matter what statisticians want to tell you. HP may not fit everyone straight of the envelope, but they're much closer to it than the Big$. HP fit is getting rave reviews.

Our second case study is Modern Sewing, which for the sake of my poor fingers I'll refer to as MS, even thought that abbreviation also has computer overtones. MS, despite it's name, doesn't market it's styles. It markets their supposed ability to draft patterns to your "exact" size. They can then either print them out and send them to you, or you can print them out on your home printer (it requires taping together a lot of sheets of paper after it's printed).

Now here is the curious thing. While HP is having such trouble trying to get things printed and shipped out, people are saying how they wish they could print HP out themselves--just download and print. Not only has MS made this possible with their patterns, they have gone one step further, saying they can give a perfect fit for any person.

Instead of embracing this concept and making MS explode with the same shocking results as HP, people are wary, suspicious, doubting, unwilling to even try. Why?

Is it because, like me, they no longer believe that a simple bust, waist and hip measurement will be sufficient for a perfect fit?

No. To the best of my understanding, it all comes down to public relations and good advertising. HotPatterns has it, Modern Sewing doesn't.

You see, as soon as you promise something perfect, people are determined to prove you wrong. If MS instead played-up their vast number of patterns, their style, and the ability to print your own patterns, they would get a much warmer welcome. As an after thought, MS could mention "your ability" to "customize" patterns. This accomplishes two things. For starters, it's promising less than you intend to give--you intend to give perfectly fitting patterns--but you don't say so. Then, when your patterns fit perfectly, you have exceed expectations, and gone above and beyond the call. But if you promise perfectly fitting garments, then you get a lot of bad press when something goes slightly awry.

The second thing that this accomplishes is that it places the blame, if something goes wrong, on the consumer instead of the manufacture. If you say, "I will make a pattern that fits you perfectly," ---it's your fault if it doesn't. You must have drafted improperly. If you say, "You can make a pattern that fits you perfectly!"--it's the consumers fault. They must have measured incorrectly.

I think MS has one of the coolest ideas going, but it's being so poorly executed it may never get off the ground. What if, instead, they worked quite hard with you to make sure that it was a perfect fit--if the first three measurements didn't make it quite right, they would have you take more measurements and draft it again--for free--because once you have someone who knows that every garment will fit perfectly, you have them for good. You can sell the patterns--the styles, the fashions--, and not the service of fitting, because once they know it fits, they will always come back, again and again and again. People are odd in that they don't want to pay for the service of fit, but once they have it, they can't live without it.

Would the fact that the patterns fit--perfectly!--be a small factor for the consumer? For the beginner? For anyone who sews? Wouldn't they be more inclined to buy your pattern--the perfectly fitting pattern? Wouldn't they be more inclined to sew if the clothes they sewed fit even better than Ready-to-Wear clothing? But of course!

People think fit issues have nothing to do with sewing patterns for the simple reason that they believe it to be impossible. We're back to thinking that the heroine is really hero. Because you don't know, does that mean it isn't? Because it has not been done, does it mean it cannot? Because you cannot remember it, does it mean it hasn't happened?

And this last question is a very good question. My elderly neighbor was telling me of some time she had spent years ago in Europe--I think France, specifically--and they had custom pattern shops, similar to tailor shops. You could go to these shops, and show them a picture, or describe what you wanted, and they would take your measurements and then draft a pattern to your specifications. You bought this service; the pattern was yours to do whatever you wanted. Make it out of whatever fabric you wanted, as often as you wanted. You could even make copies and sell the pattern, something that no pattern company now adays would allow. But then, I suppose, it was common knowledge that to get a pattern that fit--no small importance--you couldn't just take someone else's pattern. It would be a much inferior product, and it wouldn't put them out of business.

Supposing if these things were taken to heart now. If a company made a line of patterns like HP, allowed it to be customized as MS, and also had the feature to allow you to submit your own designs---what could happen?

Sewing could take off again. Fabric stores would again spring up. Sewing could become more fashionable than shopping. RTW could been seen as ill-fitted and shoddy. People could have more of a reason to even begin sewing. People could get it their design drafted by a pattern drafting company, and then they could bring it to a professional seamstress to sew, for completely unique clothes without any sewing on their part.

Another interesting question is--what will happen? In the short term, I think that many more independent pattern companies will be springing up. HotPattern's sizing, or something very similar, will become standard. The Big$ will play a much smaller, more specialized role, or a completely different role, or else go out of business. Some independents will allow you to print your own patterns at home, but the idea of drafting to your exact measurements will take much longer to catch on. Its success depends on whose hands it falls into--it must be someone who is willing to do the work, will put its customers at ease, and will aggressively and brilliantly market it. People are too untrusting to accept something that seems so foreign. Although they may consider me to have been naive, in thinking that a pattern out of the envelope could fit (even though my measurements matched!), they still agree with my former self that the professional pattern drafters know much more than they ever could. They are overly intimidated by pattern drafting, and so it scares them away from it--even done on a personal basis by someone else.

At any rate, we're in the midst of some very interesting changes. Keep your eyes open!

Patterns and Fit: Theory

2005-12-04T08:52:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, there are still two other books that I ought to hurry up and write about before I forget. I am still intending to write them, but this has seized my attention, and I must write about it.

Poor fit of garments is terrible plague that nearly all of us are suffering from. This is what has kept me from sewing; and this is what drives me to learn how to draft my own patterns. Nearly every fitting book I have seen has lead me to believe that they are a cure that is even worse than the disease. To use a fitting book for a cure for poor fit means that you spend thousands of hours working by trial and error, and largely guessing at which problems you have, what they are called, and how much needs to be changed. This procedure often requires the abilities of an innocent (or not so innocent) teenager who happened to walk through a toxic waste dump: three hands, eyes in the back of your head, an ability to hear inanimate objects speaking, and an ability to slow time in order to get the work done quicker so that you can actually have something that fits before you are 93.

And, should you, by some outlandish, freakish chance, actually get one garment to fit, it doesn't mean your fitting woes are over. Much to the contrary; you must go through this process for every garment you ever want to fit. Some mutant fitters claim that this gets easier and faster every time you do it. Presumably this means that, by the time you are 93, it will only take you a few months.

I am very innocent, and I have not yet ever walked through a toxic waste dump. But, in my innocence, I thought I had when my first garment didn't fit. I had taken my measurements. They had even matched what was on the back of the envelope. But the garment clearly did not fit. Among other things, the back seems threatened to pop out as though I was the Incredible Hulk. Surely I must be a freak of nature. The pattern must be right. It was drafted by professionals, who know far more than I ever know. Surely the fault is mine.

Gradually, disillusionment set in. Maybe this pattern is screwy. I'll try another. Several muslins later, it is clear that it was a universal problem with patterns, or else singularly my fault. Still presuming the pattern drafters were omnipotent, I decide yet again it must be me. I must be a freak. Seeking help online, I then discover it is not just me. Everyone has fit problems! I felt terribly betrayed and lied to. The pattern envelope never said anything about this! The closest thing they came to it was saying you could "trace between the lines" to "customize" the fit, all the while acting as though they were doing you a great favor. I was furious.

The queerest thing is that most other people aren't. They accept this as normal.

You know all those stupid adventure books where the heroine pretends to be a boy, and no one discovers? She starts out claiming to be a boy when she is young, so she just looks like a girly boy. Even as she turns into a women, no one notices, because they have come to believe she is a boy. Years later, everyone is terribly shocked by this deception, which of course is always made obvious by someone who hasn't been around the heroine as she grows up. To the outside observer, she looks like a women. To those who believe her to be man, they make any mental excuse to continue believing it. (Unbelievable, maybe. But it sounds a bit like a version of "The Emperor's New Clothes." Oddly, these stories are always written by feminists, even though to me it sounds like a great mockery of feminism.)

To me, this is a good way to explain how most "normal" sewers feel about patterns and fit. This is all they know, and they believe it to be good. They believe that the pattern companies are doing all that is humanely possible.

Ever the observant one (or overly-critical dissenter with no sympathy and outrageous expectations), I observe otherwise. At the very least the pattern companies ought to make it clear that you will have fit issues, and refer you to a good fitting book. But the true fuel to the fire was when I discovered several interesting patterns in the collection I inherited from my Great-Grandmother (who, incidentally, was 98). Two of them came with very complete fitting instructions--very clear, very concise, and to the point. Another one had alteration lines printed right on it, for the most clear instructions I have ever seen for doing a Full Bust Adjustment, as well as for narrow shoulders.

A-ha! So, once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, the pattern companies did care. They had to, I'm sure, as there was more competition. You snooze, you looze. Afterwards, things became conglomerated, and the competition done away with. What resulted is what normally happens; things were "streamlined", "simplified", and ultimately (without competition), stagnated. Quality went down the tubes, because the customer had no choice, and it was easier for the monopoly.

Determined to open the eyes of the townspeople, I brought these patterns to their attention.

I was met with scoffs and jeers, and thrown out the back gate.

Ok, so I'm being dramatic. But no one did agree with me. Some defended the 4 major pattern companies, saying that all that fit information was in the back of the pattern catalogues. Most insisted that it wasn't the pattern companies fault, problem, responsibility or worry. The pattern companies, they say, are responsible only for giving well drafted patterns; this does not include fit. Or teaching one how to sew. That was very quaint and sweet of the pattern companies to including fitting, but really, the expense is too great. There's a lot of fitting books, try them.

But, said I, hypothetically, if we pretended they cared, and it wasn't too expensive, how would you like pattern companies to deal with fit issues? Why, they said, to fit perfectly out of the envelope with no alterations at all, of course! And laughed at the idea.

As one who has serious professional interest in this matter (read: pipe-dream to start my own pattern company some day. Like when I'm 93), it is no laughing matter.

Quibbling with the King

2005-11-27T17:58:00.000-05:00

Arrgghh! A pun on a last name! I hate puns on last names, particularly when people are making puns on mine. Aren't I a hypocrite?

I am speaking of, as you may (or may not) have guessed, Kenneth King. I recently got his book "Designer Techniques: Couture tips for Home Sewing" out from the library. I have, as I'm sure you've implied, some disagreements with him. (I almost called this post "The King is a Fink", but that seemed too harsh.)

I first got interested in Kenneth King when I saw his "Books on CD" being sold on Pattern Review. I was particularly interested in "The Moulage", though all of them looked interesting. But, being a very suspicious type person, I didn't want to buy a cat-in-a-bag. (The saying, of course, comes from olden day swindlers. Cats were cheap; you stick a cat(s) in a bag, and go tell some un-suspicious type person that it's really a pig, or a couple chickens (which are a good deal harder to get a hold of than a few stray cats). The un-suspicious type person buys the wiggling sack, and doesn't know until he "lets the cat out of the bag" that he's been majorly ripped off.)

Anyway. I read some where, though I can't find it know, that he chose to put his books on CD because it was cheaper, and then he also didn't have to deal with constricting editors. Well, right off the bat, this puts him head to head with me, because I hate books on CD's (though I do have some sympathy for him, as I also think I would hate constricting editors. And I'm obviously cheap). Spending too much time in front of the monitor makes my eyes feel miserable, and I can't reference the computer while I'm working, or curl up in my bed with my computer. If I get a book on CD, the first thing I would have to do is print it out. And pay for my own paper and ink, and a binder to keep it all (hopefully) together. So, cheaper for him, maybe, but not me.

However, I also have an independent streak (or maybe several independent streaks. . .), so I understand where he is coming from, and am willing to overlook the desire to do things as such. But I would still like to know what I am getting before I pay my hard-earned money for it, thank you very much. If it was a book, I would get it out of the library, or look at it at a book store. But noooo. He doesn't even include so much as trailer or excerpt from his books.

I did manage to dig up one book he actual made into a book--the aforementioned Designer Techniques. Whilst I was waiting for it to come in through inter-library loan, I found his website.

I found reading his "About" section to be encouraging. He seemed to be agreeing with me on many things, such as. . .

". . .This customer wants clothes that set her apart from the crowd, but not in a shocking way. . .She wears the clothes, instead of having the clothes wear her."

and

". . .I maintain that the truly revolutionary stance in today’s climate is to produce clothing that is beautiful and beautifully made, enhances one’s appearance and is both a joy to look at and a pleasure to wear."

I'm not so sure I would say "revolutionary", but at any rate, I agree we oughten forget our clothes are subordinate to us, not the other way around. Never should we say "Oh, I can't do that, I'll ruin my clothes!" but rather make the clothes for what it is we are doing. Function over form, but not forgetting form either. (This is one reason I like Shaker work so much. It is undeniably beautiful and beautifully made, and it is also both a pleasure to look at and to use.)

Thusly encouraged, I wandered over to his Gallery, whereupon I discovered that just because we technically speak the same language (American English), we apparently don't speak the same language. Okay, so none of his models are actually nekkid, and they are still able to move. And I suppose that there have been less appealing pieces of clothing invented before (maybe). I don't know exactly what is supposed to make his designs timeless, either, besides the fact that they don't seem to technically belong to an "era" or "style". I guess if you're crazy enough to wear them once, you probably always will be. Really, though, he mostly serves to me as a powerful reminder of why I don't bother to keep up with all the runway shows, and why I don't want to become a clothing designer down in NYC, and why I will always be considered "unfashionable" and "fuddy duddy".

Yes, m'dear, we know all about your weird tastes in fashion. How about actually talking about the book?!

Oh. Yes. The book. I was getting to that. Eventually.

It was a disappointment.

Even after reading the website and realizing that if he was from Earth I was from the outer rims of Pluto, I still thought he would give me ground-breaking technical information. After all, the book was called Designer Techniques: Couture Tips. . . I mean, to me, "couture" brings to mind lavish hand sewing of highest technical ability. "Designer techniques" speak to me of secret and stunning methods previously un-heard of to the common seamstress.

While he did have valid tips, they struck me as just that--tips. Nothing ground breaking, unordinary, or partciularly unusual. Just helpful hints. Nothing really couture either; almost everything was done by machine. It seemed as though the whole book ought to have just been a few more paragraphs (or maybe chapters) worked into some much more complete reference. As it was, I would never even think to look up information in his book, because it is hard to remember where one sees a 2 or 3 paragraph blurb on velvet. The book is almost completely un-related, not brought together by any whole, and not big enough to be a valuable reference.

To add insult to injury, several tips weren't from him at all; they were directly cited from "Sandra Betzina-Webster". Although one must be impressed with Ms. Betzina's ability to show up in such a vast number of sewing books, one must also be a bit annoyed with Mr. King for not even publishing original tips.

Irriatingly, it seemed to be nothing more than a quick attempt at his part to make a few bucks, a feeling which his introduction only encouraged. Although it did have very clear illustrations to explain what he was talking about, the main photographs were totally unrelated to the text. They were mostly models in a sewing room setting, lounging about in some of his garments, in a painful attempt to be amusing. (Then again, maybe my sense of humor is just as whacked as my sense of fashion. I make no apologies in either case.)

At any rate, his book was not an encouragement to buy his cat-in-a-bag Moulage--not without being able to look through it and get a second opinion. Actually, it wasn't an encouragement to buy any of his "Books on CD", particularly when I'd still have to print them out anyway.

And particularly not when compared to the competition, which I hope to post about soon (relatively speaking). Of course, European Cut doesn't cover all of the same subjects, but it's a good place to start. However, at $169.95 (for all of his CD's, excluding the tailored jacket and the eye candy ones; and you'd still have pay for the printing if you actually wanted a printed version), it doesn't stack up too great against the rest of the competition, either. Helen Joseph Armstrong's Pattern Making for Fashion Design (which is the standard textbook at many fashion design schools) is selling for about $90 on Amazon ($90.67 for the 4th edition, $99 for the 3rd edition). Connie Crawford is selling her Pattern Drafting for Everyone at fashionpatterns.com for $95. There are several other pattern making books selling on Amazon for $75 or less. And if you won't even have to print them yourself!

This is, of course, not to say that all of these books are created equal, even if they are written on the same subject. Perhaps King's books are superior than the competition. But at those prices, and for only getting a CD and not a bound book, and without being able to see what I'm getting before I pay for it, . . .I'm not likely to find out any time soon.

Always two steps behind. . .

2005-11-25T14:56:00.000-05:00

I have been meaning to post here for quite some time. I still wanted to talk about another book by Adele, as well as a book by Kenneth King and a book by Roberta Carr. I seem to be keeping quite busy, though, and just haven't gotten to it yet.

You see, I'm in the midst of a brutal battle of one-up-man-ship. She is clever, and creative. She never runs of ideas, and she is terribly critical and rarely satisfied. She won't be satisfied with doing the same thing twice. She actively looks for challanges--for difficult things to not only attempt, but to succeed at.

I am competing with her. If she has made something beautiful, I will make something twice as breath-taking. If she has made something technically stunning, I shall come up with something twice as brilliant and complicated--and, of course, take twice as long to finish. My projects seem to be taking exponentially longer, not shorter. When we aren't competing, she is standing over my shoulder, insidiously whispering in my ear, prompting me to take longer--or maybe never even finish.

I keep telling myself I'll ignore her. I won't let myself get sidetracked by her great ideas for fussy little projects that are supposed to be "quick". And I certainly won't go off on another harebrained quest for a masterpiece that takes years to finish--so long to finish, in fact, that by the time I finish it I am so sick of the project that I am no longer elated or delighted by it. I am tired of looking at it, and in a hurry to get away from it.

I tell myself I will do things quickly and efficiently. I won't listen to her; I will make things, and I will have things to show for my work. Not a year from now--or two years, or three or five--but now I will have something to show for it. No more grand schemes, just regular things.

I know that she means well. And it never starts out as anything complicated or long. But it always grows bigger and longer and harder. I just don't have time for it!

Every time I say "Enough! No more! Just let me be; I'm not doing anything complicated anymore!" She seems to comply.

"But of course, I shan't trouble you anymore." But then she comes back.

"You don't really want to do it like that, do you? Wouldn't it be better if you changed this part here a little?" Well, yes, it would. And it wouldn't take any longer, anyway. Or not much. And it certainly does make it look a lot better.

And then again, later---"But shouldn't you change this part? And how about over here?" Yes, those are just little things. They won't take much longer. And look how it transforms the project! See how much it is improved! Thanks, that was a good idea.

And before I know it, I've let myself be talked into it once again. The project is dragging. Yes, when it's finished, it will be glorious. When I finish it. If I finish it.

She convinces me that I must begin at the beginning, and never take any short-cuts. These short-cuts, or these building off of inferior work--they pollute things, ruin things. Why destroy your precious hard work with things that degrade it and disgrace it? Your work is worthy of better things. You musn't ever leave such a weak link in your chain!

Her logic is impeccable. I begin to climb feverishly, certain this the right way, the only way. And then I tire. Things begin to seem more difficult. I stop and look up, and the top--the glorious, wonderful top, where I long to be-- is so far away, and the climb so hard. I begin to get discouraged. But I cannot stop now, or turn back. I have tasted enough of what is at the end that I can no longer be happy with any other way.

So I labor and toil on, but with nothing--yet--to show for it. Nothing but the certainty that I must get to where I have set out to go. And I am tired of it. I want to see the result of my hard work now. I want to stick my fingers in my ears when she begins on her great and endless plans. I want to send her away for a very long trip, and actually get something done.

But I can't.

Because "she" is me (as I'm sure you've already figured out).

In reality, this is nothing more than a rather complicated way of saying--"Me and my big ideas! I should have just kept my mouth shut. Why do I keep biting off more than I can chew?" But that is a good deal less satisfying than blaming it all on someone else--even if it is just an imaginary character.

One (there are many) of the most highly annoying things about taking so long to finish is that I have plenty of time to figure out what to do next--and the longer it takes to finish, the greater and more time consuming the next project becomes. Other days, I get so fed up the original project taking so long, and so impatient to see in my hands what I see in head, that I put it aside and begin on the next thing--and then I have two impossible projects to finish! And then three--and four!

Someday, I tell myself, I will finish it all, and it will be great and glorious. But no, she says. After you finish it all, you will finally be able to begin on something truly spectacular. Right now, you're just warming up.

The Medieval Tailor!

2005-11-05T13:29:00.000-05:00

Are we sick of tailoring books yet? No! I have long wondered what the difference was between a "seamstress" and a "tailor". Somehow, I always wind up thinking that tailors take their work more seriously. A seamstress just wants to get the job done, and a tailor wants to get the job done right. So, as one wanting to learn how to excel at the craft of sewing, tailoring seems very relevant.

However, the Medieval Tailor's Assistant: Making Common Garments 1200-1500, by Sarah Thursfield, isn't your typical tailoring book. It's about the roots of garment making as we know it, but the roots are very far from where we are at now. In all honesty, this book isn't geared toward one wanting to excel in sewing--it's aimed at the historical re-enactor, which I am not. Does all of this mean that this was a disappointing book? Far, far from it! I loved this book.

Back when fabric was terribly expensive, clothes were cut to be the most economical, wasting the least amount of fabric. Not only which, but they were also cut (for the working class) to give complete ranges of movement. The shirts are straight sleeved and gussested--never will it bind in the armpit! The pants were particularly intriguing. Pants, nowadays, look considerably more like a loose pair of hose than they do of the original pants. The "original" pants had a lot of ease right at the joints, so there would never be any binding. On top of all of this, they are simple. Simple enough that I could show my 6 year-old brother (who keeps begging for sewing lessons)how to make a shirt---and probably pants as well. No fitting issues, only straight seems, and quickly coming together.

Although in some ways the medieval clothes seem quite stupid (shoes so long that you can hardly walk?? Hose that's so skin-tight you can't even bend over??), for the most part they seem to take more consideration into movement than modern clothes. The seam joining the seam to the dress bodice does not fall at the joint, it falls further up the shoulder. All movement takes place with in the sleeve. (This is a practice many costume makers for dancers still follow.) The lower sleeves are fitting quite closely, but not without leaving a puff of extra fabric at the elbow to allow easy bending. It was also fascinating reading about how to make the dresses, which were sometimes quite close fitting, without using darts!

This book is quite thorough, not only in styles, social classes, and fabrics, but also in construction. The book begins by showing you how to drape your basic block, and throughout the book it shows you how to manipulate your block to achieve the different clothing styles. (These skills, of course, are quite handy for anyone interested in sewing, wether you're sewing medieval style or not.) It also shows you how to drape full length hose, if for some reason you were crazy enough to want to wear it, as well as how to make shoes, hats and headdresses.

It is even thorough enough to cover medieval underwear, although she claims that only men wore underwear. I find this rather difficult to believe. For one thing, she freely admits that there isn't very many pieces of medieval clothing to examine, and most of their information comes from paintings, books and tapestries. As she also points out, in that day underwear "functioned differently"--which is to say, it was quite common to see it. On men, anyway. Women, of all classes, wore floor length gowns. Probably the most they know about women's undergarments comes from a painting of a woman being dragged off by her hair, thus revealing her legs up to her knees, by which you can see that women's hose stops at her knees.

Why I am quibbling over women's underwear in the medieval times, I don't know. But I do know that this book stirred my imagination, and made me itch to sew like few books have. I have always found medieval clothes to be rich sources of inspiration, but to see how simply the clothes are put together makes the end result seem so easy to reach out and take ahold of, and it is hard not to want to do just that.

If it isn't 'Classic' tailoring, what kind is it?

2005-10-27T16:57:00.000-05:00

Another book I managed to get my hands on (though briefly) was The Complete Book of Tailoring for Women Who Like to Sew by Adele P. Margolis. (One wonders if there is a book out there somewhere titled The Complete Book of Tailoring for Women Who Hate to Sew. Oh, wait, I just thought of a book that should've been called that--Easy, Easier, Easiest Tailoring. I might have to make a separate post for that one.) At a hefty 439 pages, this book was pretty complete, but it certainly wasn't on "Classic" tailoring. Although it had a brief section on the kind of construction that Classic Tailoring taught you, that certainly wasn't the main focus of the book. If I wanted to teach myself the actual techniques, I would snap up Classic Tailoring first, beyond any doubt.

However, if you want your hand held--or perhaps even as far as a friendly arm thrown about your shoulders--as you attempt to make something other than a dress, this book is for you. Adele cheerfully spends most of the book discussing fabrics and patterns, the need or lack thereof for basting, wardrobe building, style and fashion, and nearly anything but tailoring. If you are scared of taking what appears to be an icy plunge, she will surely put you at ease and show you how to wade in without getting the shivers. I can't help but add, though, that if you're looking to actually be taught the nitty-gritty of tailoring, you will spend most of your time wondering how long she can keep talking without addressing the nitty-gritty of tailoring.

If, by now, you've surmised that I wasn't looking for a friendly arm about the shoulder, you would be quite correct. Does that mean I think this book was a complete waste of time for me? No, it's only that I didn't learn much about tailoring from her. I think, though, I might've enjoyed a long discussion with her. In lieu of that, I am interacting with several selections here.

"If tailoring is new to you, don't multiply your tailoring problems by choosing a difficult pattern. The fewer the pattern pieces, the fewer the problems. Remember that the loveliest clothes are most often simple designs, beautiful fabric, fine fit, and exquisite workmanship.

Get the pattern you like even if it does cost a little more. . . An extra dollar or two may make the difference between an ordinary design and a superb one."

Adele, dear, aren't you contradicting yourself?

In one of my past readings (a pity I can't remember who or where it was said, so that I might give them credit), I saw it said that "The more pieces, the better the fit." That is to say, fewer pieces might give you less trouble in construction, but won't it make it harder to fit? Who doesn't know that princess seams make garments many times over more easier to fit? The multitude of the pattern pieces that are so vexing to the one concerned only with construction are the very thing that make adjusting the garment so much easier.

But even if that doesn't mean much to you, consider what it is that makes a difference between an ordinary design and a superb one. I agree with Adele, in that I also believe that the "loveliest" clothes are made in a large part lovely by the fabric, fit and workmanship. However, where she would say "simple designs", I would say "appearing simple"--that is, the finished product looks effortless, un-cluttered, graceful, and as though every part belonged in every way. But this does not mean that the pattern pieces themselves are simple, or that the construction, in fact, is as simple as it appears.

So, if one is to buy the pattern that is the most appealing, why wouldn't you also be willing to put in the extra work necessary to construct the pattern most appealing? Already you are putting in all this money into pattern and fabric, and also the time for the fitting--now, when you have already gone so far, are you going to cut yourself short and settle for an "easy" design that you dislike? But it could make the difference between an ordinary garment and a superb garment!

"There are those (we've all heard of them) who boast of being able to whip up a garment in the morning and wear it to a luncheon the same day. Hm-mm-mmm.

The truth of the matter is that hastily put together garments look it. Beginners often work this way because they don't know any better. Haven't you noticed that the longer you sew, the longer it takes to make a garment that satisfies you? Experience makes one more demanding. One wouldn't want to dispense with the "instant" altogether. When I am in a great rush I use the "instant" foods in the freezer and on the pantry shelf. They work. However, my "instant" meals are certainly not comparable to my gourmet meals which take time, and thought, and work."

(This is a quote I'll have to refer back to when discussing Easy, Easier, Easiest Tailoring.) I am desperately hoping that she is wrong on this one, as I already take abysmally long to satisfy myself. I was hoping that with experience would come speed, as I would no longer have to linger over every decision and correction, and figuring out how to do the simplest of tasks. Beginning, as I am, at the beginning, I still think (or at, any rate, hope), that with familiarity my speed will increase.

At any rate, I've never rushed through a garment structure, and I never had anyone to tell me better. Much to the contrary, I have scrutinized my garments quite critically every step of the way. I don't doubt I shall only get more critical, but I do hope I can at least learn to be critical quicker. If I'm going to do it anyway, I might as well get efficient at it, and streamline the process.

"Machines do everything---or do they? We Americans have implicit faith in the omnipotence of machines. Our attitude is hardly surprising since we absorb this outlook from childhood, along with our hot dogs and cokes. We make machines that do everything. And it appears that we are only at the beginning. Automation promises machines that will do even more than everything. Consider the appeal of the latest sewing machine . All we have to do is push a button and all our stitching problems are solved---or so we are told. We merely turn a dial the garment makes itself.

. . .That all important dial on the sewing machines must surely include an M for Murder. Much beautiful material and excellent style are killed by poor machine sewing in a inept attempt to ape mass production. When people say "Homemade", this is largely what they mean. If a strictly machine-made product is what you want, you will do much better to buy one. The operators who spend a lifetime doing one single operation do so much better than you can ever hope to do."

I recently bought a sewing machine. I had the hardest time trying to find a good quality machine that didn't include large amounts of computerization--to make your needle always end in the "up" position, or always end in the "down" position, to tell you when your bobbin is nearly run out, to change stitch selections, to make button holes they declare are the best you've ever seen. I didn't want any of that. No one could understand why. Surely, the more the machine did, the better, right? Why do it manually, when you can have a machine do it for you?

Well, I don't think that the more machines do, the better it is. (And I also don't like hotdogs or coke. I wonder if there is a connection?) Particularly in the case of buttonholes. No machine could ever match a hand sewn buttonhole.

I've only posted a small quote, so I ought to point out that Adele does not look down upon these machine operators; much the contrary, she seems to have great respect for them. Nor does she look down on all forms of machine sewing. Her point is, however, one that many people seem to loose sight of: custom work is never meant to compete with assembly line work. (A particularly annoying, if perhaps inappropriate, example is how everyone complains how Wal-Mart is putting all of the small stores out of business. The small stores oughtn't even be competing with Wal-Mart---Wal-Mart can do mass production much better than they ever can. They ought to be selling things that Wal-Mart can't mass produce.) It is in a different class. It is meant to be different. The glory of home-sewing is that you can do work by hand, which is largely cut out of industry production because it takes so much time, not because it doesn't look better.

"Otherwise brave, hardy souls have their moments of apprehension when confronted with the necessity for making a buttonhole, applying a pocket, and inserting a zipper. . . little wonder that beginners and experienced sewers alike put off the awful moment of attempting these three until it is literally impossible to proceed without them."

Good heavens! Either that makes me braver than the bravest, or so completely fool-hardy that it can barely be believed. Or thoroughly, pig-headedly, determined. The first dress I made had 15 buttons and working buttonholes down the front, which seemed like no big deal to me. The second was a toddlers dress, and it had a zipper down the back. By the time I got to the third dress, I refused to make a dress without pockets--where's the use in that? But of course the pattern didn't include pockets, so I drafted my own pocket and inserted it into a seam.

I do, I admit, dread the cutting of the fabric, from which there is no return, but I have never hesitated at buttonholes, zippers or pockets. If it were a particularly precious item, I would use hand-worked buttonholes, hand-pricked zippers, and hand sew on the pockets. Not only would it wind up looking better, and lying nicer, it would also take longer, which give you more time to think through what you're doing. (But by no means should you make these three late night, when your within 3-12 hours from when you must wear the garment, or while on strong medication. That's just asking for trouble.)

Well, my eyes are beginning to glaze over from my own thoughts, so I suppose anyone reading this is having similar difficulties. I shall end with one last quote from Adele that I appreciated.

"What does the word "tailor" call to your mind?

If you are like most, you visualize an aging little man with a grayish patch of thinning hair. He's always a little man. Who ever heard of a tall tailor? He is dressed in baggy trousers and a wilting shirt, whose open collar and rolled up sleeves emerge from a vest stuck full of pins. He is forever slaving away in some back room over some mysterious hand work or over a steaming ironing board. . . ."