Learning to sew: The darts are marked. Now, advice. Please. August 26, 2010 15:31 5 Comments

I also marked the fold line on each dart. Is this a good thing? Or a bad one? Please advise. Because. You know I want to do it right next time. Absolutely.

(And, yes, I am still listening to Raul Malo. I found the dream that I could speak to . . . )

Sewing spaces: Erica B.'s D.I.Y. style. (Martha is smiling!) August 23, 2010 21:04 6 Comments

Dearest readers, I have been pondering sewing spaces. My machine is in my office. I cut at Marticia's. I need organization! I do. I need inspiration. Absolutely. (And I could do with some extra energy, too, oh great sewing genie!)

So. I decided to query other sewing bloggers about their sewing rooms. I did. And today is the first of a series on the spaces where my blogging dressmaker idols sew. I hope you find this info as helpful as I do. Really. Truly. Sometimes, I am so unselfish.

The first glamorous blogger: Erica Bunker of Erica's D.I.Y. style:

Do you have a dedicated sewing space?

I do!

What do you like best about your sewing area?

That it's mine! It's my own personal space. It's the only room in my home that is completely mine. If I'm working on a project, I can just stop and leave everything as is, cut the lights off and return the next day.

What would you change about your space?

I'm currently adding more storage space and my cutting area. In my next home, the space itself will be much larger to accommodate those things.

How is your space organized?

When I worked in corporate America, I worked in a cubicle just like a lot of people. I grew accustomed to having everything at arms length. I wanted my sewing area to reflect that as well. I can just turn in my chair and have access to everything I need. It's a small space, but functional.

If you have a fabric stash, how do you impose order?

I really don't maintain much of a stash. If I see something I love, I'll try to visualize what I'd like to do with it and by yardage based on that. I'm really not that good at predicting a future project, so I really don't buy fabric to stash. But the small stash that I have is folded in a large RubberMaid bin.

How are your patterns organized?

My patterns are organized by pattern company in numerical order. I've been saying that one of these days I'll sit down and create my own database or spreadsheet, so that I'd be able to do a query or sort based on category. That day has yet to come!

Are your patterns archived? How are they stored?

Yes. And they are stored in small filing cabinets. But since my pattern stash is growing by the moment and every sale at Jo-Ann's and Hancock, I'm looking into something larger to store them.

Do you have a mannequin made-to-measure?

Not "made- to-measure. But I have a PGM-Pro that is very close!

If so, do you find it helpful?

Yes, I love her and couldn't sew without her.

What do you cut out your patterns on?

I use a Sullivan Home Hobby Table - 36" x 36" x 59.5" and a rotary cutting mat.

What is your most helpful tool? Why?

My iron! Next to my sewing machine, it's the best tool I have! It's a Consew Silver Star CES-300 Gravity Feed Iron. When sewing, you spend just as much time (if not more) pressing your garment as you do sewing . . . well, at least YOU SHOULD! You have to have a quality iron.

What tools do you recommend for the beginning sewer?

A great reference book! I recommend The Complete Guide to Photo Sewing - Singer. It tells you everything you need to know to get started.  I've been sewing for years, and I still refer to it.

What kind of machine do you use?

A Bernina Activa 130.

What do you like about it?

She's a little workhorse! And the stitch quality is impeccable!

Do you use a serger? If so, why do you like it?

Yes. I have a Brother 1034 D serger. I'm really anal about the inside of my garments. When I sew something, I proudly show the interior. I always want the inside of my garments to look "finished". . . never the homemade look.

How long did it take you to develop your sewing space?

I would call it "still under development," LOL! But I've been developing it since around 2006!

Sometimes, your dress is more successful than the dinner party. August 17, 2010 17:09 1 Comment

There are dinner parties. And then there are other dinner parties. The dinner parties you'd, well, rather forget. Quickly. Take tonight's. A flop by any method of measure. 

You had the food prepared on time. The table set. A first for you. You're usually late with the appetizer. Late with the salad. Late with the entree. You're usually still putting flatware on the table when the doorbell rings. Not this time. You were ready.

You knew something was up when the first guest arrived without his significant other. He was on time. Early even. He said his woman was at the hotel, doing laundry. With another guest. Fine, you thought. They'll be here soon. You thought. Ha. The significant other arrived, with male friend in tow, in damp clothes. Two hours later! Yes. Two.

And all this time, the gumbo simmered on the stove, the shrimp getting tough as a pair of work boots. Sigh. Double sigh. Deep sigh.

The two late guests were picky, too. They pushed all the artichokes to the side of their plates. Since the salad only consisted of fava beans, artichokes, lemon, olive oil, this was not a good sign. They picked all the andouille out of the gumbo. You watched, amazed. Absolutely. And they weren't hungry for dessert. Which, if you do say so yourself,  was incredibly delicious. Pecan pie. Rich, gooey filling. Flaky crust. Mam would have been proud. Ever so. 

And conversation wasn't much better. Oh no. The high point was when hubby and one male guest spoke with immense passion about gout attacks. You get the picture. I know you do. 

Yes. You are glad it's over. Truly. This is not a dinner party you want to repeat. Absolutely not.

But you looked good, wearing Your Pattern 3133, circa 1960s. You are quite pleased that you stitched it up last weekend, just for this dinner. It's fabulous. It is. Truly. The sea green linen was an excellent choice. You can wear it for day. For night. You'll get so very much use out of it. It's going to be a staple that you pull out of your closet again. And again.

And, yes, it is available at The Blue Gardenia. It's a Bust 34. And it costs a mere $33. And it will be worth every penny. Yes indeedy. It will.

Sewing spaces: Would yours make Martha Stewart smile or sob? August 15, 2010 09:59 6 Comments

Today, I'm overwhelmed. Well. Not really. I'm exaggerating a bit. But only a wee bit. 

As you probably recall, dearest readers, I want to finish my Mad Men skirt. I want to wear it. I do. It's cut out. Completely. And so I face my next task: marking all those darts. All 10  of them. Gulp. Now. This must be accomplished on my breakfast table. And that is why I am demoralized. Because. Because my breakfast table is a mass of magazines, bills, flyers. And let me not forget the salt shaker. Obviously, the table needs to be cleared anyway. It does. It's a mess. But tackling the darts and the table in the same day? Oh, fright.

So, dear readers, here are my questions:

Do you have a designated sewing space?

If so, how did you organize that space?

What do you like about your sewing space?

If you don't have a designated sewing space, how do you cope? How do you keep from pulling every hair out of your head?

Please share your thoughts on this. Do. I beg you.

(And, alas, the pink sewing room featured above, in all its girly glory, is not mine. It belongs to the Domestic Diva. And I am green. I am. Absolutely. The Anthropologie shot is likewise courtesy of DD. Gorgeous, but perhaps not so practical. I love those high ceilings though! Truly.)

That Touch of Fashion: Annoyed, yes. Stupid, no. Glam, you bet. August 14, 2010 08:48 4 Comments

She's feisty. She's ethical. She's independent. She's a career woman, most definitely 
not a career girl. And she is dressed for success. Totally. The movie: 1961's Lover Come Back. The character: Carol Templeton. 

Duplicate the look with Advance American Designer 6952, designed by Stanley Wyllens. And, yup, it is available at The Blue Gardenia. But you knew that. You did.

And you may get a kick out of this quote from Ms. Day — I know I did: "Any girl can look glamorous . . . just stand there and look stupid."

Playsuits. Picnics. Fried chicken. Does life get any better? August 10, 2010 17:54

Yesterday, it was there. Definitely. Inescapably. Teasing her. Courting her. A little coy. Yet. There it was. That hint of fall in the air. The coolness on her arms and calves on her walk. Yes. Yes. She loves autumn. Her favorite season. Bar none. The color of the leaves. The nip in the air. Beautiful.

But.

First. There is an end-of-summer picnic. And she wants to make the most of it. So. She'll wear the playsuit and skirt she made from McCall's 6624, copyright 1979. Designed by Krizia. It is indeed playful. And sexy, but not threateningly so. Not in-your-face-don't-you-want-me sexy. Nothing to make the other women uncomfortable or the men lustful. She loves it. She does. She made it out of lightweight robin's egg blue linen. And she can't wait to wear it. Absolutely.

Now. What to bring? Cherry pie? Pumpkin bread? Brownies? No. Fried chicken. Yep. That's it.  Calories. Grease. Yum bunnies.

Channeling Catherine: A bad hair day? I don't think so. August 9, 2010 11:50

Looking this good after a wild party:   Fantasy.

Exceptional cleaning crew: Necessity.

Dior Fuseau Suede Pump: Desirable.

Butterick 5988, with lengthened sleeves:

Last night, I dreamed of Don Draper . . . August 7, 2010 15:37 5 Comments

I was on a train, dark with mahogany. The windows shaded with green. We were in a southern city, hot, humid, the skies white with haze and smog. No birds flew. The landscape pocked with silver skyscrapers and gray freeways. 

We pulled into the station. People stood up, waited to disembark. I remained seated. I waited and read and occasionally noted the people around me. Milling. I saw Betty Draper. Her hair daffodil yellow. Flipped. She wore a coral suit and a white blouse with coral polka dots and low-heeled leather pumps the color of spring. Like Jackie. Classic. Dull. Two men were with her.  I read and waited, surrounded by the mahogany dark of the train, the windows shaded green.

I was the last to leave. I stepped down from the train. People scurried on the platform. I had no luggage. I carried a handbag of petal leather. Ruched. A tote. A trenchcoat over my arm. I walked. I walked. I entered a mall, fraught with people. Scurrying. I walked and walked. No birds flew. How long. How long, I wondered.

I entered a tower of corrugated steel and glass.  It felt temporary, a scaffold. People scurried. I was calm. Calm. Even though no birds flew. I climbed the stairs. One after the other. Flight after flight after flight after flight. I did not tire. I was not faint. I looked out the windows as I climbed. The city white with haze. No birds flew. How long. How long? I wondered.

I stopped on a landing, leaned against the window, cool as an Alberta wind against my face. I placed my hand against the glass, felt the chill, refrigerated air. Men rushed up and down the stairs behind me. Impatient. Fraught. I climbed higher. Higher. The city white with haze. I wondered how long. How long?

I stopped again, high above the city, white with haze, gray with freeways, silver with skyscrapers. I watched. I was not faint. I was not weary. A male voice on a loudspeaker urged people: Go underground to be safe, hurry. I did not care. I felt free. An uncaged bird in a city white with haze where no birds flew. I felt a breath on my neck, warm. Fingers on my waist, gentle. I turned. Don. His arms enclosed me, crushing, wrinkling my suit, Vogue Couturier Design 753, copyright 1953, so carefully made. I did not care. I did not. Our lips met, tender. A 1960s-era Harlequin Romance. Yet. Yet. The voice on the loudspeaker urged everyone to go underground to be safe. Safe. Don raised his head. He looked at me. I shook my head no. No. In the city white with haze, pocked with skyscrapers, where no birds flew, we had wings as eagles.

Learning to sew: In which more than my skirt goes mad! July 19, 2010 09:05 1 Comment

Marticia lost patience with me, because I was taking pictures rather than pulling the thread to get the fabric on grain. Well, duh. I'm a blogger. I have to take pictures. I have to, beloved readers, for you. So that you can view my progress. So that you can be with me as I take baby steps along this path. I'm so unselfish. Really.

Now. Because you read the headline or title or whatever it is we call the words that go across the blog story to draw you, dear readers, in, you are probably wondering why something — namely, me — was driven mad by this skirt. Well. Here ya go. The reason: The fabric stretch did not go horizontally around my hips. No. It went lengthwise. I do not need a lengthwise stretch. I don't. I don't. I need it around my butt. Otherwise, how will the fabric puff out into an unflattering ball in my buns area? Obviously, I needed a new fabric. Absolutely.  I did not want to waste the Lycra in my yummilicious linen-cotton blend.

So. Marticia to the rescue. Again. She put on her cape. She put on her boots. And she went to her fabric stash. And . . . and . . . drumroll, please . . . she worked her superpower magic and pulled out a piece of jade wool blend. Which just happened to be the right size for my skirt. Yippee skippee. So. It is now cut out. I have only to pull out the tracing paper and the tracing wheel and mark, mark, mark the many darts. Then I'll be ready to sew my Mad Men pencil skirt. I will. Double cartwheels to celebrate. Please.

That Touch of Fashion: A sentimental yet strong Doris Day look. July 10, 2010 10:21 2 Comments

  "I want to wear beautiful clothes and look pretty." So said Doris Day. And is there a prettier look than this lovely scallop blouse, McCall's 8929, copyright 1952?

It captures Her Dorisness perfectly. Spot on. Truly.  Just add the don't-mess-with-me gloves and the feminine-as-a-perfume-bottle pillbox hat, and you are there. Be sure to put Latin for Lovers on the CD when you wear this blouse for full effect. Or maybe Sentimental Journey if you're in an extremely sappy mood. You decide.

If you want to make this ensemble complete,  then you'll want to snap up McCall's 8725, copyright 1950. A bargain at $18. Can you say no? Of course not. Because you want to make me gleeful. Don't you? That's your goal in life. Right?

And, yep, these patterns are indeed available at  The Blue Gardenia. You knew that was coming, didn't you? Well, I have bills to pay. And a hubby out of work. So. Naturally, I hope you cannot live without this pattern. Tell me you can't. OK? Make my day. 

In fact, make my day a very happy one, and go on a shopping spree at The Blue Gardenia. Por favor, if I may quote the beautiful, independent and kind Ms. Day.

Learning to sew: Dry your eyes and get your fabric on grain July 9, 2010 09:12

So. I have been procrastinating about cutting out my Mad Men skirt. I admit, dear readers, that I feel a little silly calling it a Man Men skirt. Why, you ask, awaiting my answer with boundless anticipation? Well. Because. Because I have  been wearing pencil skirts for years, long before there was a Joan Holloway Harris. They are flattering. They are comfortable. They so often fit the occasion. (Though they do not work on the dance floor. Too limiting. Too tight.) However. I am addicted to Mad Men, and I am ever so glad that they have brought the pencil skirt to a new audience of devotees. Truly.

But enough babbling.

Lovely Marticia, that fountain of sewing knowledge she, sent me a scan from the Reader's Digest Complete Guide to Sewing to help me overcome my fear of cutting my gorgeous black linen-cotton off grain.

I also found some helpful tips in The Art of Dressmaking, published in 1927 by Butterick. Yes, of pattern fame. You know them. You do.

So. I am armed, if not dangerous. And I have cleared the day to tackle the evil forces of fraying selvages. Wish me luck. Do. And I hope that these pages will benefit any other scaredy-cat fledglings out there. Absolutely.

Learning to sew: Lead me out of the cold, dark night, she pleaded. June 28, 2010 16:50 4 Comments

I'm confused. Remember the selvage issue I mentioned with the black cotton linen fabric? To be specific, the selvage unraveled. Puffs Girl suggested going to my sewing books. Like the good girl that I am, I followed her advice. Absolutely.

But.

I didn't get much help. I didn't. In fact, I didn't find anything that applied to my problem: How to get the fabric on the straight of grain when the selvage turned to loose threads in the washing machine. Loose threads. That is my selvage. I did read over and over and over again the importance of getting the fabric on the straight of grain. All right. I get it. I do. Really. But how do I accomplish that task?

I could beat myself up for choosing a fabric I loved for this skirt. A fabric I've been saving for years for exactly the right garment. I could do that. I could. It would be so easy. But I'm not going to do that. I won't give in to insecurity. I won't give in to negativity. I won't go hide in the closet under the hems of my dresses. No. Absolutely not.  I am going to plunge forward into the darkness. I'm going to do my very best to find a path that leads to the straight of grain.

Is it wrong to wash the fabric first? Should I simply put it in a tub filled with hot water to preshrink it?  The sewing books ­­– and there were many - I went to for a way out of the darkness advised this is the way to go. What do you do, dear readers? Do you wash the fabric first? I want to know. I do. I want to get it right next time. Advice, please. Please, she asked, with urgency.

Learning to sew: I've switched patterns. I'm fickle. What about it? June 26, 2010 20:19 5 Comments

Excuse my tone. Please. I'm a little upset. No. No. Scratch that. I'm a lot upset. I am. You can probably hear me screaming.  Listen closely, listen, you'll hear my anguished cries amid the coyote yips. You will. Why, you ask? Why would a fabulous, together, with-it woman like myself have a minute's frustration? A moment's even?

Well. Because. Because Safari let me down. Hard. Right after I'd written the most wonderful post. Clever. Funny. Add your own favorite superlative here. Safari crashed. Cratered. Croaked. (Am I annoying you with alliteration? Forgive me. Please. I beg you. I deserve a little leeway after such a trauma. I do.)

So. Anyway. (Thank God for Madeleine Peyroux. Thank you, Marticia, for introducing us.) Today, I:

Switched patterns. It's a woman's prerogative. Isn't it? Isn't it? It's also a man's, but that is neither here. Nor there.

Turns out McCall's 5082 was factory fold. Factory fold! Normally, normally, this would make me all aglow. Positively radiant. But. I could not bear to unfold it. I couldn't. So. Back to the pattern cabinet went I. And I pulled out Simplicity 1345. (Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long. Oh, Leonard, the lyrics you write.) Same look. But a difference in construction. Not, I think, a big one. But. I could be wrong. It would be the first time, of course. Absolutely. But these things happen. They do. Or so I have been told. The Simplicity does not have side seams. None. Nary a one. Not on the left. Not on the right. There are darts in place of side seams. So. Dear, dear readers, I ask you: Will this be harder? Simplicity claims, right there on the front of the envelope "SIMPLE TO MAKE". And would such a venerable company fib? Tell me they wouldn't. Tell me. Please. Because I really like this pattern. I do.

Prepared the pattern and the fabric. Yep. I did. I ironed the pattern. I pressed the fabric. Then I hung both up. I did. Absolutely. I think my anal tendency toward perfectionism will be a benefit in the sewing room. Don't you? Speaking of perfectionism, I was quite unhappy to discover that the original dressmaker had pinked this pattern. Pinked it! Bad dressmaker. Bad. Bad! I tell you, I think I should hunt her down and rap her knuckles with a metal-edged ruler. I do. Yes indeedy. I have a mean streak when it comes to the care of patterns, dogs and cats. You should treat them with kindness and respect. They should be coddled. They should. Absolutely.

(Oh, my God. I love Shostakovich's Jazz Suite No. 1: Waltz. So much. Yes. I am moving around here, musicwise.)

Pondered sewing questions. When I washed the fabric, the selvage frayed. Frayed. Obviously, it is no respecter of this fledgling seamstress. It isn't. So. How will I ensure that the skirt pieces are cut on the straight of grain? How, lovely and wise sewistas, how?

Also, is it OK, I wonder, to cut a virgin pattern and the fabric in one fell swoop? Or is this time-saving technique frowned upon?

And now, dear fans, you are out there, aren't you? Prove it to me. After all, it's enough that Safari has let me down. It is. Truly. I'm feeling needy. Ever so. Answer my questions. Please. Reassure me. I beg you. After all, only you have that magic technique. (Yup, I'm listening to a CD I made, and now, Rosemary Clooney and Perez Prado are performing Sway. Love it.)

Learning to sew: Meet my new project, a "Mad Men" pencil skirt June 23, 2010 17:27

And the winner is . . . loud beating of drums and clashing of cymbals . . . the waist 30. It is, as you may remember, dear readers, 1/2" too small in the waist, but it fits perfectly in the hips. The pattern is McCall 5082, copyright 1959. It's a staple. Truly. If I do a good job, this is a skirt I'll wear again. And again. And again. And again. You get the picture. 

The fabric I've chosen is black cotton-linen with the tiniest bit of stretch. I've had it for many years. I love it. I do. Absolutely. I confess my heart beats a little fast at the thought that I might ruin it. Do any of you ever have that fear when cutting into a beloved piece of fabric? Nightmares abound. 

I especially want to work on my hand-hemming technique this time around. The exterior looked terrific in the Asian skirt. Not so the inside. Alas. And, of course, there's the zipper. Oh my. Doubtless you remember, dearly beloved readers, the mess I made of the centered zipper on the sewing machine in the Asian skirt. I do. How can I forget when I see it each time I wear the skirt. Heavy sigh. Dramatic sigh. I'm going to do a side-lapped zipper this time, and I think I'll do it by hand. Any advice?

So. I've laundered the fabric. Twice. Next, pressing. Then, gulp, cutting. Fingers crossed.

The Asian skirt: Let me share my experience, strength and hope June 19, 2010 17:44 6 Comments

 At last, the Asian skirt is done. Finished. Completed. While it is far from perfect — and much more likely to be a textbook Don't than a textbook Do  — I am pleased. Truly. First, it is wearable. Second, there are a few things that I did right. A few. The waistband looks professional. Really. It does. (Well, there is that little flaw at the end, where it doesn't overlap quite as much as I'd like. But I refuse to dwell on that mistake.) The hem is even, thanks to the expert pinning done by His Bertness. And although it took me hours to hem the skirt by hand, not one thread shows on the outside. Yippee skippee. Now. The inside of the skirt is another matter. Entirely. I could say pass the Puffs, please. But I won't. No tears. No sniffles. Because at least I finished this skirt. I did. I'm putting a gold tinfoil Dennison star right smack dab in the middle of my forehead. I am. There. I think it looks rather cute.

I managed to match two seams. (Again, I will  not dwell on the uneven stitching on the hem tape. I've discussed that before. Enough. I'll work on perfecting the hem tape application on my next skirt. Yes indeedy.)

However. Moving on. Here's an error too big to miss. What did I do wrong here? The seam doesn't match. And there's an unsightly pleat. Did I not ease the hem enough? Should I have pinned the seam to ensure that it lined up perfectly? I definitely do not want to repeat this mistake on my next skirt. Help!

Learning to sew: The Asian skirt is finished . . . June 18, 2010 15:53 6 Comments

And tomorrow, I promise, I will put on makeup. And shoes. And model it for you. However, today, I am lazy. Enervated. After all, I have been hemming. And pressing. And grocery shopping. A woman has to eat. Right? 

So. I ask your advice about the size pattern I should choose for my next project, McCall 5082, copyright 1959. When I measured my waist, I found a surprising benefit of my dedication to Pilates: a loss of 3 1/2". Delicious. Yes. Excellent. Absolutely. Of course, I do not have a pattern that fits perfectly. I can choose a pattern 1/2" too small or 1 1/2" too large. Dear readers, dear sewists, what should I do?  The 30" waist size fits perfectly in the hips. Should I go right? Or left? Up or down? Oh, the quandary. I await your replies. I await your advice.

And tomorrow, I'll post pictures of the Asian skirt. Up close. Personal. Every flaw revealed. Can you stand it? I hope so.

Learning to sew: Preparing to hem the Asian skirt. At last. June 15, 2010 20:27 5 Comments

You can see the result. Yes. I still must iron the hem. No. I am not happy with the length. But. I did not want to cut the figures in half. Compromises were made. So be it. Such is life. Etc. I still must sew it. But, thanks to Gertie, she of the fabulous Gertie's New Blog for Better Sewing, I am no longer apprehensive about this step. She suggested  this video, Londa's Favorite Tailor's Catch Stitch Hem. I am armed. I am dangerous. And I can hem this skirt. I have the thread. I have the needles. And I have the knowledge. Absolutely. (And despite the shoddy camera work — done by yours truly - the skirt really is all pinned up. Perhaps I should double-pin it? I am thinking the pressing will take care of that. If I am wrong, tell me. Now. Please. I beg you.)

Learning to sew: The perils of pinking, the horrors of hem tape June 11, 2010 09:57 9 Comments

So. Dear readers, indulge my love of alliteration once more. I've had a bad day in the sewing room. 

First, I pinked the hemline of my skirt. You may recall that the fabric I am working with on the Asian skirt ravels. Prolifically. I had already zig-zag stitched the edge, but I was not pleased. I felt more needed to be done to prevent the abundant fraying. So I decided to pink. Now. I've had these pinking shears for many years. They have resided unloved and unused in a drawer of my sewing machine cabinet since I brought them home from Jo Ann's. Boy oh boy. Were they cranky? In a word, yes. They did not cut fluidly. It was a battle to use them. Rather like using my pruning shears when they're loaded with gunk. Is this normal? There's no rust. They look brand new. But. 

Next, I applied the hem tape. Now. One would think the tape would come with instructions. One would think. But. No. I went to sewing books looking for instructions. I found none. None! I was distraught. I was determined. I called a friend. She went to her handy sewing manual. Nothing. No tips. No advice. So. I forged onward. I decided to take matters into my own unskilled hands and sew the tape on to the best of my abilities. Well, let me say, it looks awful. Unprofessional. See the puckers? Another project for the ash can. What's a woman to do? Eat chocolate. Of course. It helps. Absolutely.

So. I ate dark chocolate. Yum. Reinforced, I ironed. It still does not look right. It doesn't. Help! Help. Please. What did I do wrong? Please. I beseech you. Share your experience and knowledge. You can see the complete skirt tape below. I thank you in advance, dearest readers. I want to finish this tomorrow. I do.

A one-shoulder playsuit with a wrap skirt. Can life get any better? June 7, 2010 15:10

It's sweltering outside. The thermometer outside your kitchen window rose to 93. 93! And that is in the shade. Aren't you happy you stitched up Vogue 5283, circa 1960s, this weekend? You're delighted, actually. It's sassy. It's sexy. It's cool. Just the attire for your summer vacation. And if you decide to go into town tonight for dinner, you have only to throw on the handy wrap skirt and some coral lipstick, and you are set. Wow. Sewing is grand. It is. Absolutely.

And, yes, this pattern can be yours. Just drop by The Blue Gardenia.

The perfect dress for coffee with friends. June 2, 2010 09:48 3 Comments

There was a time when I dressed for work each day. I donned a sharp suit,  a smart dress, cloying pantyhose and sassy 4-inch heels, and I went to the office. No longer. I work at home now. And I live in a very casual town, a town where onlookers do not frown at me if I wear my yoga clothes (bless you, Lycra) to Costco.

But I have aspirations, aspirations to look stylish once more. I do. So. So. Heavy sigh. I also don't want to buy clothes made in China or Taiwan. I'm old enough to remember those "Look for the union label" commercials". They left a mark on this formerly impressionable kid. They did.

But, to be frank — and you know I generally am —  my budget (heavy, drawn out sigh) does not allow clothes made in the USA, assuming my local Dillard's even stocked them. (And, alas, a recent research trip there did not reveal a single garment made here in the good ole US of A.) So. What's a woman to do? 

Well. Learn to sew. Of course. (And I promise I will entwine both of these narratives. Eventually. Really.) We all know, dear readers, that I have had commitment issues with adding sewing to my skill set. I have. But. I am nearly finished with my Asian skirt. Nearly. I have only to hem it and to put a fastener at the waist. I am so close. So very. And so, much-appreciated readers, this is where you come in. I pledge to finish this skirt by week's end. I do. Hold me to it.

So. Back to my other train of thought. You knew I'd get back on that train, didn't you? You did. And see? I reward your patience. What would I sew to wear to Costco? Something comfortable. Something attractive. Something that did not involve capris or a knit top. So. What? My choice: Simplicity 3846, copyright 1952. It's cool. Pretty. Yet it would not draw stares and whispered behind-the-hand comments from other Costco shoppers.

And, natch, this lovely number is available at The Blue Gardenia. You'll need it this summer for lunches with girlfriends. For casual suppers with that ever-so-special someone. For the supermarket!

Oh, and do check Gertie's New Blog for Better Sewing. She has a feature on yours truly. Read it here. And if you're not already a fan, you'll become one. She's a must-read if you sew. Or want to.

Shameless plug: Are you a Joan Harris or a Mildred Pierce? May 26, 2010 18:36

Is gingham age-appropriate if you're older than 6? May 15, 2010 14:03 3 Comments

I have been thinking about gingham lately. It's fresh. It's innocent. It says spring. I particularly love Christopher Kane's fluid gingham dress. 

But — and this is a big one, perhaps — can a fiftysomething get away with gingham?

I personally have not worn gingham since I was knee high to a grasshopper. It simply was not me. I was not an ingenue. I was not girly. I was not innocent. I didn't wear gingham when I was nineteen. But I find myself drawn to this dress. 

And, naturally, I found myself searching through The Blue Gardenia pattern archives looking for the perfect gingham dress. A dress that a fifty-two-year old could wear and not look silly. Or ridiculous. And I found McCall 8082, copyright 1950. One could make this in gingham. And one could wear it to a picnic. A cafe. A garden party. And one would not look ridiculous. One would not be a laughingstock. One would look chic. Sophisticated. Yet comfortable. Don't you agree?

And, of course, you may add this fetching pattern to your own stash. It's available for sale at The Blue Gardenia. Bust 32. I find it irresistible. Totally. Completely. Alas, is it in my size? No. Am I a skilled enough seamstress to enlarge it? No. So. Pass the Puffs, please. I need to dry my tears.

The waistband is on the Asian skirt. Let me share what I learned. May 10, 2010 14:11

Ahh, the Asian skirt. You thought I'd forgotten about it. You thought I wasn't working on it. Didn't you? Confess. Not that I don't deserve your doubt. Your skepticism. Your derision. Even. But the waistband is on! I have learned to put on a waistband. Are you surprised? I am. Astounded. Totally.

It doesn't look too bad from the outside.

The inside looks professional, too. Sort of. At any rate. And I did this by hand. By hand! Kudos to self!

There are flaws with the waistband. Well. One at least. The band itself is too short. This is because I accidentally stitched my side seams at 1/2" rather than 5/8". And my fabric was too delicate to rip. Oh, well. (Drat. My shoulder aches. I suffer for this blog. I do, dear oh-so-loved readers.)

I did learn a lesson from this waistband experience, besides checking to insure I am stitching on the right line. Really. I did.

The proper interfacing is important. Let me repeat this: The proper interfacing is important! Very very very. I did not check Sandra Betzina's Fabric Savvy before going to JoAnn's. I simply dropped by and asked a JoAnn's associate for advice. Uh-oh. Bad move. Very. Our JoAnn's is mostly a junk and craft store, and the salesperson was most emphatic that a stiff and heavy interfacing was exactly what I needed. Being a sewing neophyte, I was timid. I didn't argue. I did ask: Are you sure? So. I did try. Politely. Then I bought what she recommended. The waistband was too thick to sew on the machine, and, my friends, it was difficult to sew on by hand. Very. My fingertips were quite sore when the task was completed.

But. The waistband is on. Now. At last. I have to sew on a closure. And hem tape. Then hem the skirt. You'll hear about it when I do. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. It could happen.

Asian skirt's almost done. Shall I sew a Betty Draper top next? May 6, 2010 18:38

A quick-and-easy post tonight, boys and girls, about a quick-and-easy pattern. Or at least a pattern that promises it is simple to make. And we know that no pattern comany would lie. They wouldn't. Know why? Because that would be quite a mean trick  to play on beginning seamstresses like myself. A trick that might make us run from our sewing machines in frustration, straight into the cool and comforting arms of our fridges, and then right to the racks of ready-to-wear garments at the mall. After, of course, a consoling high calorie treat. Or two.

As you know, I am almost finished with my skirt. I have only to hem it. So, after hours of searching The Blue Gardenia's endless archives, I found this classy number, Simplicity 3916. Very Laura Petrie. Very Betty Draper. And, of course, simple to make. That, perhaps, is what I found most alluring. Most.

Now, if you want to make the blouse along with me, this pattern is available at  The Blue Gardenia.

The details, in case you want to know – and of course you do  – are thus:  Skirt, Blouse, Midriff Top and Shorts Bust 36 Complete $22.

So, rush on over, snap this up, and together we'll stitch, stitch, stitch. I'm thinking linen for mine. Maybe red. Or maybe aqua cotton. That would look scrumptious with the Asian skirt. Mmmmm . . . decisions. I'll feature the lucky purchaser's version and mine in the blog. Wonder who'll finish their blouse first? Could it be me? Well. Miracles do happen. Or so I've heard.