Learning to sew: I've switched patterns. I'm fickle. What about it?
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.)