Little Brown Dress

No, I didn’t make a little brown dress. This woman did, and she’s worn it every day for almost a year, as performance art and commentary on people’s relationship to fashion. One of her most interesting discoveries is that hardly anyone noticed she was wearing the same thing every day for months until she specifically mentioned it to them. And I can totally believe it.

I can’t help but think of a former coworker who noticed our boss wore the same outfit every Friday. None of the rest of us noticed until she pointed it out, and then she started taking bets on whether the boss would wear it again each week. Sure enough, she usually did - and I really wonder if she (the boss, that is) was even consciously aware that she was doing this, let alone that people talked about it behind her back. The other thing I remember about that coworker is that she was mean and petty in general, and habitually judged everyone on superficial details about their appearance and possessions.

Anyway, I think it’s way cool to make yourself one garment that’s practical enough to be worn every day for a year, and I admire a person who’d try it. I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to keep it up. And despite most people not noticing until you tell them, and then thinking it’s cool when you do, there’s always going to be that one person like my coworker who will be all snarky about it behind your back.

Mixed reviews

Drinking material

Today at lunchtime downtown they were giving out free samples of Coca-Cola Blak (warning: cheezy audio). I'd been a little curious about the stuff - Coke and coffee? Mixed together? Could be genius, could be disaster - but not enough to pay for it, so of course I accepted one for the sake of science.

My first impression was that it tasted like coffee-flavored candy. I like coffee-flavored candy, but I don't think I've ever consumed 8 ounces of it at a time. It didn't remind me of Coke at all, except that it's carbonated. I'm not generally a huge fan of sweet drinks, and this stuff is very very sweet. That's why, when I glanced at the nutrition information, I was surprised to learn one bottle has only 45 calories. A closer look at the contents answers the question: High Fructose Corn Syrup is (of course) the second ingredient, but it's also followed further down by Aspartame and Acesulfame Potassium. Jeez, why not add a smidgen of Pestilence just to get all four horsemen of the apocalypse into your trendy new beverage? This might be the unhealthiest substance on the planet. Shortly after finishing the drink, I noticed a vague throbbing sensation in the middle of my head and idly wondered how many (or rather how few) of these I'd have to down before I began hallucinating.

A neat thing about Coca-Cola Blak, however, is that it comes in a glass bottle. I wasn't expecting that. It's shrink-wrapped in a plastic label, but once you peel that off you've got a classic 8-ounce Coke bottle. It's clear instead of green and lacks any printing, but for those of us on the lookout for craft supplies, those are bonus features.

My verdict: Tastes good for an occasional treat, but you may regret drinking it. Container is a class act - but you might be better off digging through the garbage if you want to collect them.

Reading material

I picked up the premiere issue of Adorn magazine the other day. It was everything I expected…which isn't entirely a good thing.

My first disappointment - I can't really call it a letdown - was opening it to the very first page and seeing an ad for sneaker paint. (Go see Art School Confidential. Right now. Trust me.) The magazine bills itself as "the crafty girl's guide to embellishing life". Its focus is very much on adding ornament and decoration to stuff you've bought, rather than on creating things. Well, of course, what do you expect from a publication called "Adorn"?

I recognized a couple of contributors' names - people making it big on the web craft circuit. Good for them. Congratulations.

The format is smaller than a standard magazine, but I quickly got sensory overload looking at it. The trimmings added to everything. The big fuzzy textured oversized accessories. The festivities of kitschy festive kitsch and the self-conscious rock-n-roll themed projects. The bright, bright, BRIGHT colors everywhere. I've left the house at times sporting just one or two of these recommended looks, and by the time I get out in public I've had a keen awareness of oh my god everyone's staring at me because I look like a fucking clown. I want to warn young, impressionable readers to back away from the magazine. Take a class in pattern drafting or screenprinting or something. Cardboard stencils and spray paint will not make a respectable imitation of a designer original garment.

And then there are the associations my mind makes with the title. Adorn. Dorn. Adorno. Adorno. But maybe that's just me.

When I heard there was a new craft magazine coming out, I hoped for something that would bring a new level of quality craftsmanship into the mainstream. But I wasn't holding my breath. Much more likely was what we got: Lowest-common-denominator, beginner-level jumping on the "crafts are trendy" bandwagon. Which - don't get me wrong - has its place and its significant target audience. Lots of people will get lots of good ideas from Adorn, and more power to them.

Will I buy the next issue? Of course I will. Because I am a total sucker for these things.

Bad skirt

It’s interesting…much as I give intellectual lip service to the idea that making your own clothes causes you to be more aware of how all clothes are made, this realization didn’t hit me until today. The skirt I’m wearing - which I’ve owned for probably a year - is really poorly made. I bought it at a discount store, and knowing me, it was probably on the clearance rack. It’s embellished with machine embroidery (only along the front border - cheap!), and I have to cut off or tie off little hanging threads every time I wear it. The hemline hangs higher in back than in front. One side seam is serged together until it reaches the zipper, where it separates really sloppily. The zipper itself is wonky too. There’s a grosgrain ribbon running across the sewn-down pleats (again, only in the front) - and the seam holding down this ribbon mashes the pleat seams down pointing every which random direction, so they’ll never lie flat.

This morning as I was ironing it, I imagined a store buyer cancelling any further orders from the skirt’s designer. The designer yelling at the supplier for daring to send out such a shoddy sample. The supplier yelling at a third-world sweatshop boss and the boss yelling at a hapless young worker who, first day on the job, got plunked down in front of a machine with no training and ordered to sew this skirt. All that misery trickling down so that some sucker like me would end up snapping the thing up from the bargain rack at Ross for a single-digit price that’s probably still more than that worker’s weekly pay.

Okay, actually I didn’t spend that much time dwelling on the misery; I have no idea where or under what conditions the skirt was made. What I did think - for the first time in the year I’ve owned and worn this thing - was “hey, it would be so easy for me to fix all that.” Undo the ribbon stitching, re-sew it so the pleats lie in one direction. Tie off the loose embroidery threads once and for all. Re-set the zipper. Adjust the waistline so the hem hangs straight. ‘Cause it really is a cute skirt, and I’d wear it even more often if some decent workmanship made it fit better. I’m just amazed this idea never occurred to me before.

Lesson for the day: Just because something is professionally made doesn’t mean it’s good quality. And of course the inverse, too.

Sassypants!

My friend Joey and I have a running joke about the word "sassypants". Its origin was an incident involving homophobia and death threats and attempted lawsuits and other decidedly unfunny things, but it's one of those "had to be there" situations where, once you're far enough removed, you can look back and laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Anyway, he gave me these khaki pants. They were actually part of the official dress code at the workplace where all the above happened. (All those references to the friend that gave me a huge pile of old clothes? Yeah, that'd be Joey.) They were in great condition, but he's kind of a wispy boy and I'm a big strapping gal. So how to make them fit? Combine them with that pair of olive-gray even-more-wispy boy pants I salvaged from the dumpster, of course.

First order of business was to get rid of the pocket flaps. What purpose do those things serve, anyway? They never lie flat and only add volume to your butt. I replaced the pockets entirely with the pockets from the other pants - a little bigger, a little more casual, and a vast improvement.

Next I added a strip of the olive pants fabric down the outside of each leg. Sewing geeks might wonder why I don't have two flat-felled seams there (and the vast majority of everyone else couldn't care less, but it's eating at me). I'd have liked that, but it would have meant ripping out the flat-felled inseam and then re-sewing it differently. So I settled for one and just used a plain seam to close up the legs. The length of the olive strips (both cut from just half of one pant leg - plenty left over for future projects!) dictated the point where I'd cut the khaki off - perfect capri length, my favorite.

There was a spot on the pocket where I'd removed the original label, so I added my own. Pretty sassy.

P.S. Hi to the reader with the template like mine (and kitty too)!

Pricey jewelry

And here's the broken gear that caused it all. The repair man gave it back to me and the first thing I thought was, "What a great necklace that would make!"

The oil problem might not have been my fault after all. He said someone had actually put oil on the motor, which you should never do, and which I didn't - I only put it around the hook and bobbin case, and it couldn't have reached the motor from there. So it must have been whoever repaired the machine last. And since it's been working fine other than the broken-gear thing, I'm not in such a hurry to take it back in for cleaning.

Today is Worldwide Knit In Public Day. I didn't do anything to commemorate it last year, and I'd been looking forward to it this year. My regular knitting group is planning to meet, but I just don't feel much like knitting or being in public right now, so I can't decide whether to go.

Grrrrr. And questions.

I took the sewing machine in to the shop. The good news is that the problem is neither my imagination nor my fault - it really does have a stripped gear that needs to be replaced. And they can get that done by tomorrow.

The bad news is that it's going to cost $80. Which I guess could be a lot worse. Also, the guy said I'd put way too much oil on it and got oil on the motor, meaning it has to be cleaned (for lots more money, of course) or it'll be ruined. Now, okay, I know I over-oiled it. But I'm skeptical about the "ruining the motor" part. I want a second opinion. I told him just to go ahead with the gear replacement for now.

So please - anyone who's reading this (is anybody reading this?) and knows something about sewing machines: Can oil really do irreparable damage to the motor, or is it more just messy? I know this machine was just cleaned a few weeks ago, before my parents brought it to me. Does that make a difference? Is it safe at least to wait a while for the cleaning so I don't have to pay for it all at once?

 

To cheer myself up after that, I stopped at a thrift store on the way home. Picked up 2 nice pairs of shoes for $4 each, and some fabric in the form of a tea towel that goes perfectly with the remnants I bought at JoAnn yesterday, and two brand-new dark brown linen scarves - I think there's enough there to make a little top.

But first this weekend I must get those editing projects done. Because I'm obligated, and because I'm getting paid.

Well, I’m miffed.

Last night, in the middle of reconstructing a pair of pants I really wanted to wear the next day, my new (old) sewing machine jammed up. The rotating hook, the circular metal thing that grabs the top thread from the needle as it comes down and interlocks it with the bobbin thread, stopped rotating. I could get it to turn occasionally by pushing it with my finger, but not consistently, and I could tell where it was sticking.

I hoped it just needed cleaning and oiling - the instruction manual says "oil once a week", and I have been using it pretty regularly for the last couple of weeks. (I don't think I've oiled my Bernina once in 23 years.) In fact I met someone today who'd had a similar problem with her machine, and oil was all it needed. So I trekked across town on my scooter in the rain to buy some oil. I brushed the lint out of the machine. I blew canned air into it. I oiled it, dismantled the bobbin case (oops, was supposed to do that first) and oiled it some more. And it still won't rotate. I think the hook is out of sync with the position it's supposed to be in when the needle comes down. Meaning I'm gonna have to take it to a shop.

So here I am with all these great refashioning ideas, unable to finish them. (Unless I want to clear a space on the table to set up my old machine, which…too much effort right now.) Ah well, I have a non-craft project I need to finish this weekend that won't be as much fun, but will pay money. Guess this is the universe telling me I'd better concentrate on that instead.

To take our minds off all that 'cause it's late and time to relax, here's a picture of my girls Blanche and Lenore on a pair of jeans that I turned into a skirt a couple months ago. Breeeeeathe. Ahhhhhh. Kitties. Good kitties.

So I've been giving this clothing recycling thing a lot of thought. (Like, when I'm at work and supposed to be thinking about logos and brochures.) I'm thinking I want to develop a definite style, but I'm not sure exactly what that style is. Like Enid, I only know what I don't want.

Everything I've seen lately in the craft area has fallen into one of a few categories. Most prominently (among DIY circles, anyway) is the whole punk rock aesthetic, the untrained, unfinished "junky-to-funky" look. Raw edges, excess, loud colors, stuff glued together because the creator hasn't learned to sew yet. Which is fine if that's where you are - young, having fun experimenting, learning and trying things out. But if I'm old enough to have tried out these trends the first time around, this is not the look I ought to be sporting today.

At the other extreme are the fine artists and fashion design entrepreneurs. Reading about them is just so damn informative, but it also reminds me how little knowledge I actually have. Which is fine too - I am a home sewer making clothes for myself and know better than to think I'm Project Runway material. (Wendy? Marla? Yeah, both waaaaay beyond me in savvy and skill.)

And then there's the third category, mostly seen among DIY crafters who've become entrepreneurs and made a career out of the things they make. Not always - but often enough to notice - their products are cutesy. Frilly. Dainty. They like to pay homage to the domestic textiles of yore and the underappreciated homemakers who used them. Nothing wrong with this, either - I find it laudable, up to the point that it becomes a cliché.

The current trends often remind me of what Douglas Coupland termed "ironism": pretending to like something ironically, when secretly you just plain like it. I had something more coherent to say about that earlier (while riding my scooter in the rain), but it's late and the thought escapes me now. Just consider the idea yourself, I guess, and see what you come up with.

Anyway. So what I want is not junky or funky or punky - much as I appreciate that aesthetic, I'm too damn old to pull it off without embarrassing myself. Right now I'm trying to make the most of my original natural hair color while I still have it. I'd rather not be branded (again) as the office nutbar. I know my creative and ambitious limits; I'm in this to make quality clothing for my own use. And others have got the tea-cozy and apron market cornered; there's no rah-rah womyn's-work-is-art statement I could make that hasn't already been made.

I want to make things that are neat and well-constructed, not sloppy. Eye-catching without being embarrassing. Unusual but not inappropriate. Creative, artistic, individual, but not wacky or zany. Thrifty, sustainability-conscious, but not impoverished-looking. I want to look like a respectable adult, but not like a soccer mom.

I'm kinda rambling here (but look how it took my mind off the sewing machine!). It's time for some sleep, so I'll leave you with this: Paul Graham says "The only style worth having is the one you can't help." That article has nothing to do with clothing, but it's relevant nonetheless and it's one of my favorites and everyone should read it. And now, good night.

My first t-shirt recon

Our landlord neglected to pay the garbage-collection bill, so our dumpster wasn't emptied for the entire month of May.

Yeah. Pretty nasty. But since there was no room in the dumpster, someone deposited a whole bunch of clothes beside it - in a plastic bag, mind you, keeping them at least somewhat clean. So thanks to the kindness of that stranger (actually I think I know who it was), I took my first stab at modding a t-shirt.

Among my neighbor's cast-off clothes was a nice red t-shirt that was just a bit too short and snug. Also in the bag I found an olive green long-sleeved T in a similar fabric, and that became a stripe (starting narrower in back, widening from the sides to the front - more length makes room, like a bust dart or short rows. Thank you, knit design book, for explaining how it works!)

The button band and collar are from the tan shirt (found in the laundry room wastebasket) that I used for last week's skirt. they were trickier to apply than I expected - not because I switched the holes to the opposite side (men's shirt into women's) but because of the cutting and shaping and folding I had to do for the wider neckline. I knew I'd only get one chance to get it right. I hadn't intended for it to stick out like that - it ended up more curved than V-neck - but I do really like how the collar points sit way back at the top of the shoulders. The buttons are from an old silk blouse of mine (boy, do I have exciting plans for that blouse), but there were only five, so I searched my stash for a 6th…and now the bottom button has a little duck.

The colors of this shirt remind me of bowling shoes. I wish I had a pair to wear with it.

Button-down shirt skirt

As promised, here's the finished skirt, made from two men's button-down shirts.

The pattern is my own design. I'm having an inordinate amount of fun playing around with measurements and calculations and drawing up pattern pieces in Illustrator. I made a muslin of this one before cutting it out - tedious, but so worth it to avoid ruining the fabric! The gores are about an inch and a half longer in back than in front (slanting up at the sides) so the hem hangs perfectly level when it's worn.

Lessons learned: Don't be stingy with the outer seam allowances on French seams. There are occasional little threads poking through the front from the raw edges - but they don't bother me enough to take the seams apart and redo them. Also the skirt is a little big in the waist, but again not really worth my time to take apart now. I'll save that for when/if it gets way too big, or if I find I just can't stand wearing it without fixing that.

Check it out.

So check this out. Wardrobe Refashion.

It's a group blog for people doing exactly what I'm doing: not buying new clothes, but making everything out of pre-existing clothes (either their own or thrifted). I just happened upon it yesterday - the last day for signing up. In fact it was already "today" in the site's home of Australia, but they were nice enough to let me in on that technicality.

Another big excitement - check this out:

A brand-new (to me) sewing machine! Actually I've inherited it from my grandma Louise, who's 94. It's a Singer Touch-n-Sew from circa 1968, in perfect pristine condition including all the original spare parts and instruction book.

Official Helper Fizzgig is shown here with part of the first project I we made on the new machine. I took two men's button-down shirts (one donated by a friend, the other fished out of the laundry-room trash can - and yes, I washed it - but can you believe someone just threw a shirt away?) and made a cute little gored drop-waist skirt. It wasn't even intentional, but the way it ended up, I can easily take it apart, take in the seams and re-gather it if I lose weight. (I hope I have that opportunity.) Here's Blanche with the disassembled shirts in an earlier stage of production.

The rug is also from Grandma - handmade by her, I believe, or at least by someone. The finished skirt turned out well, but I've already worn and washed it and thrown it on the clean-clothes heap, so pictures will have to wait until it's ironed.