She lives in a fabulous world of sunshine and rainbows and bellbottom corduroy pants. She hears the sounds of the happy birds calling her….
Actually she looks like a mannequin, don’t you think? If only she were as quiet as one. Or as obedient.
The jacket is Ottobre 4-2008 #38. I used weird pastel lime green polkadot minky. Because I have yards and yards and yards of it. For some reason.
The jacket is cute. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t know that based on the photos of TLo wearing it, since she insisted on putting it on over her bulky tunic (also cute. Y’know… on it’s own…).
I did try to take some other photos. Not very successfully.
For instance, I’m pretty sure The Big One’s head isn’t really three sizes too big. (I mean, I’m willing to go with two sizes too big, but three just seems extreme…)
I can’t even think of anything to say about this. It’s just disturbing.
I made TLo two more dress/top/tunic thingies. For once I was rather clever in my planning (and by "planning" I mean I actually thought about what I was going to do for more than five seconds before I started doing it). TLo really needs some winter "weekend" clothes, but she could use a few warmer school uniform items as well so... I cleverly decided to make the first tunic in a solid knit, with the theory that she could both wear it to school and on the weekend and if it fit I could use a more interesting knit for other versions.
I know. Shocking concept. I like to think outside the box like that. I am a rebel.
I was so excited to be making weekend clothes that doubled as school clothes that I got all giddy and didn't really think about how that would effect my fabric usage. I’ve really been wanting to make the girls some weekend knit clothes because I have heaps of end-bits and odd-pieces of knits in bright florals and stripes and such that I am desperate to get out of the sewing room (so as to facilitate the guilt-free purchasing of new knits, of course... I'm willing to admit that my motives aren't in any way selfless).
I had to pick through all the many many many cute knit patterns I have (curse you, Ottobre Design!). And so of course I chose this pattern because I thought it would be flattering on TLo... which it is. It’s the right proportion in the body, the right length of skirt and the extra-wide collar lets her wear a turtleneck despite her no-neck situation (sadly, she takes after her mother in this).
Ottobre Design 6-2011 #18
All good so far. Famous last words because, Lo! Due to the shape of the skirt, in size 122 length/146 width the pattern takes one-and-a-half yards of knit. With a lot of waste. Of all those piles of odd-ball knits, I hardly had anything that was long enough for this. Instead of using up half-yards and odd bits, I ended up creating even more.
Doh!
Anyway, here's the first version:
Here's TLo "posing":
And here she is doing… the merengue! Ole!
I made a cute second version in a black mini-floral knit with a slightly less-puffy sleeve, but I didn't get a photo of it yet. They're both a little big in the shoulder, but I figure that's better than too small. In person this is very cute on TLo, so we're going with a "win" on this one. Despite the fabric-hogginess of it all.
Because I’ll probably have to buy some more solid knits in longer lengths.
I made TLo a couple of skirts last week. I used a pattern I've used at least three or four times in the past four years or so.
Ottobre 4-2006 #27
You'd think, wouldn't you, that if I've made this skirt at least four or five times that I'd have something interesting to say about it... right? Something enlightening or dramatic or at least just witty.
I'm having trouble coming up with anything.
So here's what I have to say about this skirt: I made this in about 2 hours. Including tracing. Which means a normal person (like you... yes, you!) could make this in about... 25 minutes.
That's pretty awesome.
Here's the school-appropriate version I made first:
It’s khaki twill. And khaki twill. With khaki topstitching. You’re seeing a theme here, right?
Here's the weekend-appropriate version I made next:
It’s green and green-and-floral twill. I forgot to sew ribbon around the bottom of this one (which I had to skip on the first one anyway because I simply couldn't find any that matched... er... in my closet. That was about as much effort as I wanted to put into that.) I'll maybe get some ribbon this weekend and add it around the hemline, it's a nice little detail.
This is what a zombie baby looks like after a night of wild binging on Halloween candy.
I tried to get a picture of the other one, but when I turned the light on she hissed and flung her arms over her arms and ran skulking into the closet to hide. Awesome.
So, should I be disturbed that my post about a random celebrity I've never met (or am likely to meet) has engendered more commentary, email and excitable conversation than... anything I actually contributed to the world? I mean, contributed other than bringing the amazing hawtness of Jason Isaacs to your attention. I didn't make Jason Isaacs. I didn't offer any useful addition to the world at large or even the small cosmos of our little sewing circle (again, other than perhaps my bringing the amazing hawtness of Jason Isaacs to your attention... which I supposed is worth something...).
-sigh- Sadly, I feel this might be the story of my life. The generating of random useless pieces of entertainment is my contribution to the world.
Jonas Salk I am not.
Saying that, I have now heard three or four interesting stories about meeting super-hot celebrities-- some random and fleeting, some... not so random or fleeting. This is pretty cool (for me). But... useful? Contributing to the Greater Good? Hmmm.
To make myself feel better, I'm posting up pictures of the latest addition to TLo's school uniform.
Ottobre 1-2007 #19. I made this in Angelina Ballerina fabric for The Big One when she was four. It was keeeyute-cute. It suddenly sprang back to mind this past week as a more interesting option than a plain A-line jumper. I had to grade it up in width, as TLo is now a 116/122 in length but a 134/146 in width and this pattern only goes up to 128. Still that wasn't very tricky, I just added some width to everything down the center front and back based on the difference between the body measurements for a 128 and a 146. Easy-peasy.
No, the big problem was the ruffles. This pattern calls for a full back in fashion fabric and then attaching the ruffles to that. Which when I made it in light-weight cotton wasn't a problem. However, not so good when using bottom-weight twill. I was worried the dress would weigh forty pounds and possibly I'd get a phone call from school saying my child was stuck on her back like an overturned turtle, arms and legs waving frantically in the air because of her ridiculously overbalanced dress. I had visions of all the other kids solemnly stepping over her on the playground or a swarm of crazed seven-year-olds howling in panic about "that kid who's stuck on her back under the jungle gym".
Obviously the solution was to make the ruffles in something light-weight. Except it had to match the base fabric exactly, lest I get a nasty phone call from the school informing me my child's uniform was not uniform. (OK fine, I've never once received such a call but still... I don't want to chance it.)
Here’s an over-exposed image to show you the ruffles better:
I have thirty-three pieces of light brown, dark brown and navy blue fabric. Not one of them matches another one. Not. One. Much cursing was to be heard. And I just downright refuse to buy one more piece of light brown, dark brown or navy blue fabric until I get rid of some of that other stuff. Even I have fabric-buying limits.
Stop laughing.
Despite the fact that I didn't think red-headed TLo would really rock a black dress, blacks are slightly easier to match. I finally managed to match up a black twill with a black knit close enough to get by. In the photos it looks like the knit is much darker, but that's a trick of the lighting. It's not nearly so noticeable in person.
I also used a black-and-white cotton print to do the pockets and the little decorative bar on the front of the bodice. Despite the above avowal of trying to avoid a distraught phone call from school about non-uniform uniforms, I feel compelled to include a small detail of pattern or color in these dumb things.
Yes. I'm a rebel like that.
One note if you're going to make this yourself, something I realized the last time I made this and forgot about this time: the straps are crazy long. I put TLo's buttons about 4-5 inches up the length of the straps and they really need to come up another 2 inches at least. In fact, I had to pin up the straps this morning before she went to school because they were just not snug enough. It's almost as if Ottobre designed the straps to use adjustable overall buckles and then forgot and did buttons-and-buttonholes instead. Which if you want to do overall buckles would be handy. If I make this again (I probably will, it's just too cute not to), I think I'll do that.
In case you suffered from the misapprehension that I haven’t sewn anything in the past three months, I can assure you I have. At least one thing.
This thing, to be precise:
No wait. There’s more:
These, in case you were wondering, are photos of the linen jumper I made for TLo’s school uniform. Which I took after I washed it. For the fourth time.
Yes. You heard me. I’ve only washed this garment four times. And I’ll probably have to throw it in the trash.
I even piped the flippin’ pockets, people.
(It’s extra-wrinkly because it’s still wet from the washer. Also, I took a picture of my toes. Neato.)
This is what I used to make the Evil Self-Destructionator 2000: Ottobre 3/2011 #18. Cotton gingham. Outrageously poor-quality linen.
This is what a child looks like, frolicking and blithely making a mess, when she is blissfully aware that her dress has not self-destructed.
I’m not even going to bother to show you what a child in our house looks like when her dress self-destructs.
Interesting non-conformist or irritating agitator? Charming individualist or borderline sociopath?
Hmmmm....
Last weekend was a five-day vacation for me: five days of sweet, sweet freedom from the hellish nightmare of endless toil and sufferin-- er. I was off from work. And I knew that at least some of that time I would spend sewing. Or I hoped so. I had two pairs of jammies, a shirt-dress and a blouse all half-sewn on the table. I also had two knitted skirts, completed up to about row 8 and two knitted earwarmers,completed up to about... row 8. (Row 8 seems to be pivotal for me in some way.) These were all, of course, supposed to be Christmas gifts.
By December 24 at 4:00 pm I had completed one earwarmer.
I did, however, complete the jammies and the shirt-dress by my last evening off. And once again, I went whizzing around on the "Why do I stress myself out about a leisure pursuit?" merry-go-round. I know, I know, we all take a spin on that particular ride now and then. Usually my little trips are pretty uninformative. (I do have an amazing ability to combine deep introspective thought with a pathological refusal to acknowledge or alter my self-destructive behaviors. I'm special like that.)
This time, however, I actually came to some conclusions. It's amazing how cogent you become when you've actually had some sleep for three or four days in a row.
Conclusion #1: I think everyone should wear unique and interesting clothes. Or at least my kids should.
Conclusion #2: I actually do have to make TLo's clothing. And in that case I should really make at least some of The Big One's too or she'll get a complex.
Conclusion #3: Artistically speaking, I am a colorist. I always have been. Apparently in garment-making, this translates into wanting to make simply-styled clothes with lots of funky, bright fabric combinations and not highly-detailed, complicated designs with muted, subtle fabrics.
Conclusion #4: I feel compelled, in the interest of keeping myself interested, to make clothes that are either challenging to design or challenging to construct.
Conclusion #5: Conclusions number 1-4 do not combine well with making uniform-appropriate clothes.
Conclusion #6: I really really really hate the school uniform policy.
Hmmph. I don't like my conclusions.
But of course in typical fashion, I did not decide (as perhaps a more mentally sound person would) to just stop making clothes I don't want to make. No, instead I resolved to even further attempts at twisting and torturing completely inappropriate patterns into something that I could at least nominally call School Appropriate. Regardless of their actual appropriateness. I told you I was special.
Which is all to say, I had an idea and I'm not sure it works.
So what do you think? Can a surplice knit dress have a collar arbitrarily added to it and look... Not Crazy? Because The Big One has some serious surplice love since way back and I thought I might try to use her favorite pattern to make a school dress.
Please vote.
edit: Thanks to everyone who commented and voted so far (and everyone else, please keep voting!)
Poor TLo. A dedicated reader will already be aware that TLo has very little in the way of Clothing That Fits, due to her -ahem- Sturdy Build. So I added several jumper patterns to her SWAP list, hoping to have at least two or three for school.
I was really excited to make this BurdaStyle pattern (1-2009 #136A), which I've been eyeing since it came out. Little did I know the shock and horror that would ensue.
Look at those happy little urchins, just frolicking deceptively in the snow. They are so totally not telling the truth about this jumper! Evil, evil urchins.
The first shock came when I finally traced out the pattern pieces and suddenly discovered (I'm a little slow) that the yoke is ONE PIECE. Seriously, this is a freaky piece of design work.
It makes the jumper completely Not Adjustable, because the fit of the jumper is necessarily limited by the size of the head-hole. Since I was up-sizing this a little for TLo, much mathematical confusion ensued leading to a highly typical round of sheer guesswork. Would TLo be able to get her head through it? Who knew?
The second shock came when I began assembling said freaky-head-hole-yoke-piece. Sadly, I decided to make the jumper in a fabric that one could only call "inappropriate". I'm pretty sure it's a Haggar remnant. I got it online for a very good price and if I was making mens' trousers I'd probably be in clover. Sadly, I was making a little girl's jumper. The results were... unpleasant.
Besides my poor fabric choice (much too stiff and egregiously prone to wrinkling), this pattern was a P.I.T.A. to put together. I mean, I'm a quilter. I’m not completely unfamiliar with a curved seam... but this one kicked my butt. The trauma of it all has rendered details hazy, but I seem to recall that you sew the upper curve of the yoke and facing together whilst sandwiching the two straps, then stitch the (heavily pleated) skirt to one piece and topstitch the other down. Much as you would any yoke-and-skirt combo, but with y'know, horrifying curves and hugely bulky pleats. Oh joy.
Wrinkling. Much, much wrinkling.
It didn’t really get any better from there.
I still make TLo wear this to school. I’m sure I’ll be sorry in ten years when I have to pay her therapy bills.
I heart me some Modwear. Seriously. I mean, I stopped watching Project Runway halfway through two seasons ago and I’m actually almost sorry because I missed out on this guy:
And of course the anti-social rebel in me felt compelled to create a mod dress for TLo’s school uniform. Because that’s exactly what school uniforms need more of: Mod.
In that vein, I attempted to make this dress for TLo. It (technically) conforms to the dress code: sleeves, collar, solid color. Right? RIGHT?
Unfortunately, in my brilliance I decided to not (as recommended) use felted wool but instead use a slubby sort of linen-lookish cotton that I got... from somewhere. (Probably from Fabric Mart in that bundle of stuff that included the Anna Sui Harses-Harses-Harses border print and the surprise pink dotted-swiss voile. Just guessing.)
Anyway, I made the dress very specifically not from felted wool (and given that today –two days before Thanksgiving-- it's 81 degrees outside, that was probably not an unreasonable decision). Which is fine. Until I realized that one of the reasons felted wool was probably a good choice for this dress is that the ruffles on the collar are unfinished. Which obviously works fabulously in felted wool, but not so fabulously in cheap linen-lookish cotton.
Oh, the humanity.
This tragedy might have been avoided by simply overlocking or zig-zagging the edges of said ruffles... except I didn't have any orange thread. And wasn’t about to go and buy some. I could have used the white thread I used on the rest of the dress, but it would have really stood out and possibly made it no longer so “solid colored”. So I didn't attach the ruffles. Which immediately begged the question, then why make the dumb thing in the first place?
I know. It's a good question. A mod dress with no mod ruffles... is just a plain boring dress.
I did make an orange fabric rose pin to stick on the front, thinking it would at least add some visual interest. But it's too heavy and droops in a very unbecoming manner.
Hmmph.
Here's TLo, not particularly looking fabulous in said ruffleless dress.
Plus, she wouldn’t wear the white go-go boots.
I've decided Mod is not good for us.
But here’s a Mod-ish blast from the past… if your past includes early 90’s Canadian hip-hop. Mine does.
In our next episode: BurdaStyle... apparently they think we have monkey hands for feet. It's the only explanation for their belief that assembling this dress is possible.
I went to Hancock's last weekend with the specific purpose of buying some appropriate patterns for TLo, as I have very few patterns in her size. Given that most Big4 children's patterns are laughably large and my children are comically short, it didn't occur to me that I would need anything above the size 6 range for some time to come. I was wrong. TLo is now in a size 12/14 width in RTW, which even in the world of Humongous Big4 Patterns is a 10.
TLo and I went to the store together, partly because I was hoping she would enjoy picking out her own patterns (with subtle guidance from yours truly) and partly because The Husband was taking TBO to soccer practice on that side of town anyway so I thought we could all go in one car. I figured TLo and I, left to our own devices, could easily spend an hour and fifteen minutes in the fabric store.
This was poor reasoning on my part. TLo begged the entire time to be allowed to peruse the button section on her own, which is as far away from the pattern area as you can get and is completely obscured by row upon row of towering fabric aisles. She was not allowed to peruse. Or at least, not until we'd sat at the pattern table and looked through the sale books. Apparently this is a breathtakingly tempting activity when you're not allowed to do it, but mind-numbingly boring when the siren call of the button section sings it's temptress song. Much whining ensued. And (despite what you're thinking) not all of it from me. Pattern selection became a hasty process.
I relate all of this to you, Gentle Reader, in an attempt to excuse what happened next: When I saw this pattern was on sale, my heart skipped a little dance of happiness at the perfect fit for TLo's school uniform. McCall M6156, size 7 to 14.
Shirtdress styling? Check! Adjustable empire waistline with drawstring? Check! Cute as a button? Check!
Perfect. I forced (her words) TLo to help me find said perfection in the pattern drawer and, with our seven other pattern selections, we made our giddy way to nirvana-- sorry, the button aisle. All was right with the world.
And then today I finally got around to photo-copying the technical drawing insert for October’s BurdaStyle. Which I have already pored over a half-dozen times in the past month. At least.
Um. Girl's Shirtdress. With adjustable drawstring empire waist. Size 134-158.
People. This morning I wrote a post. It had photos. It had arbitrary ranting about other people’s clothing choices. It had deeply-felt self-deprecation at my own foolishness in the ways of choosing pattern sizes. It was a good post.
And then, in the interest of keeping you, Gentle Readers, yes you well entertained and fully informed, I decided to try my latest creation on TLo. Just one last time. Just to take pictures and thereby astound and amaze you with the madness that was my latest sizing choice for her. Because on Friday, people, Friday it did not fit. Not even remotely. It was too small. Too tight across the chest. Unwearable by TLo. And I created a whole lovely post about that sad fact, rife with photos of poor TBO having to wear a hand-me-down shirt that was entirely too large for her.
And this afternoon? It fit. I mean, it fit TLo. The person I made it for and who tried it on with little success. On Friday.
WTH??
I’m pretty sure my children are conspiring to drive me mad so they can inherit my fortune. Which would consist of a 10-year-old minivan and roughly six acres of fabric. They are evil.
Anyway, here’s the blouse in all it’s glory:
It’s Ottobre 1-2007 #34, which I’ve been just waiting for one of my kids to get big enough to wear. Uh. And of course TLo jumped right from the bottom of the size range to a whopping 146. (Yes, you heard me. One. Forty. Six.) I’m hoping I get more use out of it, because I think it’s the perfect school uniform blouse.
Straightforward construction, cute details, cheap-but-nice fabric… Plenty to like. Still, the fit mystery is… well, a mystery.
Now, in all fairness, when I tried this on TLo on Friday, I hadn’t completed the buttonholes yet. Buttonholes are not my friends and I prefer to ignore them until the last possible moment. So TLo tried on the shirt and I merely held the plackets closed. It was tight. Very tight. Too tight to wear. Much cursing was to be heard.
I am so glad I decided to try it on her again today. TLo is in desperate need of blouses. And this ended up being just right.
Ottobre Design 6-2011 #18
Little did I know the shock and horror that would ensue. 
