Well, at least she's happy with it...

Today we're continuing on with the Great Uniform Interregnum (because I've been crazy busy this week and trying to get The Little One clothed decently ala The Hannah Andersson SWAP. Also, I'm still sick of uniforms.) This weekend I completed a dress, two pairs of leggings and two skirts, plus cut out five more pairs of leggings that just need to be put together.

Oh how I do love leggings! They're cute! They have one pattern piece! They take twenty minutes to sew together! Will the wonders never stop?? They also have the added advantage of being the perfect bottom-wear for the Little One, who could give JLo a run for her money in the derierre department. I finally get why JLo wears so much lycra. (There's still no excuse for sparkly gold spandex pants- under any circumstance- but I do have great sympathy for the fitting issues involved with the Big Booty and now understand how the magic of lycra can absolve a multitude of fitting sins.)

My plan is to give TLo (Ha! I just realized that works!) a completely, or almost completely, mix-and-match wardrobe. In reality it probably will turn out to be a little more mix than match because, well, frankly, I'm just not that organized. But this summer I let TLo pick out her own fabric (yes. be afraid.) and it is basically coordinated. Mostly by dint of it all being pink.

Really pink.

Very very pink.

And flowery. Really very flowery.

The dress I chose for the SWAP was this Ottobre pattern:

Ottobre 3-2008 pattern #12 (Strawberry Tunic)

I was hoping to knock-off this dress:

Hannah Andersson Tunic Dress

This is what I ended up with:

Well hey. It's actually lavender, not pink. It is flowery, though.

It's very large on TLo. But I'm tired of making clothes for her that she can't wear three weeks later, so everything's just going to have to be a little large for a while. I'm going to make at least two more (maybe a teensy tiny little bit smaller).

In our next edition: the cutest ruffle skirts. Ever!

A Brief Interlude

Today, Gentle Reader (I like to maintain the fantasy that I have Readers), today we will have a short break, an intermission, a pause, a hiatus, an idyll if you will.

Yes, I own a thesaurus. What's it to you?

Where was I? Oh yes, we are proceeding with what I will henceforth call The Great Uniform Interregnum. Otherwise known as "I'm going to write about something else because I'm a little bit tired of uniforms and also I made a dress for my younger daughter (The Little One) and it was a total disaster, but I realized that I have a tip to share with everyone about coverstitch binder feet". Or something like that.

Binder Feet. They suck.

Oooo, that should have been the title of this post. Too late. However, it's a totally true statement. Binder feet do suck, with a suckiness that knows no bounds. There is little in the sewing world I loathe more than binder feet. I base this hatred on cold, hard experience.

I just did a mental reckoning and I have no less than five binder feet, not a one of which works properly. (A wise reader such as yourself might, at this point, be wondering why I continued to buy binder feet after the first two -or even four- didn't work. This, Gentle Reader, is a damned good question.)

I have two binder foot attachments for my sewing machine (which is a Brother, in case you're wondering) and three, count them THREE, for my coverstitch machine (which is a Janome). Fortunately, being the Queen of Cheap, I bought generic feet for my coverstitch machine on eBay, so instead of the hundreds of dollars I could have spent on brand-name feet I only spent about $45 on all three feet total. I guess wasting $45 is better than wasting $450.

(And before you accuse me of being merely inept with binder feet, Gentle Reader, I would like to state for the record that I am, under normal circumstances, a mechanically-inclined type of person. I deal with recalcitrant industrial printing equipment all day, for Pete's sake, and that doesn't cause nearly half the trouble as those evil little binder feet cause.)

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I have completely (completely) given up using any of these stinking feet. Er... no pun intended. Instead, I do a what-seems-like-it-should-take-longer-than-using-a-binder-foot-but-isn't-when-you-factor-in-time-wasted-on-evil-binder-foot-setup process that is multi-stepped but works perfectly every time.

I thought I'd share.

Step Being the First:

Cut out your binding strip as you usually would. You can do this technique using either a raw-finish or clean-finish strip. My example shows a clean finish.

Step Being the Second:

Your seam width should be wherever the fold of the strip is meant to be (in other words, if you intend to do a clean-finish binding and your finished width is 1/2" -you have a 2" strip- set your seam width to 1/2"). Using a BASTING STITCH, attach the strip to the garment, right sides together. You will be removing all basting stitches when completed.


Step Being the Third:

Press the strip towards the seam allowance, so that the right side of the strip is showing.


Turn over the entire garment so that the right side is on the table. Now fold the raw edge of the strip into the center to meet the center of the strip. Press heavily.


Step Being the Fourth:

Fold the strip again so that the edge of the garment is wrapped (in otherwords, it looks like binding).


At this point, the fabric I'm using will determine if or how much I pin the strip in place. In this case I pinned all the way around the entire edge because I was using jersey knit as my binding and it tended to curl a lot. In other cases I might skip the pinning.


Step Being the Fifth:

Using a basting stitch, stitch through all layers down the middle of the binding strip. Be sure to stitch in a place where your final stitching won't overlap, so it's easy to remove the basting.


Remove the pins. You should now have a completely bound edge basted in place.

Step Being the Last:

Once everything's in place and tacked down, you can take it over to the coverstitch machine (or if you're using a double or single needle on your sewing machine) and stitch it down permanently. The nice thing is you don't really have to adjust anything, you just line up the presser foot so the stitches run down the center of the binding.

When the permanent stitches are in, be sure to remove BOTH basted seams. This will release the edge of the binding so it looks "normal".

(this is a slightly bad example, as my coverstitch machine chose this moment to start skipping stitches)

In conclusion: The only difference between a garment using the traditional binder foot and a garment using this method will be the utter lack of eye-popping, face-reddening, blood-pressure-raising stress on the creator of the second garment. Yes, it does require several more steps than the binder foot method and on paper looks like it will take much more time. This idea fails to take into consideration all the facts, however. You can write it as an equation:

T + F(n) = R

R is the result, where T is time spent, F is frustration trying to get $#*@!* thing to work and n is the incremental increase of F relative to the increase of T, caused by having to adjust and readjust and re-readjust and generally mess with the binder foot eighty times to get it to work correctly.

Using this equation, there is just no rational excuse to use a binder foot. The math says it all.

It is called the "Gnome Girl Dress".... WTF?

Sorry. Profanity (even coded psuedo-profanity) is probably not the best way to start a post, especially since I liked the outcome of this dress. But I had some trouble getting around the name. Which is weird really, since who cares what it's called? A rose is a rose, etc, etc. But for some reason, I did not like this whole "gnome" association. It really bugged me. I have no idea why.


Aaaanyway, I made this up as part of the Great Uniform SWAP. I was curious to try out the ruching on the skirt and see how it draped. The ruching is simply pulled up with gathering stitches and then the stitches and gathers are covered and held in place with a ribbon. The orginal pattern calls for a full lining (it also calls for the dress to be made from wool tweed, which is somewhat laughable in Texas). I didn't do the lining (or the tweed). Or the extra decorative details. Or the... Sheesh. Did I even use this pattern?

I really wanted to do this in a lovely midnight blue twill that I have in the stash. It was the perfect weight and drape for this pattern, which I thought might be important with those ruched pieces at the hem. I didn't want it to be clunky or stiff. I had the whole thing laid out on the fabric and ready to cut out, in fact. Until I realized something very, very important. Fundamental. Life-changing, even.

IT IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND THE RIGHT COLOR AND WEIGHT OF RIBBON WHEN YOU HAVE AN EXACT COLOR YOU ARE TRYING TO MATCH.

Hear the words of wisdom, children!

Because of course, while our uniform policy is pretty flexible it does very specifically say "jumpers and dresses must be "a solid color".

You would not believe how many trips I made to Hobby Lobby and Hancock's and (sob) WalMart trying to find a grossgrain or satin ribbon in midnight blue. I would go back, again and again, my sad little scrap of fabric in hand, trying to find that one elusive piece of ribbon that would match enough to not look like a stripe. There was baby blue, royal blue, navy blue, cornflower blue, turquoise blue.... you name, they had it. As long as you didn't name it "midnight blue". I lowered my standards daily, but still I found... nada. Bupkis. Doodley Squat. I even considered making a bias tape from the twill and covering the ruching with that, but I was worried it would be too stiff.

No. I'm afraid midnight blue was just not meant to be.

So, that left me with the khaki. And here it is:

It's not bad. In fact, it's cute. But it ain't no Midnight Blue. (sigh)

I was able to find some "tan" satin ribbon that didn't clash too badly. In the photos it's hard to tell, because it's pretty glossy and my camera insisted on flashing.

Actually, The Big One wears this to school quite often and I have to say, despite being khaki it does overwhelmingly fullfil my requirements for the Great Uniform SWAP. It's unusal and has great details, but not so detailed or unusual that people notice it in a crowd. It's comfortable (I'm assuming, since I've had no complaints) and it washes well. And it can be worn with virtually ever shirt I've made for this SWAP so far.

Wow. I guess it's a winner!

And yes. Those are suspender/mitten clips on the straps, as per the pattern instructions. Coolio!