Two More Blouses

I seem to be on a sewing kick at the moment, well at least, I'm working through some of my stash. These two blouses came from some Liberty of London cotton that I picked up over a year ago. I had Simplicity 1278 in mind when I purchased this fabric, I just need the confidence to make up the reissued vintage pattern. I made this blouse previously in an inexpensive viscose lawn and the pattern needed quite a bit of alteration before it fit correctly. Here are the two new blouses. I photographed them on the floor. They aren't the type of garment that looks particularly attractive on the hanger or on the floor for that matter. I need to get my mojo back for taking pictures. Trust me they look much better when worn. The blouse on the left is a turquoise and beige print with short sleeves and the second blouse is a tiny allover floral print in olive green and beige with a tiny orange flower center. Both blouses will go with an upcoming project that is now in the works.

Two Tees

  

This was a fast sew, two tee shirts from Butterick 6084. I've used this pattern since 2006, so I'm pretty sure it is no longer sold. It's a fitted tee with an oval boat neck and 3/4 sleeves. One tee is made from an heather cotton knit in a color I would call oatmeal. The other tee is a white and beige stripe knit of the same weight. I bought both of these pieces of knit at a sewing shop in Wurztburg, Germany.  Cut, sewn and into the closet in about a week, I like that time frame.

I did look this pattern number up. It has now been reassigned to a little girl's dress pattern. This is the pattern I have and it is one of my tried and true patterns. I haven't found a tee shirt that I like better, but, honestly, I haven't looked very hard either.

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Vintage Reissued

This is Simplicity 1278. It is a 1950's vintage reissued pattern. I made it up in size 16. This is view C. This particular pattern does not have any side dart shaping the "B" bust cup comes from some waistline darts and the pleating detail at the neckline. This was not going to work for me. I added a "D" sized bust dart at the side seam. With this FBA, I did a prefit muslin for the top and found I also needed about 3/4" width added to the upper arm sleeve. After the adjustments were made and tried it out on some viscose lawn in a blue and brown leafy print.

I was happy with the pattern and wore this blouse several time this winter. It looks nice with skirts or pants and the neckline detail means I don't need any jewelry or anything fussy at all. Sweet and simple. The sleeves in this photo look like they are two different length. I assure you, they are equal length 3/4 sleeves. Perfect for me!

A trial of upcycling shirts

I constantly have an endless supply of worn shirts and lately they have been arriving in my sewing room at an alarming rate. I blame the "non-iron" shirt trend. These shirts wear at the collar and cuffs within a few washes. If I get one year's wear from these items, I'm lucky. I really think the non-iron resins allow manufacturers to use cheaper fabric. Combine cheaper fabric with stiffer interfacing and everything wears at the edges. You can see this in the second photo of the cuff.

I chose one of these shirts which I thought  had better fabric than the others. I ripped it apart and removed all the seams except for the front buttons and button hole placket. I re-cut the shirt using one of my simple camp shirt patterns. There is little room for give in this area as I need some room in the bust and the shirts don't have anything extra in this area. I didn't have enough fabric for a new collar and inner front facing, if I used the old sleeves for new sleeves. I chose some quilting cotton in a 1930's reprint fabric for these new pieces.

Here's the front of the new shirt after darts and a collar are complete.

 

Instead of using the print fabric on just the collar, I used some as trim on the sleeve. Rather than looking like I "ran" out of fabric for the shirt,  I thought it gave a much more planned look to the project. I used a small band of folded fabric in the seam line of a stitched cuff for the short sleeve.

Here's the finished upcycled shirt. I think it was reasonably successful. The button closure is "backwards" as I started with a men's shirt and I wished to save this feature. The non-iron fabric does not take a crisp press easily so the shirt looks unpressed and "home sewn". Oh, well. I was not after something that would be presentable to the office, but rather something for Saturday at home. I can wash the car in that shirt. Let's see how the fabric holds up now that all the old interfacing has been removed. If it holds up to Saturday chores, I've got 5 or 6 more shirts to remake for casual wear. Now, off to convince my husband to buy more colorful business attire!

From 1952 The Sheath Dress

This is a reproduction from the Vogue Book for Better Sewing (c1952). It is the Late Day Sheath Dress. I've made it up twice; once in a printed linen and the second time in black linen. Both dresses fit well but I took a little width from the neckline between the green linen and the black linen. This drew the straps together a bit more and made the dress easier to wear.

A Blast from the Past

This piece of writing was originally published on October 26, 2007. My son was eleven at the time and I was free to write about myself and him. The blog is now defunct, out of his teenage request to not have Mum ruin his life, at least online. I'm reposting again for the holiday season.

He Does What?!

I’m about to make a confession, a confession about a secret desire. No one, not my parents or my best friends, not even my husband knows. I have an unbelievable decades-old crush on Rod Stewart. Right about now, my mother is saying "WHO?" my sisters are saying, "EEEWWW!" and my husband is saying, "WHY?" This is why no one knows and now every one knows.

I’ve had a longstanding thing about Mr. Stewart that began with the first time I heard "Maggie May." That voice! THAT HAIR! (You may have already noted the follicle similarity between Mr. Stewart and my own online avatar.)

Mom and Dad kept a tight control over the stereo and LP expenditures in our house while I was growing up. Basically, the choices boiled down to their way or the highway. While I lived with the Partridge Family, Neil Sedaka, Barry Manilow and Billy Joel, I loved the Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, and Queen, and I lusted after Rod Stewart. I dared not bring any of these bad boys of rock and roll anywhere near my mother’s Ethan Allen living room, but I never stopped drinking in every song played on the radio.

I stopped dead when Rod was played over the airwaves. I was capable of no sane thought or action. His British accented growl could make "sardines and toast" sound like something naughty. I would continue to pour milk into over flowing glasses. I would mow over Mom’s flowers. I would walk into telephone poles. I was incapable of any coordinated movement when that whiskey soaked gravelly voice flowed from the radio right into my soul.

No one noticed that I had an uncontrolled desire for this man. It was covered by a teenage awkwardness that began at the age of nine and ended at thirty-five. I had glasses, a bad haircut, chronic sinus drip, and a passion for reading which pretty much sealed up my social life and ensured that my parents left me very much alone. I was, however, skinny, real skinny, model skinny, but this was only a temporary tease for my adolescent ego. I knew, by looking at family photos, that I was headed to become an apple dumpling with cellulite.

Despite all the outward negatives, I did have one vivid imagination. In my mind, some day, some how…I would get to see Rod Stewart in concert and he might even look out to my section of the stadium and…and…

As I grew older, these fantasies grew older. They involved alcohol, cigarettes, velvet, and a tawdry lifestyle that I could never bring myself to attain. But in my mind, I would still gladly give my body, cellulite and all, if only….

Now fast forward to the present, I don’t think of Rod Stewart much any more, but every now and then, his songs are played on "oldies" radio. Such sin, Rod Stewart played on oldies radio. A quiet blush still crosses my face with "Tonight’s the Night" and I still love the name Maggie. Losing ten pounds will always result is a riotous round of "Do you Think I’m Sexy" shouted into my hairbrush as I gyrate about the bedroom dodging shoes and piles of laundry. But it has all ended today, in the post. It was a crushing blow.

My son’s "Model Railroader Magazine" arrived today. "Hey Mom, do you know Rod Stewart?" I’m thinking I’ve got to sing more quietly in the shower. "Hey, MOM! Did you hear me? Do you know Rod Stewart?"

"I know of him, Matt." I said, truthfully.

"Guess what! He’s a model railroader, just like me!"

"HE DOES WHAT?!",  I screamed. My fantasy life crumbled as I stood in the driveway staring at a feature article about my favorite sex symbol’s hobby. For God sakes, he even takes his paints and glue on tour with him. The champagne, the smoky lounges, the bear skin rug, the entire fantasy is now lying at my feet like so much spilled rail bed ballast. It’s all replaced by an image of an English eccentric in a railroad cap painting age and tarnish over miniature plastic buildings.

"I’m proud to be a railway modeler. It means more to me to be on the cover of Model Railroader than to be on the cover of a music magazine" - Rod Stewart, Model Railroader, December 2007

Rod, sweetheart, you are in my heart and in my soul, but why did you have to end it this way?

Tie Your Shoestrings Well

I will be the very first to admit that I’ve stolen the title of this blog from Werner Herzog. Mr. Herzog was interviewed on Science Friday and this is part of his answer to the despondency over the American election results. He said in part, “Tie your shoestrings well. Keep on walking.”

I think this an idea that can be applied much farther than consolation to those who are grieving their political losses. For those who have lost, they must find a way forward, listen to the lessons learned and hear the anger expressed through the voting process.

It also speaks to the winners who now carry an enormous responsibility for everyone. Take care that all are carried forward, not just the rich but the poor, the hungry, and the sick. They also must find their way forward and heal the anger that elected them and the anger spawned by their victory.

Outside the political arena, we all need to tie our shoes well. Those that grieve the loss of a loved one, struggle to face each day. They wake each morning and wonder how are they going to get through the waking hours when raw grief rides their backs like a hidden leopard ready to pounce and tear them limb from limb on the subway, at work, walking alone down the street. They wait out the day, in fear, being hunted by grief, until the sleep finally pulls them down to numbing oblivion for a few short hours. Each day, they tie their shoes well and keep walking among us, who are unconscious of their pain.

Those who are sick wade through the physical and psychological pain of illness. It is a long and lonely road full of bureaucracy and sacrifice. They must face new procedures, inadequate treatment plans, and expenses that no one should worry about while ill.  Each day they tie their shoes well and keep walking.

Parents work hard each day to provide food, shelter,  and clothing for their children. Some in the face of joblessness and homelessness. Parenting is tough even when those things are satisfied. I don’t know any parent who hasn’t knelt down at the end of a tough day and asked for the strength to carry on. Sometime the next day, they tie their shoestrings well and walk on.

We each have our own burdens, our own life stories, our own weakness, strengths and passions. Our shoes are very different one from another. That is why another famous proverb comes to mind about not judging each other until we have walked a mile in their shoes. I think I’ll keep this old proverb in mind as well as the new. These are my shoes, well worn and well tied. I’ll keep walking one foot in front of the other this day and the next but I’ll also mind those beside me who’s shoes may be broken or who are barefoot or who have stumbled and fallen.

The White Paneled Van

Some times life is sweet. I have to preface this story by saying there are many places and people in Belgium where the traditional roles of men and women are still upheld and those who cross these lines are gaped at with awe and fear.

Today, DHL "found" my house or rather a DHL subcontractor found my house. Apparently, my enraged email to them yesterday morning about missing deliveries found its way through the proper channels and into the hands of some poor, unlucky sod who's job it was to "cleanup" DHL's little messes. 

So this afternoon, an unmarked, windowless, white paneled van lumbered up my driveway; the kind of van always used in horror flicks. As the driver spied me in the yard, he slowed down....reeaaallll slow....I just knew he was taking in a good look and I'm thinking, "Lord almighty, another one has lost his way using his GPS and not his mind again." (The maps are incorrect for some systems in my little corner of the world.)

 So, since he was having a good look, I gave him a little more....get your mind outta the gutter. I was dressed like a farm hand going out to milk..jeans, husband's flannel shirt, muck boots and a knit skull cap. I raised the sledge and slammed the wedge through the wood and the splits flew across the path of the truck. He slammed on his brakes and I picked up the axe, put the sharpening stone in my back pocket, wiped the sweat off my face and sauntered up to the van while running my finger along the edge of the axe as if to test the blade. I can't sharpen a pencil, but I can act like I can if an unmarked white paneled van is my driveway.

I was greeted by a small, sweaty man sliding nervously out of the driver's seat. The guy was shaking. Papers were flying. A copy of my email fluttered down to my feet. "Attention client en colore" was written in red ink at the top. He stutters,  "Mme Diedra...." I cut him off with a gutteral "Oui" in backwoods Quebecois ...and then out comes a flood gate of French apology and he shakes and sweats himself around to the back of the van. Two boxes appear and at this point, I realize this poor guy is from DHL and my Christmas boxes have arrived. But this guy is so far gone in his imagination, I might as well keep up the pretense. He pushes the packages in my direction and I, with my hands full of lumberjack axe, grunt and point to the ground next to the van. He can't break his sight line with me and shoves the boxes to the side as if they contain TNT. I sign while he utters more French apologies and I remain silent. I nod a g'day to the man. Stepping once more up to the fire wood, I split the next log  perfectly sending another piece flying just in front of the van. The man spun gravel to get the heck outta there.

I'm not exactly sure if the house is going to back in DHL's good graces, but thank you Dad, for treating me like a son, at least some of the time. My skill bank is vast and large and sometimes put to messing with people's heads. Forgive me.

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

-Robert A. Heinlein

I came across this quote today.  I think is speaks about the education we all wish we had as students. None of those things are easily quantifiable by a machine scored exam. They are only accomplished by mentorship and practice. We need more of the generalists in action.

New Look 6808

 My tulle skirt needs a blouse, an navy linen blouse. This one is New Look 6808. I made a size 16 with a FBA to a C-cup.

 Here is "Judy" wearing the ensemble.

And here is me, before a straight line wind from a summer thunderstorm ended all hopes of outdoor photos for the day.

Endive Salad

Mother-in-law's Endive Salad

This is a recipe where there are no exact quantities but rather some approximate ratios to observe. You may adjust the quantities based on your personal taste or ingredient availability.

Ingredients:

   Curly endive

   Two or three small boiled, cooled and peeled white potatoes.

   White vinegar

   Pumpkin seed oil

   Salt

 

 

Wash and tear enough curly endive to fill your salad bowl.  Slice the potatoes thinly. Make a dressing. The pumpkin seed oil is strongly flavored and the amount of salt is high for the salad. You really want to have just a small amount of dressing. For the salad pictured above, which is four generous portions, I used 1 Tablespoon of pumpkin seed oil, 2 tsp white vinegar, and 1/2 tsp of salt. Blend well with a fork and dress the salad. Toss well before serving.