the cassandra pages

A Report on my Summer Sewing Binge - Part 2

   

In this post, I'll talk about the costs of the sewing projects, my satisfaction with the results and a critique of their shortcomings, and what I hope to sew in the future.

Economics

So, at the end of my current sewing spree, I ended up with six new garments -- three tops, one jumpsuit, one pair of pants, and one dress -- and one previously purchased and now altered top.

The total fabric cost was $130.98 (US$). I also spent $31.69 for the patterns used in these projects. I plan to re-use all of those, plus there are 15 patterns in the Japanese sewing book that I haven’t used at all yet. I spent about $20.00 on sewing notions: thread, buttons, fusible interfacing, and a roll of pattern-tracing paper. So the grand total for the sewing project expenses was $182.67.

If bought in stores, similar garments in equivalent fabrics (pure linen or linen-blends) might cost $65 for each of the tops, $150 for the jumpsuit, $50-100 for the pants, and $180 or more for the dress. That total comes to somewhere around $575 - $625, which I never would have spent. 

The orange linen top that I altered (below left) originally cost $49.90 and was unwearable; now it fits properly and I'll wear it a lot.

From the time I was young, sewing my own clothes was the difference between having new, unique, and more plentiful clothes, and making do with older things and buying a few new ones from time to time. This summer, prior to deciding to sew, I considered buying a linen dress ($70 online) and a pair of light-colored linen slacks from Uniqlo ($45) in addition to the skirt and top I ordered from Grae Cove ($54.90  + 49.90). That would have been a total of $219.00 for four pieces, and that would have been it. In the end I spent $182.67 on the sewing projects and 104.80 on the two pieces I ordered, so my total expenditure for eight garments, rather than four, was $287.47.

Quality and Satisfaction

For those of us who like to knit and sew, the time we spend isn't really a factor in the economic equation, because we enjoy doing it and presumably have enough skill or determination to figure we're learning more in the process, that we have the skill and/or patience to persevere until we have a decent result, and therefore our time won't be wasted. Even so, in recent years many former sewers have complained that it isn't worth it to sew for yourself anymore because fabric has gotten so expensive. I beg to disagree. You do have to spend some time online researching fabric sources if you don't live near good stores, but beautiful fabric is available and if you look, you can find it at a good price. For US sewers, sites like FabricDepot are quite an amazing resource. High-end designer fabrics can be found at places like Mood Fabrics, and I've found and purchased many unusual fabrics, including Indian and Asian textiles, from sellers on Etsy.

   

 

I'm happy with the garments I made. The purple linen dress is totally unique, feels great to wear, and not only did I learn a lot making it, it's inspiring me to learn more about Japanese design. I've been living in the white linen-cotton pants (above) - a nice, lighter change from my usual jeans. The tops have all been in regular rotation, and they've held up well when I washed them. The crinkly linen-rayon white top (below) needs a good ironing after washing, so i don't think I will take it when I travel, but the white-and-blue tie-die print will be coming along with me for sure, as will the red floral rayon top (both shown at the top of this post) which can be dressy or casual.

 

Fitting pants is always tricky. If I make another Zadie jumpsuit, which I hope to do, I will probably alter the leg width and crotch seam slightly to decrease the rise and slim the legs a bit -- but wearing the jumpsuit is so totally comfortable as it is -- it feels like pajamas. I also forgot that I am longwaisted when I cut the jumpsuit bodice, and made a note to myself on the pattern to add an inch of length next time around. For the linen pants, I already altered the rise and crotch seam after basting the seams, and would do it even a little more in another iteration; I would also use wider elastic for the back waist and secure it with more rows of horizontal stitching. Using stay tape on the pocket openings made a big difference; I didn't do this on the jumpsuit and don't like how much the pockets gape open. But none of these criticisms of the fit or sewing techniques will keep me from wearing or enjoying the garments.

Future Plans

The gaps in my wardrobe were much bigger for summer clothes than winter ones. However, I'm already thinking ahead. I have a large piece of lightweight grey-striped linen that will become a long blouse, from a pattern in the Japanese sewing book. I also have a great rayon viscose print that will become a dress, but in a simple pattern to show off the print.

If I make another jumpsuit, it will be with sleeves and in a somewhat heavier fabric for colder weather. The most exciting prospect is a vintage Issey Miyake pattern I found on Etsy. I used to own a related pattern of his for a dress, but never made it. This one contains a jacket, shirt, and skirt -- and I like these separates better. I can't wait to make that skirt (see the schematic below), perhaps in a woven Japanese ikat if I can find something suitable, or a lightweight wool.

What About You?

Obviously, I've been sewing a long time. If you haven't, what you see here probably feels daunting, but I want to encourage you. A lot of us learned to sew and did a few projects, only to give up because the fit was wrong, or we lacked the experience to create garments that didn't look handmade (in a embarrassing way!) What I want to say is that you don't have to tackle a complicated project off the bat -- and you shouldn't. But ANYONE can make a simple linen or cotton top, dress, or skirt. If you want to try, my suggestion is to take a course at a local sewing store or community center, or even online, OR find a friend who's willing to help you get started, or re-started. Ask advice on good patterns to begin with, and start with a traditional, purchased paper pattern in an envelope from a company like McCall's, Butterick, Simplicity, or Very Easy Vogue -- they will contain clear instructions, you won't have to add seam allowances or trace anything, and the pattern instructions will help you learn. if you're using a local chain store like JoAnn's or Fabricville, ask for help at the cutting counter to make sure your pattern and fabric are a good match. Buy fabric you really like, but don't begin with something super-expensive, and don't start out with stretchy knits or flimsy or slippery fabrics, no matter how alluring they look in the store. You want dimensionally-stable cloth that isn't going to stretch or slip as you cut it and sew it; learn and hone your skills on that before you move on to more challenging fabrics. Also, ironing is a very important part of sewing, so make sure you have a good iron with adjustable heat settings and steam, and a sturdy ironing board.

I'm a great believer in the satisfaction that comes from making and doing things yourself, and find this an antidote to so much of what feels wrong about our disposable, ever-faster, highly commercial, media-driven culture. It's a great feeling to create something from scratch that is uniquely yours, to use it and enjoy it, and to learn from the project so that you are inspired for the next one. The biggest key to success is to start simply, and find some helpful friends or resource people who can advise you about your choices and your process when you're having difficulties. Nobody is born knowing how to do these things! Just as in cooking, we all have to learn, we all get better at it gradually, and there is always something cool and exciting to aspire to in the future.

 

A Report on my Summer Sewing Binge - Part 1

I've always kept my threads and sewing tools in a tackle box. Don't laugh -- there are precious things in it. For instance, in the top drawer you can see my great-grandmother's silver thimble, and a sealskin thimble brought to me by my niece from Sitka, Alaska, where she did a writer's residency. In the lower drawer are several spools of silk thread that were my mother-in-law's, and a package of hand-sewing needles bought in Mexico City. If I look closely, I think I also see a bell that was on our first cat's collar.

The sewing I've been doing this summer started as an experiment. As in my food choices, I've wanted to become more conscious of where our clothing comes from, who our dollars support or hurt, its environmental impact, and how the industry operates. I am neither a purist nor a crusader: I've bought plenty of clothes at Zara, H&M, Gap, Old Navy, and many other clothing companies that use offshore manufacturing. But like my friend K., who writes the blog Passage des Perles, I do shop at thrift stores, and am becoming more and more unwilling to support the fast-fashion industry, distressed by its reduced fabric quality and construction, and underwhelmed by the styles as well as their positioning to a much younger consumer. I also didn't want to spend $200-$300 on just one or two items at local boutiques run by Quebec designers. For that amount of money, I wondered what I could actually make myself, and whether or not I'd be happy with the result. I've enjoyed sewing clothes my entire life, but haven't done much in the past ten or fifteen years ago, partly because of the decline of local fabric stores selling high-quality fabrics for apparel. (Montreal still has several quilting, upholstery, and costume-fabric stores.) What I've learned over the past month of research and sewing has been enlightening, so I wanted to share it. I'll divide the following list into two parts, spread over two blog posts, and try to make it interesting for the non-sewers as well.

1. Motivation
2. Inspiration
3. Planning
4. Acquiring patterns and materials
5. Construction
6. Economics - total cost, and comparison to ready-made
7. Quality
8. Satisfaction
9. Future Plans

OK! Let's get started!

Motivation

When we moved to this apartment a year ago, I got rid of everything in my closet that I wasn't wearing regularly. If the items were still in good shape, I donated them to local thrift shops,  and the rest I recycled or threw out, except for a few beautiful handknit sweaters that I gave to friends. I had been holding onto garments that were twenty and thirty years old, so this was a real purge, long overdue. The biggest hole it created was for summer clothes: when spring came this year, I realized I didn't have much besides jeans and tee shirts, a few tops, one pair of linen pants, and a few special-occasion dresses and long skirts. 

So, I did some shopping...and I wasn't happy with what I found. Not only did the clothes seem expensive, but even in higher-end fast-fashion stores like Zara and Mango, I was disappointed in the uneven quality of the fabrics, the lack of natural fibers, and the cheap construction. Uniqlo was better, but I wasn't really in the market for basics. I buy my jeans at Old Navy, but most of their other clothes tend to be cheap imports in synthetic fabrics. I was looking for linen, or linen-cotton blends. I also checked thrift and vintage stores, where I've found a number of treasures in the past, but didn't find anything this time around. 

Inspiration

Since I follow a lot of sewing and knitting sites on Instagram, and had been searching online, of course I began to get ads for linen clothing and fabrics. After reading a lot of reviews in early spring, I did order a pure linen asymmetrical skirt and a matching top from a direct-to-consumer fashion company called Grae Cove that sells simply-designed linen dresses, skirts, tops and pants. The headquarters are in California and Hong Kong, the factories are Chinese, and -- for what it's worth -- the company has both a sustainability statement and clearly stated policies about ethical workplace conditions and compensation, though I had no way to really check. (It is true that linen and wool both have lower environmental impact than cotton or synthetics.) Anyway, the items I ordered arrived quickly and were well made, at a good price, in high-quality fabric in a beautiful color. The skirt fit perfectly and I've worn it all summer. But the top, for which I had used their size guide, was way too large and boxy. I didn't want to return it, and figured eventually I'd cut it apart or see if I could alter it to fit. But the main message I got from that order was that I should try making simple clothes like these myself, spending my own time doing something that - for me anyway - is fun and constructive. Since I hadn't sewn in a while, I was a little unsure how it would go, but when I found excellent quality linen online, I got inspired, and took the plunge. I also did a lot of pattern-shopping online among independent designers and small companies that I'm happy to support, as well as acquiring the two Japanese sewing books I mentioned in an earlier post.

Planning and Acquisition

The linen, linen blends, and rayon fabrics I ordered were with specific projects and patterns in mind, and I had a few pieces in my stash as well. I wanted to make one or two dresses, a jumpsuit, a couple of new tops, and at least one pair of pants. First, I studied the pattern specifications carefully, since patterns almost always suggest the most suitable types and weights of fabric, and tried to match my fabric choices with those. Buying fabric online is tricky because you can't feel it, or hold a length in your hand to test the drape, or hold it up to the light to see how opaque or transparent it is -- and all of these things are important. It's even hard to judge the scale of printed or woven designs, which is why online stores often include a ruler in one of the photos of the fabrics they're offering. I'm an experienced sewer, but it still makes me nervous to buy fabric this way: cut lengths of fabric are not returnable! Fortunately, my choices worked out pretty well.

I also live within a five-minute walk from the local Fabricville (a Canadian equivalent for JoAnn Fabrics in the US), where I rarely find fabric I love, but can get every conceivable notion from elastic and interfacing to extra sewing machine bobbins.

There was a learning curve for a Brother sewing machine I was given by K.; I wanted to use it for these projects but only after sewing test swatches and becoming quite familiar with it. There were definitely things to learn, both by reading the manual and by trial and error, so that took a fair amount of time. Sewing has also evolved in recent years: I'm still finding out about the newest fabric markers, next-generation fusible interfacings and seam stabilizers, as well as getting used to printing out .pdf patterns bought online or tracing the ones in the backs of sewing books, adding seam allowances, making alterations, and setting up a system for storing them.

Construction

Then it was time to cut! I'm in a new space, without the big tables of my former studio, but to my surprise it's turned out that this small workroom is the most efficient sewing space I've ever had. The table for the sewing machine and the work table form an L, and across from the machine I have the ironing board, so everything is within a few steps. I did most of the cutting on the floor, which reminded me of being in high school, when Mom and I always cut our patterns on the carpeted dining room floor. The difference is that my body is many decades older, and this was a bit hard on my back and knees after a while -- but I figured it was good for me ;-)

The actual sewing went pretty well. I had self-drafted a top in two hemline variations copied from an existing favorite, originally from H&M. For the rest of the projects, I had chosen pretty simple patterns without fussy tailoring details. The only difficulties were in the somewhat minimal Japanese instructions, which definitely required some prior knowledge of sewing, and figuring out their unfamiliar fitting methods of folding and draping fabric, but I was both intrigued and impressed with the clarity of the pictures and instructions for all of these patterns. For Paper Theory's "Zadie" jumpsuit and "Block Tee" I also found numerous helpful notes online that other sewers had written as they made their garments, along with YouTube instructions that helped with things like making neat bias bindings for the v-necks of my self-drafted tops. The internet is a godsend for do-it-yourselfers, and I was grateful for the help there, which has now replaced the voluminous instructions on the Vogue patterns I grew up with, and my late grandmother's expertise when I would get stuck.

In the next post, I'll assess what I ended up with after this sewing blitz: the quantity and quality of the garments, and whether or not it was worth it to spend my money and time in this way.

 

Sewing a Japanese Dress

Life has felt kind of fragmented lately, between  Montreal and central New York, and it's been hard to sustain the necessary concentration for writing and artwork -- but I've felt like I needed a break anyway. Sewing and cooking have both felt like good things to do. For the past three days, I've been working on a new project from the "Nani Iro Sewing Studio" book. Nani Iro is a Japanese clothing and textile designer, and in this book she presents 18 patterns for tops, dresses, pants and coats. All have simple shapes, but in some cases the construction is both clever and tricky. That was the case with the first project I chose, the "Elbow Sleeve Pocket Dress" shown here. I got completely fascinated with it from the minute I unfolded the pattern sheets from their envelope in the back of the book.

There are just five pieces: the dress front and back, the sleeve extensions, and the back and front neck facings. Simple, right? Well, not exactly, because the shape of the dress is made by making precisely-placed folds, which are partially or fully sttiched, and end up forming two pockets in the front, softly extended shoulders, and two folds in the back of the garment which attach with buttons to draw in the sides at the waist. It's so clever, simple, and timelessly elegant -- I also love that there are no zippers, no set-in sleeves, and that almost every step could be done on the machine, without additional fussy hand-sewing. 

The hemline is asymmetrical, with the front shorter than the back. I had bought 2 yards of this purple linen with a tiny woven stripe, but the pattern (which I got after I ordered the fabric...) called for 2.5 yards. It occured to me while laying out the pattern that by folding the cloth differently, I could use the leftover width along the selvage edge to make a horizontal band to add to the hem. This resulted in the called-for length and also added some visual interest -- and I'm really happy with how that came out.

I've been toying for years with the idea of making clothes from these Japanese dress books, but I never took the plunge. I think that a novice sewer would have trouble following the directions, but if you have some dressmaking experience, you can definitely do it. You just have to study the diagrams and instructions carefully BEFORE cutting and before sewing anything, because they are quite different from the traditional patterns most of us are used to in the west.

I was also helped by the fact that my friend K. gave me a machine she wasn't using a little while ago, and during the last trip to the U.S. I bought a foot pedal for it. My old Singer is a great machine, heavier-duty than this one,  with a much longer throat so I can use it for quilting and heavy fabrics. But this newer machine has several features that helped a lot. One was a very good overcasting foot that allowed me to overcast all the edges of this easily-fraying linen, without needing a serger (which I don't have.) Another was the excellent buttonhole attachment. The machine fed the fabric very well and the tension was perfect -- I just needed to get used to using it.

The linen, from The Linen Lab in South Korea, was a joy to work with; sometimes I wonder why I sew anything else (I guess it's because we have winter here.) I'm happy thinking of the other pieces I bought that are waiting to be turned into garments, and looking forward to wearing this new dress, which will be perfect for the hot humid summer weather we're still waiting for here in Montreal.

A page from the instructions.

 

The front folds are stitched to form pockets and bring in the waistline.

Closeup of the hem.

The back folds in, and closes with buttons, or can be left loose.

 

 

The Brightness of Flowers, the Darkness of the Sky

I've been sewing for myself this week, for the first time since we moved here a year ago, and it felt like such a pleasure. The fabric is a rayon viscose twill -- a remnant I bought in Lisbon 3 1/2 years ago. And I self-drafted the pattern from a favorite v-neck top, which meant looking up some techniques online for adding and eliminating darts, and for drafting sleeves based on the circumference of the armhole. I had to adjust as I went, a little bit, but it was fine.

The fabric turned out to be quite slippery so it was necessary to stay-stitch all the edges, use twice as many pins as usual, baste some seams first, and then finish all the seams on the inside of the garment. I did a lot of hand-stitching too, on the neck binding and the hems, which I do enjoy, but it's fussy. The result pleased me, though, and I'm sure I'll wear it a lot.

Meanwhile, we're at the height of actual spring blooms. J. and I have been dieting but we treated ourselves to tiny gelato/hot chocolate sundaes at Leonidas the other day, and ate them in the Pierre Elliot Trudeau rose garden in the Town of Mont-Royal, which is an easy bike ride from our apartment. The roses are just starting but the irises and peonies were in full, magnificent bloom, and it did my heart good, after these days of wildfires to the north of us, to see such beauty and color.

Montreal was spared the worst of the smoke and smog, but it was dangerously awful to the south and west of us. We've had a lot of rain the past two days, so I hope that will help the fires to abate.

This was my view on the worst day we had -- bad, but nothing like it was for many of you.

I was horrified by the photographs and air quality readings from Toronto, Ottawa, Syracuse, NYC, Philadelphia, Washington, D.C. And before anyone blames Quebec, let's please remember that this can and will happen anywhere there are forests, as our climate comes under greater and greater pressure, with the fires contributing to the vicious cycle. Only the force of collective human determination will change the trend, and it is up to all of us, but particularly industry and government. Please do what you can as an individual, and let's apply as much pressure as we can to our elected officials, and support all of the progressive initiatives aimed at combating the greed, waste, and lack of will that have gotten us to this point.

Stitching my way toward spring

I like to think that my great-grandmother's thimble made her finger as sweaty as it does mine. I like to think about the quilts she and my grandmother made together, and sometimes I sleep beneath them. We were all named Elizabeth... Not long before she died, in 1992 at age 92, my grandmother asked me, "You have Libby's thimble, don't you?"

"Yes," I said, "would you like it back now?"

"No," she said, sitting back in her chair, satisfied. "I just wanted to make sure where it was."

Each stitch is a tiny step closer to clarity, to restoration, to the spring that is inching its way north. Across the city, a friend writes that she's just bought a balloon for a friend in hospital. The morning's snow flurries have given way to bright skies, and the afternoon sun butters the walls of the carpentry school, where students brush off sawdust and look forward to the weekend, a few beers, some music with friends. I'll see an old dear friend tomorrow, and sing a mass by Delibes on Sunday. Another line of stitches, another pocket to hold our warmth next winter. Such inconsistency in these stitches, these steps! I've been doing this my whole life and I'm still a beginner.

Easters Past

Ah, those were the sartorial days! I was looking through old photos for Throwback Thursday on FB, and found this gem from the spring of 1971, too good not to share with you here. My friend college Barbara S. had come home with me for a weekend, or maybe it was Easter -- but check out those outfits! I had made that dress (yes, it really is purple paisley) and still remember how soft the fabric felt; I think it was viyella. The unflattering shoes are definitely vintage, not to mention the long hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and Barb's purple velveteen bell bottoms and embroidered shirt.

I have some other gems from those decades that I'll post eventually.

Gosh.

 

Manon's Latest Sewing Project

What can I say?

Hope you all are staying cool where you are. It's a little better here today, with rain forecast for the evening. No excuses for the Couturier Cat, however. Gotta keep those sweaty little paws busy!

This will be a close-fitting, cap-sleeve blouse with vertical princess darts, eventually. It's my third and final piece of Indian block-print cloth, and probably my favorite. However, I noticed it was getting orange dye on my hands as I worked. Does anyone know a good way to "set" dyes like this? Does white vinegar in the rinse water work?