Posted in sewing patterns, Stylish Books

Is Sewing a Domestic Art?

Posted on by ggherself

If you’re of a certain age, you probably remember something in junior high school called home economics. I know I do.

I remember that first “home ec” classroom I walked into my first week in grade seven. While the boys went off to something called “Shop” class to do things I never really understood at the time, we girls marched off into a fantasy world of cooking and sewing. I’m not sure when I had my lightbulb moment, but I do know that within the first few weeks of classes, I was in love with my sewing class. My love of cooking would take decades longer to kick in.

Now, as I look back at those golden days of selecting my first sewing pattern and entering the world of fabric shopping, I realize that some people looking on from the outside may have considered this to be a domestic art. And when I think about domestic arts, I think of housekeeping.

Here are some of the patterns I remember making in the 1970s. I was on a roll then, and none of them said housekeeping to me!

Historically, sewing was a vital skill in many households, primarily handled by women. Men, however, have also practiced sewing in various contexts throughout history. Consider that even contemporary fashion designer Marc Jacobs counts sewing among his essential skills as a haute couture designer.

Sewing encompasses a wide range of activities, including mending clothes, creating garments from scratch as a way to economize, and embellishing fabrics through techniques like embroidery and quilting. It’s these aspects of sewing—mending and sewing to save money—that made sewing one of those housekeeping activities. Sewing to save money in the twenty-first century, though, is something of a myth.

Two years ago, I stumbled upon an article about the magazine Good Housekeeping. It was about its celebration of one hundred years of publication. That got me curious about how far women’s magazines have come or not come since their inception. So, I explored early issues, moved on to the 1960s and 1970s issues when the women’s movement surely must have had an impact and then examined some more current ones. A lot has changed, and yet a lot has stayed the same. Then, I had an idea for a new book.

Enter that gaggingly stupid #tradwife movement that has sprung up online over the past few years. And when I heard about the “stay-at-home girlfriend” meme among the young and underemployed, I was sure there was a book here.

Earlier this year, the newest one was finally published. My heroine, Erica Flanagan, emerged in a very minor role at the end of It All Begins With Goodbye and has now found her new life.

The new book is called Good Housekeeping: My Unexpected Adventures in Domesticity. Here’s what it’s about.

ERICA FLANAGAN, uber-feminist and one of the stars of the afternoon television talk show, has honed her on-air bitch persona to perfection. But Erica is becoming increasingly impatient with the new breed of millennial women who seem to be regressing into homemaker mode. When she finally blows her stack on live television, her boss puts her on a six-month sabbatical. In all her fifty-three years on the planet, workaholic Erica has never had time on her hands. Erica needs a project.

With a burning desire to show all those young, stay-at-home, housewife women a thing or two, Erica embarks on a project to prove to the younger generation of women that they’re wasting their time on meaningless home-based activities—that they need to get a life. And if Erica, who doesn’t have a domestic bone in her body, can do it, she will have won the argument. But she never considered the consequences of the social media backlash.

Between her thirteen-year-old social media-savvy daughter Maddie, a budding filmmaker and the mysterious Betty Crocket, who keeps showing up unannounced, Erica finds herself on a wild domestic adventure and unexpectedly discovers she might not be who she thinks she is.

It’s not about sewing, but it’s got a few of those elements in it, and I’m told it’s funny—even hilarious at some points. You might enjoy it.

Posted in fashion history, sewing patterns, Style, Stylish Books

Vintage Sewing Patterns―Revisiting the 1960s

Posted on by ggherself

I don’t know about you, but I miss seeing Midge Maisel in all her 1960s fashion glory in The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel. I enjoyed this series, not least because of the extraordinary costumes. I’m only slightly obsessed with the 1960s (*bats eyes*), and this show gives us the 1960s in spades.

When I was writing my book Kat’s Kosmic Blues (the sequel-prequel to The Year I Made 12 Dresses), I immersed myself in the 1960s, and one of the most fabulous books I now own is Madly Marvellous, all about the costumes in, you guessed it, The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel.

I’m so obsessed that one of the characters in my new book, which is just about to be published (more about that in an upcoming post), is a character from 1960. All of this reminded me of a presentation I gave for an online sewing summit a couple of years ago. It was on the topic of using vintage patterns. But most people who talk about vintage patterns mainly focus on earlier ones—the 1940s and 1950s. I have no interest in reproducing earlier looks because they are too costumey to be useful in my life. But the 1960s? I can tweak those!

Have a look at an inspiration board I created a few years ago for a cruise collection I designed for myself. Several patterns from the 1960s were as much of an inspiration as anything else. Then more recently, 1970s patterns have inspired me as I planned sewing projects for seasonal wardrobes.

And although we love them, there are differences between the patterns of today and those of yesteryear.

First, there are style details that tell of an era. These are giveaways like the mod shift dress line of the late 1960s or the massive shoulders of the 1980s. And some of these shapes were related to the fact that undergarments were different then.

For example, this vintage bra dictated the bodice shape of its era.

And this wasp-waisted pattern from the 1950s required a girdle.

Second, the sizing was different and evolved through the ages. These days, new sewists are generally mortified to learn that if they wear a size eight in ready-to-wear, they’ll wear a size 14 in a sewing pattern.

The truth is that sewing pattern sizing itself changed four times before 1972, and many of the patterns you’ll find these days fall into what I call “vintage fit”—note that the waistline measurements were much smaller proportionately.

Today’s bodies don’t generally fit into vintage patterns without some modification.

You also might be interested to know that between 1967 and 1972, the bust point apex was lowered on sewing patterns by 5/8 (1.5 cm) because softer bra styles demanded it. At the same time, they added 1 inch to the waistline. Remember that before those years, women usually wore girdles. So, changes in undergarments also resulted in sizing changes.

Here’s how a size 16 sewing pattern changed:

Another note about sizing: Before the 1970s, vintage pattern envelopes contained only one size rather than the multiple sizes we see today.

Next are the fabric recommendations. A dress pattern that you might think ought to be made in a knit will often have recommendations for only woven fabrics. This is where you need to be careful.

This, of course, means that the pattern is created with more design ease. I’ll give you a few more hints about this when I show you my project in the next section. Also, on fabric selection: Fabric widths have gotten bigger.

Finally, there are differences in techniques for sewing these patterns. Seam allowances (varied from one patternmaker to another, but by the 1960s, they were more standardized- 5/8 in or 1.5 cm)

Use of facings: for example, necklines were almost always faced. Today, you might have been sewing for years and never have used a facing.

  • Hems were generally created to be deeper and hand-sewn.
  • Interfacing was stitched in before the days of iron-on.
  • Centred zippers were the norm. Sometimes, we used lapped zippers. Now, you could put in an invisible one.

What this means is I always make a muslin for best results—a step I highly recommend.

Here are some examples of vintage patterns I’m using now. Let me tell you why I chose these ones.

McCall’s 5337 – 1960 (Size 16 ― Bust 36)

I’m in love with boleros, and today’s bolero patterns are often too detailed.

Simplicity 7264 – 1967 (Size 16 ― Bust 36)

I love the idea of a dress and matching jacket. It doesn’t fit that well into my current lifestyle, but if I choose the fabric carefully, I think I could make it work. But it does have one design problem― a flared skirt that screams 1960s. I will have to narrow the flare on this one.

I’ve made three LFJ’s, and this pattern looks like it might work for them.

McCall’s 2226 ― 1969 (Size 14 ― Bust 36)

This pattern reminds me of styles I loved as a teenager. But there’s something else. It has a funnel neckline that I think transcends the decades. Again, though, it has an A-line skirt that screams 1969, and really, unless you long for a Woodstock summer, who wants 1969 again? I’ll take a wedge out of the skirt and lengthen it from just below the waist.

McCall’s 2401―1999 (Size 14-16-18)

This one has a lot going for it for me.

  • It has a timeless style― and one I am especially drawn to.
  • It offers neckline variations
  • It offers sleeve variations

…thus providing endless opportunities.

Of course, I do love the style of the 1920s and all those fabulous flapper dresses. But my current lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to them. Now, my writing is a different thing completely. You may remember Frannie Phillips?

Posted in sewing, sewing patterns, Shirt-making

Sewing Through 2023: Taking Stock

Posted on by ggherself

Another year is coming to a close, and as I write this, it is the eve of New Year’s Eve 2023. And isn’t it the time of year when most people begin to assess the twelve months that have just elapsed before looking ahead to the next twelve? We’re like that as human beings—taking stock of the past before moving ahead.

So, I’ve been scrolling through Instagram over the past week, taking in all the “best nine of 2023” sewing projects completed by some terrific sewists I follow. So, of course, I thought I’d do the same. The problem I discovered, however, is that I don’t have nine “best-of” projects. I’m an aficionado of slow sewing at the best of times, and I believe that in 2023, I may have reached my slow-sewing pinnacle. I completed eight projects. But there were eight projects I enjoyed from beginning to end!

The year began with the acquisition of a new combination cover-stitch/serger for Christmas 2022. Of course, my first project was a challenge to myself to complete a project entirely using this new machine—no sewing machine permitted. To that end, I selected 6418 and leftover pieces of fabric and serged my way through to a new top. It was such fun!

In the spring of 2023, Fabricville (Canadian superstore for fabric shopping) asked me to participate in their semi-annual blog once again. I chose Vogue 1805 for my project, loving the twist on a striped shirt. I truly loved the finished product, but I do have to admit that I have yet to find an occasion to wear it! Maybe our upcoming trip to Brazil and the Amazon might be the pace? We’ll see.

Then I rediscovered Jalie’s “Charlotte” sweater pattern and whipped up a tweedy version with statement buttons I ordered from a wonderfully talented artisan on Etsy. The hand-made buttons were created by a woman in France, and this is not the last piece where her buttons will appear. (BTW, her shop is BoutonsdAuj). I got a lot of wear out of this one—it was great for flying!

In the fall, I chose McCall’s 8343 for my Fabricville blog project. This was such a fun one to make from French terry. Again, I have yet to wear it, but I made it to be worn in the dead of winter, and we have yet to have any really wintery winter weather here in Toronto. That day is not far off, though!

I also love making men’s shirts. So, when I did my twice-a-year foray to the Queen Street West fabric district here in Toronto, I asked my husband to select some fabric for a new bespoke shirt. If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I created bespoke shirt patterns for both my husband and my son a while ago. I pulled out my husband’s and made this shirt for him.

As the year drew to a close, I finally used a piece of Joesph Ribkoff fabric that I’d bought earlier in the year. I thought it would make a terrific Vogue 9227. Hmm…not so much. I used the reverse side of the fabric for the contrast, and that should have been perfect. However, the black of the reverse wasn’t nearly as black as it should have been to complement the velvety blue and black exterior. I didn’t like the outcome as much as I thought I would, but I will wear this one anyway.

I closed off the year by finishing another Jalie Charlotte in red sweatshirt fabric embellished with tiny sparky dots (and whose inside is a fuzzy furry finish) just in time to wear it under the Christmas tree. It’s so warm and cozy that I believe I’ll get a lot of wear out of it through the upcoming long winter. We’re not off to warmer climes until March this year, so I have lots of time to consider making a few new pieces for that trip.

So, in my defence of making only eight pieces this year, I also wrote two books! It All Begins with Goodbye features Charlotte “Charlie” Hudson, the heroine of The Year I Made 12 Dresses and her foray into making a classic French jacket.

The second one I wrote during the past year is due out in January! Here’s a sneak peek…

When popular daytime TV host and uber-feminist Erica Flanagan skewers a young “trad wife” influencer on live TV, she soon finds herself on a forced sabbatical, searching for a project to keep her busy. Without a single domestic bone in her body, Erica embarks on a blogging project determined to prove that domesticity is a con. But her domestic adventure turns into a quagmire of personal discovery —and what she discovers is herself.

Posted in Fashion, sewing, Style

Fall Fashion Trends and Fall Fashion Sewing—And Never the Twain Shall Meet (evidently!)

Posted on by ggherself

I love the fall. It is, without a doubt, my favourite season, although after mentioning the crisp weather and the fall colours, I’m hard-pressed to tell you anything else I love about it. It is the harbinger of winter—which, in this neck of the woods, can be pretty unpredictable and nastily cold. The fall colours last only for a month or two (then there’s late November). And the most annoying thing of all: I never know what to wear!

This fashion issue is problematic here in Toronto because the fall mornings can be cool to cold, while the afternoons are often sunny and warmish. And then there’s the question of when the urban changeover arrives. Last year, my husband and I spent most of September in Spain and Portugal (an absolutely perfect trip, BTW), and the morning after we returned home, we went for a walk. The great seasonal changeover had occurred. Almost to a person, everyone had gone from wearing light colours to black—unrelenting black. Now, I am a fan of black, but this was so abrupt, and it happens every season. Black is the colour for downtown wear. So, where does that leave me and my sewing at this point? Working on it.

I decided to do a bit of research to figure out what’s on trend for this fall. I do love the trend thing, then I go and wear what I want. But still.

I found articles telling me the nine best trends for fall 2023, the 18 best things, the 20 most wonderful trends, the 14 things you need, blah-blah-blah. Was there anything worth taking away from this excess verbiage in support of buying more than you need? Maybe.

I noticed a few common threads. First and foremost, I noticed the colour of the season seems to be red. This trend makes me happy since I look great in red. Too bad none of my planned sewing projects include red! (These are examples of fall 2023 runway looks. I like the red, but really? Would you wear these? Where would you wear these?)

Then there’s sheer stuff (nope), metallics (maybe a bit of Christmas sparkle?), and then all that oversized stuff that looks like the models are swimming in clothes they bought by mistake because it wasn’t available in their size. Oh, my!

 I do like the black coat trend, though. I guess I’m on trend there because I own about five such coats for varying temperatures (not to mention the already noted Toronto issue). Then there were white shirts—I have the one covered. Winter florals? Not going to happen here. And soft touch fabrics? That one I can get on board with. So, I’m making some soft-fabric things!

First up was another iteration of the Jalie Charlotte sweater I made last year for spring in a grey geometric pattern. I made my recent fall version in a double-knit sweatshirt fabric resembling tweed. I love the short length, and I added some buttons from my favourite artist-button maker on Etsy (Buttons D’anjou) to jazz it up a bit.

Next up was a cozy sweatshirt elevated by its cross-over shawl collar and another of the beautiful art pieces in the form of a leftover button.

The fabric is a soft, brushed-back sweatshirt fabric, and it was a bit challenging to sew in this pattern—McCall’s 8343, view C.

I did this piece for the Fabricville blog, and that post has more details on the actual sewing of this garment. Here’s a link to that piece.

The next project is a top I’ve been planning since I bought the Joseph Ribkoff fabric last year.

Posted in Style

What the heck is “pattern hacking” anyway? Let’s talk pattern redesign

Posted on by ggherself

How often do you make a new garment following every single line of the pattern and every single direction about how to sew it together? If you’ve been sewing for more than a nanosecond, I’m willing to bet that it is rare for you to do this. And how often do you look at a commercial pattern and say to yourself, “I generally like it, but I’m not so enamoured about the…fill in the blanks.” It could be the sleeve length, the yoke at the back that seems unnecessary, the amount of design ease. Take your pick.

So often, these days, a commercial pattern is only the beginning. Does this mean you’re “hacking” the pattern? (*rolls eyes*) Or perhaps it means you’ve found a better way to do something or a way to improve the design and fit—for you. This is what makes commercial patterns fun. So, where did we get the idea that this was “hacking?”

If you have spent more than ten seconds on Instagram, you’ve probably seen oddities as you scroll. I see scarf hacks, travel hacks, packing hacks, T-shirt hacks, cooking hacks, life hacks, and the list goes on. Hacking seems to be all over the place.

In my view, here’s what these really mean:

  • Scarf hack = scarf-tying methods
  • Travel hack = buying a shirt that rolls up small (Yes, this was really called a travel hack.)
  • Packing hack = using common sense and buying packing cubes
  • Cooking hacks = using the right tool
  • T-shirt hacks = putting it on upside down and tying it over your shoulder (or something like that)
  • Life hack = using common sense

The term’s actual meaning —at least according to online dictionaries—is gaining unauthorized access to data in a system or computer.” Computer hackers, anyone? So, I guess the idea of hacking just naturally migrated to doing “unauthorized things” to everything. This is pure BS. And, as far as I’m concerned, it denigrates what you’re doing when you redesign something. It’s a creative pursuit—unlike simply being smart enough to buy a T-shirt that doesn’t wrinkle for travelling. (*rolls eyes—again*)

And even if you believe there’s something a bit “unauthorized” about making redesign changes to your pattern, some of the pattern companies now have the nerve to suggest they’re selling a pattern designed to be hacked. Dear god, where’s the unauthorized creativity in that?

All Well Sewing Patterns offers what they call a “hacking guide.” It’s just a pattern with a simple body and variations. You take your pick. There’s nothing hacky about that—or even very creative.

(Image credit: https://allwellworkshop.com/what-is-a-hacking-guide)

Then there’s Simplicity 7376. Hacking? It’s just a pattern with variations!!

There is no such thing as pattern hacking. There is only pattern redesign. Calling it hacking is just a way for you to be tricked into thinking it’s something slightly subversive. Have a look at the patterns you own. Are there a few that could use a bit of creative redesign to improve them for you?

When I made Butterick 6324, I used View A with View B front band but not in a contrasting colour. I put it on the bias and lengthened the sleeves to make a cuff. This is a bit of pattern redesign. No hacking involved.

I made so many changes to McCalls 8086 design that it was hardly the same pattern in the end. What I liked was the shirt dress base, but I didn’t want roll-up sleeves, and the whole thing had too much design ease. So, I redesigned the sleeves and curved the body to fit better. Again, redesign.

Vogue 9270 was so awful I redesigned it late in the sewing process. It doesn’t look remotely like the original pattern, does it?

So, here’s what I’m saying. Be creative. Don’t be fooled into thinking you must use a commercial pattern design as it is presented to you. Decide what you like and how it will work for you. And have fun creating your personal design by redesigning a commercial pattern. Just stop hacking!

Posted in Couture Sewing, Stylish Books

Sewing Little French Jackets and Writing Books

Posted on by ggherself

I’ve been obsessed with the Chanel aesthetic for as long as I can remember. A few years ago, I set out to learn to make replica Chanel-style jackets and became addicted to the process.

It’s long and sometimes arduous, but so worth it in the end. I’d love to make another one, but really…who needs that many jackets? So, instead of making another one, I wrote a book. And it’s launching today.

Here’s what the story is all about…

Recent widow Charlotte “Charlie” Hudson embarks on a journey of discovery only to find there may be no line between reality and imagination—and no such thing as time.  

It’s been over a year since her father died, and thirteen-year-old Frankie is tired of her mother, Charlie wallowing in her widowhood. Enlisting the help of her aunt, Charlie’s older sister, Evelyn, Frankie stages an intervention designed to propel Charlie off the couch and back into life. Charlie acquiesces to them, embarking on a solo trip to Mallorca in Spain to take a course on making replica Chanel jackets from a Parisian couturier who has made it her life’s work to imitate Coco Chanel.

When Charlie meets her classmates, she realizes they are all on this island for reasons far beyond learning to make a little French jacket. She is soon drawn into a classmate’s wild theory that their teacher is not quite what she appears to be, and Charlie begins to see that reality might not be at all what she thought it was.

On her trip home, Charlie stops in Paris for a few days, where she briefly encounters a mysterious French man in a bookstore. After buying the book he suggests before disappearing, Charlie realizes she has met him somewhere before. When they unexpectedly bump into one another again in Toronto, they are propelled into a journey to figure out where and when that was. With the help of a retired history professor, they find their quest taking them back in time to 1920s Paris and the life of a French painter and an American heiress. Together they discover there may be no line between reality and imagination—and no such thing as time.

And saying goodbye really is the only way to begin.

Blog readers who have been following along with me for a while know my passion are sewing and writing, and this book I the sixth in a series—the almost-but-not-quite-true stories—which began with The Year I Made 12 Dresses.

I’m seriously considering making another jacket. If I did one, would anyone want to follow along? In the meantime, maybe you’d like to read about a character who does it!

[The book is available from your favourite online book retailer.]

Posted in fabrics, sewing, sewing patterns, Style

A Breton Shirt: The Classic and Beyond

Posted on by ggherself

There is something so classic about those striped shirts that debuted in France on their sailors in 1858. And I love them so much that this isn’t the first time they’ve appeared on my blog. I wrote about my fondness for stripes while singing the praises of the boat neck and again (briefly) when I wrote about my fall wardrobe planning in 2021.

We all know that fashion trends come and go, but by now, we should realize that “style” is forever. So said Yves St. Laurent in 1975: “Fashions fade, style is eternal.” He was not the first to express this sentiment. Years earlier, Coco Chanel said almost the same thing when she uttered these words: “Fashion changes―style remains.” I suspect Yves was simply paraphrasing Coco. In any case, there are some styles we wear that we could have worn decades ago, and they still look fresh today. Striped T-shirts are one of those timeless styles. My husband and I have recently been revisiting old family videos. Those from the late 1980s and early 1990s reminded me of a trend that has no staying power at all—padded shoulders. Dear god, we were the epitome of style at the time, but that did not stand the test of time!

The Breton-style shirts are such a fascinating part of fashion history. I have always loved this photo of Chanel herself wearing the classic style so many years ago.

Of course, Hollywood stars embraced it as well. What could be more classic (and alluring) than Jean Seberg in her own version?

And since I don’t wear much in the way of patterns, I have embraced strips as my pattern of choice. Last year, I was desperate to have a St. James Breton shirt and found this one in Montreal. St. James is a French-made brand, so it always seemed close to the originals to me! The fabrics, though, are what these shirts are all about. I’d love to be able to find some of their fabrics.

A few years ago, when I was deeply enmeshed in learning how to do flat pattern drafting, I created two patterns featuring boat necklines. Still, I tended to make them from stripes—or a combination of stripes and plain fabric if I had leftovers.

During that same interval of designing for myself, I created a dress for a cruise—again in strips, this time seersucker.

Recently, I blogged about this twist on a classic for the Fabricville blog (Vogue 1805) and used the leftovers to make a T-shirt (Butterick 6418).

As I look at my sewing projects over the past few years, I’m struck with how many times I chose stripes—and this isn’t even all of them!

I think it might be time for me to branch out!

Posted in sewing, sewing patterns

Overcoming Sewing Snobbery or How I Learned to Love my Serger (and new coverstitch machine)!

Posted on by ggherself

I think there is a declining breed among sewers/sewists in this twenty-first century. This is that rarefied group of sewists/sewers who eschew anything that smacks of fast-fashion-ready-to-wear techniques. For years, every time someone said a certain tool or technique would make the garments I sewed myself resemble ready-to-wear, all I could picture was crumbling sweatshops in third-world countries where workers toiled in outrageous conditions so that first-world consumers could have their choice of millions of pieces of clothing of questionable quality. No, I said. That’s not for me. And it always seemed that there was a serger involved in those discussions.

I fancied myself a couture sewist/sewer. Can you feel me rolling my eyes at that conceit? Oh, yes, I did learn to make a Little French Jacket (or three), hand-inserting silk linings, and I taught myself traditional tailoring, spending hours hand-pad-stitching the undercollars. So, I effected a kind of snobbery about that sort of sewing where a serger was involved in seam finishing or worse, *gasp* making a garment from start to finish. Then, a few years ago, I got one. And this past Christmas, I found a combination serger-coverstitch machine under the tree. What in the world?? I’ve evolved.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am still in the couture sewing category when it comes to most of the kinds of clothing I love to wear and make, but I’ve added a few tools and techniques to my repertoire. And over the past month, that repertoire has expanded to include coverstitching. Let me tell you about my adventures over the past few weeks.

For years, I sewed with only a sewing machine. Then I added the aforementioned serger, using it to finish seams of leisure wear and the odd seam in a shirt or hem edge in a jacket or dress. I always kept it to three threads since I had no intention of ever making a garment from start to finish on my serger. Finally, it occurred to me that being able to do a coverstitched hem or edge (or even use it in reverse for an interesting detail) might be a nice addition to my sewing arsenal. So, what exactly is a coverstitch, you might well ask (as I did).

According to the lovely Linda Lee’s terrific book Sewing Knits from Fit to Finish:

“…the most popular coverstitch is produced with two needles and three threads. There are two rows of straight stitches on the top and a series of looping stitches on the bottom…there is often an option to use three needles for three parallel rows of straight stitches…”

And, of course, there is no knife for cutting off the edge of your fabric like on a serger because it’s mainly for hemming. You might think that the double-needle stitching capability of your sewing machine is the same, but it really isn’t quite the same. Anyway, I thought I’d like to give it a whirl, so I began searching for the right machine.

Now, I’m a kind of neatness nerd, and I live with an even more dedicated neatness nerd. So, the idea of adding an extra machine to my downtown-sized sewing atelier (*cough*) seemed a bit excessive. That’s what sent me looking for a machine that could do both serging and coverstitching. I found the big sister of my current Singer serger and put it on my Christmas list. There it was on Christmas morning. Then, I had to learn how to use that sucker.

In this view, the machine is set up for serging with the knife in place.

I decided to cut some pieces of knit fabric and practice the coverstitch—for which the machine was set up and threaded out of the box—and figure out how to most easily convert it to a serger. Let me just say there was a very steep learning curve. And this is despite the machine resembling its little sister in many ways, but in so many more ways, it simply does not. There was much to learn.

Once I figured out a few things—tears and frustration notwithstanding—I realized that I learned so much more by making threading mistakes. Or at least, that’s my story. I did manage to find a reasonably good video on YouTube that helped me immensely, but as I searched YouTube, it occurred to me that most of the sewing videos were too long. I thought I might start a YouTube channel with sewing videos no longer than five minutes, but that’s for another day (or maybe even lifetime!). After many goofs and threading mistakes, I decided to pull out some leftover fabric and make a new top, all on the new machine—no sewing machine needed. This approach is so contrary to my former point of view that it isn’t even in the same ballpark. But what is life if you can’t evolve, hmm?

I decided to make Butterick 6418 as my test garment. I liked view D with its contrast sleeve and bodice insert, and I had enough fabric left from two previous projects to get it done. So, I began.

I used what my (very detailed) machine manual calls a “three-thread ultra-stretch mock safety stitch.” The three threads are left needle, right needle and cover looper. The safety part refers to the fact that it is designed for seaming, and I can report that it is a very stretchy stitch.

That was great for my project. Then I would use the three-thread coverstitch for the hems and the neckline. I was a bit leery of the coverstitched neckline—for good reason. The pattern design calls for the neckline to be turned and stitched. I think the next time I do this, I’ll make a narrow neck binding for a better finish.

I motored along the seams, seaming and finishing all in one fell swoop. I have to admit I was a bit tickled by the process. I didn’t do anything fancy on this project, but I can see a few interesting approaches in the future. I can see decorative finishes using the coverstitch reversed or even trying to make a bathing suit, although that may be a bridge too far!

Lessons I Learned

  1. A combination machine requires patience since it has to be rethreaded and rejigged from serger to coverstitch machine every time you change modes.
  2. You can minimize the changing by thinking through a project before you begin.
  3. I am still not a fan of the imprecision of doing seaming and serging all at once. I’m a stickler for fit, so I prefer to have an exact measurement. This doesn’t seem to be too much of a problem, though, in stretchy enough knits.
  4. I need to never lose sight of the usual things I am aware of—like when my needle thread runs out. When it did, I thought there was something wrong with the machine. No, it just ran out of thread.

The coverstitch book I also received for Christmas:

Posted in Stylish Books

Happy New Year: A Sewist Who Writes or a Writer Who Sews?

Posted on by ggherself

Anyone who has been reading my online posts for a while will already know that I’m a bit of an odd duck when it comes to sewing bloggers. Rather than being a sewist who writes, as most sewing bloggers seem to be, I am a writer who sews—that’s why my posts usually contain a story or two. I don’t just tell you what and how I’ve been sewing. I usually have a story about why I’m doing what I’m doing.

I’ve been sewing since I was about twelve years old and writing for as long­­—but I’ve spent more of my adult life writing than sewing. About two years ago, I wrote a book that combined these lifelong passions. Until then, most of my writing had been a thirty-year career as a nonfiction health and business writer with a bit of historical fiction added to the recent mix. When The Year I Made 12 Dresses launched in mid-2020, I had no idea it was the start of a book series. I had no idea that Charlotte (Charlie) Hudson, who learned as much about herself as she did about sewing that year she made 12 dresses, would stay in my imagination through so many stories.

Charlie has become slightly more peripheral to the stories recently, although I would argue that she is pivotal—and that will become increasingly clear when the next (and final book) is published. In the last book, Charlie found an unfinished manuscript for a romance novel among her great-grandmother’s belongings after she died. And Charlie, being a writer herself, decided to finish the story. What she never counted on was that she had the ending wrong. Charlie discovers the real people behind the characters in her great-grandmother’s story and knows she has to listen to them. Today, I’m launching the fifth book in the series.

It’s 1989, and Antonia St. John has a single goal. To crash through that glass ceiling created by 1960s Madison Avenue advertising men. Then, the one thing she never saw coming threatens to derail her plans until she can find a solution. She never planned on having a baby―especially a baby who turns out to be a ballet dancer, something Antonia cannot get her head around. But the baby is just the beginning of Antonia’s journey into family life.

When she learns her baby’s father, Tim, has a secret buried in his past―a secret so big it changes everything― Antonia has to dig deep within herself to find the courage to see it through to the end and to find her place in the family. With an unlikely ally in her mother-in-law, Grace, who never liked Antonia, she finally begins to learn the lessons that families―even dysfunctional ones―have to offer. Figuring out where you fit into a family―and the world―may be the ultimate challenge.

There’s another thing about me that many of my readers don’t know. I’m a ballet mom. My son lived away from home in residence at Canada’s National Ballet School from the time he was eleven until he graduated in 2007. That experience as a parent of a student at an elite ballet school was part of the inspiration for this book, which is dedicated to 2007 graduates of the National Ballet School.

Charlie doesn’t do a lot of sewing in this book (just wait until next time, though!), but she learns a lot about life.

I hope you enjoy reading it.

Click here to read more about it.

Posted in sewing patterns, Style

What I Sewed in 2022―And What I Learned

Posted on by ggherself

There was a time when I never looked back on a year of sewing and style matters. These days, I find it very illuminating to see how my style has evolved, what I choose to sew, what I choose to buy off the rack and what I’ve learned―about sewing and myself. And the end of a calendar year always seems like the right place to reflect―beginnings and endings and all that. So, what did 2022 offer me?

I looked back at the patterns I chose to work on this past year. I always tend to stick with the big commercial brands since they usually have the most interesting design details and well-fitted pieces―by which I mean more tailored pieces with less design ease. I continue to notice that many of the indie pattern makers don’t seem to be able to produce anything that has to fit closer to the body. In other words: bags―bags with far too much design ease. Bags are not my style. So, I used Butterick, McCalls and Vogue patterns with a New Look thrown in. But I also tried a Jalie for the first time this year. Dear god, there were so many sizes in one pattern envelope―it was mesmerizing. I also tried a custom-fit Lekala pdf, although I hate pdf patterns (oh, maybe they’re starting to grow on me).

Here’s the 2022 run-down:

I also launched a new book that carried on from the first in what has become an unexpected series. The first book, The Year I Made 12 Dresses, introduced Charlie (Charlotte Hudson), who learned to sew after finding a dusty old sewing machine in her late mother’s basement, and she has appeared in every one since.

However, in the most recent books, her role has been peripheral. The good news is that Charlie’s story is coming full circle―I’ve begun work on a new book that I expect to be out in mid-2023. Charlie travels to Mallorca to take a course from a Parisian couturier―and learns to make a Chanel-style jacket…among other things.

Of course, the release of the newest one is imminent! Charlie will make that jacket throughout 2023!

Throughout the sewing adventures of 2022, here are some things I learned.

  • I need to pay closer attention to online pattern reviews.
  • The burrito method for attaching yokes is fun and fantastic!
  • I don’t wear dresses as much as I like to make them 😊
  • The camp shirt style is spot on for my summer lifestyle.
  • I am itching to make another Little French Jacket.
  • My new book should go full circle around to where the series started: sewing

Next year?

Wait until I tell you about my Christmas present! Then my plans will come clear. And onto that new book where Charlie learns to make a Little French Jacket―with a twist.