sewing sweaters

At first, I was terrified of sewing sweaters.  It had to be hard, right?  Well the answer is no, not really.  I mean, I did ruin one, but it wasn't as cute as I thought it was at the store anyways.  Probably was fate working in my favor, preventing me from wearing it out in public.  One of my favorite people gave me a green sweater with polka-dots, which fits in perfectly with my recent obsession with mixing prints, but did not fit me perfectly.  It was a bit big for my taste, and the sleeves were ridiculously long.

I wanted to keep the cuff of the sweater, so I created a fold right above the cuff and chopped.

Then I set my machine to very low tension and did a straight stitch to attach the cuff back to the sleeve.  Make sure you don't pull it at all or it will stretch.  Since the sleeve hole is fairly small, I had to sew inside the sleeve.

Then of course, add a zigzag stitch right next to your straight stitch and cut off the extra material.

Because the sleeve was wider where I cut it, plus a little stretching from the sewing, I took it in a little along the inside seam.  Then I took in the armpits, just as I did in this tutorial.  Keep your machine on a very low tension to do the seams here.  I did not cut the extra material out of the armpits here.  It wasn't very much material and, being my first time sewing sweaters, I wasn't sure how it would hold up.

Now it fits perfectly!  I wore it to work.  And then I wore it everywhere else.  I'm a cardigan kind of girl!

This is my power pose.  Ever since I watched Amy Cuddy's TED talk about using your body language to trick your mind into feeling more powerful and calm in high-stress situations, I'm always power posing.  Check it out!  It really works--I do a different pose every time I make a presentation, have an interview, or generally any time I'm stressed.

sometimes i cry at the thrift store

It's true.  Sometimes, when I up to my elbows digging through clothes from lives lived long ago and I find an absolute gem, my eyes get all misty.  Gems come in all shapes and colors. Sometimes it's just a fabric that I really love.  And other times, it's a brand.  Recently, I found a hot pink Girogio Armani blazer.  At. The. Clearance. Center.  I always ask myself--Is this real life??  Somehow, this hot little number managed to not sell at the regular store long enough to get shipped out to the clearance center.  And I got lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to snap it up!  It's times like these, when all the stars align for me to find the most amazing clothes that seem to just be waiting for me, I shed a little tear.

I have to admit, this jacket was a bit too big when I bought it.  Enough so, that it looked a little frumpy.  And Armani is never meant to look frumpy.  I stayed up for weeks at night thinking about how to go about taking it in.  Instead of counting sheep, I imagined ripping Giorgio seams and piecing the lining back together.  I constantly worried, wondering if I should even try myself.  I struggled, letting this perfectly-pink blazer sit in my closet for over three months.  I found tons of tutorials on how to take in blazers, but it's Armani!  I didn't want to take the risk.

Then I just took it to the tailor.

I could do it.  I know I could.  But oh my goodness I wouldn't have been able to breathe the entire time.  People can't hold their breath for two hours.  And you wouldn't want to be within a mile to hear the litany of cursing.  It was better to send it to the tailor.

crazytown pants to sk

I found these posh pants at the clearance center and knew they would push my style limits. I imagined wearing them with a black button up shirt and blinding my coworkers while strolling down the hall to the water cooler, acting like a boss.  One of the top things I've learned from this project is to try patterns.  Last year, I never would have picked up these pants.  Mostly because I would have never paid full price for them, but I wouldn't have considered them for any price.

I was extra happy that they were name brand.  Liz Claiborne for $0.99?  Done.  I brought them home and everyone agreed that they were blinding, but I was determined to wear them.  I first took them in by sewing along the inside of the inseam from one foot, up through the crotch, and down the other side.  It wasn't an entire failure, but my goodies felt a little uncomfortable, and I had a few stray wrinkles to direct further attention down there.  For my life I could not get out the wrinkles.  Please, do not follow my lead by taking in pants this way!

As no one needs attention drawn to their knees, they certainly don't need it to their crotch.  I put these pants away and waited for a day when I was feeling a little more randy.  Needless to say, it didn't come.  Instead, I decided to turn them into a skirt.  I ripped the entire inseam (yes, the one I just put in) out to open up the legs, sort of cowboy style.

Then, I folded them along the seams I just ripped and cut off the desired amount of length. Chip, chop, doodle dop!

After taking off the length, I put on the skirt inside out and pinned the open pieces together.  I might should get a dress form, because I looked like a contortionist to do it.  Sew up the seam you just pinned.  I sewed the entire seam, past the part where I ripped apart for extra security.  I like my skirts pencily-tight and never want them to split down my backside.

All that's left is to hem it up!  Mine was a little tight around the knees and I wish that I had left a slit in the back before I closed it all up and hemmed, but I can still walk without looking like a Barbie doll.  I think as a skirt it is a little less blinding too.  There have been no reports of vision loss from my coworkers when I strut it up the hall to the water cooler.

throwback thursday

All this began when I was in high school.  Let me tell you, when I was in high school, I thought I was the bomb dot com.  I shopped at thrift stores and scoffed at the cool kids wearing store brand threads.  I used words like threads, capitalist agenda, social conventions, and political convictions.  I only turned on the television to CNN.  I applied to the American University in Beirut because I was leaving this country as soon as I graduated.  I carried around Nabokov to look cool.

And I certainly didn't go to school dances.  One day my dad, who was the ultimate rebel in high school (he rode a motorcycle!), told me he regretted not going to his prom.  "Really, daddy?!" I scoffed.  "I'm not participating in ridiculous social conventions that force me to buy expensive dresses and wear tons of makeup and hairspray and find a male to escort me."

I ended up caving and went to not one, but two! dances my senior year.  But by God, I wasn't going to let them see me give into their capitalist agenda propagating the consumerism of dress buying.  I bought this heinous (I even thought it was heinous at the time) royal blue satin bridesmaid dress from the 80s for homecoming.  I don't have any before pictures, but it had a sheath piece that went under the fluffy skirt piece down to my ankles that I cut off.

Just so you know folks, this was 2006.  Don't be fooled by the beautiful faux wood paneling in my living room and my Polaroids.  Do you recognize anyone else in this picture?  You guessed it!  We weren't dating yet, but my husband was one of my male escorts wayyyyyy back then.

Can you see the jewels??  I HOT GLUED PLASTIC JEWELS TO IT.  My Bedazzler was broken.

This dress was reincarnated yet again for prom that year.  And yes, my husband and I were dating by the time prom rolled around.  I was so in love, I actually wanted to go to prom with him.  Swoon.  Knowing absolutely nothing of what I was doing, I collected about 20 ties, ripped apart the seams, and sewed them together.  I stared at it for a long time, this blanket of ties.  I didn't know how to make a dress!  *Light bulb*  I had a dress I could sew the ties to, solving my not knowing how to actually sew problem.  Off came the blue puffy skirt from the dress and on went the ties.

I was so proud of myself.  I could further perpetuate my super cool image and let people know all about my political convictions.  When we were walking into the venue, a woman stopped me on the street and exclaimed over my dress and asked me if she could buy it.  I was so puffed up with pride, it was ridiculous.

There you have it, friends.  A throwback to the beginning of all this madness.

the office staple::pencil skirt

Today I acquired several new office supplies.  One was the fabulous pencil skirt I'm about to show you how to make.  The other two are hair products.  The humidity this morning was 88%.  It wasn't raining.  It wasn't even foggy.  It was like a cow blowing hot sweaty breath all over me.  My hair reacted like anyone would if a cow were blowing all over them--it tried to run away in all directions.  I swam through the humidity to pick up a hair dryer and hairspray about twenty minutes after I got in the office.  Problem solved AND I have a beauty station in my office.

Back to the skirt.  Houndstooth heaven, old lady style.



Let's get to work!  First, I tried it on and made a guess about how much I needed to take it in.  Then I ripped the seams in the waistband over both my hips for about the two inches that I was planning to take it in on either side.

Try it on and pin yourself in to the outer layer.  I had to pull the lining up under my armpits.  Do yourself a favor--pin in a little extra around your knees because when you hack off the bottom, it'll be a little gappy around your knees.  And no one needs anyone paying extra attention to their knees.

With the lining still up over the top of the waistband, sew a seam down the pins you just put in.  Leave the waistband alone for now.  Repeat on the other side, obviously.  Well, I say obviously, but one time I took in a dress and for some reason, I only needed to take it in on one side.  And it really didn't look lopsided.  Don't ask me!

Try it on again, pull the lining out of your armpits, and pin yourself into the lining.  Don't attach it to the actual skirt.  Keep it separate.  That's why we're going through all the effort of ripping out the waistband.  I've tried taking in skirts and linings in together, but it probably does save time to do them separate, even though it takes more steps.  It will at least save you some tears.

Sew down the seam in your lining.  Both sides.  Then finish your edges with a zigzag stitch and cut off the extra fabric with pinking shears.  Do this for the actual skirt fabric too.

Now, in the middle of the piece of waistband you ripped apart--That sounds graphic, I can see you now, ripping the waistband off a skirt with your bare hands.  And a little teeth action too.  Creeps.--In the middle of the piece of waistband you ripped apart, cut it.

Topstitch down one of the pieces back onto the skirt, leaving one piece still flapping around in the breeze.

Cut off a little of the extra of the breeze-flapping piece and then pin it down over the skirt and lining.  Fold over the very edge where the two pieces attach in the middle (pink pin below) to cover up the frayed edge.  Topstitch it all down.

Then you're done, assuming you like the length of your skirt.  I didn't, so I hacked off (another very graphic image popping into my mind of someone using a hacksaw, hair looking crazy from the humidity, and a wild look in her eye) the bottom and gave it a blind stitch.  In the near future, I will show you how, but I had to do mine twice (and it still doesn't meet up in the back), so I consider myself no expert.

Does anyone know what my shirt means??  The score is definitely 7 for the woman and 21 for the rake.  Only thing I know is that it's from France, it cost 1€ , and it's ridiculously comfortable.  Hazard a guess in the comments for me!

on slapdashery

slapdashery:  (n.)

1.  the act of doing things in a careless or hurried way
2.  utilizing a complete lack of patience when trying to make or build something
3.  my middle name

Construction doesn't lend well to slapdashery.  Sewing doesn't usually either.  It's like baking, requiring close precision.  My husband is the baker, I'm the cook.  He saved this desk.

I struggle with patience.  It would be quite adequate to say that I am not a process oriented person--I want a desk and I want it now and will do everything I can to get it done in a day.  But alas, polyurethane takes 24 hours to dry, supplies need to be purchased and then returned and purchased again, and boards need to be cut and then cut again.

Here's what I've learned about building desks:

1.  Measure.  Then measure again.
2.  Don't guess what height you want your desk.  An arbitrary number of 33 inches, because I like tall desks, doesn't work with any chair that would still allow me to touch the floor.  Too bad I found this out after I build the supports.
3.  Wood soaks up a lot of paint and stain.  So buy extra--a lot of extra.
4.  I haven't the faintest idea how to clean a paintbrush so it won't harden with polyurethane.
5.  My cat can squeeze out of window open only 5 inches.
6.  My square isn't square, so all my cuts were at an angle.  Now my whole desk is angled.
7.  Angry painting in the dark does not a pretty desk make.
8.  1"x10" lumber is actually 3/4"x9 1/4."  This makes a big difference when the side support of the table sticks out those extra 3/4".  I'm convinced the fourth dimension is where all of the wood that's missing from these measurements is hiding.  It's just a bunch of skinny slivers of lumber hanging in space.

We're getting close--I can see the light.  Tonight we will be screwing the top boards together to make the table top.  And it will look like an actual table.  Then 5 coats of paint + 2 coats of an accent design + 5 coats of polyurethane + 2 days of drying time = a functional, amazing, mind-blowing desk.

the traveling sewing machine

For many years, my sewing machine lived in it's original box in my tiny closet underneath all of my clothes.  Every time I wanted to sew, I needed to go dig it out of the bottom of the closet, which usually took a lot of effort and heavy breathing.  When I finished graduate school, I repurposed my desk into a sewing table.  It was tiny, but a lot better than excavating my sewing machine out of my closet every few weeks.

During school, my desk lived in the living room.  Meanwhile, I had a room full of dying plants all to themselves.  It was called the Dying Plant Room.  I desperately want to be a gardener, but I'm just not good at it.  The dying plants lived on, but always looking desperate for even a single drop of water.  When I finished school I didn't water the plants more, I just used my newly-acquired wisdom to know that I should give them away.  So I gifted every half-dead plant to a friend.  How nice of me.  With those plants gone, I moved my sewing machine desk into the Dying Plant Room and rebranded it as the Craft Room.

But I had one problem with the new Craft Room.  It was full of windows, which makes it incredibly hot in the summer and very cold in the winter.  Uh, and I usually sew in my skivvies.  I can't be bothered to take on and off my clothes every time I need to try on an article of clothing.  That is really too much to ask.  So the window-ful Craft Room wasn't going to cut it.

So me and my sewing machine are on the move again.  We've decided to invade the Man Cave. This time, we're leaving behind the desk, and making plans to build an L-shaped desk that spans two full walls of the (former Man Cave) now Studio.  This weekend, we plan to commence the epic endeavor of hand-crafting this monster desk, so my sewing will be on hold for a few days.

This hot Man Cave mess will soon be transformed into a sexy Studio!

Wish me luck!

(As a side note, every other room in my house is called the normal name:  the Bedroom, the Bathroom, the Kitchen.)