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!

chop tops

The more refashioning I'm doing, the pickier I'm getting about my clothes.  Honestly, I was sort of hoping it would go the other way.  But now that I know how tailor-made clothes fit, it's really hard to wear something that just sort-of works.  I keep staring in my closet and bemoaning, "I have nothing to wear!"  And then I reply back to myself, "How do you have nothing to wear when you sew something new for yourself at least once a week?  What are you doing with all your new clothes??"  It's like a mother and daughter are arguing inside my head, yikes.

I took a close look at my closet and cleared out a lot of clothes I haven't worn in a long time.  No more--"I love that dress....I'll wear it next summer!"  If I hadn't worn it in a year, it was headed to the chopping block.  Literally.  I chopped.

The first dress I chopped was from my wedding shower.  I couldn't bear to part with it, but it was see-through and made of cream lace.  You really can't wear that to anything other than your own bridal shower without looking like a bride at someone else's party.  And I HATE wearing those skintight squeezy things that someone decided should replace normal slips.  Who ever thought up that torture??

The other dress was way too short.  I somehow had the idea to wear it to a wedding for a coworker last summer.  A ridiculously short dress to a daytime wedding with all of my colleagues.  I can really be brilliant sometimes...  To give you an indication of how short it was, I only cut off about eight inches to make it into a shirt.  Also, for the record, my mother did teach me not to wear white to someone else's wedding, but you can see the blue, right?!

Here we go!  Put on your dress and mark a good length for a shirt.  Then add three inches because you are invariably judging it too short and you'll never wear a too-short shirt (also you need extra material for your hem).  Take it off, lie it straight, and CHOP.  It feels so good, doesn't it??



All that's left is to hem!  For my hems, I usually fold the fabric twice, about 1/4 inch each time, iron it flat, and put in a straight stitch.  If you cut it too short, like most of the things I do, cut it with your pinking shears and then use a zig-zag stitch to prevent fraying.

I've worn both of these shirts twice already since I made them!  It makes me feel so much better that they aren't sitting in the back of my closet with my beanie baby collection anymore. (Lies, my beanie baby collection is in the attic.)

hi-lo dress

A few days ago I was shopping at Goodwill to outfit my husband for his summer internship.  I wandered away while he was trying on clothes and found this gem:

The colors screamed, "SUMMER" so loud I had to have it.  It was a pricey purchase for me, at $6.25, but that goes to show the extent of my love at first sight.  First, I hacked off the sleeves.  I left about an inch of the sleeve intact to give myself some fabric for the hem so I wouldn't have to make the strap any more slender than it was.  Think:  a hem at this point would have meant spaghetti straps.

Honestly, I should have really ripped out the seam and done it more cleanly since there were so many ruffles in the sleeve, but I was really excited to finally be sewing on my new table and get a new dress for Casual Friday.  Next order of business was to pin and take in the sides a little (not shown) and bring up the waist of the skirt.  Again, when bringing up the waist, I should have picked the seam and resewn, but I didn't want to! I folded over the amount I wanted to move it up and then sewed very close to the current waistline.

Lastly, I folded the dress in half, down the very front (think: line between your bosom), laid a favorite hi-lo skirt on the waist, and made a half-circle cut.  This made my dress hi-lo.  Some important notes: 1.  Make sure your waist is where you want it to be before you make the cut out. 2. You don't have to cut out the entire side - mine only ended being about have of the bottom hem.  Re-hem the section you cut out and rock it like you own it!  

Sorry for all the cheesy rock analogies - my husband's internship is in geology!!!  My next post is coming soon on how I took all of his over-sized dress shirts in to make them fitted.

blue dotted shirt

A few weeks ago I found this:

I loved the bold blue polka-dottedness and the vast amount of fabric.  I imagined a little large old lady wearing this dress to church on Sundays and to dinner with her family.  Her favorite Sunday dinner was chicken dumplings and she always went to see her cousin Maybel, who was also very fashionable.  It was her best dress and she treasured it.  And she never once stained it with communion wine or chicken dumplings.  As I was ripping the seams, I even discovered that she probably sewed it herself.  She loved this dress.  Now I love this dress, but I decided it needs to be a shirt.  And probably a skirt too, but all in good time.

To start with, I ripped the seams to separate the sleeves from the bodice and the bodice from the skirt, so I get the individual puzzle pieces.  I ripped the seams because, surprisingly, as tall and large as the previous woman was (I'm imagining her living in the Amazon), the top piece is actually pretty small.  I needed to save every millimeter of fabric.

Then I put it on inside out and pinned the sides to take it in.  I sewed a straight stitch along the pins and a zigzag stitch for extra security, and chopped off the extra fabric with my pinking shears.  Lastly, I carefully folded and sewed the smallest hem I could manage on the bottom of the shirt and for the sleeves.

And that's it.  I wore it the next day with my awesome, recently-thrifted green blazer.  My husband said, "You look like someone who means business, but wants to have fun doing it."  Score one for the polka dots.

And then I changed into my jammies, but couldn't take the top off.  When I get proud of making something, I need to wear it a lot!  It matched the blue dotted pajama pants that I also just found at the thrift store.  I just had to show you.