So, something miraculous happened.
I took the photos for my Renfrew post this past Thursday morning. Then, I walked out the door and wore it to work.
Yes, it is both sad and hyperbolic to call that a "miracle."
But that experience of so effortlessly wearing something I’ve made has led me to do some thinking about why I sew, why I choose the patterns I do, and the clothes I wear versus the clothes I want to wear.
I’m very motivated by the idea that sewing would allow me to wear a lot of items that I have difficulty fitting RTW. But there’s a big assumption going on there: that I don’t wear these items because I rarely fit them and, therefore, if I had more versions that fit I would wear them.
I’m starting to debate the extent to which this is true.
Reflecting on my wardrobe, I’ve come to a few conclusions:
1. Dresses:
I LOVE wearing a good dress that fits well. However, I really don’t like dressing to be noticed. The number one reason I don't wear the dresses I own is because I feel like I stand out too much in the print. If my goal is to incorporate dresses into my regular wardrobe (rather than “special occasion”) then I need to be sewing them in solid colours. (At least until I become more accustomed to wearing them and those around me become more accustomed to seeing me in them.) I also need to develop a much better understanding of my own sense of style, so I can better know which prints I will actually feel comfortable and confident wearing (as opposed to just thinking they look great objectively on the bolt).
2. Blouses:
Woven blouses are tricky. It’s a rare blouse that fits me in a way that I feel comfortable and attractive wearing. That being said, I really do enjoy the loose and easy fit of the Sorbetto tank (my oh MY how I wish my cat hadn’t eaten the pretty and well-fitted one!) and it provides a really welcome break from the boring old jersey tanks that I wear under my cardigans (which is basically my uniform, it seems.) I think that with some careful attention to detail I could make a blouse with sleeves that works for me. But I also need to remember that there are certain details I will probably never like on myself, such as the traditional dress shirt collar or any kind of shoulder embellishment (particularly sleeves with even a hint of puff. Not my thing.)
3. Pants:
If I want to wear a more handmade wardrobe, I need to start sewing pants. The truth is that I live in pants, and I can’t see that changing anytime soon. I also seem to have a terrible time finding any that fit me the way I like, so the sewing experience isn't likely to be that much more time-consuming or frustrating than the shopping experience.
4. Knits:
The first point above for pants also applies to knits. Even when I have well-fitted woven tops in my wardrobe, I go for the knits more often than not. So I really should start focusing on this in my sewing.
5. Jackets:
I don't have enough warm layers and jackets, and that is mostly because I just can't find anything that fits me. I really need to tackle my fear of the jacket and just jump in, because a good wardrobe for a temperate climate probably includes at least a few jackets in various weights and I have precisely four. Lest that sound like a lot, be aware that this consists of: a Gore-Tex rain jacket, a snowboarding coat, an ill-fitting blazer and one linty old peacoat. (And really, as much as Vancouverites like to think that Gore-Tex can be dressy… let’s stop fooling ourselves, shall we?)
All that being said, the biggest takeaway from this reflection was the realization that the best-loved items I sew, for myself or for others, are almost always pajamas - and that I’m totally okay with that. Mostly, I just really want to sew things that I wear, love, and prefer to a store-bought version. I’ve suddenly realized that as much as I aspire to sew well-fitting dresses and winter coats, I’m also just a product-driven crafter who wants to make stuff that actually gets finished and worn. And while I don’t care to be noticed in it, or singled out for making it, I do derive a lot of satisfaction from putting on a handmade garment and knowing, I made this.
Showing posts with label philosophies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophies. Show all posts
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Blogiversary!
Wouldn't you know it... I forgot my own blogiversary!
I can't believe a whole year has passed!
I'm not going to do a Year In Review or anything, because hey, the gallery provides a pretty concise summary. But I do want to examine my original list of intentions, and see how I measure up and where I want to go in the future.
I wrote my goals in a post titled The Plan. To make a long story short, I actually succeeded on all counts except:
I don't want to make a big list of intentions this year, because part of my 2012 resolution is to maintain balance. So, I've decided to keep it simple: 2012 will be the year of the dress. No rules against making anything else, but seriously. Dresses are the item of clothing I most love to wear, find the hardest to buy, and generally can't afford. It's kind of a no-brainer. So, to be SMART, my goal for the coming year is to make at least five dresses by December 31, 2012. That's specific (dresses), measurable (five), attainable (ten weeks per dress), relevant (uh, it's sewing?), and timely (deadline of Dec.31). Sound reasonable?
I do want to give a quick word of gratitude to those who follow along here, and especially those who comment. Your help and encouragement is really invaluable. I wish you all the best in 2012!
I can't believe a whole year has passed!
I'm not going to do a Year In Review or anything, because hey, the gallery provides a pretty concise summary. But I do want to examine my original list of intentions, and see how I measure up and where I want to go in the future.
I wrote my goals in a post titled The Plan. To make a long story short, I actually succeeded on all counts except:
4. I will make at least one each of the following: skirt, dress, blouse, jacketIt's unsurprising that I didn't make a jacket (despite my enthusiastic purchase of a tailoring book...) but I'm actually pretty shocked that I didn't make a dress. I suppose I decided that smaller projects had a greater chance of success?
I don't want to make a big list of intentions this year, because part of my 2012 resolution is to maintain balance. So, I've decided to keep it simple: 2012 will be the year of the dress. No rules against making anything else, but seriously. Dresses are the item of clothing I most love to wear, find the hardest to buy, and generally can't afford. It's kind of a no-brainer. So, to be SMART, my goal for the coming year is to make at least five dresses by December 31, 2012. That's specific (dresses), measurable (five), attainable (ten weeks per dress), relevant (uh, it's sewing?), and timely (deadline of Dec.31). Sound reasonable?
I do want to give a quick word of gratitude to those who follow along here, and especially those who comment. Your help and encouragement is really invaluable. I wish you all the best in 2012!
Friday, March 18, 2011
In Defense of Horizontal Stripes
I love stripes. Particularly horizontal stripes. A good striped long-sleeved tee or cardigan or sweater... I swoon. The potential for exciting colour combinations aside, I just think they're beautiful. (Yes, boring old stripes = beautiful. I'm far more interested in lines and patterns than I am in florals.)
The funny thing is, despite what people say about horizontal stripes, I've always felt good in them. Even back when I was younger and heavier and less confident. And now, whenever I put on my favourite striped shirt, I feel incredibly sexy. Why is that? This goes against all the "rules," doesn't it?
Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered this while reading through my Reader's Digest Complete Guide to Sewing (1979):
Stripes running vertically can make a figure look wider than similar stripes horizontally arranged, though the opposite is often assumed
Some Googling has verified that there are studies to support this:
Vertical stripes 'less slimming'; Wearing horizontal stripes can actually make a person appear thinner, a university research project has found.(Source: BBC)
Now, here's the thing... ultimately, I don't really care. I'm past the point of obsessing about being slim, you don't need to be slim to be drop dead gorgeous, and I think everyone should just wear clothes that make them feel good. But it's still somewhat fun to find research that validates something that you've always felt to be true.
The funny thing is, despite what people say about horizontal stripes, I've always felt good in them. Even back when I was younger and heavier and less confident. And now, whenever I put on my favourite striped shirt, I feel incredibly sexy. Why is that? This goes against all the "rules," doesn't it?
Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered this while reading through my Reader's Digest Complete Guide to Sewing (1979):
Stripes running vertically can make a figure look wider than similar stripes horizontally arranged, though the opposite is often assumed
Some Googling has verified that there are studies to support this:
Vertical stripes 'less slimming'; Wearing horizontal stripes can actually make a person appear thinner, a university research project has found.(Source: BBC)
Now, here's the thing... ultimately, I don't really care. I'm past the point of obsessing about being slim, you don't need to be slim to be drop dead gorgeous, and I think everyone should just wear clothes that make them feel good. But it's still somewhat fun to find research that validates something that you've always felt to be true.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Service & Repair
Well, I finally took my serger in for service on the weekend. I always hesitate to do this because it's so expensive. (How much does it cost in your part of the world? Around here it's about $80-$90, unless I'm being ripped off and don't know it.) I was a bit nervous because I thought there was something wrong with one of the tension knobs. That price above doesn't include parts and repair.
Well, I got a phone call today letting me know that something is indeed in need of replacing. Not the tension knob, though. Apparently, that bit that holds your needles on. Or something. I'm not really clear on that, actually. Which is part of the problem. It's a bit like taking your car to the shop when you don't have any clue how cars work, and they know you don't have any clue how cars work. So I just sort of have to trust that this part that I didn't notice anything wrong with is indeed broken... and pay an additional $70 to have it fixed. Dammit.
Here's the thing that got me about the phone call, though. She had phoned to get my approval, which I appreciate, because of the high cost of repair. But as part of that spiel, she immediately launched into advising me that the cost of the repair and service together is about equal to their valuation of my machine "5 years ago." Essentially, she was trying to get me to thinking about how my machine isn't worth fixing, and then conveniently started to tell me about my "options" for purchasing a new machine from them, while again reminding me that my machine is now essentially "worthless."
My serger isn't a young machine, and every time I look at needing a part for it, it does cost an arm and a leg. (edit: this is the first time it's ever needed a repair. The other parts I looked at were optional accessories.) But, here's the thing - it's a good, sturdy, mechanical machine. Provided it gets fixed, there's no reason it shouldn't keep on working. And, frankly, her logic about the cost is totally skewed - because A) I'm already on the hook for that $80-$90 service fee either way and B) a new machine needs servicing just as much as an older machine, so I'd be paying that regardless and C) just because they think my machine doesn't have resale value, that doesn't mean it doesn't have value for me if it still does a perfectly fine job of the work I need it to do.
In addition to feeling like my intelligence was insulted, my inner environmentalist is a little riled as well. I'm so tired of this disposable culture we live in, where we might as well chuck something rather than fixing it. Especially when it's an item like this - that was designed to be fixed rather than disposed of.
Ugh. It's possible I'm over-reacting, absolutely. But I think I might look into my other options for machine service next time around.
Well, I got a phone call today letting me know that something is indeed in need of replacing. Not the tension knob, though. Apparently, that bit that holds your needles on. Or something. I'm not really clear on that, actually. Which is part of the problem. It's a bit like taking your car to the shop when you don't have any clue how cars work, and they know you don't have any clue how cars work. So I just sort of have to trust that this part that I didn't notice anything wrong with is indeed broken... and pay an additional $70 to have it fixed. Dammit.
Here's the thing that got me about the phone call, though. She had phoned to get my approval, which I appreciate, because of the high cost of repair. But as part of that spiel, she immediately launched into advising me that the cost of the repair and service together is about equal to their valuation of my machine "5 years ago." Essentially, she was trying to get me to thinking about how my machine isn't worth fixing, and then conveniently started to tell me about my "options" for purchasing a new machine from them, while again reminding me that my machine is now essentially "worthless."
My serger isn't a young machine, and every time I look at needing a part for it, it does cost an arm and a leg. (edit: this is the first time it's ever needed a repair. The other parts I looked at were optional accessories.) But, here's the thing - it's a good, sturdy, mechanical machine. Provided it gets fixed, there's no reason it shouldn't keep on working. And, frankly, her logic about the cost is totally skewed - because A) I'm already on the hook for that $80-$90 service fee either way and B) a new machine needs servicing just as much as an older machine, so I'd be paying that regardless and C) just because they think my machine doesn't have resale value, that doesn't mean it doesn't have value for me if it still does a perfectly fine job of the work I need it to do.
In addition to feeling like my intelligence was insulted, my inner environmentalist is a little riled as well. I'm so tired of this disposable culture we live in, where we might as well chuck something rather than fixing it. Especially when it's an item like this - that was designed to be fixed rather than disposed of.
Ugh. It's possible I'm over-reacting, absolutely. But I think I might look into my other options for machine service next time around.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
On Stashing: Volume II
When I visited Dressew the other day, I noticed that quite a few items had gone on sale. In particular, there were some beautiful 100% silk chiffon prints for $9.99/metre, and others simply labeled as "100% silk" for $7.99/metre. This got me to thinking again about my love of pricey natural fibres and my position on stashing. Is stashing worthwhile if it'll save you money down the line?
As I wrote before - I feel quite strongly that I'd rather have my money invested in the bank than in my closet. First, I want it to pay off my student loan! And if it's not doing that, I want it in an emergency fund. And if not there, how about a retirement fund? Down payment for a house? Or, if I'm going to spend large amounts of it - how about bigger luxuries like a car? Or a Bernina? (Hey, a girl can dream!)
Now, this is all a matter of personal comfort and preference. I don't mean to sound like I've got it all figured out. Not in the least! I've definitely thrown back my fair share of $5 lattes. I ordered some books and patterns this month that I probably didn't need. But you've got to pick your battles and, for me, it's easy to say no to fabric stashing because I have other reasons for not buying it.
But walking past all that on-sale-silk got me thinking: I know I want to be making some beautiful clothes this year, and I want to use natural fibers. That chiffon would make beautiful blouses and dresses, and some of that simple 100% silk would probably make great lining (thus helping me avoid the dreaded "is rayon natural?" debate.) Wouldn't it be smart to buy some now, rather than pay possibly twice as much down the line when I'm ready to start sewing?
Well, I still think the answer is mostly, "no." Because if you buy without a plan, you can't guarantee you'll use what you buy. And even if you want to, you can't guarantee you'll have the right amount. But on the other hand, those savings... what a shame to miss out on them!
So, I'm thinking the best strategy is to make a long-term sewing plan. Make a rough and realistic schedule, pick the patterns, figure out how much and what kind of fabric and notions are needed. And write it down. That way, when the sales present themselves, I'll be shopping with a list instead of on a whim. And it doesn't feel so much like "stashing" when there's a plan in place.
What do you guys think? Do you shop with a plan? Or do you indulge in fabric spontaneously, the way I indulge in sweet treats and coffee?
For those who are curious, I had great success fitting my second Pendrell muslin. Keep an eye out for a post about it soon!
As I wrote before - I feel quite strongly that I'd rather have my money invested in the bank than in my closet. First, I want it to pay off my student loan! And if it's not doing that, I want it in an emergency fund. And if not there, how about a retirement fund? Down payment for a house? Or, if I'm going to spend large amounts of it - how about bigger luxuries like a car? Or a Bernina? (Hey, a girl can dream!)
Now, this is all a matter of personal comfort and preference. I don't mean to sound like I've got it all figured out. Not in the least! I've definitely thrown back my fair share of $5 lattes. I ordered some books and patterns this month that I probably didn't need. But you've got to pick your battles and, for me, it's easy to say no to fabric stashing because I have other reasons for not buying it.
But walking past all that on-sale-silk got me thinking: I know I want to be making some beautiful clothes this year, and I want to use natural fibers. That chiffon would make beautiful blouses and dresses, and some of that simple 100% silk would probably make great lining (thus helping me avoid the dreaded "is rayon natural?" debate.) Wouldn't it be smart to buy some now, rather than pay possibly twice as much down the line when I'm ready to start sewing?
Well, I still think the answer is mostly, "no." Because if you buy without a plan, you can't guarantee you'll use what you buy. And even if you want to, you can't guarantee you'll have the right amount. But on the other hand, those savings... what a shame to miss out on them!
So, I'm thinking the best strategy is to make a long-term sewing plan. Make a rough and realistic schedule, pick the patterns, figure out how much and what kind of fabric and notions are needed. And write it down. That way, when the sales present themselves, I'll be shopping with a list instead of on a whim. And it doesn't feel so much like "stashing" when there's a plan in place.
What do you guys think? Do you shop with a plan? Or do you indulge in fabric spontaneously, the way I indulge in sweet treats and coffee?
For those who are curious, I had great success fitting my second Pendrell muslin. Keep an eye out for a post about it soon!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
On Stashing
Do you stash fabric?
I don't, and I definitely feel like I'm in the minority, at least from what I see around the blogosphere. I don't mean to sound like I'm judging those who do - on the contrary! I love living vicariously through others, drooling over the delicious fabrics they acquire. I've just never felt good doing it, myself.
It's partly a financial thing. I'm still paying off my student loan, and then I'll want to start saving for a house, and I just can't abide the idea of tying up hundreds (or thousands!) of dollars in fabric that will sit in my cupboard. It's partly a risk thing, too. What if the house burns down or floods? (Or gets robbed? Fabric theives!) But mostly it's a guilt thing. Once I buy fabric, I feel obligated to use it. It feels wasteful just letting it languish unloved in a closet. And it never fails that if I buy something "just because," the right project never materializes for it, and I never have the right type or amount of fabric on hand for the projects that I do want to make.
Sure, I know I'd be safe buying around 2.5 meters of almost anything, if I really loved it. But then that leads me right back to my first two points about money and risk. I'm definitely happier choosing a pattern first, and then buying my supplies. And ogling the stashes of others, in the meantime :)
I'm curious - are there any other non-stashers out there?
I don't, and I definitely feel like I'm in the minority, at least from what I see around the blogosphere. I don't mean to sound like I'm judging those who do - on the contrary! I love living vicariously through others, drooling over the delicious fabrics they acquire. I've just never felt good doing it, myself.
It's partly a financial thing. I'm still paying off my student loan, and then I'll want to start saving for a house, and I just can't abide the idea of tying up hundreds (or thousands!) of dollars in fabric that will sit in my cupboard. It's partly a risk thing, too. What if the house burns down or floods? (Or gets robbed? Fabric theives!) But mostly it's a guilt thing. Once I buy fabric, I feel obligated to use it. It feels wasteful just letting it languish unloved in a closet. And it never fails that if I buy something "just because," the right project never materializes for it, and I never have the right type or amount of fabric on hand for the projects that I do want to make.
Sure, I know I'd be safe buying around 2.5 meters of almost anything, if I really loved it. But then that leads me right back to my first two points about money and risk. I'm definitely happier choosing a pattern first, and then buying my supplies. And ogling the stashes of others, in the meantime :)
I'm curious - are there any other non-stashers out there?
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