Gloria Glamont is a woman “of a certain age” who loves style, fashion, design and even a bit of sewing. She loves a great glass of wine or a dry martini, three olives, please. She writes about her passions here and other places.
Gloria Glamont is, of course, a pseudonym. Don’t even ask. It’s a long story!
The GG Files is a completely non-commercial site. It’s just for fun!
There’s an old Zen proverb that I love. “You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day unless you’re too busy, then you should sit for an hour.” I’m one of those people who’s spent so much of her life doing, doing, doing. My husband, who has mastered the art of sitting still after forty-five years of a hectic medical practice, calls me a “Human doing” (of course, as opposed to a “human being”). But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that sewing is that space where, despite the fact that I seem to be “doing,” I can also “be.” Sewing is my meditation.
When last we met, I wrestled with my desire to make a muslin for a very complicated design. In the end, I didn’t have the time or, frankly, the inclination to pursue it. So, I picked up a piece of leftover fabric that I had bought too much of last year and rifled through my patterns.
The piece was black. So what else is new? *rolls eyes* Of course, it was black. Most of my leftover pieces are grey or black, so sue me. And just consider the possibilities when the fabric is black, and you just want to have fun.
The fabric reads like a ponte with a brushed back so I was looking for a cozy “sweater” type pattern. I have one Jalie pattern, “Charlotte,” that I’ve used for three favourite cropped jackets.
Since I didn’t need another cropped jacket, and I wanted to have some fun, I decided to make the longer version of it and experiment with some machine embroidery. And I thought I’d do it in red.
I never use the embroidery function on my machine (or almost never), mainly because I’m not an embroidery kind of person. I don’t wear embroidery as a rule. But, in the spirit of having fun, I thought I’d go for it. I experimented with a couple of feathery things but ultimately chose a triple sort of zigzag.
Then I had to decide how much of it I’d use because, well, you know, you can have too much of a good thing. I decided to trim the pockets and the sleeves and see if it could cope (or I could cope) with more. Since I decided to order fancy, hand-made buttons from Buttons d’anjou on Etsy, once they arrived, I realized that would be quite enough embroidery.
Then, I just meditated my way through a fun project. And voila! I have a new sweater (jacket?).
Moving on to spring now … if it ever comes!
I just love making muslins. I don’t know what it is about those ugly, non-wearable garments that I love so much, but I do. Maybe it’s the freedom of knowing that accuracy is essential, but finishing is not. Perhaps it’s because it permits tweaking and fussing and getting it just right. Or maybe it’s because you can write on them and pretend you’re a real designer. Yes, I think that’s probably what I like the most! Which brings me to my horror at the very thought of a “wearable muslin.”
The muslin I created for my husband’s denim jacket last year. Pocket placement was key.
I mean, isn’t the term “wearable muslin” something of an oxymoron? I believe it is. Hear me out. If a muslin is for tweaking fit and design and fabric choice, then you do need to be able to rip it apart, put it back together, and mark on it. So, let’s take a deeper dive into muslin-making.
A muslin (also called a *toile* in some regions) is a test version of a garment made from inexpensive fabric Wearability isn’t an issue!), usually unbleached cotton muslin or another affordable material with similar weight and drape to the final fabric (when possible. At least use cheap knit fabric if the final garment is to be made from a knit!). It is created before cutting into the actual fabric to test the fit, construction, and design of a garment. And when you’re using expensive fabric that gives you pause before that first slice through with your shears, then having already established that the thing will fit gives a lot of comfort, I’ll tell you.
So, why do we take the time to make them? Here are a few reasons.
In my early sewing years, I had never even considered this. It wasn’t something I was taught. We just took the commercial pattern, did a bit of tissue-fitting and were off to the races. However, when I discovered the joy of making a Little French Jacket and couture techniques, I discovered that making a muslin could allow me to create an entirely new pattern. There again, how can you use a muslin to make your pattern if you think it should be wearable? (Excuse my continuing rant.) After all, cutting apart that ugly little adjusted garment to create a new, accurate and completely custom pattern is the goal, n’est ce pas?
Here’s my tailored jacket journey.
Anyway, I recently thought I’d create a muslin for Vogue 1839 I’ve had kicking around since I picked it up on the sale table at a local fabric store. I was fascinated by its lines and the fact that it was designed by the late Claire Schaeffer, whose books helped me when I was learning how to tailor a jacket.
I got my cutting table ready and started to prep the pattern. Dear god, how many pieces were there in this design? And the pattern? I don’t think I’ve seen that much tissue paper since I made my sister’s wedding gown over forty years ago!
I cannot even count the number of pattern pieces there were. Just look at them, and these are all for a single view! I spent a few minutes contemplating if I wanted to do this and realized that I didn’t have the energy. So, I went to my tiny pile of leftover fabric pieces and found one large enough to make a new “sweater.” Ah, now that feels better. I’ll tell you about the fun I’m having with this one in the next post.
P.S. If you were waiting to hear about my vacation where I wore recent makes, well, I had a great vacation but didn’t wear a single one of my own pieces! Still, it was a great time! Cheers!
When you start a sewing project, which comes first: the design (the pattern) or the fabric? For most of my years since I learned to sew decades ago, I began with the design. There were so many reasons for this.
First, in the early years, I sewed so that I could have a wider variety of clothes. If I needed (or wanted) new pants or a formal gown even, I had to begin there, finding the right design. Then, I looked for fabric based on what was appropriate for the design. My next reason was that patterns had recommended fabrics listed on them so that would make finding something easier, n’est ce pas? Well, that only worked for me because, years ago, I didn’t know nearly as much about fabrics as I do now.
I’ve taken it upon myself over the years to learn as much as I can about types of fabrics, their fibre content, how they’re made, how they behave and what their applications might be. Once I knew this, if I fell in love with a particular fabric, I’d know just what kind of design it would suit. As I learned, though, I did make a few mistakes along the way.
My favourite reference book for fabrics.
More than once, I found myself working with a piece of fabric (sometimes fighting with it, if you must know) and ending up with a garment that was, at best, meh. At worst, god-awful and thus unwearable. So, every time I find a fabric I like, I am very cautious about finding the right design.
A few months ago, when I was buying shirt buttons in my local Fabricland (Canada’s big-box fabric retailer that can usually be found in suburban strip malls, but this one is oddly enough smack in the middle of Toronto’s mink mile, nowhere near the fabric district but in my neighbourhood), I stumbled on some fabric that drew me to it. I don’t buy a lot of fabric there because they are a bit too heavy on the polyester, which isn’t one of my favourite fabrics to wear, but I do buy notions. Anyway, I was buying interfacing when I was mesmerized by this fabric.
I was delighted to find that rather than polyester, it was rayon. And rather than being a smooth weave rayon (which I’d used disastrously in the past), it was a twill weave. I think that twill weave rayon has a wonderful hand and drape and is much more comfortable to wear than polyester, for example. So, naturally, I bought a couple of metres. But then, what to do with it? And I find myself in the dilemma I usually try to avoid.
Throughout the fall, I made shirts—men’s shirts. First, I made a new one for my husband, and then I made shirts for my sons for Christmas.
My husband at Christmas wearing his GG Shirt 
The boys with their new shirts at Christmas 
My husband’s shirt 
You would think I’d be sick of making shirts, but I trotted out an old Burda pattern I’d found in the discard bin at Fabricland (another reason to shop there from time to time). For two dollars, I had acquired Burda 6908 with no plans for doing anything with it. It seemed like a match made in heaven for this fabric I’d fallen in love with—with its gold astrological figure on its blue background.
I chose View A—a tunicy thing with a back pleat. Now, it seems like a straightforward women’s shirt. But here’s the thing: I hated the length—far too long and far too much fabric to contend with while wearing—and I did not appreciate double on-boob pockets.
Then, as I looked more closely, I also realized I hated the cuff vents with their lazy little turned edges. So (*rolls eyes*) I had to haul out my GG Collection bespoke pattern that I made for myself a few years ago and redraw a few things on the Burda pattern, including drafting a cuff vent pattern.
My cuff placket design for this shirt to upgrade the cuffs.
Then, I went online to Etsy and contacted my favourite button artisan, Michèle, and asked her if she might be able to create custom buttons for me. The ones she did for me turned out to be spectacular, and I highly recommend Michèle. She designs and makes the buttons and operates BoutonsdAuj.
Aren’t the buttons just perfect?? 
And just pop the collar…
Once I had shortened the pattern to a more manageable length and created the pattern for the sleeve, working with the fabric was easy. I finally finished my first project for 2025. Yay!
I have no idea what I’ll be making next. First, I have a few weeks under a palm tree in the Caribbean to look forward to. There will be no sewing during that sojourn! I might take one or two pieces I made for myself last summer. Stay tuned!
What are you wearing this fall? If you’re anything like me, you’re interested in what’s current. Still, you don’t necessarily want to buy into the craziness of clothes that will be outdated in mere months—or trendy pieces that you have no occasion to wear, based on your lifestyle. What I like to do is to look at the trends to see which of them seems to have actually been around for a while (suggesting it’s something that’s slowly becoming classic) and which ones suit me and my lifestyle. The latter is probably more useful since there are lots of things I could fall in love with, and most of them would never fit into my life these days. I mean, where do these Instagram style influencers for women of a certain age ever wear all those fancy dresses and high heels? *rolls eyes*
And, really, who needs six sweaters, all of the same style but in different colours? Hmm … it just occurred to me that these people may never do laundry, thus the requirement for multiples of the same things. Just a thought.
So, let’s take a gander at what’s new, what’s crazy and what might work.
Country house chic (from Glamour magazine): Can you do plaid in such large amounts? I can’t, so this is a hard pass for me.
They’re also showing lots of Boho. Will this annoying trend never go away? Just imagine someone my age wearing Boho ruffles and fringes. I’m snorting with laughter at the thought.
And then there is all that denim on denim. There was a time when this look was called the “Canadian Tuxedo,” and not in a good way.
And then there is leopard, leopard and more animal print.
My question is this: Despite animal prints becoming “classic” in their way, how much animal print do you really want to wear? Or, more precisely, how much animal print do I want to wear? The answer is a bit, and it depends.
I want a touch of it in my wardrobe, but I’m not an all-over animal print kind of gal. I like it in small doses. And it depends on how it’s interpreted. That’s why, when I came across this paisley knit that reads like animal print (if you squint), I realized I could add a useful piece to my 2024 fall and winter wardrobe and feel just a bit on trend. And it was made from 95% viscose and 5% spandex, a combination that’s soft, drapeable and not overly synthetic (I’ll talk more about viscose a bit later).
The pattern is Simplicity 9451. It offers four different styles of top that beg for a drapey, buttery fabric to do justice to the draped shoulder and waist.
Views A and B drape from both the shoulder and the waist, while Views C and D drape only from the shoulder. There are also two neckline options and three sleeve (or lack thereof) options. This is a nice one for future projects.
I love a boat neckline (I have waxed rapturous about bateaux in several earlier posts), so I decided the mock neck (that some pattern reviewers said was choking) wasn’t an option for me. Pattern reviewers also said that the opening at the back gaped, so I sewed it right to the top. I know a boat neckline in this kind of fabric doesn’t need a keyhole opening to get it on. Despite opinions to the contrary, my head isn’t that big. 😅
Now, let’s talk about the fabric. You may be more familiar with viscose by its alternative name: rayon. Rayon (or viscose) is manufactured cellulosic fibre (MMCF), which means that it is created from trees. It’s referred to as a semi-synthetic since it does require significant treatment in its production. Since it’s made from a natural source, it has advantages over synthetics like polyester, another possible choice for this pattern.
Rayon is softer, more durable and has a buttery drape that most polyester can’t beat, and polyester cannot beat rayon’s breathability, that’s for sure. However, as a side note, if you’re really into sustainability and look only for fabrics that are created in a way that is gentler to the environment, you’ll need to do your homework. Not all rayons are created equal. Rayon (viscose) is indeed less toxic since it’s made from trees, but it uses chemicals in its production and like even cotton production, it uses a lot of water.
Also, rayon/viscose varies widely in its quality. Modal and lyocell (tencel) are both types of rayon but are not manufactured in precisely the same way or from exactly the same material, giving them slightly different qualities and qualities. In addition, “Viscose production also involves using caustic soda, carbon disulphide, and other toxic chemicals. Compared to certain types of rayon like lyocell, the viscose production process involves using more harsh chemicals.”[1]
This fabric was as smooth as silk and had to be treated that way. If you want to read about the technicalities and where I got this fabric, my piece on the Fabricville blog is HERE.[2]
So, how did it turn out? Well, I now have a comfy little piece that I might wear all day going about the business of life at this age, but I suppose if I dress it up a bit, I could wear it out to dinner—depending on the place, of course. *bats eyes*
[1] Viscose vs Rayon: A Comprehensive Comparison. https://www.greenhive.io/blog/viscose-vs-rayon
[2]Sewing the Trends: When Fabric and Design Work Together https://blog.fabricville.com/en/sewing-the-trends-when-fabric-and-design-work-together/
I love a great detail on a garment. It could be special top-stitching, a bias-cut sleeve vent or (and this may be my favourite kind of detail) a great button or six. What I’ve noticed, though, is that many ready-to-wear pieces lack these details. Sure, you can order some great buttons from your favourite online artisan and replace them, but I think it’s even better if you can design those details yourself when you’re sewing.
Over the years, I’ve tried to make some of my pieces unique.
This year, since I’ve been spending a great deal more time writing new books than sewing, I managed only a few pieces. One of the ones I’ve been most proud of is the jean-style jacket I made for my husband recently. I found this McCall’s pattern last fall …
… and asked my husband if he’d like to choose his own fabric. So, we took a (long) walk downtown to Queen Street West here in Toronto (the fabric district) and wandered in and out of a few shops until he found what he wanted—a grey-mix twill.
I have to admit that I’ve been spending a lot of my time sewing with silks and knits in recent years, and this was by far the stiffest, thickest one I’ve encountered in a long time. But I’m nothing if not willing to take on a new sewing adventure.
I began the project by creating a muslin. There was no way I was sewing this for my husband without knowing it would fit well. So, about those details …
As you can see on the pattern, it has four patch pockets, each of which has a flap and a button. To make the details even more interesting, the pattern designer set one on its side.
I asked my husband if he liked all the pockets since it seemed to me to be quite busy. Surprisingly, he liked them, so I made up the muslin with the pockets. What we discovered (the beauty of making a test garment) was that the sideways pocket with its flap and button looked like too much. So, I removed it and put it back on at an angle with no flap and voila! We had a new detail that we all liked better. Once we had it fitted well, it was time to move on with the creation.
I started by washing my 4 X 4-inch sample. I discovered that it washed well but didn’t dry well, so I prepped the fabric by washing it and hanging it to dry. Step one done.
I started with seam finish and top-stitching samples. I also tried my walking foot (which didn’t work well) and my quarter-inch foot. In the midst of all this, I discovered that there is such a thing as a quarter-inch foot with a guide, and I was ecstatic.
I immediately ordered one, and it made for the most accurate topstitching I could imagine. I also managed perfectly matched seams (I must have been under the magic spell of the sewing godmother!).
In the end, the pockets and the buttons added just the details that made this jacket something different—something special. And, what’s even better, my husband loves it!
Happy sewing!
There’s an old Zen proverb that I love. “You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day unless you’re too busy, then you should sit for an hour.” I’m one of those people who’s spent so much of her life doing, doing, doing. My husband, who has mastered the art of sitting still after forty-five years of a hectic medical practice, calls me a “Human doing” (of course, as opposed to a “human being”). But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that sewing is that space where, despite the fact that I seem to be “doing,” I can also “be.” Sewing is my meditation.
When last we met, I wrestled with my desire to make a muslin for a very complicated design. In the end, I didn’t have the time or, frankly, the inclination to pursue it. So, I picked up a piece of leftover fabric that I had bought too much of last year and rifled through my patterns.
The piece was black. So what else is new? *rolls eyes* Of course, it was black. Most of my leftover pieces are grey or black, so sue me. And just consider the possibilities when the fabric is black, and you just want to have fun.
The fabric reads like a ponte with a brushed back so I was looking for a cozy “sweater” type pattern. I have one Jalie pattern, “Charlotte,” that I’ve used for three favourite cropped jackets.
Since I didn’t need another cropped jacket, and I wanted to have some fun, I decided to make the longer version of it and experiment with some machine embroidery. And I thought I’d do it in red.
I never use the embroidery function on my machine (or almost never), mainly because I’m not an embroidery kind of person. I don’t wear embroidery as a rule. But, in the spirit of having fun, I thought I’d go for it. I experimented with a couple of feathery things but ultimately chose a triple sort of zigzag.
Then I had to decide how much of it I’d use because, well, you know, you can have too much of a good thing. I decided to trim the pockets and the sleeves and see if it could cope (or I could cope) with more. Since I decided to order fancy, hand-made buttons from Buttons d’anjou on Etsy, once they arrived, I realized that would be quite enough embroidery.
Then, I just meditated my way through a fun project. And voila! I have a new sweater (jacket?).
Moving on to spring now … if it ever comes!
I love a great detail on a garment. It could be special top-stitching, a bias-cut sleeve vent or (and this may be my favourite kind of detail) a great button or six. What I’ve noticed, though, is that many ready-to-wear pieces lack these details. Sure, you can order some great buttons from your favourite online artisan and replace them, but I think it’s even better if you can design those details yourself when you’re sewing.
Over the years, I’ve tried to make some of my pieces unique.
This year, since I’ve been spending a great deal more time writing new books than sewing, I managed only a few pieces. One of the ones I’ve been most proud of is the jean-style jacket I made for my husband recently. I found this McCall’s pattern last fall …
… and asked my husband if he’d like to choose his own fabric. So, we took a (long) walk downtown to Queen Street West here in Toronto (the fabric district) and wandered in and out of a few shops until he found what he wanted—a grey-mix twill.
I have to admit that I’ve been spending a lot of my time sewing with silks and knits in recent years, and this was by far the stiffest, thickest one I’ve encountered in a long time. But I’m nothing if not willing to take on a new sewing adventure.
I began the project by creating a muslin. There was no way I was sewing this for my husband without knowing it would fit well. So, about those details …
As you can see on the pattern, it has four patch pockets, each of which has a flap and a button. To make the details even more interesting, the pattern designer set one on its side.
I asked my husband if he liked all the pockets since it seemed to me to be quite busy. Surprisingly, he liked them, so I made up the muslin with the pockets. What we discovered (the beauty of making a test garment) was that the sideways pocket with its flap and button looked like too much. So, I removed it and put it back on at an angle with no flap and voila! We had a new detail that we all liked better. Once we had it fitted well, it was time to move on with the creation.
I started by washing my 4 X 4-inch sample. I discovered that it washed well but didn’t dry well, so I prepped the fabric by washing it and hanging it to dry. Step one done.
I started with seam finish and top-stitching samples. I also tried my walking foot (which didn’t work well) and my quarter-inch foot. In the midst of all this, I discovered that there is such a thing as a quarter-inch foot with a guide, and I was ecstatic.
I immediately ordered one, and it made for the most accurate topstitching I could imagine. I also managed perfectly matched seams (I must have been under the magic spell of the sewing godmother!).
In the end, the pockets and the buttons added just the details that made this jacket something different—something special. And, what’s even better, my husband loves it!
Happy sewing!
Coco Chanel knew a thing or two about elegance. Most of us have an innate sense of what it means to be elegant (whether or not we aspire to it – I do), but if pressed to define the term—well, that’s a bit more elusive. Since one of my objectives in paying homage to Chanel’s aesthetic by reproducing a few pieces inspired by her approach to design is to create elegantly wearable pieces, I thought it might be informative to look it up.
Most definitions of elegant use words like, graceful, stylish tasteful, luxurious, sophisticated and chic, all of which I like the sound of, but my favourite definition is this: “…someone or something luxurious in a restrained manner or something that is very well-thought through yet simple.”[1] Oh how I wish every piece of clothing in my closet held to this standard. And how I aspire to be elegant as I age. Anyway, what does this have to do with my current sewing project? Well, lots.
As I painstakingly complete the internal workings of the Little French Jacket, I’m always bearing in mind that Chanel truly believed that the inside of finished clothing (she wasn’t just referring to the more esoteric internal beauty of individuals if that was even a part of her thought process), ought to be as beautiful as the outside. And that means that taking particular care to get it right even in the parts that no one will see is important. Whenever I wear my first LFJ it makes me feel elegant just to know that the inside is beautifully finished. It doesn’t hurt that this type of construction is sublimely comfortable either (if you choose your fabrics carefully).
The inside of my first LFJ.
I’ve stabilized all of the edges of the bouclé by hand-sewing twill tape as I did before. Many expert sewers who teach about this type of construction will tell you to put selvedge from silk organza. That’s terrific, but I felt that the edges of this bouclé which has quite a bit of give to it and is floppy, required a bit more stability. Now that I have the basic construction completed, I know that I was right in my selection. You can’t be too wedded to rules, I think.
Quilting the lining to the jacket body pieces was a bit trickier this time around. The last time I made one of these jackets I had a kind of plaid design in the tweed which gave me straight lines on the outside of the jacket to follow when machine quilting. Since it does have to be quilted from the outside, it occurred to me that this might be tricky. To be fair, it would be tricky even on the inside since the lining has no lines either. So, I decided to take a page out of Claire Schaeffer’s instructions and thread baste the pieces together as well as adding a straight line of basting down the centre of each piece to follow for the first line of quilting on each piece then use that line as the basis for straight lines for the rest of the stitching (always using a 3.0 mm stitch length and a walking foot).
Basting the lining to the fabric – and using a ruler to get the centre line straight. It will guide the first line of quilting done by machine from the outside.
After quilting the pieces, I started on the side and shoulder seams. The pressing of the seams is critical. In my view, pressing (or lack thereof) is one of the sure signs of an amateurish, home-made piece of clothing (notwithstanding some of the new designs on runways that look like they were done in old home economics sewing classes without benefit of a steam iron). Pressing technique is so important.
I now know to press the seam flat in its closed position before attempting to press it open. I used to do that all the time. I also know to then press with only the tip of the iron on the outside to finish. So three passes at the ironing board.
I also know not to trim the seam before pressing. No wonder it was so difficult to open them! Anyway, I also now know to use small scissors to trim the seams after – I have so much more control this way.
I used grey thread in the spool and black in the bobbin so that the quilting would blend in to the different colours of the outside versus the inside. I also knew to leave very long threads at the end this time since they have to be pulled inside and knotted – backstitching here!
The next step is the sleeves which are always a treat since there are so many layers that have to be carefully put in their correct location. I never have trouble setting in sleeves, but making sure that I haven’t caught up a piece of lining where lining ought not to be caught is the real challenge for me. But once they’re completed and the lining is hand-sewn inside, it looks like a real jacket whose simple exterior belies the work done on the inside. I love knowing that!
I’m very happy with the progress so far. Christmas is just about upon us and I do hope to have the jacket ready for New Year’s Eve. Here’s hoping!
[1] http://www.yourdictionary.com/elegant#IoW3DtTDrD0Tklhy.99
I’m not really a sundress kind of woman. I know this about myself. All those flowy, floaty, cottony printed dresses with strappy bodices are simply not my style. With that off my chest, I can concede, though, that there is nothing quite as cool and comfortable, not to mention pulled-together, than a well-fitting “sunny day” dress. That I could get into – as long as it fulfils a number of important GG criteria. But before I get to that, what about all those sundresses out there?
Let’s start with a definition (forgive me: I’m a former Professor and this is where we always begin).
Dictionary.com (what would we do without those online dictionaries? Open a book perhaps?) defines a sundress as follows…
a dress with a bodice styled to expose the arms, shoulders, and back, for wear during hot weather.[1]
Well, isn’t that interesting. Not a thing about flowy, floaty, cottony prints! Just a lot of exposure. Interesting. But then, there’s the Urbandictionary.com definition (Don’t blame me; I’m not endorsing anyone’s definition. I’m just sharing what they say for the sake of discussion…)
A one piece dress with a to-the-knee or lower hemline, usually worn by clingy, slutty, chunky-looking women during the summer, often accented by clogs, flip-flops, and the absence of panties…[2]
Geesh! Duly noted…but I’m a bit old for the last element! Well, I guess everyone is an expert these days. And if you didn’t know there were other descriptions out there, maybe it’s a good thing to be educated! In any case, that’s not how I see them. In any event, this definition doesn’t seem to mention that flowy, floaty, cottony thing either. So, I’m on firmer ground than I thought by establishing my own criteria for the perfect sundress.
In general, I think we can all agree with that all-knowing authority we call Wikipedia, that it is a “dress intended to be worn in warm weather…”[3] This is a suitably vague definition that has endless design possibilities. I have seen references to American designer and socialite Lily Pulitzer as leader in making the sundress a must-have summer garment choice in North America in the twentieth century. Her tropical coloured prints, so reminiscent of Palm Beach where she lived, became my reference point for Florida- style hot-weather dressing, and it never did suit my aesthetic. But it was everywhere. So, you can see where I got my notion that sun dresses are printed!
https://www.lillypulitzer.com/dresses/
…Although I have to say that I would wear a few from the current collection that even has black *gasp* and other non-print colours.(These are dresses from the current collection…Lily herself died in 2013.)
The brand really took off in 1962 when Jackie O. (then Jackie Kennedy) was photographed with her husband and children wearing an LP dress. As you already know, Jackie O.’s Mediterranean style is one of my design muses for this little cruise-worthy collection.
Jackie (Kennedy) in LP
So, then, what are the attributes that I look for in a cool summer dress that is at the centre of my cruise wear day-time wardrobe?
So, when I put all of these together, it’s little wonder that I was inspired by an old sewing pattern image I stumbled upon when collecting ideas for this collection.
I did a few sketches and decided that this was the one I’d go with.
It’s really a shirt dress style, but I love the fact that the collar goes right to the edges of the cross-over at the front rather than to the centre front. If I were to actually close it over (which I nave no intention of ever doing) it would actually create a kind of stand-up collar, a look I might be inclined to use in a winter dress or top. I love the intentionality of the popped collar on this one.
I began with drafting a pattern from my sloper…
…and sewed up a muslin…
After a few tweaks, I was ready to select a fabric from my cruise fabric selections. I chose the striped seersucker.
I did learn one new skill with this piece. Don’t laugh: I learned to use the machine button foot. Not the button-hole foot – I already use that – I mean the one that sews on buttons. I have to credit my husband for goading me into it. I always hand-sew buttons on a garment, but he, a master of gadgets, asked why I don’t use the machine foot designed for this purpose. I always thought it would be more trouble than it was worth. I was so wrong!
I have created a dress that will be an important part of day-time dressing on the cruise and during our pre-cruise week in Puerto Rico and post cruise couple of days in Fort Lauderdale. (Keep in mind that a Silversea ship isn’t exactly a sloppy T and cargo shorts kind of venue).
It may not be what you call a sundress, but it’s my “sunny day” dress! Photos of it in action will have to wait until the cruise!
[1] https://www.dictionary.com/browse/sundress
[2] https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sundress
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundress
My past RTW cruise wear
Every project has to begin somewhere. When you think of vacationing in the Caribbean and what you’ll be wearing, you might very well begin with an image of a beach and a palm tree and a cool cocktail. You might be wearing a dreamy, floaty swim cover-up, or a fluttery tank top and shorts, or even a sun dress. Well, I’ll get there eventually, but let’s face it – my cruise collection really is for a cruise. And a luxury cruise at that. What this means is a major requirement for cocktail attire, so that’s where I’m starting. My perfect LBCD.
I spent a lot of time last year on my Little Black Dress project, during which I completed four test garments using three commercial patterns and ending up with my own design. But during that process I did find a silhouette that I thought I might translate into one of my own pieces.
For this collection, I’m inspired by Jackie O. and Audrey Hepburn on the Mediterranean. Much of what that conjures up for me relates to daytime sand, sun, surf and shopping in Monte Carlo. But for evening, I need to look no further than their iconic cocktail style to be inspired to create a dress that will be the centerpiece of this evening cruise collection.
It will be a simple, boat-necked, princess-seamed black dress that fits to perfection and can be changed up by accessories and all manner of little jackets. That way, a cruiser like me need only take one or two cocktail dresses and never look the same twice.
The fabric is black with textural striped detail and lovely drape which lends itself to the long, lean line of this princess-seamed dress. Although this fabric feels wonderful on its own (and is washable and packable to boot), I am lining it for a more sophisticated feel – and it finishes off the neckline and armholes beautifully.
It is so simple: boat-neck, sleeveless, lined, invisible back zipper, centre-back slit. Perfect fit. That’s it.
Next I’ll need to draft a few jackets to accompany it!
Perhaps in a coordinating fabric? We’ll see.
[BTW: No final views of the pieces in action – i.e. on me – until we hit the Caribbean!]
The lovely Victorian gardens in Halifax on our road trip
My husband and I have just returned from an almost-two-week road trip. We started here in Toronto, headed down through northern New York state, through New Hampshire, into New Brunswick and then relaxed for five days in Halifax, Nova Scotia with friends and family. We then turned around and headed back on a different route out of Nova Scotia, through New Brunswick (as one must), into Maine, onto New Hampshire (this time on the coast), then spent our last night in Lake Placid, New York. Along the way I found myself browsing in a plethora of quirky boutiques in a variety of small towns and cities where I encountered a few ideas. And two of the best ones were from Canadian designers.
I’ve long been a fan of veteran Canadian designs by Comrags, although I do have to scratch my head every year about some of their pieces. I mean – what were they thinking about this one? It looks like a burlap bag with embroidery – neither of which I find personally flattering on me.
Really? who looks good in a burlap sack? [photo from Comrags web site]
I have also liked Simpli, a design firm out of Vancouver. They also seem to be able to source flattering fabrics – and again, I have been scratching my head this year about the designs. Why are they all so full of so much material? They say they flatter every body – but really, who looks good in this? (The jersey fabric is great, though. Again, I want some.)
Simpli – yecch. [photo from the Simpli web site]
Lucky for me I discovered two new Canadian designers to put on my list of fabulous fabric usage as well as wearable design.
In Halifax I stumbled into Lisa Draeder-Murphy’s shop in Historic Properties where she stocks her Turbine Designs. As luck would have it, the designer herself was in the shop that day although she tells me that this is a rare event.
I did not by any stretch of the imagination need a new dress, but again I was smitten by her fabrications and could not resist. For me it’s the feel of the fabric and god knows I’ve made enough mistakes in selecting fabrics for sewing projects. They often look fantastic, but the feel? Not so much. Damn, when will I learn?
When I was in St. Andrews, New Brunswick, I strolled into Toose’s Bijoux and found myself touching and rubbing the fabric of a series of lovely T’s. Turns out that they are the designs of a firm called “Leave Nothing But Footprints” (LNBF), and yes, they are a group of “socially-conscious” millennials. This means that their fabrics are soft and natural, ethically-produced and organic. Most of their fabrics are viscose from bamboo which if you have never tried it, is one of the softest fabrics around. I bought a wonderful, long-sleeved, well-priced ($49 CDN) T with a banded V-neck – I can’t wait for the weather to be cool enough to wear it. However, I’m now on a mission to find some of this fabric to sew with. Wish me luck!
There’s nothing like a customized dress form that reflects your body precisely back to you to make you feel a bit like a real designer. I’d like to think that now that I have finally finished my customization project that everything I sew for myself from here on in will fit better. We’ll see. Anyway, I finally have Gloria Junior finished and what a work of art she is! When I wrote about my doppelgänger before as I began this project, I came to terms with looking objectively at my own figure and accepting that this is who I am. Now that she’s finished, I’m even happier with what I see.
I’m by no means the first sewer to do a project like this. And indeed there are more way to get to this point than I could have imagined when I began. On their web site, Threads magazine has a slide show of “9 ways to customize your dress form”[1] which was one of the first pieces of research I hit on when I started this. There’s the duct-tape approach where you wrap yourself with duct tape and then cut yourself out (presumably with a helper), ditto for the paper tape method; the paper maché approach which seems excessively messy. The rest all seem to be variations on these ones. None of them appealed to me, but they are certainly faster and probably cheaper than the method I chose.
As I wrote about previously when I started this project, I decided to use the moulage I created on the road to a custom bodice block (sloper) for designing my own patterns, as the basis for my custom dress form.
I started with Gloria Junior, my adjustable dress form whose adjustments never really did capture the nuances of the hollows and bumps of my body. If I dialed her out to fit one part, she was then too big in another, but I soldiered on. Then came the moulage.
I started by dialing her back down so that she reflected the smallest part of me (the under-bust area as it turns out), then proceeded to pad up the other places.
After installing a separating zipper down the back of the moulage (as I discussed in the first pot on this subject), with the help of my doctor-husband who has a stash of ace bandages, gauze tape and bandage tape, we secured three sets of shoulder pads in the bust area and filled in the hollows with quilt batting. I had originally placed one set of shoulder pads where shoulder pads are meant to be: on the shoulders. However, that raised the shoulders so much that the neck ws off – so I had to improvise. Once we had her stuffed, it was time to think about how she would be covered.
Several wonderful bloggers[2] have gone before me and created little patterns for what has been described as the “easy-peasy” way to cover your mannequin. Well, I am the queen of making the simplest sewing task difficult, and this was no exception.
First, I wanted to ensure that the pin cushion at the top of the dress form was still available to me, so there had to be a hole at the top. Then I didn’t like how the neck wasn’t properly contoured which was the same problem at the waist. So I had to manipulate the lovely little pattern, tweaking the final product by hand.
Some people choose light colours for their forms, reflecting a belief that flesh-toned forms will better show the eventual garments. For me, however, black is just so slimming, n’est ce pas? And besides, I had a length of black jersey just the right size kicking around.
So there she sits in all her glory, waiting for me to begin another project – which I fully intend to do as soon as we return from our upcoming fall road trip to the east coast. See you on the other side.
[1] http://www.threadsmagazine.com/item/37187/9-ways-to-make-a-custom-dress-form
[2] http://www.crafterhoursblog.com/2014/05/slipcover-your-dress-form.html; http://www.dominicancooking.com/9331-making-a-cover-for-a-dressform.html
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a planner. I plan weekly menus before I go to the grocery store. I map out an entire two-week road trip months in advance ensuring that all hotels are booked for the right days and I know the precise driving time between stops. I write outlines for everything I write, and writing is what I do in my other life (in this one, too, you might well respond – I don’t outline blog posts, though, which is probably obvious!).
To be clear, when I started my writing career many years ago, I learned very quickly that to sell a non-fiction book to a publisher, I’d need to learn to write a book proposal which is nothing short of a complete outline among a lot of other stuff. So, I learned the process of book proposal writing well enough to sell seven or eight books that way. So, when it comes to my sewing and design life, I pretty much take that same approach.
Remember my cruise collection? That started with an actual inspiration board, moved on to sketches, then I created original patterns, chose fabrics planned for specific projects (no fabric hoarding here). My Little Black Dress project? It progressed the same way as did my three Little French Jackets. So, I have no reason to think that much of my work will be on the fly. Well, you know what they say: “The best laid plans…” Let me back up a bit.
When I returned to fashion design and sewing a few years ago, much had changed in that world. For years my sewing machine collected dust between jean hemming and costume sewing projects. (I’m happy to say that the costume sewing for children’s theatre actually resulted in a child who grew up to be successful in the performing arts.) Then, the muse struck and I finally had the time to devote to a return to something I had loved as a young adult. But, as I mentioned, there were many new things.
This is the one I have. I use it infrequently.
First there was the rotary cutter. When I first saw one, I thought, Doesn’t anyone use shears anymore? I soon learned that, yes, shears are the way to go on most projects for me. I use a rotary cutter mostly for interfacing and muslin cutting. Otherwise, they’re not my thing – dreadful on silk, wool, bouclé etc. Then there were the patterns.
I had never before heard that McCall’s, Vogue, Butterick and Simplicity were now referred to as “the big four” and not in a good way. What was that all about, I thought? This led me to learn about the new “indie” pattern companies. That sounds very democratic, doesn’t it? What I found was an avalanche of half-baked patterns, generally for tent-like bags that would fit everyone and no one – I’ll leave the rest of that rant for another day to equalize out all those rants from sewers who seem to dislike the “big four” with a passion. I happen to think they do very good work. But that’s for another day. Anyway, I finally found a legitimate one or two whose patterns interested me. Style Arc was one.
An Australian company, Style Arc’s sketches were what really drew me in. And I loved the fact that not all of their patterns are for knits which means that they really do have to know how to create something that fits. That being said, I decided to try one that was for a knit first.
What’s not to love about this sketch? Well, I should have look more closely at the version on the right.
The other thing that had changed was that not all patterns came in little envelopes anymore. Some of them were pdf downloads. Who knew? Well, just about everyone but me! Everyone has to have a first time, though, don’t they?
Style Arc produces both hard copy patterns and pdf’s. I decided to try my first pdf and my first indie pattern all in one fell swoop.
I used to have a cardigan sweater I loved so much it was actually worn out by the time I finished with it. t hadn’t been expensive, either, but was black (a must for a sweater that will serve me over the long term) and instead of buttons, it had a half-waist tie. It looked terrific with collared shirts, T-shirts, just everything. It had a lot more style than the average cardigan. So, when I saw Style Arc’s Terry Tie Cardigan pattern, I was in.
I downloaded it and printed it out. Then, of course, I proceeded to tape it all together, as one must. Interesting. I cut out the pattern pieces and looked for some fabric.
Wouldn’t you think that something called “sweater knit” would be great? I did. But…well, stay with me.
There were just so many things wrong with the pattern in my view. It has these shoulder tucks—too many of them and way too small for the fabric I’d chosen. When I went back to Pattern Review to look at other people’s versions, they were all in flimsy jersey, so the tucks worked – but they were hideous. They were shapeless columns of jersey even with the belt tied. If I had looked at them first (lesson learned) I would never have chosen the pattern. But onward…
Okay, the first problem was the tucks, as I mentioned. Then, there was too much overlap at the front – and neither the centre front nor the waistline was marked by the way, a real problem with trying to get it to fit properly. The ties were too close to the centre front resulting in an odd look which was very evident on the ones done by others as I found out. Oh, and the seam allowances: you have to be very careful not to assume that they are standard 5/8 inch. They are not. The sleeves were too long (of course, this is an easy fix, but do women really look like orangutans?), leading me to think the sketch is quite misleading. So, what to do?
Back to the drawing board I go to try to rescue the project.
Actually, I really enjoyed the “semi-draping” process. I redrew the pattern and it no longer resembles the original in any way.
It’s not at all what I had originally envisioned, but I’ll love it on cold days next winter. I left all the edges serged only.
What I learned about myself is that designing on the fly might not be such a bad approach, and that I think I would enjoy learning draping as a design process.
I love it when I learn something from every project!
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:
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!
[*Little Black Jacket sometimes referred to as the LFJ or Little French Jacket]
A couple of days ago I ventured down to the fashion district here in Toronto to my favourite fabric store to peruse their bouclé and silk stock – because I’m finished! My Little French Jacket, that is. When I started this process back in March, I vowed that I’d take my time and get it right. I would not rush: I would get the fit right; I would take the time to do tests of all machine and hand techniques involved; and that I would make friends with my seam ripper. Well, I have done that, and the jacket is comfortable (oh so comfortable), fits well, and I think it adds a certains je ne sais quoi to my wardrobe. But it doesn’t quite pay complete homage to Chanel’s original LBJ style, and the story of why this is the case is related to the final part of the journey that I have yet to tell you about: it’s all about the trim.
No one seems to have written anything much about Chanel’s design considerations when she decided on how to trim her original 1954 tweed jackets, but we do know that they (almost) always have had trim.
Often the trim contrasts with the fabric, but these days the House of Chanel’s jackets more often seem to have trim that blends into the fabric. Whichever way you look at a Chanel jacket, it usually has trim around the neckline, down the front, across the pockets and on the sleeves. But that’s not all.
Chanel always said that the inside of a garment ought to be as beautiful as the outside, so she used exquisite silks to line them, and these little jackets were adorned with flat-link chains along the hemline. Originally, these chains played a practical role in ensuring that the jacket hung well even when the wearer raised her hands. You have to admit, though, they make a wonderful style statement even if you’re the only one who knows it’s there. Then, just imagine throwing the jacket over your chair back when dining out. Ah, the chain is now a part of your jewellery! So, in creating an homage to Chanel’s jacket, it’s important to consider the final trimming.
So, I begin to trim the jacket. I have purchased two types of gimp braid: one is a folded gimp, the other a more traditional flat gimp. Strictly speaking about definitions, gimp is made from twisted silk, worsted, or cotton and has a cord or wire running through it. Traditionally, gimp has been used in upholstery work and in making hand-wrought buttonholes. Gimp is then braided to produce the various types we see today and that the young woman in the fabric store who sold mine to me said they call it “Chanel braid.” The truth is that many (if not most) authentic Chanel jackets are trimmed with anything but gimp, although it does give that Chanelesque look especially when layered over other materials such as self-fringe or grosgrain ribbon. Anyway, my plan was to layer flat gimp braid over the folded gimp braid that would fold over all the edges. Well…
That idea didn’t work out very well. In my last post about the pockets, this is when I began to see a problem. First, I delayed the pocket finishing so that I could contemplate the trim a bit more. So glad I did! If I had put the layers of braid on the pockets (notwithstanding the significant bulk problem I would have had), I would likely have had to remove the pockets simply because of how they looked.
First, I hand-stitch the braid to the neck and front edges – it has to be hand-stitched first on the outside, then on the inside. It takes days. Then I pin the flat braid on top and begin hand-stitchng. I get all the way across the front and notice that it is distorting the line of the hem. Although I like the look of the layered braid, I cannot have a distroted hem. So, I finally un-pick the hand-stitching on the top braid and decide that the trim is finished.
In the meantime, I’ve been toyng with the braid which I had fully planned to put on the sleeve hems and on the pockets à la Chanel, but the look is too heavy. The pattern in the bouclé is such that it has heavy black patches and any more black just looks overdone.
So, the outside trim is well and truly finished. Now it’s on to the chain.
I had originally purchased a very lightweight gold-coloured chain. When I researched Chanel chains, though, I discovered that her jackets use various chain weights depending on the weightiness of the fabric, and that sometimes the chains are not even gold-coloured. Jackets that are trimmed with silver-toned buttons, for example, will have silver-toned chains. Huh.
The light-weight chain looks peculiar on this fabric, so I find a heavier one and bingo! I have the right chain. Then, ensurng that the chain remains flat, I start securing it invisibly with a double-strand of black, silk thread to the hem just below the lining – it fits neatly between the lining and the turn-up of the hem as it turns out. I start about 2 cm in from the jacket front and continue all the way across, pinning only a few links ahead to maintain the flat edge. I also do the stitiching in fairly short sections – this ensures that the thread does not knot and should a bit of the chan ever come undone, I’ll only have to re-stitch a small section. It’s time-consuming, but worth it. I then ask my husband to join me with his pliers to remove the link when I’ve come to the end. I choose not to measure and cut before I begin to avoid the dreaded possibility of cutting it too short!
The final stitch is in and god love my husband, he pours me a gin-and-tonic!
I try the jacket on and discover it’s the most comfortable jacket I’ve ever worn – and I love it! I’m dying to wear it, but it’s the height of summer in this part of the world, so I’ll have to put it away until October. I just might be able to wear it when we travel to Nova Scotia in September, though. They have cool evenings.
I’m taking only a brief break from jacket sewing to make a linen dress, but I’ll be back at the jackets as soon as the fall bouclé shipments are in! À bientôt!
