botched

January 21, 2012 By Kate in sewing, tweed Tags: Anta, disaster, harris tweed, sewing, sewing machine, tweed, wool 79 Comments

I am out of sewing practice.

At least that’s my excuse: yesterday I managed to make a botched job of things . .

I bought this tweed when visiting Harris a couple of years ago – I love the bright blue, green, and orange flecks sitting in among the herringbone.

My idea was to turn this cheap and cheerful Ikea footstool . . .

. . . into this glorious work of woolly art . . .

I have lusted after these Anta tweed cubes for years (this one is my favourite) . . . but neither my budget, or my sense of crafty pride would allow me to acquire one . . . surely I could make my own? How difficult could it be to upholster a cube?

But my cube confidence was misplaced!

Having measured up the stool, I cut out five squares from the tweed with a generous seam allowance, got out the iron and sewing machine, and began to stitch everything together, as per the layout above. The sun was shining in the kitchen, the machine was purring away merrily, Debussy was on the radio: all was well. Then, half way through the seam between squares 2 and 3, the power suddenly cut out. Had I blown a fuse? I looked outside. A hole had appeared at the corner of the road. The hole was accompanied by machinery, and a small fire. Some men were in the hole, who blithely confirmed that they were responsible for the outage.

There was nothing I could do, so I took Bruce for a walk. When I returned, a couple of hours later, so had the electricity. I got back to my seams, but things were not the same: the light was poor, I was tired from my walk, and, quite simply I was not in the zone (I am not a natural with the sewing machine, and have to be in precisely the right frame of mind to deal with pins, bobbins, threading and all its other general gubbins). I should have put my cube aside and gone and done something else, but instead, growing increasingly grouchy and frustrated, I ploughed onward, stitching up my wonky seams, and trimming my crappy corners. I got the footstool out for a fitting. All was not well.

Now, this is the footstool after extensive repairs conducted this morning: it still looks rotten, but you should have seen it yesterday. So many things were wrong: I gave myself a far too generous seam allowance, (which meant that the corners of the cover didn’t sit properly in those of the footstool and the sides flapped about like a badly fitting skirt). None of the seams were straight, and the corners were really messy and bulky (because several layers of fabric met there) . . .

. . .actually pretty much everything about the cover was wonky, including the Harris Tweed label, which I sewed on last of all.

Annoyed with myself, I set the stool cover aside, and returned to my knitting (how soothing! No electricity! No fiddlinesses! Just me and the wool and the needles!). Later last night it occurred to me that the first problem lay in my pattern layout. I should have cut and seamed the pieces like this:

or this:

. . .the final layout, which could be cut on the fold, uses up more fabric, but it also makes for less bulky corners, fewer seams and layers, and a design that is much easier to fit and adjust . . .Of course, when I examined the Anta cubes again, it was immediately obvious that the fabric had been cut and seamed in like fashion . . .

Kate, you choob, why didn’t you have a proper look in the first place?

I had settled on my first layout after examining the cover of the Ikea cube, and deciding that the seams between the squares were necessary to give structure. But I hadn’t considered how much more bulky Harris tweed is than Ikea furnishing fabric. A well-fitting cover, cut from a single piece of fabric, would have been far better than one with sticky-out corners and multiple, wonky seams.

looks botched, doesn’t it Bruce?

I find it curious that, while I can immediately visualise all sorts of 3 dimensional seamless knitted constructions – I find it much more difficult to think naturally about fabric layouts. It is probably just that knitting is my metier, or that I have made it such by doing an awful lot of it (I have done very little sewing over the past couple of years).

Ultimately, there is no excuse, quite simply: I made a shite job of it.

This morning’s repairs have made the cover look a little better, yet I still think I will have to cut it up again, use that tweed for cushions, and sew up another cover.

But not today.

matchy matchy

November 5, 2011 By Kate in refashioning, sewing, wool, Wovember Tags: Felicity Ford, meta badges, refashioning, sewing, tweed, wool, wovember 31 Comments

Wool — being wonderfully warm, breathable, and flexible — really is the ultimate Winter fabric for someone who likes to be outdoors. I have worn a near-as-damn-it 100% wool outfit every day so far this WOVEMBER, and fully intend to do so for the rest of the month. I’ll say more about some of the key components of my woolly wardrobe another time, but today I wanted to show you my new wool skirt and it’s matchy matchy custom-made WOVEMBER meta-badge.

I recently scored this 100% wool skirt on ebay. It is vintage DAKS tweed – high-waisted and extremely well-made – but I ‘won’ it very cheaply. The length, though, is all wrong: I generally find mid-length skirts rather matronly and as I am quite short, they look bloody awful on me. So I spent a happy morning taking the skirt in a bit and chopping it down to a better length. There is a lot of fabric in those box-pleats, I can tell you, and when I was done I was left with a satisfyingly swingy skater-style mini-skirt, and a long length of excess tweed.

One of Felix’s many genius ideas is the meta badge – an accessory whose function is not merely decorative, but which distills the essence of an outfit by capturing it in miniature. As part of WOVEMBER, Felix is offering a bespoke meta badge service: all you have to do is send her a piece of 100% woollen fabric and, for the small sum of £2.50 ($4.00) she will turn it into the ultimate WOVEMBER accessory and post it back to you. I could think of no better use for my excess tweed!

How pleasing is that? Here is the finished bespoke badge in situ on my woolly lapel, together with a couple of other WOVEMBER badges, also made by Felix.

And here is the shortened skirt, together with the rest of my woolly outfit

. . . comprising wool pants, wool base layer, wool tights, wool skirt, wool sweater, wool jacket, wool gloves, WOVEMBER badges, and . . .

. . . wool bag. In fact, the only non 100 % wool parts of my outfit are the bag strap and my boots.

If you want to score your own WOVEMBER badge, or have a bespoke badge made out of your own fabric, then pop over to Felix’s etsy store. She’ll be re-stocking with other tweeds – including bits chopped off the bottom of my skirt – on Monday.

racy mending

August 6, 2010 By Kate in feminism, photography, sewing, textiles, writing Tags: darning, early photography, feminism, gender, History, mending, sewing, stitching, women 25 Comments

I have been playing around with ideas about mending and darning for a forthcoming article, and have been turning up some interesting tangential things in various digital collections. Pictured above are “Chicago’s top models for 1922″ who have been co-opted to advertise the novel innovation of the seam ripper. The caption reads “Ripping is a pleasure with Rip-Easy!” What’s interesting about this Iowa sewing company’s choice of marketing is that it seemed to be entirely directed at men. This photo, with its group of local lovelies, “pleasurably” ripping the seams out of silk and lace while displaying their ankles, most obviously speaks to the male viewer. That same year “Rip Easy” advertised itself in Boys Life Magazine as “the best and most practical device to help the folks at home with their home sewing. Send in 10c for a sample and Do a Good Turn for Mother.” Perhaps “Rip-Easy” assumed that men and boys were more likely to be fascinated by stitching gadgets than the women stitchers themselves . . or that blokes were simply more interested in the rather racy idea of women’s ripped seams. . . either way, I’ve not found any comparable advertisments in the women’s magazines of 1922.

Here is more racy mending, from a 1904 postcard. This stitcher is clearly an impressive multi-tasker: fixing a hem while reading The Sunday Magazine and giving whoever is watching her raise her skirts a wee thrill. No matter that it is much easier to stitch a hem if one is not already wearing it, to sit in a comfortable chair while sewing, or to use a pair of scissors rather than one’s teeth: the legs are what’s at stake here.

I’ve found lots of these mildly racy, early twentieth-century images of mending, and it isn’t that surprising. Associations between mending and s*x are conventional and familiar from centuries of genre painting and portraiture: a woman looking at the work in her lap gives a man an opportunity to look at her; a female servant bent over her darning displays her hands or chest; an idle stitcher clearly has her mind on other things.

but then I began to find an awful lot of these:

which took the s*xual politics of the sewing basket to a slightly different place. . .

shirt –> handkerchiefs

January 26, 2010 By Kate in sewing, thrift Tags: handkerchiefs, recycling, sewing, thrift 31 Comments

Tom was getting rid of some shirts. This one was very old and worn. But I loved the fabric — a soft, light weight cotton shirting with a very high thread count, a bit like Tana Lawn. I just couldn’t let it go to the charity shop. A while ago, Felix sent me some lovely vintage handkerchiefs, to which I’ve become quite attached. I particularly like them because they are old. A hanky seems at its best when the fabric is well worn, softened, weathered — just like the fabric of this shirt. They are useful things to have about one’s person in this grim, grey January weather — I at least find I can’t make the transition from a brisk, chilly outdoor walk to an overheated institutional interior without scrabbling around for a hanky, and noisily blowing me nose (ahem). So I washed and dried and pressed the old shirt and then. . .

I cut out two 12 inch squares from the back of the shirt; pressed the top and bottom edges in by 1/4 inch; did the same with the two side edges; then repeated (so that no raw edges showed). Then I pressed the whole thing again, and sewed round the handkerchief edge twice (with two allowances of about 1/2 and a 1/8 inch) to create a secure folded hem. This was the easiest kind of sewing (some simple cuts in the fabric; a press with the iron; no need for pins; a couple of straight seams) and it took me less than 30 minutes in a break between one set of exam scripts and another. I now have a couple of serviceable and satisfying recycled shirt hankies. There’s enough fabric in the shirt back for a few more, and I could probably get a couple out of the fronts as well.

I don’t know how to phonetically convey the sound of a blowing nose . . .but I’m sure you can imagine it.

another dress

January 9, 2010 By Kate in dressmaking, fabric, sewing Tags: dressmaking, ragamuffin, sewing, tweed, V8146, vogue, vogue 8146, vogue patterns 27 Comments

Here’s another dress I made for myself over the holidays. This is something I intend to wear for work: it is neat and smart, but also easy to get about in during my daily walks to the station and back. The pattern is Vogue 8146 — one of those ‘easy’ Vogue suit patterns, which includes a dress and a nice wee jacket. I am actually quite tempted by the jacket, and may well make one for myself at a later stage, as I have enough matching fabric to do so. The fabric is a good quality Shetland tweed, and I bought it from this Skye based designer, who has a shop here on the Royal Mile. At the end of each season, she apparently sells off her excess fabric, with all proceeds going to Macmillan Nurses. I bought 3 metres at a very reasonable price, and was able to cut this dress out of less than a metre. I should point out, however, that I shortened it by 6 inches, so less fabric was actually needed than the amount the pattern specifies.

I do like a wool dress, and this is a nice, straightforward one. There are two sets of darts in front, and one in back, which creates a good tailored fit. If I’d been feeling braver when cutting out the fabric, I might have also shortened the body a tiny amount (the pattern includes guidelines for doing this) — though Vogue sizing fits me well in all other respects, I do find that their patterns are designed for women with a slightly longer torso than myself. I made the dress over two days: it took me one morning to prepare and cut the fabric, and another morning to sew up. The bodice includes facings, but no lining. It hangs well, and is a neat, simple pattern. Overall, I am very pleased with it, and particularly so with the neatness of the zip and the darts in back. You’ll just have to take my word for this, however, as it was so berloody cold when we were taking these pictures that I didn’t feel like taking my coat off and cavorting. Also, Tom was on a mission to score the ingredients for what he assures me will be the ultimate winter pie, and we had to get to the butchers. On such a chilly day, it is nice to return home to a warm kitchen, the sound of JRR and the promise of a tasty pie. Hope you are enjoying your weekend, too!

more on mauds

September 26, 2009 By Kate in Scotland, sewing, textiles Tags: dressmaking, maud, Philadelphia, plaid, Rosie's Yarn Cellar, Scottish Borders, Sew Hip, sewing, shepherd's plaid 17 Comments

(photo from J.G. Martindale, The Scottish Woollen Industry, (1954))

You may remember that a while ago I got all excited about the maud — the traditional shepherd’s plaid that’s woven and worn in the Scottish Borders. You can see one above being used for its original function — protecting the shepherd and his lambs from the elements. You may also remember that my enthusiasm about the maud extended to making myself one. It is a garment of which I rapidly became very fond, and since then, it’s been pretty much maud crazy round here. Using a variety of tweeds and linings, I’ve whipped up maud-shaped gifts for many of my friends and relatives. These mauds have been a real hit with all the women who’ve received one. They are more substantial and cosy than than a pashmina, but much easier to manage about one’s person than a gigantic shawl. Pat, who gets around in a wheelchair, was particularly pleased with hers: she told me to tell you that she finds heavy coats difficult to wear, but that in her maud she can zip about in Winter in a manner both warm and stylish.

A few of you have also emailed me to ask me how I made my maud. It is very simple. Here’s how:

You will need: sewing machine, basic sewing skills, two rectangles of warm tweed fabric, (18 inches x 40 inches) and the same amount of light lining fabric.
Begin by cutting out your rectangles of tweed, and lining to exactly the same dimensions. Take your time: cut slowly and neatly!

Click on diagram to see a larger version! (Diagram shows steps 1, 2 and 3).

1. Place the two tweed pieces right sides together as in the diagram. Pin.
2. Using 0.5 inch seam allowance, stitch together.
3. Open flat, press seam to the side.
4. Repeat steps 1 to 3 with the two lining pieces
5. Right sides together, pin lining to tweed, — take your time over this step, matching up corners and edges, ensuring the fabric is entirely flat, and using lots of pins.
6. Starting half way down one long edge, and using a 0.5 inch seam allowance, stitch all the way round your maud — leaving a 4 inch gap for turning.
7. Trim corners. Turn maud out to right side. Press all seams flat.
8. Press raw edges of turning point to inside. Pin.
9. Hand-stitch the turning gap closed, using invisible slip stitch.
10. Press again.
11. Finally: using a scant seam allowance, overstitch all the way around the edges. This gives a neat, professional finish, and ensures the lining lies nice and flat. Take your time and keep your stitching even!
12. Press for a final time.
Bingo!

Here is my Ma, happy in a maud. She is wearing it with the point just behind her left shoulder, but, as you can imagine, there are many ways to drape a maud, depending on your preferences. You could also easily make your maud longer, wider, or narrower, by simply cutting smaller or larger rectangles. My inner YorkshireWoman feels compelled to tell you that this particular incarnation is made from stitched together waste lengths of Hiningan tweed that cost me *less than a pound*. (I splashed out on a tana lawn lining, of course, ahem). My Ma’s brooch (which I love) is designed and made by Edinburgh textile artist Saskia Gavin, and you can find her work at Concrete Wardrobe.

If you are interested to hear a bit more about mauds, here with the permission of Sew Hip is the text of a feature about Border’s tweed I wrote for them a few months ago (it appeared in Sew Hip 4. This is my original text, not the published edit).

Oh, and I mustn’t forget to mention: if any of you stateside peeps are interested in meeting me in person, the lovely ladies at Rosie’s Yarn Cellar have invited me round to their place next Sunday afternoon. This is very exciting for me: whenever I’ve been in Philadelphia for work over the past few years, I’ve always looked forward to visiting Rosie’s. I’ll be bringing the original o w l s sweater, and a few other designs along, so do drop by for some knitting and a chat if you are out and about in Philly next weekend — I would love to meet you!

And finally, for those of you who have been asking, the neep is indeed imminent. . .

tweed frock

September 17, 2009 By Kate in Harris, sewing, textiles Tags: dressmaking, Harris, harris tweed, liberty fabric, liberty tana lawn, sewing, tana lawn, textiles, tweed, vogue 8469 71 Comments

In a couple of weeks time, I shall be going to the US for some work-related events, chief among which is delivering a talk in this public lecture series. I don’t mind admitting that I’m the sort of person who thinks about what they will wear some time in advance of such an occasion. My lecture is about the intellectual and material lives of women in revolutionary Philadelphia — and I wanted to combine the material with the intellectual in another way, by delivering it in an outfit I’d made myself. So this is the dress I have made — the first of what I imagine will be many tweedy endeavours this Autumn.

The pattern is Vogue 8469, and I made it with two fabrics: russet coloured tweed I bought on Harris a few weeks ago, and Liberty tana lawn, in a print I’ve always liked — a sort of pleasing paisley rendition of cut apples and pears. I really love the combination of warm tweed and light lawn. I find both fabrics simple but luxurious – and together – very seasonal.

I wanted to make a dress which was made of tweed, but which was not stereotypically tweedy — that is, I did not want it to look the least bit matronly. I think tweed is ideally suited to winter dresses, and can look very feminine — the diagonal weave of the fabric makes it hang so beautifully, and this can also suit womanly curves (not that I have much in the way of curves, mind, but still…) Anyway, I picked a light, feminine pattern and made a few modifications to suit the tweed fabric. The principle change was to replace the recommended gathers on the bodice and skirt with darts. Tweed does not like gathers, but the darts worked out just fine. The waist ties are also folded in the pattern, but this would have produced a very heavy belt, so I lined them instead in the contrasting lighter fabric. My final modification was to accent the neckline and hem. I cut long strips of bias binding from the tana lawn, and bound the seams in exactly the same way you would the edges of a quilt. I love the way this looks. The pattern is a good one, with well-thought out, simple details. I tend to like vogue necklines, and this one is cut very nicely.

Though reasonably simple, the sewing required some focus and concentration to get right. I’ve been working on it a little bit each day.

The end result is a frock that fits well, hangs nicely, which can be worn in a few different ways, and that I will be very pleased to deliver my lecture in. I like it so much, in fact, I am already contemplating making another. Meanwhile, I am knitting a rather foolish hat of russet hue that can be worn with the dress. (Worry not, I’ll remove the hat when I give my talk).

In this final pic, you can see me running to John Lewis to buy a couple of hooks and eyes for the top closure.

tweed

September 11, 2009 By Kate in Harris, Scotland, sewing, textiles Tags: Harris, harris tweed, tweed 22 Comments

So, you didn’t think I could travel to Harris and Lewis without mentioning tweed?

Tweed is woven through the landscape of these islands and its important traditions are still very much alive. I spent several days in tweed heaven. Just imagine the sensory overload of this fabric-filled warehouse in Tarbet. Tweed as far as the eye could see! It was such a delight to spend some time here, amidst an incredible range of hues and designs — individual skill and creativity is apparent in every very different bolt of this glorious handwoven fabric.

It was a privilege to see Katie Campbell weaving at Plocrapol.

In Stornoway, I was very interested to find the work of many young artisans at the New Harris Tweed co-operative, and also enjoyed the exhibition of this beautiful quilt, made by residents of a local care home, at An Lanntair.

I am currently thinking and reading a lot about Harris tweed. And I don’t know if you saw the first part of the BBC4 documentary which aired the other evening? If not, it is available to watch on the iplayer. It is quite gripping stuff.

I acquired some tweed, of course, and I am looking forward to some tweedy sewing and thinking this weekend. More soon.

repair

August 26, 2009 By Kate in Camping, Islay, landscape, Scotland, sewing, textiles Tags: Camping, Islay, repair, sewing, stiching, tent 45 Comments

A few weeks ago, something rather unpleasant happened while we were camping on Islay. I’ve not talked about this much. I found it quite disturbing at the time, and — because it happened in a place I am very fond of, while engaged in an activity that I love — I’ve not really wanted to mention it here either. I didn’t want to put anyone off either Islay, or camping. But, thinking about it, I realise that anyone who likes either the place or the activity isn’t likely to be put off.

We were camping here.

It is a great spot. We camp here every year. We occasionally see other tents, and it is a familiar and accepted place for wild camping. We are always quiet and considerate of the wonderful environment we camp in. But on our last night on the island, three local lads saw fit to hurl stones at us from the top of the outcrop that you can see on the left.

Here is one of the many stones they threw. As you can see, it is not a small stone, and if it had hit either of us it would have caused serious injury. We were lucky that the only injury was to our tent.

While Tom went to find the police, and to stop what was going on, the lads continued to hurl rocks at the tent and me. I could hear stones thudding, and fabric ripping about me. I’m sure you can understand why I found the whole thing quite disturbing.

Now, being predictably geeky types when it comes to outdoor equipment, we have decent gear, and our tent was a decent one. It was badly torn in many places. We are waiting for our insurers to replace it. Meanwhile, we have a trip planned. I had to fix it. To be frank, I have been putting this off — I didn’t really want to examine the holes those stones had made too closely. But this afternoon, I steeled myself for the task, and repaired it.

I cut out patches from the bag that holds the tent (made of the same waterproof rip-stop fabric as the tent itself) stitched them securely behind each tear with a double seam, and then carefully oversewed the sides of each tear to its corresponding patch. I found myself in immense sympathy with anyone who has to stitch textiles in any sort of industrial quantity for for a living. Feeding something this size through the machine is no fun at all. I had radio 3 on, and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra were playing Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. The whole thing felt a bit manaical.

But after a couple of hours, several broken needles, a lot of swearing, and some sticky wrestling with a tube of seam sealant, I have managed to recreate an eminently serviceable tent. Hoo-fookin-rah! I honestly feel appreciably better. I was never angry at the stone throwers — what they did was silly, it was senseless, and it was quite dangerous too — but all one can say about that is that the young are often senseless. However, I did feel bad on the tent’s behalf. Perhaps it was doing some of my hurting for me. In any case, repairing it has certainly had a restorative effect on me too. As in many other situations, there is a lot to be said for the therapeutic powers of stitching. So we’ll be off again in a few days time for some walking, and some wild camping. I’ll see you in a week or so.

V8468

May 3, 2009 By Kate in dressmaking, landscape, sewing, walking Tags: bass rock, dress, dressmaking, hand-made, hill walking, North Berwick, North Berwick Law, sewing, vogue, vogue patterns, walking 27 Comments

. . . is the pattern number of my new dress. It is an ‘easy’ vogue pattern, and, having worked myself up (or perhaps down?) into the the zen-like state that I must be in to cut out fabric and sew at the machine, I knocked it up over a few hours yesterday. I used some remnants of hedgehog fabric, the remainder of the liberty tana lawn I used to line these ties with a while ago, and just over a metre of linen for the dress’s main section. I was pleased I actually managed to get a front and two backs out of that length of fabric, as it was touch and go when laying out the pattern pieces. In this instance, it is clearly good to be short. I didn’t include the pattern’s pocket-flaps (without pockets!), but added my own patch pockets instead.

. . .with buttons from Duttons. I think the fabric of the dress is brown, but Tom and my knitting buddies say it is green. I’ve always had a bit of an issue with colours on that olive-grey-brown boundary. Anyway, I’ve been wanting to experiment with some home-sewn summer clothes that are good for walking in, and this was the prototype garment. This dress seems designed for maximum ease of movement. There’s enough space in it for striding along at speed, but, it does not flap about. I can happily confirm this last, as, to test its walk-ability this morning, I ascended a small hill.

Here I am at the top of North Berwick Law. That white blob behind me out at sea is the Bass Rock, home to seventeenth-century prisoners and twenty-first century gannets. Tom had to move about a bit to get the right angle, as on a few earlier shots I appeared to be wearing the bass rock like a jolly hat. And in this next pic, the wall and I seem to have more or less the same palate.

interesting.

Anyway, I would recommend this pattern both for straightforward sewing and ease of movement. I like the cut and fit and it has some neat, simple finishing details (yoke facing catches all edges &c). And whatever colour that linen actually is, I like it too. And very lucky that I already had a cardigan in exactly the same indeterminate shade . . .

Kate Davies Designs

Category Archives: sewing