I made this dress back in December. I thought I’d photograph it the next day, but the next day I was just exhausted. I found out a few days later I was pregnant, and I remained much too tired and queazy to take photos (or do much of anything) for months. But now, at 20 weeks, I’m feeling more myself, and when the tulips started blooming on my patio it seemed like time to revisit my last sewing project. I hope that soon I will be back to sewing new things. Tiny things!
The dress has slit pockets hidden under the heart patches, since the patches themselves aren’t big enough to be useful as pockets. The sleeves and body of the dress are cut together, with one piece for the front and one piece for the back, joined along the sides and the top and bottom of the sleeves. This works because the double knit fabric it’s made from is so stretchy, and it made for a quick and easy project.
For Isabel’s birthday I made her a summer version of my chalk lines skirt, by far her favorite thing to borrow from me. I had forgotten how long it takes to put in all the piping, and I didn’t have it ready for her birthday. But three weeks later, I’m very happy with this linen variation on one of my favorite skirts.
The mid-weight linen actually made a really good substitute for the light wool I used last time. This is the fourth time I’ve made this skirt – there was the original, someone bought one from my Etsy store back when it was active, and I made a heavier, slightly longer one from a taupe wool, which didn’t work quite as well. I’m not sure if it’s the longer length or the heavier fabric, but it’s not quite as cute as the black version and feels a little more professional. I never really have an occasion to look that sort of professional. If I want to look serious about my work I put on a lab coat (also if I want to keep bio-hazardous materials off my clothes – it’s a practical sort of professional). But this linen version, copied directly from the original skirt, worked really well.
The only change I made from the original was to switch out the big exposed zipper for a half length invisible one. I’m not entirely happy with that change. The exposed zipper was always a little out of place (I used it because that’s what I happened to have in the way of zippers the day I made the first skirt), but the invisible zipper is stiffer, and leaves a tiny bump when it ends. If I make this skirt again I’ll either go back to the exposed back zipper, or put an invisible zipper in the side seam, which is a pain to do with the piping, but looks better.
I put up a tutorial on how to make this skirt when I first started the blog, which you can find at http://www.oneaviandaemon.com/how-to-make-my-chalk-lines-skirt/. I also took some photos of the process this time, so you can see how the many pieces of the side panels fit together:
I have been told that people don’t necessarily want to celebrate their birthdays by modeling for my blog, so I took photos of myself before giving Isabel her skirt. Which means you can also see the project which has been taking up most of my crafty time lately: growing vegetables!
When planning my little container garden this spring, I really wanted to include some dye plants. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this apartment, so they have to produce dye the first year (no madder for me, sadly), and I wanted plants that could double as pretty flowers in my small garden. Coreopsis tinctoria (or tickseed) and marigolds are perfect for the job. They’ve been blooming happily for months now, but I didn’t get around to dying with them until this week.
I used a solar extraction so I could start it quickly on a week day morning. I used only the petals of the marigold (they pull out easily, but sometimes bring the seeds with them. I did not use the seeds), and the entire flower head of the coreopsis. I put each type of flower in a separate glass vase. I poured in very hot (but not boiling) water, and placed the vases outside in the sun on a hot day. The coreopsis water immediately turned orange, and the marigold water a lighter green-yellow with a strong marigold scent. I dropped in a couple of swatches (although you’d get more even colors if you extract and dye in two separate steps) and left for work.
Both marigold and coreopsis are pH sensitive, in different ways. When wet the marigold color is more vibrant in an alkaline solution (that is, if you add baking soda), but as it dries this color fades. The final color is a light golden brown with baking soda, and a soft yellow-green without. Coreopsis changes color more dramatically: in a fairly alkaline solution (lots of baking soda) it makes pink, where as in neutral tapwater it makes an orangey-yellow. It tends to become more pink as it dries – a wet flamingo pink will lose it’s orange tones as it dries. I imagine adding vinegar would shift the color further towards yellow, but I didn’t test it.
Click for larger image if you want to actually read the labels
Recipe for marigold dye (dyes 1 lb fabric):
- Collect the petals from 15-20 marigold flowers
- Put in a glass container and pour in 6 cups hot water
- Leave in a warm place for several hours to extract dye
- Strain out flowers, add fabric, and leave in a warm place for at least an hour
The first pair of pants I ever made was for a trip to Guatemala. I wanted something light weight that wouldn’t wrinkle, and most of all I wanted a secure pocket for my passport. I ran into some problems along the way – I never quite got the fly right, and I cut the legs too short and had to add mock cuffs around the bottoms just to get the length right. But on the whole, they came out surprisingly well, mostly thanks to the fabric, a wonderful linen/bamboo herringbone, which was light and airy, didn’t wrinkle (except around the unfortunate mock cuffs), and was quite pretty. I ended up wearing the pants a lot after the trip, and lending them to other people who wanted a secret passport pocket for their trips. Eventually they completely shredded and I had to say goodbye.
Last week I went on a road trip through the Southwest and in packing for that trip I really missed my travel pants. I didn’t want to wear shorts, because I was afraid the backs of my legs would get sunburned hiking, and then driving would be terrible. But I didn’t want to wear long pants in the desert, because even my summer pants get pretty warm. I have another pair of pure linen pants, but they get so wrinkly. It was clearly time to make another pair of travel pants.
I couldn’t find anything with quite the beautiful sheen of the herringbone I used last time, but this linen blend had the key features I was looking for: good airflow, somewhat wrinkle resistant, and with enough pattern to hide a bit of dirt. I didn’t put in a passport pocket this time, but I’ll add one if I ever take them out of the country – the patch pockets in front give plenty of space to hide a zippered pocket inside. Like my old pants these have wide legs (for extra airflow), and these new ones are high waisted (just for fun) and uncuffed (like the others should have been).
The pants did their job. I felt a little out of place on hiking trails full of people in fluorescent wicking fabrics, but I think I was more comfortable than any of them, and I didn’t have to change for dinner.
I really like long jersey dresses. They’re so comfortable, especially when they’re made from soft bamboo-lycra like this one. They’re my favorite clothes to travel with – they don’t wrinkle and can be dressy or casual depending on your shoes and jewelry. So when I found this wonderful soft fabric, I knew exactly what to do with it.
I found the black first, and began imagining this dress, with the braided back and a long skirt. But there was only a yard a half of the fabric, not nearly enough for a floor length dress. Fortunately, the same fabric came in peacock blue, so I got the extra yardage in that. I made a fitted knee length dress in the black, cut the skirt on the diagonal, and added a half circle of the blue at the bottom. There’s a pocket at the top of the long side seam of the blue section of the skirt. It’s in a sort of awkward place, down by my knee, but it’s important for a dress to have a pocket, and it would look weird and lumpy higher up in the fitted black skirt. It takes a bit of leaning over and a bit of lifting the dress up to get to (see top photo, where I have my fingers in the pocket), but it works pretty well as a place to keep my phone.
The most fun part of making this dress was figuring out the braided back. It starts as a six strand braid, which splits into two ordinary braids. You could do this by doubling the six pieces at the bottom into a thick ordinary three stranded braid, but I wove each piece separately, like in a braided friendship bracelet. I cut long, inch wide strips of the black fabric, and pulled them so the edges curled in. I sewed the base together and taped it to the table so I could braid, braided up 4″ (it stretched later…), then split for the straps.
One problem with a long jersey dress is that the weight of the skirt stretches out the top part of the dress, especially the straps. This has made for a much lower neckline than I’d intended. If you’re making a dress like this, I recommend just tacking down the straps to begin with, and then adjusting them when the whole dress is assembled. I’ll probably go back and shorten the straps before I wear this out.
We moved! Our new place is in Harlem, which means I can walk to work. This is wonderful, but as the season moves towards summer and the sun gets brighter, the half hour walk home turns me a bit pink. I’ve started reapplying sunscreen before I leave work, but I prefer to just cover up with wide brimmed hats. Unfortunately, a lot of my dresses don’t have sleeves and I need something to cover my shoulders. So I made this very lightweight summer sun jacket.
I’ve seen similar lightweight outer garments referred to as kimonos, but this really isn’t shaped like a kimono. It’s a trapazoid, with triangular sleeves that come to a point at the wrists. It is a simple thing to make, with two straight seams and a bit of finishing. I added pleats and little shell shirt buttons at the point of the sleeves, but without that decoration it would have taken about 15 minutes to sew. If you need something to cover your shoulders and have a nice airy piece of fabric, I highly recommend making one. To do so, you will need 2/3 of a yard (24″) of 60″ wide fabric.
- Finish all edges by folding over 1/4″, ironing flat, folding the edge again, ironing, and sewing down (as you would for a hem).
- Put the fabric on a flat surface, right side up, and fold a triangle at each side, so both short edges of the fabric lie along one of the long edges.
- Beginning 8″ from the point, sew the edges together on each side.
- (optional) Gather or pleat the outer two inches of arm seam on each side.
My collection of jersey remnants was getting large, and my collection of underwear in good repair was getting small, so yesterday I spent a couple of hours correcting that situation with the help of some stretch lace.
I made a pattern by pulling apart my favorite pair of worn out undies and tracing them onto newspaper. I pieced together some pairs, when my fabric wasn’t conveniently shaped, and covered the extra seams with appliquéd stretch lace. I finished all edges with stretch lace or lingerie elastic. In the past I’ve talked about finishing edges with the lingerie stitch on a serger, but I don’t have a serger here. Besides, I’ve mostly been wearing dresses lately and I find that serged edges ride up unless they have pants to hold them in place. Stretch lace is my current favorite way to finish underwear. To use it, just lay it over the unfinished edge and topstitch with a wide zig zag. Make sure your thread matches the lace.
For more on making your own underwear, check out my past posts on the subject here and and on Kristin’s blog.
This is the final post about the natural dyeing I did at my parents’ house over Christmas. While I was dyeing, my sister came in and made herself tea. As tea is one of the best natural dyes – nicely colored, reasonably fast, and in this case already prepared – I took the dregs of her pot and dropped in a swatch. A bit later, I did the same with my husband’s coffee.
Tea and coffee both produce lovely soft shades of brown. Tea gives a slightly warmer color, but on the whole they’re pretty similar.
Unlike the other materials I tried dyeing with, madder doesn’t grow wild around my parents’ house and isn’t used in the kitchen. You can purchase the root whole from dye suppliers, but as long as I was buying the material, that seemed like unnecessary work. Instead I bought powdered madder root from A Verb for Keeping Warm, mixed it up with warm water, and started dyeing.
Madder produces some of my favorite fabric colors. It’s also relatively lightfast, and working with the powder was as easy as using synthetic dyes. But unlike synthetic dye, I didn’t have to mix in other dyes to get a color I like. Every shade it makes is just lovely. I don’t think I’ll buy synthetic red again.
Madder is pH sensitive, ranging from yellow in acidic conditions to purple in a base. I used cream of tartar to move towards yellow and baking soda to move towards purple. I found my favorite shades were between the orangey red of neutral tap water and the wine red of a more alkaline solution.