A year in garments, made & imagined

When I started thinking back on my creative projects throughout 2017: two lists emerged, one of garments and goods completed, one of those unfulfilled. Just about equal in length, and after a moment, in satisfaction.

I completed 9 garments for myself in 2017:

• Hudson pants – white cotton fleece (noted here)
• Tamarack jacket – hand quilted in indigo (details here)
• Kalle shirt – Foxfibre chambray
• Exeter cardigan – local wool (details here)
• Euler bra – kit from Fancy Tiger Crafts
• Ginger jeans – Cone mills denim
• Lark tee – linen jersey
• Self-drafted boxy top – Community Supported Cloth Climate Beneficial Wool
• Self-drafted bridesmaid’s dress – secondhand tencel (not pictured)

I had concrete plans (and for the most part, materials) for 9 more: a cardigan, two woven tops, a knit top, wide-leg pants, two dresses, and overalls.

In all the things imagined, even craved, yet unmade, I kept coming back to the slowness of slow fashion. Delaying, pausing, and re-evaluating plans: a reminder to just sit with it.

I was thrilled with each item I added to my wardrobe, and buoyed by the skills I grew and honed, which made it unflinchingly easy to let go of things that went unrealized. Surprising no one, I got dressed every day, felt the warmth from wooly layers, softness of silk against my skin, the cool of linen on hot days, brightness from a vibrant hue, the ease and strength of wearing thick denim.

Dreaming, planning, sketching, scheming, all came in waves over the year as I peered through my fabric stash or my closet. But I feel a certain liberation in looking back at all the lists and shapes imagined, recalling how much enjoyment it brought me to consider and craft those plans, and realizing that everything is fine as it was.

A few ideas have risen to the top of my list for the months ahead, a few garments have been reimagined, and a few fabrics were released into new hands.

A stack of garments is certainly a satisfying way to (re)view a year’s work. But sometimes the bigger work, the slower fashion, is found in those pieces left on the page.

Smock dress dreaming

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

How do you feel about pockets, the bigger the better?

I love being free from a purse, throwing my necessities and maybe a craft project for good measure into a generously sized pocket, and apparently I’m not alone in feeling that capacious pockets offer freedom: “No pocketless people has ever been great since pockets were invented, and the female sex cannot rival [men] while it is pocketless” notes an 1899 article on the Rational Dress Society. Pockets (or lack thereof) are not just a symbol of sexism, but political in nature: evoking swagger, mystery, suffragettes, personal property, equality.

Similarly, the loose silhouette of early 20th Century ‘Village sacks,’ so named for the Greenwich Village artists who made and took to them, freed the female body and “conveyed the message that the wearer was a liberal woman who stood outside mainstream America.” (this I’ve learned from the incredible O’Keeffe: Living Modern catalog).

Which brings me to my modern loves: functional studio-meets-street smock designs by State the Label and GDS Cloth Goods which give me all the heart-eyes, the amazing catch-all crescents of Elizabeth Suzann‘s Clyde designs, and denim shift dresses and full skirts with wrap-around pockets by Aliya Wanek and Carleen. I contend that FLAX designs of the ’90s actually originated many of the sack and pocket shapes we’re seeing these days, my own vintage Flax jumpsuit adorned with inset wrap-around pockets, and a quick eBay search offering much inspiration (lower right in the collage above).

After doodling countless smock dresses on every surface within arms reach, I’ve taken to drafting my ideal dress, a mash up of my smock-pocket dreams and my self-drafted crop top and best woman dress. More soon!

Indigo tamarack: part IV

All the while making this jacket, I thought to myself: this will either look crazy, or crazy good.

As I rounded the home stretch of binding the jacket edges, I knew that the latter was confirmed. Introducing my indigo Tamarack jacket: hand-dyed, patchwork-pieced, hand-quilted, lined in upcycled flannel, filled with locally made wool batting, bound by hand, a supremely cozy feat of skill-building slow fashion.

It just feels so good — crazy good — to finally wear something that has been growing and evolving, stretching and reflecting over a year of creativity. In a way, this jacket charts my trajectory in style and skill, explorations and impulses. In a way, it’s less a statement jacket and more a summary.

In nearly any incarnation, the Tamarack Jacket pattern by Grainline Studio seems like the perfect transition-season outerwear. For mine, I lengthened the body by 1″ and the sleeves by 2″, my standard adjustments, and the fit is perfect for lightweight layering. It’s a little crowded with my Exeter cardigan underneath, but just right over a fingering-weight sweater or simple sweatshirt (may I suggest: Liv light or Linden). It doesn’t yet have any form of closure, though I plan to add a few hooks & eyes, which I’m waiting to see if I can find at a textile recycling event later this month, and the updated version of the pattern includes a delightful looking snap option.

Should you choose to make a Tamarack Jacket in pre-quilted fabric, or perhaps a vintage quilt (yes, please do that!), you could probably have one in a day. Should you go for custom machine-quilting, you can probably still finish it in a weekend. Should you wish to make an indigo vat, cut apart and patchwork together your pieces, source your batting locally, quilt it together with sashiko thread, bind all the interior seams, finish the exterior binding by hand, and embroider your heart into painstaking welt pockets — well, it might just take you a year and a half.

And it might be a crazy-neverending WIP, but the payoff might just match the persistence.

Worn with: vintage silk tee & jeans, handmade shawl, favorite necklace & clogs.

Make one, mend one

Or in this case, two.

I first read this tip from Zo (originator of Me Made May): alternate finishing a new garment with fixing up an old one. I remember thinking: how admirable, but how annoying.

In the abstract, it seemed to me like a nuisance — to go from the joy & pride of a newly finished item to the tedium, and perhaps nagging disappointment, of fixing something gone awry or worn out.

But in practice, I’ve been thinking about ways to ‘bundle’ together projects, one to make and one to mend. Probably because winter is dragging on and my mending pile is growing and instead of gleaming at me from shelves of neatly lined stash fabric and yarn, it’s beginning to glare at me from the corner of my bedroom. Motivation to the rescue!

As noted, I have a handy little quadrant for winter wardrobe-related projects, categorized by: need / want / mend / mod. First up to bat in the new (and needed) garment category was a pair of cozy organic cotton terry hudson pants (shown here).

And you know what goes well with plain cotton thread and jersey needles? Two hemlock tees awaiting some mending and modifying (from the ‘mod’ quadrant).

So, when the last threads of the hudson pants had been snipped, I took some time to slip them on and revel in all their long-planned-finally-finished glory, then I cleaned up the scraps, and made room for the tees.

The Hemlock tee by Grainline Studio is a community favorite for sure, with its simply boxy cut and myriad of modifications posted by creative sewists. I’ve made both knit and woven versions in the past few years, and realized I just wasn’t reaching for these two tops very much.

Are you tired of hearing me blab about the benefits of my experience with the capsule wardrobe planner? Well, it really has helped me hone in on what garments I love, what shapes I’m most comfortable wearing, and what is languishing in the back of the drawer. For instance, a warm-weather absolute favorite item of mine is a blue and white striped t-shirt that I got at a thrift store. Something about the cut and proportion is just perfect to me, so I took a few nods and notes from it to make my hemlock tees a bit more beloved.

For the brown and cream stripes, that meant chopping off the length at the hem and a little at the sleeves — I was always tucking it and pushing up the sleeves anyway — and creating a split side seam (a favorite detail of mine in general) that is slightly longer in the back.

For the black and white striped tee, I had experimented with the shape but I hated the visible zig-zag topstitching and the awkward length of the sleeves I had created. I unpicked the hem and neckband, and cut the sleeves short. I added sleeve bands (using the sleeve scraps!) and re-did the neckband and hem with a twin needle.

In both shirts, I tucked signifiers to distinguish the front and back, which I always think will be obvious when I’m making a shirt, but when I pull boxy tops out of my dresser it irks me that I have to pause and consider the right side. Here’s to making yourself happy with the little things.

And, here’s to discovering that the satisfaction of rectifying your old clothes is truly on par with making new ones, so may I suggest: make one, then mend one (or two).

Here & there, vol. 3

Here

Is the world melting or is it just some of the snow?

The past few weeks were challenging on many levels, and turning to manageable, tactile, creative tasks has helped me get through it. Of note:

The finishing touch on ultra cozy Hudson pants (the better to spend a Saturday morning snuggling & writing postcards to Senators).

Finding my own way to commemorate 2017. I think it’s critically important that we continue to define & document our own narratives — I’m starting in the pocket of this sweater (thanks, Beth, for the tip).

Slow stitching inspiration, thinking about the role of thread and fiber in mark-making, heritage, and recording history in cloth.

There

Looking forward to this series interviewing slow fashion leaders

Honored to be included in this piece on slow fashion sourcing

One step at a time, times 3: to lead, to follow, to make a habit.

Other numerical comforts: take 5.

Finding hope in local: local knitting, local elections, and learning how to be an active ally.

Plus: Ebony’s interview & illustration series

Fair Dare fabric recommendations

Fight!

 

An A-frame skirt, at long last

Good things take time

is that an overused adage?

(You may remember, this skirt was first up to bat in my fall queue; it is also, apparently, the snail-paced slowest of slow fashion garments I think I’ve ever made — partially cut in May, tabled until September, resumed, dropped, and a grand finale in the final days of my ‘fall capsule’ – but who’s counting?)

I honestly thought I would finish it by early October at the latest, but that didn’t happen, and then time seemed to hop skip & jump until late November. Post-election, hands-to-work-and-hearts-to-heaven & all, it brought me strength and comfort to work on this garment, which I came to view as a cumulative, collaborative effort of creative businesswomen who inspire me.

The fabric: grown by Sally Fox, an organic cotton in natural brown, raised in Northern California; made in Japan when the textile industry all but collapsed around her; imported many years later by Kristine Vejar and purchased by me from her shop, A Verb for Keeping Warm (available online here).

The pattern: designed by Taylor McVay of Blueprints for Sewing, who draws on architectural details for thematic, visionary patterns (and whose creative space in Western MA I am secretly incredibly envious of); available online here.

Finally, in my own drafty little hall closet sewing space, I pieced together these amazing, origami-like pockets, emphasizing the “wrong side” of the fabric which shows a bit more of the natural brown hue of the cotton, then slowly the panels of the skirt. I finished all of the interior seams with bias tape made from scraps, and dutifully pressed and pinned it all to lay flat. I installed a lapped zipper, first by hand and then by machine, it’s not quite hidden but I don’t really care. (it’s this one, in glorious brass and organic cotton which has ruined me to all other zips). I basted the side seams and tweaked the fit twice (thrice? maybe.). Finally the waistband, a vintage button from my stash, and a hand-bound buttonhole as the sun set on holiday cookie baking.

It truly would have been a perfect piece for my fall capsule, when the weather allowed for bare legs but long sleeves; I even remember wishing it was just done already so I could wear it. But actually, it’s perfect for winter too. Maybe not negative-thirty-plus-wind-chill Minnesota polar vortex winter, but on your average frosty winter day, it’s sleek over a pair of tights and a perfect complement to slouchy sweater and pile of knitted accessories.

Exhibit A:

Pattern notes: I did make a muslin, in a comparable-weight fabric (some sort of cotton canvas that came from a free bin), and I highly recommend that. I chose View A, the more “pencil skirt” shape, and I knew I wanted it to be a little more ‘penciled’ than the original. I marked that on my muslin and took a bit of width out by narrowing the side panels at the bottom. I also graded from a larger to a smaller size at the waist and hip, per my measurements, and in fitting the final skirt I let out the hip just a little bit more. I used a 6″ zipper instead of the recommended 9″ but have no problem getting the skirt up (I did the same on the muslin to test it), and I lengthened the skirt by following the lines all the way down to the largest size, but not beyond that. It falls just above the knee on me, instead of below, and I considered drafting a facing instead of folding up the hem to keep the length, but I actually think this is a touch more modern and better for bike riding.

It feels so good to finally have this skirt completed and in my closet rotation, a mark of the time spent to make it, by me and all the people in the supply chain prior.

 

Just enough (plenty)

Over the holidays I spent a restorative week with friends & family, partaking in traditions that were new to me, and new twists on the old familiar. In an effort to share the meaning of Hanukkah, we read some much-loved children’s books, including a very sweet story called Just Enough is Plenty. 

Lessons about latkes and generosity toward strangers and finding joy in relative abundance warmed my heart, and I can’t help but translate that message into this rambling reflection of my fall capsule, a balancing act of seasonal change & wardrobe paucity

Sometimes it’s really nice not to have a lot. Like, all my clothes in this capsule fit on a dozen hangers and into one large dresser drawer, the out of season-ers up above in two bins and another handful of hangers. And I rarely ever struggle with getting dressed in the morning, nearly everything is a favorite or at least a faithful piece that plays well with others and holds a certain amount of meaning to me. (like the outfit below, which I posted for my Slow Fashion October intro)

But then:

your go-to jeans rip.

your boots fall apart.

your most functional cardigan is embarrassingly pilled.

your one mid-weight jacket doesn’t quite cover the climate.

So: the perks of selection, of alternate options to lessen the all-around wear & tear, the gratitude of being able to sub into rotation while the mending pile awaits.

it seems like the age-old time vs. money quandary to bring in reinforcements, and this season I seem to have skirted the two with happenstance.

The week after my jeans ripped (in the crotch area, again) while riding my bike (to work, for a meeting), my friend Lydia generously gave me a pair of sturdy Levi’s 501s that no longer worked for her. They’re just what I needed, and just in time.

The week after I received the pair of pants I pined for and planned and purchased, I realized I couldn’t quite budget for the boots I had my eye on too. Just then, a pair of Nisolo boots popped up on a resale site, gently worn and half the price. A sturdy substitute, ideal for the season.

And the Clyde pants? I hesitated at first, treating them with kid gloves and wrestling internally with the price. But then life sped up, pants ripped, and there they were: stylish, comfortable, wonderful, and much much appreciated. Truly, they’re worth more than the sticker price anyway.

And all of that queue? It largely remains in list form – on the internet, and on my studio wall.

Which is not to say out with the queue! Because if anything, getting by with a sparse capsule affirmed my plans — a limited addition of a few strategic items would certainly help my wardrobe function a little smoother and rest a little easier. And an addendum: for next year, I would add a jumpsuit to the mix, because the warm weather lingered and I really missed my blue linen jumpsuit but I knew it just wasn’t warm enough. I’m eyeing the new Mitchell Jumpsuit pattern from Hannah Garr, maybe in a heavy linen or light denim.

But in going without, in letting go of the pressure to finish it and make my pinterest dreams come true, I got by just fine. Maybe even turned the corner from fine to great, from overly focused to going with the flow. And in these past few months, the ‘capsule’ season has been dwarfed by the political season; the weather shift outweighed by the climatic shift in American identity; the wardrobe needs cast aside for community needs of time, money, presence, and pressure.

It turned out: just enough was plenty.

I did finish the sweater (v.2) for Jenn (notes on Ravelry here), and moved on to a few warm accessories for me: a Roku hat, Aspen legwarmers, and Fibershed Knitalong shawl. I hope they’ll bring some coziness & security in this coming season of cold weather and chilling politics. In the very last days of fall I also finished my long-planned A-Frame skirt and will be back soon with details on that and with thoughts on a deep winter capsule.

Project planning for fall

Back to my point about project planning: whether or not you actually want to make/use/live with a capsule wardrobe, the free Capsule planner can be a helpful tool to plan wardrobe addition. I’m going with a fall capsule wardrobe, but I think the foundation of taking stock of what I have, identifying what’s working & what’s not, thinking about weather and lifestyle and any needs for the upcoming season allows me to easily identify and prioritize pieces I want to add to my wardrobe, capsuled or not.

From my wardrobe planning process, I have a clear color palette, an idea of my favorite silhouettes, and an inventory of what I have and what gaps exist in my wardrobe. I have a good number of boxy tops that I love, but am pretty low on pants and skirts to pair them with (especially pieces that are in good condition and can be dressed up a bit).

The Capsule planner also offered a nice time to reflect on my goals: moving slowly, keeping my closet pared down, and working with my stash. So now, the part I daydream about the most! What to make? How will the things I make pair with what I already have and love?

Since I generally enjoy making most of my wardrobe, I use the shopping list part of the Un-fancy Capsule planner to think about what projects to prioritize. But, considering my current need for pants and the learning curve to make a pair (which I don’t have time for just yet), I decided to invest in a pair of Clyde pants after many many months of contemplation and budgeting. I also need another pair of shoes, ideally boots, which is a bigger budget item, so I’m trying to keep my project budget lean and finish up a few WIPs.

Roughly in order of priority:

• A-frame skirt in mid-weight denim, California-grown cotton purchased at Verb
• A large Stowe bag in the heavier weight version of that same denim
• My Tamarack Jacket, hopefully the perfect layer for the weather
• A short-sleeved Archer in plaid khadi, long ago promised to Jenn
• A Driftless cardigan in a mystery knit from a local studio de-stash
• Once I finish Jenn’s sweater, I’d love to make a few smaller items like a cabeled cowl (I’m leaning toward this one), a Roku hat, and maybe some mittens
• A pair of Ginger Jeans using the kit I bought forever ago. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll carve out a few days after Thanksgiving to jumpstart the process.

Loose inspirations & interpretations: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

I wouldn’t say this planning method is totally foolproof — I could still end up with clothing that doesn’t quite fit or isn’t durable, or doesn’t ultimately move into regular wardrobe rotation. But I have a natural tendency (ok, borderline obsession) toward planning and I think laying it all out ahead of time is really helpful.

I also know that this fall — really, the rest of 2016 — will be very busy for me, and there’s a chance that I won’t get through even half of the items on my list. Through my summer capsule wardrobe experience, I learned that making one full garment per month is a reasonable pace, so with my fall planning I’m trying not to set my expectations too high, and by prioritizing, I can focus on each item in due course. Still, if I don’t get to making or finishing the items on my list, I know that I have plenty to wear and lots of great options in my fall capsule.

This is my current practice of balancing excitement, inspiration, and desire, with gratitude, responsibility, and time management. Do you have a fall list? I love learning about how others plan (or don’t!) their projects, and welcome your thoughts in the comments!

Summer capsule reflection

What I wore

Looking back, I had a few clear summer silhouettes:

1. Sleeveless, boxy cropped shirt + high waist + sandals. In heavy rotation were my self-drafted crop top, my blue striped t-shirt, my knit beach tank, mixed and matched with my cut-off jean shorts, vintage linen wide-leg pants, thrifted high-waist non-stretch jeans, and paired with my Birkenstock sandals or Zuzii sandals (which I bought for a wedding and have proved quite versatile).
2. Breezy dress with pockets + sandals or sneakers. For me, dresses are the easiest thing to wear in the summer, and can be styled a little differently (more casual or a more refined) depending on shoes or jewelry. My most-reached for this summer were my wabi-sabi Dress No. 1, my hacked V1482, and my Charlotte Kan tie dress (see below). I love me-made dresses because I can make sure the length is in my comfort zone, and I can always add pockets.
3. Wide-legged jumpsuit (sometimes layered under a top) + sandals. For hot and sticky weather, and bike riding all over town, my two jumpsuits were perfect and fun: one is a vintage linen style that I bought on ebay and dyed in indigo, and the other is a black organic cotton Sallie jumpsuit that I made last summer.

And a quick shout-out to a couple of me-made favorites that were in heavy rotation but never got a full blog post: tops and dresses made from Charlotte Kan Pocket-T and Tie Dress patterns:

From left: I first made the Tie Dress in a linen-cotton blend last summer as a birthday present to myself, and then I volunteered to pattern test the Pocket-T (so I received the pattern in exchange for my review; I used deadstock Cupro from Feral Childe) last July. Last fall I made a cropped version (with split side seams) of the pocket tee in Merchant & Mills Irish linen, and in the spring I used the sleeve shape and waistline to create a heavily modified V1482 (a.k.a. Rachel Comey sack dress). If you’re interested in more details on any of those, feel free to ask in the comments, or let me know if a full post would be helpful.

What I didn’t wear

This summer was non-stop heat and humidity at home, and really didn’t cool down in the evenings at all, as it does in other places I’ve lived. This meant that I rarely/never wore any of my warm layers (light sweaters or jackets) except for travel. I also hardly wore my stretch denim jeans or my Prism dress because long sleeves and pants just never seemed like something I wanted on my body. Since my summer capsule extended into early September, I was able (and excited!) to bring these items into the rotation at the very end of the time span.

I didn’t wear my black high-waisted shorts often, but I still love them so much. They’re just a little too short for riding my bike or workwear but they’re great for going out with friends or dates. I also pretty much never wore my wrap skirt! I need to make it a faux-wrap skirt because it always feels too fussy so I don’t reach for it.

What I made (and what I didn’t)

1. Just before I officially committed to my summer capsule, I made a self-drafted crop top and it was easily a summer fave (also made one for a friend), worn alone or layered over a jumpsuit or dress.
2. At the start of June I also finished knitting a lightweight shawl, which I intended to wear for my brother’s wedding but didn’t really end up needing. I think it will be great for fall and spring layering though.
3. In June I made a rather wabi-sabi Dress No. 1, which exceeded my plans and expectations in how fun it was to make and wear (dressed up for a friend’s wedding, as well as my brother’s wedding rehearsal party, and dressed down for daily wear).
4. In July I braved the unending humidity to draft and stitch my “Best Woman Dress” (full post coming soon! Inspiration post here)
5. For a quick travel project and stash-buster, I knit a bright red Diode hat
6. In August, I cast on a new sweater for my partner as part of the Fringe & Friends Knitalong.
7. In the very first days of September I finished a set of silk Lakeside Pajamas

I had hoped and planned to draft and sew a tunic that I had envisioned when I received a beautiful piece of khadi from A Verb for Keeping Warm as a Me-Made-May contest prize (which I didn’t even realize I had entered!). I can see how the tunic would have fit into my capsule and silhouettes, but I didn’t necessarily feel that it was glaringly missing. I just didn’t have time, and I’m sure it will still be inspiring next spring/summer.

I also didn’t finish the Penny Raglan I had planned. I actually started making it, and it’s not too far from being finished, but I just don’t think I’ll wear it. I love the penny raglan shape but I made it out of a linen-cotton blend curtain I found at Goodwill, and it’s too sheer for my comfort level. I’m debating between tossing the unfinished garment in the scrap bin, or finishing it and giving it away.

Looking at this list, I essentially made one garment per month, with one smaller project added in or wrapped up. It’s really helpful for me to better understand my pace so I can be realistic with planning my projects and purchasing supplies, and it’s also nice to realize that I posted about nearly all the finished garments here.

This feels good as in the past I’ve been somewhat on the fence with blogging, but I’ve really been enjoying it as a writing outlet and a place to record notes (like this post, which has been a running draft for several weeks now) and inspiration. Sometimes I just don’t want to spend any of my free time on a computer (since my work involves a lot of screen time — that’s why my tactile hobbies are so nourishing for me), and other times I’d rather move into the next project instead of re-hashing what I finished, but I value the opportunity to appreciate each project and learning process.

What I learned, and notes for next year

My biggest takeaway is that I actually didn’t feel limited by my capsule wardrobe — I had plenty to wear, and even felt a bit more adventurous trying to experiment with new ways to wear what I already love.

Toward that end, I played with styling by trying a 10 x 10 challenge while on a 10 day trip, and it was really fun! I love layering and that can get tricky in the summer. Honestly, I have no issues with repeating outfits, but the 10 x 10 challenge to make 10 items feel like 10 different styles was really interesting and showed me that my clothes have greater versatility than the way I typically wear them. It also allowed me to pack a light carry-on and still dress appropriately for a few days at the beach, a wedding weekend, and a few days in New York City. I thought about doing a full post on it but then I fell behind (and subsequently gave up) photographing the 10 outfits. The items from my 10×10 experiment are featured in the collage at the top of this post, and the first two looks are shown above (travel day and beach day).

Part of what draws me to the capsule wardrobe exercise and using capsule planning to pare down my project list a bit, is that I get stressed out when I’m growing my stash by buying things I don’t have time to use or make. My summer capsule was successful in helping me hone in on a projects I really wanted/needed to make, and stick to working through my stash!

To be completely transparent, I did buy a few things during this capsule stretch, like the Lakeside Pajamas and Penny Raglan patterns. And when I visited Fancy Tiger Crafts I bought lots of underwear elastic, and two cuts of hemp knit for shirts for Jenn. But I didn’t buy any new fabric for my own wardrobe. And I fought a very intense urge to throw my plans (and budget) out the window to make a stripey Fen dress — that was a fascinating rollercoaster of desire to witness within myself, and might become its own post soon.

My summer capsule wardrobe also affirmed my love for jumpsuits: if I had to live with only one item of clothing, it would probably have been my indigo linen jumpsuit this summer (it’s a vintage Flax jumpsuit that I bought on Ebay and overdyed at home). I recently read an interesting post on the question of whether a love of styling is at odds with a minimalist approach to fashion, and the author brought up how garments that are versatile don’t have to be basic. For me, jumpsuits are a prime example. You know all those “wardrobe essentials” lists on Pinterest and in fashion magazines? They often include items I don’t own or rarely wear, like a classic blazer or pencil skirt, whereas because I love the jumpsuits I have, they’ve become essentials.

A few notes for next year’s warm season:

• My Nisolo sandals are really a half-size too big, and wearing them in very wet grass for an evening didn’t help that. It might be wise to replace them.
• I’m pretty good on lightweight sweaters — I have three that I love, which cover different shapes, and meet my needs for this climate.
• I love my Zady linen tee but it shows wear more quickly than other items, so it would be a good item to duplicate. Either with another of the same – maybe in black or stripes so I don’t need to worry about staining so much, or I could knit a similar shape in Quince & Co. sparrow (I’m looking at you, Moon Tee).
•  I think another shift dress in place of my Prism dress would be good, and especially one with pockets — I’m head over heels for Lily Schlosser’s Fen dress in stripes, so that might jump to the top of my spring/summer list for next year.

So there you have it – my first official capsule wardrobe and wrap-up. I plan to keep going with this pattern for a while because I’m enjoying it and I think it’s a valuable tool for my goal of a maintaining a small closet. What do you think — are you interested in a capsule wardrobe, would you try one? Do you plan your wardrobe and/or projects in other ways? Do you love having an expansive stash?

Upcycled silk lakeside pajamas

A slinky, breezy pajama set – or – a slice of humble pie.

What do I mean?

That I am both grateful to have these lakeside pajamas to wear on muggy nights and perhaps more grateful to no longer have them on my sewing table.

That even though I’ve been sewing most of my wardrobe for nearly 3 years and was starting to think my topstitching and bias binding skills were halfway decent, there is still so much to learn and practice.

Ok, what I really mean is that these pj’s are what my dad would call a “ten footer” project — they look great from 10 ft. away, but upon closer inspection the stitching is what I would call a hot mess.

No matter, they’re still wearable. And at some point after wrestling with approximately twenty-six feet of bias binding to complete the tank top and first step of the shorts construction (an exaggeration, but still), I gave in to the struggle and decided that thread matching isn’t always necessary. Which, maybe, is a lesson in going easy on yourself, especially when it’s 9 pm on a holiday spent working the same as any other day.

Also when the color blocking would have made thread-matching a particularly time-consuming challenge. But the color blocking itself is a fun detail that was surprisingly easy since I was working with an already color-blocked silk skirt and shirt combo, picked up from a tag sale several years ago. I’m not the best at identifying silk fabric types, but I think this would be classified as a lightweight china silk — plain woven, no backing, some sheen.

Whatever it is, remind me not to attempt to work with it anytime soon. Whereas my upcycled Alamada robe is a fluid, drapey silk, and my best woman dress is a mid- to heavy-weight stretch silk (which I only discovered while testing my stitches – more on that another day), this was a flimsy, slippery little devil that seemed to prefer to skew to the bias, and did not want to stay in a straight line under my needle.

But the pattern itself, even with all the bias binding, is a gem. I love the overall look, with the slightly retro gym shorts and flattering a-line tank. The clever layered back pieces of the tank offer a breezy vent for hot nights without being too revealing, which I love; the shorts, however, are super revealing and would definitely not make it outside the house even if the stitching were better. But then, I knew when I was cutting that I would probably want to lengthen the inseam, but I chose not to because I was fussy-cutting to arrange the pieces on the various color-blocked portions available.

Fitwise, I find both the upper-bust of the tank and the low hip of the shorts to be a little tight on me. I cut my usual Grainline size 10, although my hip measurement actually matches an 8 — I think the slight tautness might be due to the fabric, which doesn’t have much give. It could also be due to the french seams I was determined to use but not so dedicated to measuring properly. But after one night wearing them, they loosened a bit and are perfectly comfortable. Next time, I would lengthen the inseam of the shorts, remove the length I added (on a total whim) to the straps, and add a little room to the upper bust.

Just as having a fancy, handmade silk robe feels like a treat, having a stylish, matching pajama set feels surprisingly delightful. I can already imagine that next summer I might want to make an alternate set, this time in a light linen or organic cotton voile, with more precise stitching and a few fitting tweaks.