I’m currently struggling to get over the cringe-factor of posting photos of myself on the internet, which means that although I’ve been sewing quite a bit lately (hurrah!) I haven’t actually got any photographic evidence… More
It’s hard to believe that it’s been three years since my first blogger evening at Duo Boots in Bath – and, impressively considering the rate at which I seem to ruin shoes (I do a lot of walking), I still wear and love that very first pair of Duos. Continue reading “A new season (and a not-so-new name) at Duo Boots”
As the saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone – in my case, I didn’t know I loved my tiny sewing space in the corner of the bedroom until we moved.
Yes, it was small. And, yes, I got threads and tiny bits of fabric all over the bed. But I haven’t had a sewing space to call my own since, and so I can’t help but miss that messy little corner.
As we’ve still got a living room and dining room to paint (and our new cat/sewing helper is currently living in what should be my sewing room), I haven’t even had so much as a sewing desk since we moved in in June – until, that is, I decided that enough was enough and I was no longer content with scrolling through Instagram for sewing inspiration while my machine was packed away. I just had to sew.
So, I shifted a desk into the only room in our house that isn’t totally chaotic: the kitchen. And even though all I had time to do was mark and pin darts, and even though the location was far from ideal (although I do have easy access to the kettle and biscuits, so it’s not all bad), it was such a relief to be making again.
Since then, I’ve even managed to add the facing (I know, I’m on fire). Mostly, though, I’ve learned that slow slowing is ok – as long as I’m sewing, that’s all that matters. My how-to-sew-when-you-can’t-sew top tips:
Just get on with it. I like to give sewing my full attention (mostly to avoid those annoying mistakes you make when you’re tired, like sewing a sleeve on inside out), but waiting for the ‘perfect’ time to sew is a one-way trip to unfinished project island. Instead, I try to fit in small bursts of sewing, like pinning a hem while I’m cooking dinner. All these little tasks add up to a finished garment, so try not to lose heart with slow progress.
Be organised. If you don’t have the luxury of a sewing space, you’ll have to get smart with storage. Since being sewing-room-less, I’ve started keeping everything I need for my current projects – fabric, patterns, tools, threads – in one tote bag next to my machine for speedy sewing, and the rest of my fabric stash in a vacuum storage bag (it’s amazing how much you can fit in those things – I can almost pretend my fabric stash isn’t enough for several years’ worth of sewing projects).
Adjust your thinking. Ironically for someone who sews as slowly as I do, I can be rather impatient, so the fact that it’s taken me over a month to finish the Sorbetto top – basically the simplest sewing pattern in the world – is KILLING ME. Having said that, it helps to adjust your mindset and enjoy the process rather than thinking so much about the finished garment. I’m still working on this.
Choose wisely. If you’re finding it tricky to fit sewing in around other things in your life, it’s probably not the best time to start that ballgown you’ve always dreamed of making, or a last-minute summer skirt you’ll have to make right-now-this-minute to stand any chance of wearing this year. So, I’ve moved any tricky and non-seasonal-appropriate projects onto my ‘would like to sew someday’ list, and am instead picking makes that are achievable and quick so I don’t feel too overwhelmed (I’m aiming for just whelmed, 10 Things I Hate About You-style).
I’m back! Not sure how it happened, but it’s been 3 months since my last post. It’s really easy not to blog, isn’t it? Anyway, I’ve got a couple of finished makes to share with you soon, but for now I’m talking skincare.
I’ve had every skin problem in the book – spots, dry patches, sensitivity, redness – and over the years I’ve tried about a million products. Some of them worked, some of them didn’t (and some of them gave me an allergic reaction), and lots sort-of-worked, but not quite enough to justify re-buying. My latest try-it-and-see purchase, though, is definitely one I’ll be purchasing again.
My skin was the best it’s ever been when I was using an organic face oil (I also happened to be 21 at the time, but let’s not dwell too much on that). No spots, no redness, no dry bits. Unfortunately, though, that particular brand no longer exists (yes, it was that long ago) and I’ve since tried a few disappointing oils that just haven’t lived up to that first one.
Still with that first miracle face oil in my mind, I decided to give it one more go and added a bottle of A’kin rosehip oil to my basket at Holland & Barrett (not an affiliate link/ad – I just shop there all the time). I wasn’t expecting much, to be honest, but after a couple of weeks of using it, it really has worked a treat. The redness has calmed down a lot, my skin feels more hydrated and, to me at least, it looks noticably better – so much so that I’ve even gone outside into the big wide world make-up free and didn’t feel like a blotchy, spotty mess.
I’m not going to lie – because this is a natural product with no fragrances added, the smell is a little, erm, weird. Not get-this-stuff-off-my-face-now-horrible, just a bit unusual. But I got used to it after a few days and now don’t really notice it at all.
Despite being an oil, it’s not too greasy and works well with other products – I like to wear it at night, along with a tiny bit of my usual Sanctuary Spa night cream (again, not an affiliate link), to give it time to sink into my skin, but it’s great under make-up, too – just make sure you only use a small drop.
I’ve read that rosehip oil has anti-ageing benefits, but obviously only time will tell with that one (perhaps I’ll do a follow-up post in ten years’ time). It has helped with a few annoying skin issues, though, so is a winner with me (and means I’ll happily overlook that slightly odd aroma…).
When I started sewing, I didn’t think too much about the longevity of the garments I was making; I never considered whether I’d want to wear them in a year’s time, a few years’ time, or even a month’s time – I just made them for the fun of it.
Which is, of course, totally fine (we sew because it’s fun, right?), but taking this unplanned approach meant that I ended up with a wardrobe full of me-mades that didn’t go together, didn’t particularly fit my style or life, and therefore didn’t get worn very often. Not great after spending hours at my sewing machine stitching them.
So, inspired by this post by Heather at Closet Case Patterns and this post from Randomly Happy, I’ve put together a moodboard of my favourite prints and styles for spring and summer to make sure I don’t get distracted by all the fabric prettiness and sew something I’ll never wear (no promises, though).
Oh, how I wish my wardrobe looked like this moodboard (come to think of it, I wish I looked like the ladies in this moodboard).
Although these styles aren’t exactly what I would wear (the top left image is too strappy and revealing for me, and the top right image is a bit too, erm, babygro for my liking, although I can imagine it looking amazing on someone taller), there are a few elements I’d like to steal:
- Square and boat necklines.
- Boxy, loose-fit silhouettes.
- Mid-length, floaty skirts.
- Statement sleeves (along with everyone else in the world at the moment).
I’ll be starting with the Tilly Dominique skirt I began making last summer and never finished in a crepe (see below for deets) from FC Fabric Studio (all I need now is a stripey top, a tan, and much, much longer legs, and I’ll be well on my way to looking like the gal in image 3…).
And, because I can’t possibly sew everything, I’ll also be on the lookout for vintage denim pieces and a new wear-with-everything biker jacket.
To make sure I’ll want to wear my me-mades for a long time to come, I’ll be sewing them up in classic stripes, plains in quality fabrics, and modern, graphic prints (which I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of).
Not the most summery fabrics I’ll admit, but I’ve come to realise that brights and florals just aren’t really my thing. Plus, my summer wardrobe is basically my winter wardrobe without tights and layers, so I like to make things I can wear all year round (rather than only on the few sunny days we get here in the UK).
I’m going to try to sew from my sizeable stash as much as possible, so I’m hoping to finally get this rust crepe from FC Fabric Studio (image 1), stripe double jersey from Montreaux Fabrics (image 2) and grid print from Fabrics Galore (image 3) made up into garments (I’ve had them in my stash for MONTHS and I’d very much like to wear them now, please).
Having said that, I am currently lusting after this gorgeous hand-woven ikat from Offset Warehouse (image 4), so I might just have to make an exception and treat myself to a couple of metres.
So, now I have my moodboard sorted. All I have to do now is sew everything before the British summer is over. Which probably gives me about 4 days…
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A big part of learning to sew is making mistakes, getting the unpicker out and starting again – and you’ll still need to keep that unpicker handy whether you’ve been sewing for ten months or ten years, as there are always new skills to learn (and fail at).
We sewists are a tough bunch, though, and however many times we have a #sewingfail, our obsession with stitching never falters. So, to celebrate resilience in the face of wonky seams, I’m sharing a few of my embarrassing newbie mistakes. Here’s to getting it wrong, and trying again!1. Using the incorrect needle for the job. I didn’t really know that different machine needle types were a thing when I first started sewing, which, as I’m sure you can imagine, led to lots of snapped needles, a few ruined fabrics and a whole lot of frustration. Sewing through layers of denim with a universal needle is not a good idea, FYI. For your safety and sanity, stock up on lots of different machine needle types and thicknesses and change your needle regularly.
2. Picking the wrong fabric. Matching the right pattern to the right fabric is a skill, and, while I still don’t always get it spot on, I’d like to think I’m much better at it than I used to be. My Colette Taffy blouse is a case in point – the pattern is meant for floaty chiffon, but, newbie stitcher that I was, I decided to make it in a beautiful paisley print cotton with very little drape.
I loved the sewing pattern, I loved the fabric, but just not together. Although I was proud of it at the time (I think it was only my third or fourth finished garment), it ended up unworn at the back of my wardrobe and I’ve since given it to the charity shop. The moral of this sad story is: use the pattern’s suggested fabrics until you feel more confident with your fabric know-how.
3. Ignoring notches and other pattern markings. It seems I was, shall we say, an over-confident (read: cocky) beginner sewist, as I basically ignored all notches and winged it for my first few sewing projects – to quote a certain pirate film, I thought notches were guidelines for people who have no idea what they are doing. Which, ironically, was me. And then I wondered why I ended up sewing the wrong pattern pieces together. Notches and pattern markings are there for a reason. They are your friends. Don’t ignore them!
4. Not checking my measurements. For my first couple of projects, I chose my pattern sizing based on the clothing size I usually am in high street shops – which, given the high street’s penchant for inconsistent sizing, is just asking for trouble. Just like the high street shops, each pattern brand will draft their designs using a different block, so you may find that the size you need to cut out often varies – you may even need to grade between sizes for a perfect fit. Always check the size chart against your measurements before you cut out your pattern, even if it’s a pattern brand you’ve used before, as sizing can vary within brands – I also find it useful to measure the pattern itself, too. Eventually, you may even find the sewing holy grail: a pattern brand that fits your measurements to a tee (mine is Tilly and the Buttons. Hurrah!).5. Not pressing enough. In a similar fashion to my flagrant disregard for notches, I just couldn’t understand what the big deal was about pressing. It seemed so boring to spend my precious sewing time pressing seams. And what difference does it make anyway? Erm, quite a bit, actually. I have learned this the hard way, with finished projects that look far from professional with bulky unpressed seams and hems. Plus, pressing is actually strangely satisfying to do (just make sure you use a pressing cloth on delicate fabrics – learned that the hard way, too).