You thought I’d run away to Port-land Or-e-gon, didn’t you? I wish. I’m not one to point the finger, but it’s all this guy’s fault.
He got stuck in the US. Something about healthcare reform. Stars, is healthcare reform the new black at the moment or WHAT? Everyone’s doing it.
So I’m still here in Sydney, which is sweating like a man on death row. It’s Autumn, we are supposed to be frolicking in the leaves, roasting chickens and wrapping cardi’s around our shoulders. Are we? No. Most displeased. Sniff.
So it seems the Port-land Or-e-gon trip is being rescheduled for June or something. Priorities President, get them in order. You seem like a nice man and I’d hate to have to bare my teeth at you. It’s just that when a Girl’s decided she wants to live in a blue house and have Viggo Mortensen come visit, she wants that life to start sooner rather than later. These ovaries aren’t getting any younger.
So I’ve got a little more packing time. I’m in the midst of a pretty major clean up. It’s been going on for about two years now. Part of the clean up has been finishing UFOs. So while it may have felt I was arm-wrestling the President, I have been nose to the sewing machine getting things finished. Some of you who know me will be deeply shocked, but I assure you this is a new leaf, not a phase.
A remnant of navy cotton from Groovie Mommie which has been in the stash forever finally got made. An Easter Miracle. And the perfect fabric for this heatwave we’re having. It’s Spring in Port-land Or-e-gon you know. Not freaky-ass Autumn having an identity crisis.
Anyway. More Lookie.
This is really red, not the watermelony colour the camera has turned it into. It has a little secret. Wanna see?
Flowers in the pocket.
But wait, there’s more. What a show-off.
Yes this would look fab with the red jacket (they are a pair as far as Vogue patterns are concerned) but alas I am only 5foot11 and size ten in my dreams. Dumpy is the word you are looking for, as is Pilates. As in When the hell are you getting your size 18 into a pilates class woman?
More showing off. Actually, this is a tad boring after the excitement of big spots and flower pockets.
I actually had made these up in trousers, but hated them on me. I have a lovely little jacket to go with, but am not one to wear suits. I rather think they denote a lack of imagination, don’t you?
Another pencil skirt, this time in black linen. Where would we be without a black pencil skirts?
And then I did this.
And I tell you I went to extraordinary lengths with this frock. I did something I’ve never done before. Thanks to the Lovely Miss Gertie, I tissue fit the bodice before I cut out. When I’ve moved to Port-land Or-e-gon, I will be inviting Miss Gertie over for tea. Miss Gertie is a wonder, a bloody wonder I tell you, and every Seamstress should have her on speed dial.
Yes gals, it has bossoms! You know why? And this is one of the things that does my head in about sewing. Things never ever fit me in the bust. I always have to do this at the last minute.
Wierd-ass bust dart in the freakin sleeve/armhole. Hardly couture. Grmpph.
Apparently it is because I cut patterns according to my actual bust measurement, and not my high-bust measurement, which is the bit under your arm. Which made sense, cos this is where I end up darting things. But I cut this out to my high bust measurement. I think I need more practice. Or something.
And you are right, that armhole is not finished. I haven’t sewn bias around it. Despite hours fitting patterns and adjusting patterns, then fitting fabric and adjusting fabric, it’s still an awkward fit. It’s bloody impossible to fit things on yourself. I’d have myself cloned, just so I could fit things properly. So the frock is hanging on the door, I’m not really speaking to her at the moment, which is a bit of a shame, cos she has a lovely swish to her.
So that’s what I’ve been sewing. I’ve also been crocheting, in this heat. It all feels like today has been about me, so maybe tomorrow we’ll talk crochet.
And don’t forget Crafternoon is this Sunday.