Miss Vesper Makes Her Debut: Butterick 6226

Good afternoon, kittens! 

As my five month lapse in blogging may tell you, sewing dropped low on my priority list in 2017. This has been an eventful year, in both extraordinary and harrowing ways. We've planned and unplanned international moves (on hold for a few years), grappled with the possibility of major career changes (avoided, thank heavens), and are now getting ready for a new family member this fall. 

That last one is, obviously, the biggest and best news. We'll be welcoming a wee baby girl in September! Sam and I couldn't be more excited about this incipient little one. We've decided on  her name, picked out a nursery theme, and looked at reviews of more strollers than I knew existed. What I haven't done much of, however, is maternity sewing. After confirming that everything was on track in early February, I canvassed the internet for maternity patterns, ordering scads of both contemporary and vintage designs. Then...promptly sewed none of them.

Did you know that pregnancy has side effects? Shocking, right? I was lucky enough to avoid the morning sickness, but not some skeletal issues that make sewing for long periods of time difficult. I'm managing them well, but only by being exceedingly careful about how long I spend sitting. 

Or standing. 

Or walking. 

Or doing pretty much any one thing for long periods of time. 

Not that it's all doom and alignment gloom around here. Pregnancy has been a joyful experience, aside from navigating side effects, even if it has put a cramp in sewing binges. Thankfully, I haven't actually needed real maternity clothes until recently. Other than switching out to stretchier pants, most of my established wardrobe worked for the first twenty-or-so weeks. Colette Monetas, Myrtles, and Cashmerette Turner Dresses were in heavy rotation, but even my looser shirtdresses are only now becoming uncomfortable. 

It's getting to be that time, though. Strangers aren't asking about due dates yet, but the bump becomes more noticeable each day. Billowy maxi dresses and heavily gathered skirts suddenly sound glorious. I want to swath myself in pretty fabric, without having to worry about constricting waistbands. 

Maternity sewing will have to be slow, but hopefully I can produce a few pretty pieces for these last four months. To begin that quest, I chose Butterick 6226, a pattern that actually has positive reviews as a maternity and non-maternity dress. I love the idea of making clothes with more longevity than this summer. This pattern features a pullover, vaguely caftan-esque dress with cap or draped sleeves, three hem lengths (tunic, below-the-knee, and maxi), and even a jumpsuit variation. 

Naturally, I opted for the dramatic maxi of View E. Hooray for yards and yards of soft, drapey fabric! 

For this first version, I chose an Italian Blue and Green Floral Printed Jersey from Mood Fabrics, who have upped their knit selection lately. They have heaps of gorgeous rayon jerseys right now, though I fell head over heels for this digital, striated blue rose print. (Plus its red colorway sibling, which is also sitting in my stash.) The fabric is ideal for a billowy summer dress--cool to the touch, breathable, and not too heavy for such a gigantic skirt. It also ironed surprisingly well and didn't curl up at the ends, which is a nice change from cheaper rayon knit fabrics. 

It was even more welcome, considering how infuriating its pattern partner was. I love the final result, but the construction process made me fume. So much so that I've made a list of grievances, because yeah, I'm that annoyed. 

Gripe #1: Sizing

I've been bitten by Big 4 knit sizing, in the past. If I'm thankful to Indie pattern companies for one thing, it's introducing reasonable ready-to-wear ease standards into knit sewing patterns. This may be a maternity dress, but there is no reason that a pattern designed for moderate stretch knits should have over five inches of ease at the bustline. Good heavens, I want bump coverage, not my own rose-printed pop up tent!

Thankfully, other reviewers noted this issue. I heeded their advice and chose my size based on the finished bust measurement, which put me at a Size 16, well under my Butterick-advised 20/22 combination. This pattern would've been consigned to back-of-the-closet hell, if I'd chosen any larger.

If you make this pattern, do not under any circumstances, choose your printed size. Consider this your dire warning.

The requisite "Look! There's a human inside that blogger!" photo. 

Gripe #2: Nonsensical Construction Methods

Y'all, knit patterns should not be this fiddly. While the skirt is easy enough, the bodice is one absurd process decision after another. The side panels are not actually over-the-bust princess seams, but under-the-arm panels that do nothing but make your life harder. They do not form a smooth armscye curve, but instead a bizarre, half-sewn, half-open seam that makes getting a clean finish impossible. I ended up sewing them all the way up, instead of stopping inches short as instructed, and using loads of steam-a-seam, just to get a workable finish that didn't burn my eyes.

Worse yet, the sleeves. I knew they weren't traditional sleeves, from other reviews, but I didn't fully realize how ineffective they were. You see, they're not sleeves at all. They're just floppy fabric rectangles that partially cover your upper arms.

I just...

Why...

By all that is holy...

Look, I know pregnant women run hot, but that doesn't mean we need an open ventilation chamber under our arms. If I'm adding elbow-length sleeves to something, it's because I want actual sleeves, not dainty little fabric blankets to cover my biceps. The mess of a half-finished armscye and faux sleeves was too much to handle. I didn't add them after all and started contemplating a pattern-for-kindling bonfire.

Hair frizz + armscye of doom!

Gripe #3: Final Fit

A reminder: I went two sizes down in this pattern. Take that into consideration and look at the above photos. That obscenely low armscye! That halfway-down-my-sternum neckline! Can you imagine what the correct size would've looked like? I expected to wear a camisole under this pattern, which is good, because it would be unwearable otherwise. 

The armscye needs to be raised three inches, while the neckline needs an additional two. I also need to rotate the shoulder back a hair, but that's a spectacular non-issue, when compared with the other two. Admittedly, the long skirt is weighing the bodice down some, but it was designed for this skirt. This was all somehow intentional. Oof. 

The next time I make this, I'm redrafting the bodice entirely, eliminating the side panels and raising the arsmcye/neckline to reasonable levels. 

Oh look, an unironed hem! Sorry, kittens. I was apparently so blinded with anger, that I didn't press the hem upon finishing.

Aside from the barely contained process rage, I like this dress. A lot. 

Somehow, all the messy parts came together for a flattering, glamorous garment that receives a ton of compliments out in the world. It's bit Greek goddess, a bit ritzy resort collection caftan. That's a combination that is definitely my speed, these days. 

Even better, there is a ton of room for growing a human in this dress. Right now, it makes me look more pregnant than I look in other clothes, just from all that extra fabric in the front. Later this summer, that gathering is going to be a lifesaver! After I finish altering the bodice, I'm going to make a few more short and long versions of this dress. Though, perhaps not the jumpsuit. I can only imagine the alterations that variation might need! 

Miss Bernadette Decks the Halls: Butterick 6244 and Cashmerette Turner Dress

Good evening, kittens! There's time for one more 2016 blog post, right?

We originally had grand plans for tonight, but after two straight weeks of travel, decided to plant ourselves on the couch and watch college football instead. Sam is making steaks, I may whip up some brownies, and we'll ring in the new year in my favorite way: clad in pajamas and drinking mimosas at home. I would make such a fabulous hermit, y'all. 

Despite my introverted inclinations, we did spend most of the holidays celebrating in style. Not only were there a million parties to attend in December, but our third anniversary fell right before Christmas. Usually, I make up one fabulous holiday dress, then wear it endlessly for a month. This year, I made a dress and a coat. It wasn't overachieving, so much as self-preservation. We had a series of cold fronts, before Christmas, and I would've been a beautiful popsicle, without a festive coat to throw over my festive dress. 

No shivering under the mistletoe for me, this year!

Butterick 6244, the coat in this ensemble, is a pattern I've longed to make. It's one of the new Lisette patterns for Butterick (she moved from Simplicity, last year) designed by Liesl Gibson, of Oliver + S fame. The pattern features two pieces: a simple princess-seamed dress and a drape front coat to pair with it. The dress is cute enough, but that coat! Be still my heart. Unlined, with that dramatic collar and flat-felled seams, it's the elegant, but easy-to-sew outerwear of my dreams. 

Gorgeous versions of this coat first popped up, last winter. Lori, of Girls in the Garden, made an elegant camel version; Margot, of Creating in the Gap, made this glorious red one; and 

The Frougie Fashionista made a buffalo plaid iteration that I have coveted ever since. We had a remarkably mild winter, last year, and I never got around to cutting it out. This year, however, coats seemed like the smartest thing to sew. We had a cold snap early and those Arctic waves of weather keep on coming. I'm relishing them, if only for the opportunity to wear my favorite layers. 

For the fabric of this coat, I chose a dishy boiled wool from Mood Fabrics in cayenne red. This color is, sadly, no longer stocked on their site, but a dozen or so other colors are still available. Boiled wool is exactly what it sounds like–wool fabric that has been agitated in hot water, so that the fibers shrink up into a tighter, more felted fabric. It has a gloriously soft, nubby texture and a bit of springy stretch in one direction, thanks to this process. In addition to coats, I’ve had a couple of winter skirts made from boiled wool and they are such cozy layering pieces. It is one of my favorite fabrics to wear during colder months.

It's also a bit strange to work with. Boiled wool is densely packed, but isn't opaque. It's super warm and a bit heavy, but also drapes beautifully. This is the first of two projects that I'm using boiled wool for, this season, and I'm treating it differently in each case. This fabric works brilliantly for unstructured, drapey pieces like this one, as it doesn't unravel and has beautiful movement on its own. However,  if you add the right lining and understructure, it's also a fantastic fabric for a more structured coat. It's almost more chameleon than cloth.

The construction of this coat was about as easy as outerwear gets. There are two darts at the neckline, no lining to fuss with, and only five pieces in total. The instructions are pretty clear, with a lengthy explanation of flat-felled seams for beginners, and there’s a sew-along on the Lisette website for the entire pattern. Boiled wool doesn’t actually unravel, as mentioned above, so if you wanted to leave the drape unhemmed and the seams unfinished, this pattern would be easier. You’ll see unhemmed boiled wool in ready-to-wear all the time and it gives a bohemian, casual look to the finished garment. Despite my penchant for perfectionism, I almost did that myself. This wool looks seriously beautiful left on its own. 

In the end, though, I hemmed everything and finished all seams as instructed. The armscyes are the only seams left unfelled in the directions, which I kept out of pure laziness. The fabric is a little bulky for flat-felled seams, but it takes both pinning and pressing well, so it’s not too big of a challenge. My seams aren't perfect on the insides, but look nice and neat on the outside. I'll take that!

My only note is that, if you’re going to use boiled wool for an unlined design, expect it to wrinkle. I wore the coat for an hour, before these photos, and signs of wear are evident even after a good pressing, earlier that morning.  Its organic, unstructured nature is part of the charm, in my book. For more tailored designs, definitely consider those lining options well, however.

Underneath this coat is another version of the Cashmerette Turner Dress, which is easily my favorite pattern of the last few months. It's a simple design, but also a timeless one. Depending on fabric and design variations, soooo many different looks are possible with this pattern. Plus, those multiple cup sizes are amazing. I will never be able to praise Jenny enough for making the FBA a thing of the past. It's freeing to skip such a major fitting step! 

For this Turner, I used black and white geometric rayon jersey, also from Mood Fabrics. This fabric is extra stretchy, drapes like a dream, and has abstract hearts and circles marching diagonally across the print. It's absolutely beautiful and just a little strange, which I dig. In order to take advantage of this fabric, properly, I made a few small changes to the pattern: 

• Rounded the neckline and subbed in a neckband, in place of the lining. 
• Elongated the shoulder seam slightly to give it the illusion of a cap sleeve, which I thought would be fun with those diagonal stripes. 
• Kept the 1" added to both the bodice and skirt, last time. 

Like my other knit makes, I constructed this one in the usual way. It's sewn on my machine, with a lightning bolt stitch for the seams and small zig-zag for the hems. Lightweight fusible webbing is used on both the skirt and sleeve hems to stabilize them and make sewing much, much easier. 

I really adore this pairing, y’all. A black-and-white print worn with bright red statement pieces is one of my favorite combinations, especially at the holidays. It’s festive, but also works at other times of the year. You can deck the halls or just bundle up for an elegant evening out. Even better, this coat is eerily similar to wearing a gigantic blanket. Between it and the secret pajamas factor of a knit dress, it feels like I’m cheating at dressing up! When I’ve eaten record amounts of holiday food, that’s a definite win.

Happy New Year, kittens! I hope you had a joyful holiday season, filled with friends, family, cake, and maybe even a little selfish sewing time! I'm really looking forward to seeing what 2017 has in store for us all. 

Note: The fabric for this post was provided by Mood Fabrics, free of charge, as part of my participation in the Mood Sewing Network. All opinions and thoughts are my own, however, and I choose all my MSN fabrics. 

Miss Maureen Loots and Plunders: Butterick 5997

Contain your shock, friends. For the second post in a row, I am wearing jeans. Don't blame me, blame the swingy blouses! A shirtdress (and a fun related announcement) will be up later this week, but in the meantime I'm still reveling in roomy, artsy tops.

This one, a silk cotton version of Butterick 5997, was my Mood Sewing Network project for September and actually predates my Zsalya blouse. I made it a couple weeks back, tried it on, and had a dreadful realization. It was so bad that, until late last week, the shirt lay unfinished on the bed in my sewing room, taunting me. I finally mustered up the wherewithal to fix it, if only to stop the pangs of guilt. Unfinished objects drive me crazy.

Let's begin the melodramatic tale of 5997, shall we? The blouse came about, because there really aren't enough blouses in my wardrobe. I have dresses aplenty, tons of skirts, piles of sweaters, but very few non-knit tops. In the wintertime, that's fine, because when I'm wearing jeans I'm also usually wearing a cashmere sweater. (Aside: Cashmere is my one great ready-to-wear indulgence. Last year, in the what I will forever call The Best Christmas Ever, all my parents gave me were cashmere sweaters and you have never seen a happier Mary. Soft things forever.) In the warmer months, though, I'm at a loss for what to wear with jeans. Sure, I mostly reach for dresses anyway, but sometimes I just want something easy! Knit tops are great with skirts, but I hate pairing clinging knits with tight denim. Damn it, I want to wear skinny jeans and I don't want to be self-conscious while doing so!

Enter the swingy blouse. Loose, interesting blouses in fancy fabrics are the key to this wardrobe conundrum. My love of these garments is directly caused by watching too many classic movies and TV shows, while growing up. There was a period in the late fifties to early sixties, when women would casually throw on smocks with their cigarette pants, for chic home attire. Admittedly, this was often in order to disguise a pregnancy, but whatever. This style has always stuck in my head as the epitome of casual chic. 

So, swingy blouses were going to be made. Initially, I bought McCall's 6991, the wrap blouse currently making the rounds through the Sewing Blog Community, with an eye on making View C. After Manju's gorgeous pink version, I had to have it! Just as I was about to cut into my Mood fabric, however, I spied Butterick 5997 on the internet and fell head-over-heels with View D. 6991 was thrown over, in favor of a shoulder pintucks and a stand collar. Plus, it had those dishy gathered sleeves. How could I resist a shirt with so many gorgeous details? 

Well, I couldn't! After making a couple of flat pattern adjustments--a very small FBA and narrowing the shoulder seam--I cut into this gorgeous silk cotton poplin from Mood. The color, a steely Wedgwood blue, is one of my all time favorites. So much so that, last summer, I insisted we paint half of our rooms the exact same hue. In my defense, Sam also likes the color and I was the one doing all the painting, because it's his least favorite home maintenance task ever. My lovely younger sister came up and we painted and painted and painted blue for days. That I still like this color after that is a testament to its beauty, don't you think? So, yeah, this fabric was awesome and the shirt was going to be even more awesome, because pintucks are the most awesome. The end.

Or so I thought. After finishing most of the shirt, including doing a hand-rolled hem, I set in the sleeves. Joyful at the prospect of my almost-finished shirt, I trotted out to our hall mirror. 

And shrieked. 

This is what I saw:

Well, approximately. I swear I took a picture of the horrid sleeves in questions, but my phone seems to have (rightly) rejected the evidence. Trust me, I looked like a bloody pirate. I was one jaunty hat away from tearing through our neighborhood, looting and plundering the houses for rum and vintage fabric. Yoho. 

What looked like a perfectly reasonable, if billowy, sleeve on the pattern model, translated to a great, gathered monstrosity on my own blouse. I can only assume this is one of those things where they kept logically grading the sleeves up, along with the rest of the pattern, but PEOPLE REALLY SHOULDN'T WEAR TWO FOOT CIRCUMFERENCE SLEEVES, NO MATTER THEIR BODY SIZE. 

So, I stewed about it for a few weeks. Finally, I worked up the gumption to take both sleeves off, completely take apart their seams, and reduce their width by over six inches each. I then, just for good measure, chopped off three inches from the hemline and didn't gather there at all. The result is the blouse you see now, moderate bell sleeves and all. 

Reasonably sized sleeves!
Apologies for the wrinkles--we drove around for half an hour, trying to find a good photo location. We, as happens, ended up at the schoolyard down the block that I always go to anyway and I ended up with sleeve and back wrinkles. My mother was always adamant that seatbelts are a must, even if they ruin one's outfit!

I like it! The sleeves need some shape tweaking still, but the actual base of the blouse is pretty fantastic. I love the pintucks (so easy with an edge-stitching foot) paired with that mandarin collar. Even better, the blouse is saved from being a tent by clever side darting and that dishy deep V. Some people may not be a fan of cleavage baring shirts, but this is a totally tasteful hint of cleavage shadow. I like my bosoms and don't mind giving them some air, so it works. 

If you're thinking of trying this pattern yourself, I do have some suggestions. First off, check the sleeves before you cut them out. Maybe you like feeling a bit piratey on your day off, but if you don't, those suckers may be way too big. Also, staystitch and understitch every part of the neckline you possibly can. I make a policy of always doing these things anyway, but they're pretty glossed over in the instructions here. You don't want that V to distort! Staystitch as soon as you can! Additionally, if you're going to use a silk or rayon, I highly recommend using French seam where possible and hand-rolling the hem and sleeves, to prevent unraveling over time. It took some extra effort, but I'm so happy to have finished it properly.

Otherwise...this is a super easy, super straight-forward blouse pattern. I love its swingy hemline and all those fabulous details. I also, wonder of wonders, love wearing it with jeans. That's a win! Even better, this fabric is so, so soft and has a faint silvery sheen in sunlight. How wonderfully fancy. 

Now, I'm off to plunder some booty. Ahem, I mean I'm off to sew a shirtdress. Yoho!  

Incidentally, the title of this post was inspired by one of my dear writing friends, New York Times Bestselling Author* Maureen O. Betita, who writes a rollicking series of pirate romances. If ever there was a woman who could pull off a pirate hat and sleeves, it's the lovely Maureen.

*When one of your friends hits the NYT List, you're contractually obligated by The Rules of Writer Friendships to always mention it with her name. It's a very well deserved, very big deal.

Note: This fabric was provided to me, free of charge, as part of the Mood Sewing Network.