Miss Elise is All Askew: Knipmode 10/2015 Skirt

As a rule, I don't make New Year's Resolutions. They tend not to work for my personality. I am easily distracted by new discoveries and ideas--Oh, look! There's a squirrel!--which means smaller goals, quickly taken up before the impulse blows away, are more realistic. Until, this year. 

This year, kittens, I have resolutions. The broad, sweeping sort that require attention throughout the seasons. More remarkable yet, I kept these resolutions for a whole month! It helps that both resolutions deal with my wardrobe. Apparently, if a goal is legitimately fun and involves new clothes, I can keep it. Shocking, I know. 

So, what are these mysterious yearly ambitions? First off, I need to stop sewing so many secret pajamas. 2015 was a year of slipping style. Time and time again, I found myself sewing something because it seemed comfortable, not because I truly loved it. That feels both wasteful and grim. What's the point of sewing, if I'm not at least trying to make clothes I adore? Basics are necessary, but there's no need to lose my point of view entirely.* Comfort and beauty must coexist. This year, I resolve to sew more garments that speak to my personality. 

My second resolution is heavily related to the first. After coveting their patterns for months, I finally have a subscription to Knipmode, that glamorous Dutch pattern magazine! My mother, the Queen of Cool, sprung for it as a much-beloved Christmas gift. I am obsessed, y'all. Here are the patterns I wish Indies were making--skirts with interesting design details, dramatic jackets, and modern, feminine dresses. The aesthetic is exactly what I want to be sewing, right now. Of course, the only way I can rationalize having an esoteric sewing magazine flown to my doorstep--in a language I don't speak, no less--is to actually sew these patterns. So, I am resolving to make at least one Knipmode pattern per month, this year. 

*Why, yes, I did finally watch the Iris Apfel documentary. That woman is a national treasure. 

All that is to say...

Look, I made a skirt! This particular pattern is from the October 2015 issue of Knipmode and is also available online, as a PDF. The asymmetrical style is decidedly dramatic, with knife pleats marching along the skirt and a hem sweep that dips almost eight inches from right to left. This pattern is at once a classic full skirt and something more modern entirely. 

Even without instructions, an intermediate seamstress could whip this garment out easily. Make a few knife pleats, finish the seams, then add the waistband and an invisible zipper. Voila! Instant skirt. I treated this pattern as a Knipmode trial run, however, and fully translated the directions. Google Translate actually handles Dutch to English translation really well, picking up even technical sewing terms, like “seam allowance” and “overlock.” I have it installed as a Chrome plugin, for foreign-language websites, and am consistently impressed with its accuracy. For the few words that wouldn’t translate readily, the wonderfully helpful Marianne pointed me toward this fantastic Dutch/English sewing glossary.

To pull off such a bold silhouette, fabric choice was key. While this would look sensational in a solid fabric, I wanted a print similar to the modeled skirt, something heavily influenced by art. This watercolor floral cotton sateen from Mood matched that vision perfectly. When it arrived, I was so smitten that I promptly ordered another three yards of its other colorway, which is a riot of yellows and reds. Both fabrics are a heavier cotton sateen, ideal for an unlined skirt like this one, and have just enough stretch to lend a little comfort. Better yet, they drape gloriously, creating hemlines that swirl and dance with every step.

The most time-consuming part of this garment's construction was tracing out the pattern and translating the directions. When you receive the magazine, there are pattern sheets folded up in the center, corresponding to the various garments included. Two or three patterns usually take up a sheet, overlapping each other in different colors of ink, with sizes EU 34-54 included. The process is actually deadly simple, though--I outlined my size in bright sharpie, put a roll of bee paper down, then traced over my pattern pieces. The lines are really well marked and it's easy to determine which pieces are yours. 

Of course, there is one last step. Knipmode patterns, like Burda, don't come with seam allowances. To American sewers, this can be a stumbling block that keeps us from trying out these magazines, but it's a non-issue. There are a variety of foolproof ways to add in seam allowances. You can trace your pieces right onto fabric, then sew by seam lines and use a rough allowance, which is the couture way of sewing. Clover also makes double tracing wheels, clever little tools that add seam allowances as you trace off the pattern itself. Or...you could channel my swashbuckling ways and tape two sharpies side-by-side, then trace out your patterns with that. The resulting seam allowance, added at the same time you're tracing the original seam lines, is exactly 1/2 inch. 

All in all, the tracing process took me about an hour, including cutting out the final pieces. I'd much rather do that than tape together a gigantic PDF pattern! Though, incidentally, if you do order a Knipmode PDF pattern, you don't have to go through the tracing bonanza. There's only one pattern per PDF and it's laid out just like a normal pattern. Add seam allowances and you're good to go. 

As expected, the actual construction of this skirt was a cinch. This sateen sewed up beautifully, taking pressing really well and allowing lines of stitching to almost disappear into the print. Though the pattern's line drawing shows the asymmetry falling from left to right, I chose to copy the modeled version instead. The back and front skirt pieces are identical, so I inserted the zipper on the longer side and reversed the hem sweep. On my version, the left side now possesses the longer hem. 

Construction-wise, I made things a little more elaborate to suit my preferences. The waistband is lined with coordinating royal purple cotton, which was understitched to turn the facing, then sewn to the bottom waist seam by hand. The seam allowances were finished with my serger, but I did sew the hem itself up by hand and eased it into the skirt. Originally, this pattern was meant to have a hem facing, but I prefer a fairly deep hem on such a full skirt. It gives the hem more body than a faced or narrow hem would. To that end, I lengthened the hem by three inches and turned it up twice, catch-stitching it to the inside fabric. 

Finally, the invisible zipper was also put in by hand, but that’s simply because I can’t find my invisible zipper foot! It has been lost to the clutter of my sewing room. Until it appears again, everything at Chez Danielson-Perry is getting a hand picked zip. Laura Mae has a splendid article about inserting invisible zippers by hand, if you're curious. 

Wonders never cease! I've kept a resolution for one whole month! As I anxiously await the March issue of Knipmode, I'm turning my eye to another pattern, a riding jacket from the November issue. The pattern has been muslined already and needs a few small fitting tweaks, before I cut out some dishy black velvet for its grand debut. 

For now, I'm enjoying this swishy modern skirt. Both fabric and pattern feel deeply appropriate for my current wardrobe longings. This garment seems like the logical progression of my style, from when I started this blog six years ago.  It's feminine, yes, but not overly sweet. It's utterly wearable, but not something you'd find at any ready-to-wear shop. Mostly, it just feels very, very me. 

Mission accomplished. 

Note: The fabric for this project was given to me courtesy of Mood Fabrics, as part of my participation in the Mood Sewing Network. It was chosen by me, however, and all opinions are my own. 

Miss Lenore Wraps up Her Year: Appleton Dress

Good evening, kittens! Happy December!

Honestly, I can't believe that sentence is applicable. How is it December already? Autumn slipped right by me, a whirl of pie making, furious writing, and family invasions. I've been taking time to sew, but I haven't photographing anything. The sun starts to dip on the horizon and I start thinking about taking pictures...

Then, nothing. My mind is too busy to go through the whole process of primping and hair curling and thinking about smiling, but not pointing my toes, but also not doing a duck face. Egads. Just the thought makes me want a glass of wine and a nap. 

A streak of sunny weather (We've had heaps of rain in Texas, lately!) and a new camera lens* shifted my attitude, though. With changing leaves, soft sun, and a gorgeous new dress, the impulse finally came. 

*Photography Nerd Redux: The lens is the new 50mm f/1.8 STM from Canon, which the reviews claimed was leagues better than its predecessor. We don't have a ton of extra cash to spend on lenses, so I've been living with my old temperamental 50mm, but finally broke down and used a birthday gift card for this one. Y'all, it's amazing. There's absolutely no post-production on these photos and every single one (out of 150) were in focus! Trust me, that's a huge improvement. Plus, look at that light quality! I'm swooning over here. It's definitely worth the reasonable price. (Note: That's NOT an affiliate link. I just found the best price on Amazon.)

This is the Appleton Dress, from Cashmerette Patterns, which I've reviewed once before. However, this version of the Appleton is from the actual pattern, instead of the tester version. This new version is an even better fit than the original, thanks to a few crucial changes to the finalized pattern, and I didn't have to change a thing. Cup-sized patterns, I adore you. 

What really makes this particular Appleton is the fabric used. We have a fairly short winter here in the South, but I love cold weather sewing. As soon as the temperature dropped, I ordered a whole heap of wools from Mood. Among them were five yards of this dishy "Hooker Green" wool jersey, enough for both a sweater and a sweater dress. This fabric is a true medium-weight jersey, with a ton of stretch and complete opacity. While it doesn't quite come across in these photos, the color is a clear, dark emerald. Perfect for the coming holidays! 

As mentioned, I didn't change anything about this pattern. This dress is a straight-from-the-envelope size 16 G/H, which lines up with my 46-36-46 measurements perfectly. Picking a size from a cup-sized pattern can be a bit tricky, but the Appleton sewalong does a great job of walking you through the decision. 

For me, this fit was spot-on, from my fairly narrow shoulders to my extravagant waist-to-hip curve. There's been some discussion about what sort of shape Cashmerette patterns are designed for. Personally, I think they cover a good deal of the spectrum, particularly if you're either hourglass and apple shaped. I'm a textbook hourglass and favor styles that emphasize my waist--wide skirts and fitted bodices, particularly. Though the Appleton doesn't have a waist seam, the way it nips in provides exactly that definition I gravitate toward. At the same time, the hip ease is not snug in a way that makes me self-conscious. It skims over the belly, rather than clinging to it. Even with all the holiday eating (pies!) I've been doing lately, this dress is amazingly comfortable! 

TL;DR: It fits well! I adore it. 

When it comes to construction, the Appleton is a sensible, well-drafted pattern. Every piece goes together beautifully and there are enough notches to guide one along the way. Honestly, I skim most instructions at this point, but Jenny's process is the one I would default to anyway. Two thumbs up on the directions! 

You can sew this entire dress on a serger, but I would advise against it. On the neckbands/waist tie, specifically, you're going to want more control. I sewed everything on a sewing machine, with a lightning bolt stitch, then finished my seams on the serger. It takes a little more time, but it keeps mishaps to a minimum. To stabilize potentially wonky bits, I added clear elastic at the shoulders and used Wonder Tape in the skirt hem. All hems were done with a twin stretch needle, as per usual. 

Y'all must be tired of my knit dress spiel by now, friends. Knits! They're comfortable! I sew them the same way every time! This one is particularly cozy, though, I promise. Wool jersey is such a fun fabric to sew with--it's resilient, mannerly, and creates such warm, breathable garments. With all the chilly weather we've been getting lately, this dress has already gotten plenty of wear. I've been layering it over tights and a slip (to prevent static build up), which keeps me perfectly comfy!

Never fear, though, kittens. My next three projects are, remarkably, not knits. Think velvet and denim and European pattern magazines! For now, I hope you're having a merry beginning to the holiday season. Stay warm and safe! 

Note: My knit bodice post is still forthcoming. There was a tragic accident with its almost-finished draft and I haven't  had the mental fortitude to rewrite the blasted thing. Soon. 

Miss Noelle Walks in Technicolor

Good evening, kittens! Things have been a bit hectic around here, lately. While summers are supposed to be languorous and sunshine-filled, mine has been filled other things entirely. Namely, frantic bouts of writing on a deadline and lots of driving. We've been to Albuquerque, Houston, Austin, and Marfa, all in the span of a few weeks. I am le tired, y'all.

Before all that hubbub, however, I did get some sewing done. This lovely dress, which fairly screams Mary, was my Mood Sewing Network project for the month of June. I've had this lightweight floral cotton on my radar for months now. It's exactly the sort of fabric that gets my sewing engine going: bright, floral, and breathable. So, I finally gave in and ordered a few yards. Somehow, this cotton is actually prettier in person. Oranges, reds, yellows, and greens tumble across that hot pink background in the loveliest watercolor floral pattern. It's gorgeous! 

Naturally, I turned it into a sundress. Because, of course I did.

The pattern I used is, technically, Simplicity 1873. However, I had a different vision than 1873's simple two-dart bodice. Something a bit more interesting was called for, in this fabric. I changed the scoop neck to a deep, rounded vee. Then I extended the shoulder line out and up, to make a cut-on cap sleeve, which was finished with a bias band of fabric. To match the front bodice, I then drafted a rounded v-neck onto the back. It's a design similar to a RTW dress that's been in my closet for ages and is one of my favorites.

For the skirt portion, I nabbed the pattern pieces from Vogue 9100. It's a gathered skirt, with hip shaping, and gloriously deep pockets. It's the perfect pairing for the bodice and fabric. The gentle gathering doesn't add bulk, but it's super swishy in the summer heat. Lovely, right?

Technique wise, I pulled out some stops with this dress. It's fully lined in a polka dot, lemon-colored cotton batiste that's been in my stash for eons. The center back zipper is lapped, sewn in by hand, then whip-stitched to the lining. Our main dress fabric was also hemmed by hand, then the lining was triple top-stitched on my machine with a pretty wide hem to increase the swoosh factor. 

Yeah, that's a lot of snooty "by hand" talk in the paragraph above. Plenty of that could've been done by machine just as well, but I needed something to do with my hands, while watching Orphan Black! (Can we talk about the great Donny & Helena moments, this season? They were my absolute favorite scenes, of the whole series. Except, perhaps, for Allison's glue gun psychotic break in Season 1.) Either way, I really like the result. The dress feels special, when I'm wearing it. 

Even better, it dresses up or down beautifully. For summer weddings or date nights, a bright belt and nude heels elevate the look. During my usual day-to-day roamings, though, it looks great with strappy tan sandals and sunglasses.  It's a deceptive workhorse of a garment.

 

Oh, there is one last fun detail of this dress!  Did you check out my clothing label, earlier in the post? Sam surprised me, last month, with a whole heap of sew-in labels for my garments. They have a cute vintage machine on them and say, "A lovely garment by Idle Fancy." He's really the most wonderful of men.

It seems fitting that this dress, the most Mary dress I've made in quite some time, should be the first to get a real label. Since making this dress, I've worn it about once a week. The lining is so light that it's still comfortable and breezy, in the Texas heat. I need a bit more practice putting the labels in, but y'all gave me some fabulous tips on Instagram. Thanks again!

Unfortunately, this is the last sundress I'll be working on, for a little while. I have a writing conference coming up in New York, at the end of July. More business-appropriate clothes are on the docket, for the next few weeks! Happy sewing! 

 

Note: The fabric for the main body of this dress was provided to me, free of charge, by Mood Fabrics as part of the Mood Sewing Network. However, all opinions in this post are my own. 

Miss Mavis Goes to the Opera: Vintage Simplicity 5238

Good evening, friends! Tonight, we're going to talk about three things: vintage patterns, sewing with velveteen, and loving the monsters. Let's deal with the monsters first, shall we? You know the ones I'm talking about--those flawed garments that we love anyway. The dresses with wonky darts or holes from seam ripper "incidents" that see heavy rotation in our closet, nonetheless 

This dress is one such monster, I'm afraid. I love it, but it's definitely not perfect. You've been warned.

It all started with a pattern. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, but I would like to use more vintage patterns this year. I've collected them for eons, but was excessively lazy about sewing them up, during grad school. Tracing, grading, and making multiple muslins wasn't my idea of blissful sewing. Imagine that! Now that I have more free time, however, the prospect of a long process isn't nearly so grim. 

First out of my stash: Simplicity 5238. This cocktail dress from 1963, a favorite of Erin's, seemed like a painless way to reenter the world of vintage. It's a one dart bodice, with a box-pleated skirt and two sleeve options, long or short kimono sleeves. Even better, my copy was a size 40, which aligned pretty well with my high bust (40 inches) and waist (35 inches). One FBA and I should've been good to go!

So, I was. Three bodice muslins later. Oh, vintage ladies, your undergarments provided such amusingly improbable dart locations! During the course of my alterations, I:

• Added a side bust dart, through a two-inch full bust adjustment (Muslin 1)
• Moved the front waist dart one inch toward the center seam, lowered the side dart (Muslin 2)
• Curved both darts, to make up for some underbust pooling (Muslin 3)
• Adjusted for a sway back (Muslin 3)
• Changed the shoulder slope angle (Muslin 3)

I also decided to eliminate the skirt's center seam, since it's just a pleated dirndl. With this particular dress, I actually changed the pleat orientation entirely, to better preserve the fabric's pattern. 

Then, we come to the velveteen. That's right, the velveteen. Heaven forbid a fabric this pretty be reserved for rabbits contaminated with scarlet fever. When I saw this black cotton velveteen, with its swirling copper floral pattern, I snatched it up for a Mood Sewing Network project. It was originally going to be a blazer, then a Kim dress, then a coat. When I looked at the suggested fabrics for Simplicity 5238, however, velveteen was first on the list. Sartorial kismet!

Of course, this pattern does have a center front bodice seam and a bias-cut back bodice. I cut the pattern out in one layer, to match those seams in an appropriate manner. Unfortunately, the skirt pieces were really wide, when compared with the 46'' fabric, so I had to center the skirt on a different line of the floral. It doesn't bother my eyes, looking instead as if the pattern builds, as we go toward the hem. That's pure, dumb luck, y'all. 

Center front pattern matching, like a boss!

Center back seam!
The back bodice matching isn't quite as on point, because trying to find a visually
agreeable bias origin point is a pain in the ass. 

When it comes to construction, velveteen is finicky. Pressing it incorrectly can cause the pile to crush and seams can't be unpicked, then altered, because sewing will make permanent lines on the fabric. To make everything easier, I used a towel draped across my ironing board, to prevent a crushed pile. Similarly, I used a very light hand with the iron itself, paired with heavy steam. (More tips on sewing velvet and velveteen can be found in Elisalex's recent blog post.) 

My other major velveteen tip? Don't wear nice things, while sewing it up. Velveteen frays like the devil, while you're sewing, and the pile turns into fluffy balls of doom. Fluff gets on everything. I serged those seams, as soon as they were sewn, and faced the hem, sleeves, and neckline with silk organza, to combat it. I was still covered in the stuff. 

Silk organza not only lends more structure to those areas, but prevents fabric deterioration. Woohoo! I sewed the velvet and organza right sides together, flipped the facings to the inside, then catch-stitched them down. Similarly, the zipper is a traditional zip, hand-picked in place. This particular piece involved quite a few hours of watching Phryne Fisher solve murders, while hand stitching all those bits in place.

Silk organza hem facing! I like visible catch-stitching, instead of blind stitches. Don't tell my grandmother.

Everything seems alright up to now, doesn't it? I didn't crush the pile or accidentally misalign my center seams. How does this dress deserve monster status? Well, check that bodice fit, kittens. The weight of the velvet, paired with a little bit of stretch, means that my perfectly fitted muslin didn't translate over. The whole thing is a touch big and those darts refuse to lie flat. With any other fabric, I could probably steam them into submission, but that's not an option here. There is some bubbling on the front, which definitely wasn't there in my final muslin. Alas, I've discovered the problem with sewing a velvet garment toile out of easy-to-please cotton...

Here's the thing, though. I really love this dress.

Rationally, I know that the bodice is imperfect and that the whole thing looks like an ill-fated attempt to upholster a blonde, but whatever. It's soft and warm and the fabric is gorgeous. There's something so delicious about wearing yards of lush, dramatically printed velveteen. My judgment may be twisted from reading about that rabbit as a child, but I adore this fabric and this dress. Perhaps I'm not completely batty, however, because Sam agrees with me. He's plotting to buy tickets to some fancy theater event soon, so that he "can dress up in a three-piece suit and take me out to show off that dress." You've got to love a man who loves your monsters, don't you?

Note: Fabric for this dress was provided by Mood Fabrics, as part of my participation in the Mood Sewing Network.

Miss Melinda Fancies a BBQ: Simplicity 1873

Hello, my loves! Sam and I have made it back home, after our meandering road trip out to Georgia. We had an absolute blast visiting with family, eating delicious food, and unplugging from the world. I didn't realize how internet-dependent my morning routine was, until we were without connectivity for a week. The number of times I checked Instagram, only to belatedly realize my phone had no service, was truly embarrassing! Almost as embarrassing as the discovery that I'm allergic to pastoral charm. 

Apparently, living my whole life in a city means that one sniff of hay and one pat of a horse can set my whole system reeling. I spent much of Saturday in a Benadryl-induced coma, after said discovery. The sneezes, they just wouldn't stop! Thankfully, I was still able to finish my Mood project for this month: a striped summer party dress.

I ordered this fabric, an ecru and red cotton by Marc Jacobs, a few months ago from Mood. It was a total impulse purchase, bought for no other reason than I was struck dumb with love for these wide, scarlet stripes. They would make the perfect summer dress! Once the weather heats up, I start yearning for that classic Americana palette of red, white, and blue. (As similarly indicated by my last post.) It's a color scheme that hearkens back to summers spent on sailboats, eating apple pie and soaking up the blazing sun under a glamorous, floppy hat. 

I haven't actually experienced a summer like that, of course. If I tried eating pie on a sailboat, I'd probably slip on an errant baked apple and fall right overboard, floppy hat and all. The yearning for an elegant, traditionally "summer" outfit remains, however. Damn Ralph Lauren and all his aspirational, Ivy League designs! 

So, yeah, I wanted a striped dress. I wanted it desperately.

Luckily, this fabric ended up being perfect for such a project. It's a lovely crisp cotton, almost a poplin in weight and drape, which lent itself really well to the dress I had in mind. I wanted something classic in silhouette, but comfortably swishy and unlined. Though I fully understand all the benefits of lining a garment, I just can't do it for these mid-summer dresses. When the temperatures soar above 90 degrees, I want as few layers as possible! It may be dressmaking sacrilege, but such a sin rests east on my conscience. 

As for the dress itself, this pattern should look familiar to you. It's another iteration of Simplicity 1873, that queen among fit-and-flare patterns. I've made it a half-dozen times already and have absolutely zero plans to stop now. Tried-and-true for the win! 

For this version of 1873, I opted for the high, rounded neck bodice of View A. It's the same bodice I used in my final Project Sewn dress and I absolutely adore wearing that dress. Busty women are told so often that we can't pull off high necklines, but they don't bother me in the least. Society doesn't need to peek at my bubbies all the time and I'm tall enough that it doesn't throw off my torso proportions any, as is the worry implied in that advice. 

Note: Though, even if it did, I come down on the side of not giving a shite. Plus-sized fashion rules do nothing but harsh my sewing buzz. The word "flattering" makes my feminist nature go all wild-eyed and stabby. It intimates that women are nothing but a bucket of flaws to be hidden and camouflaged, so that we can achieve that vaunted status as pretty, decorative object. "Oh dear, this woman has a poochy stomach and extravagant breasts!  Best hide those with fabric magic or turn her toward the wall!" Such claptrap!

Back to the matter at hand, though. This dress! This lovely, stripey confection of a dress!

Instead of attempting to stripe match the bias-cut panels of 1873's usual skirt, I subbed it out for a pleated dirndl. Once again, I concentrated the pleats toward the side seams of the dress. This was both an attempt to give the skirt more swish and leave some of the stripes unbroken down the front of the dress. I spent so much time stripe matching, as I cut out this baby, that it seemed silly to break all the stripes up with pleating! So, I left the center four unbroken, then pleated like a madwoman. The resulting skirt has two box pleats on each front side and two box pleats on each back side, each folded along a stripe edge. 

The whole dress is finished with French seams and self-fabric bias tape. I absolutely adore an exposed bias-tape finish, especially with striped fabric, so that's what I went for at the neckline and armscyes. The resulting barber-pole diagonals are such a cute pop of interest, don't you think? Even if I had lined the dress, I would have been tempted to add that finish. I love it!

So, there we have it: a simple striped dress for those muggy, summer nights. It was the perfect outfit to wear for Uncle Bill's 60th birthday party! Cool, but resiliently crips against the heat. I am going to get so much wear out of this piece, as I do all my unlined cotton dresses. There is no better Texas summer staple, I promise you. Though, this one does have the added advantage of filling that sailboat attire gap in my wardrobe. 

The details...

Things I Loved:

• The fabric! These stripes just make me so darn happy. It's all too tempting to buy the balsam colorway, as well. 
• The silhouette! Simplicity 1873 is ever a winner for me.
• The bias tape finish! 

Things I Changed:

• 2 inch FBA on the bodice, done many, many moons ago. 
• Subbed out the skirt for a pleated dirndl.
• Omitted the lining, in favor of a simpler finish.
• French-seamed everything possible.
• Used a traditional zipper, instead of my nemesis, the invisible zip.

Fabric & Notions:

• 3 yards of Marc Jacobs striped cotton - courtesy of Mood Fabrics
• 22'' zipper

Miss Emery Packs Her Bags

Good morning, lovely ones! Today's project is a bit of mixed bag, I have to be honest. While it's a perfectly nice dress, the final product is a lesson in almosts. It's almost exactly what I wanted. It almost fits correctly. It's almost the perfect spring dress. 

Let's start with the good first, though, shall we? For my Mood project this month, there was a challenge to meet. We were asked to pick a designer collection from the Spring/Summer 2014 runways shows, then sew a piece that could fit into the collection we fancied most. There were quite a few gorgeous collections this season, but I ended up choosing one of my stand-by inspirations: Orla Kiely. 

Kiely's collection is utterly delightful, filled with gorgeous linens, whimsical animal prints, and early 60's silhouettes. It's very Wes Anderson meets The African Queen. The S/S 14 Kiely girl is a twee, binocular-toting naturalist on her first safari after grad school. 

In order to properly channel this aesthetic, I ordered two lengths of linen in my favorite of Kiely's color pairings: navy and coral. Mood has an absolutely gorgeous selection of linens and these two are no exceptions. The navy is actually a Ralph Lauren fabric, lightweight and with gorgeous body, while the coral is a midweight linen-cotton blend with a sturdy hand. They are a really lovely pair. 

Initially, I had planned to turn these fabrics into a Hawthorn from Colette Patterns—a simple navy shirtdress, with coordinating coral buttons and collar. It would have been gorgeous, but a shipping mix-up meant I didn't actually get these fabrics until last weekend, so the time just wasn't there. Instead,  I reached for the Emery Dress from Christine Haynes, determined to finally make a proper version. The collar variation was perfect for my Kiely-esque vision and the skirt was wide enough to take advantage of the flowy navy linen. Even better, I'd already fit the Emery bodice to perfection! What could go wrong?  

Well—contain your shock, kittens—it turns out that linen and faille don't drape in the same manner. They are, in fact, polar opposites. Where faille holds any structure you can imagine, linen is much more loosey-goosey. It wants to float and blouse. That's why we love it, after all. It's the ideal summer fabric! Unfortunately, that meant that my perfectly fitted Emery bodice wasn't perfect at all. The armscyes gaped, while the underbust poofed. 

I took it in where I could, but the dress is still just a bit big those in areas. Not enough to bother me when wearing it, but enough that I still notice in these pictures. You can also totally see where my seatbelt crossed my chest in the car before taking these. Oh, linen. Won't you hide any sins? 

Let's circle back to the bright side, though! This fabric is lush, y'all. I've written three different analogies, trying to capture what it feels like, and one of them involved angel butts. The navy is slightly slubby in texture, as a good linen should be, and so breathable. When Texas summer hits, I'm going to wear the hell out of this dress. Usually, I give up on pretty clothes sometime in mid-August, instead wearing thin shapeless knit pieces and murmuring, "Whhhhyyyyy?" This year, I will have linen to cool my heat-stricken fashion senses. Joy!

 Now, onto construction details! The Emery was mostly fun to sew up. It's a very simple pattern, which makes it ideal for beginners, but could be embellished a hundred fabulous ways. There are eight darts, gathering of the skirt waistband, installation of the bodice lining, and an invisible zipper. From start to finish, this dress took me about six hours to sew, because I chose to sew the lining in completely by hand. 

There were a few things that gave me issues, but they were a cutting mishap and a thing I shouldn't have tried anyhow. First off, one of my back bodice pieces was just a touch wider than the other, which made installing the collar on that side an adventure. The other was the Fucking Invisible Zipper of Doom.

Holy banana slugs! Invisible zippers are worse than mayonnaise. No matter how precisely I measure or what tricks I use, my waist seams never line up properly. This one, I installed three separate times to no avail. Despite both back pieces being identical in length, the zipper decided the seams should be separated forever. Ugh. They're still like a centimeter off, but I don't even care. I am done letting that zipper toy with my emotions! My gut said to sub it out for a hand-picked zipper, as is my wont, but I wanted to stick to the pattern instruction for an honest Emery experience. 

So, that was a mistake. My next Emery—because, I will conquer this pattern's fit—will have a traditional zip.

Overall, my review for the Emery herself is two thumbs up. All of these issues with this dress were user error. I think that, in the wake of some good news this week, the universe wanted to reinforce that I'm not Coco Chanel yet: "You can successfully sew with silk and sign on for A Cool Secret Thing, but I still have your number, Mary. Here, have a box full of invisible zippers for your trouble."

The Details...

Things I Loved:

• The collar! Such a sweet touch.
• The fabric! Mood rocks, as ever. I want to only wear linen and silk faille, because they've spoiled me so. 
• The skirt! Swishy full delight. 
• The skirt length! I didn't have to lengthen, in order to get the perfect hem length. Wonder! Awe!

Things I Changed:

• 2.5 inch FBA

Things I Will Change Next Time:

• Sub out for a traditional zipper, so that I don't turn into a fire-breathing sewing monster. 
• Revisit that FBA on a size smaller, so that I can address the fit issues in drapier fabrics. 

Tips & Tricks:

• If you hate invisible zippers, don't sew them. 

Notions & Fabric:

• Emery Dress - Christine Haynes Patterns - $18 - Goes up to a 45" bust
• Ralph Lauren Navy Linen - Courtesy of Mood Fabrics
• Coral Linen-Cotton Blend - Courtesy of Mood Fabrics
• 22" Invisible Zipper of Doom
• Interfacing for collar