A dear relative uses a power chair (which she amusingly calls an “electric chair”, an accurate, if perhaps misleading, description) and, naturally, likes to have a “pocket” to hold small things when she ventures forth in her chariot.
A few years ago I made one for her, but over time it’s gotten a bit battered, so a new one was in order.
Masks — so simple, so essential, so bothersome! In cold weather, it’s a pain juggling a hat, hair, maybe glasses, and maybe other behind-the-ear gadgets.
Canadian pattern maker Jalie has come up with a sleek, clever solution to the behind-the-ears problem.
Sometimes you just need a quick, satisfying project. And sometimes you need something practical that somehow you’ve never managed to acquire. Sometimes the stars align and pouf! Everything falls in place. So it was one day when I needed a denim apron. (And so it may be for you, if you need to make a fun quick-ish gift!)
To be fair, is there anything easier to draft than an apron? The shape is classic, easy to replicate, and you get to make it exactly the right size for you — or an intended recipient.
So I’ve had to learn to sleep on my back (ugh) . This has not been a nice process, and has involved a lot of more-or-less ineffectual trial-and-error experimentation. The latest iteration — and one that seems to be working! — involves this triangular pillow.
I’ve been meaning to make a boarding pass case for me and one for Mr. Noile for quite a while. Now that both our passports have RFID chips, I decided the time had come.
There’s really nothing to drafting one of these things; it’s essentially a set of pockets on a string. I had this pattern in my stash from years ago, though, so I started with it. Then I changed it up as needed for my own requirements. Here is side 1:
(Bad photo: The case is squared properly, honest!) I used dupioni silk to keep the case as light as possible. My boarding pass cases go through TSA in the same clear plastic bag as my personal electronics, so I used the brightest colors possible to ensure that I can track the packet easily as it goes through the screening process.
The pattern called for cardboard as a interior reinforcement, but that strikes me as really unwise, since there’s nothing much worse than rotting cardboard inside anything one depends on for travel, and getting wet sometimes happens. Instead, I cut support pieces from the thinnest quilting template plastic I could find, then rounded the corners slightly so that they would not cut through the silk.
Because RFID chips broadcast to anyone with a reader — that would be anyone who’s interested, not just your friendly snoopy government — I wrapped foil around the templates. Aluminium blocks the radio frequency. Commercial pass cases are available that theoretically have the same protections, but tend to be bulky, heavy, and expensive. Here’s a snippet from CNN describing the effect:
Wrapping your passport in aluminum foil actually works. It is called a “Faraday Cage,” and it’s the same thing that protects you from the microwaves as you watch your popcorn pop. The foil blocks electromagnetic waves so a nearby chip reader can’t force your passport chip to perk up and say “howdy.”
Accordingly, I cut heavy-duty aluminium foil to size
and wrapped the templates. I lined all of the pockets with foil, since many credit cards now also come chipped, which makes them vulnerable to remote ID theft, too.
This pattern is another one of Vogue’s failures: There are lots and lots of small rectangular pattern pieces which Vogue (or whomever) has avoided labeling, even though there is plenty of space to do so. I transferred the information, but, come on, that was a pain, and why was it even necessary?
Really, Vogue? You couldn’t be bothered?
The pocket edges are meant to be bound; here are two very unhelpful pattern pieces for the binding, which, bizarrely, don’t even have the pattern piece numbers printed on them. That information is on the swath of otherwise blank tissue paper proximate to these pieces.
Instead of binding the edges, which would have been a huge pain in the silk, I ended up reinforcing the pocket tops with narrow grosgrain ribbon. We’ll see how that holds up.
This project was sewn on my vintage travel machine: a Kenmore 1030. That’s the zipper foot above, doing double duty as an edge stitcher. I hadn’t sewn on this machine in a while, and was reminded all over again what a excellent little powerhorse it is.
The pattern calls for an around-the-neck ribbon. That’s cute, but a lousy idea for something worn while travelling, and the instructions didn’t provide for any length adjustment, which might matter depending on how, and over what, you wear the case. 
I used round cord — nicer against the neck — and added a cord-lock so that I could control the length. I strung a bead — a really ugly plastic bead! — onto the cord to keep the toggle from sliding off the end.
Most, if not all, of the pockets in the pattern are open. That’s not a very good idea, either, in my opinion. I prefer to ensure that crucial documents and cards — not to mention currency — are locked down, so I added zippers to two pockets, and hook-and-loop fasteners to a third.
Above is side 2. The shadows on the red pocket are dips in light caused by two sew-on hook-and-loop fasteners inside the pocket. The ridge on the right is a pen sleeve; that’s a nice touch. I’ll keep a small notebook or a few index cards in the pocket next to it, since the ability to jot a note is a fine one to exploit when on the run.
I did leave one large pocket open on side 1 for quick access to a boarding pass. And I made one other change: The lower front pocket on this side — the bright blue one here — is meant to have a clear window into which you can pop your ID.
Since the whole world doesn’t need to know who I am, or where I’m from, or what my address is, and since I travel on a passport rather than with a driving license, I made this pocket opaque. And I added a zipper, so that anything in it can be safely contained. I stitched grosgrain ribbon along the zipper edges for support, and for a cleaner-looking finish.
Since this project is essentially just stacked rectangles, it would be an easy one to draft yourself, and not much more trouble than figuring out where Vogue has hidden the many unlabelled pattern pieces on the tissue. That’s the route I’d have taken if I hadn’t already owned the pattern.
All that’s required is to figure out what pockets you want, stitch them to each backing piece (front and back), put the right sides together, add a neck string, stitch around the main pieces, turn and close up the opening. As I wasn’t much of a fan of the instructions in general (cardboard support, ribbon neck tape, open pockets, failure to label pattern pieces) I’d give this pattern the rare “D” grade — barely passing.
I’m generally a fan of pacsafe bags, which have metal mesh screening inside to make them travel-safe — or at least slash-resistant — in environments where that might be a risk.
I like this bag, a citysafe 350 GII, especially, because the herringbone exterior does not scream “travel baggage”. I hope the fabric wears as well as more typical ones do; the jury’s out on that. In use, though, this bag had more than one flaw. The most serious of these is the lack of an exterior pocket, something almost every reviewer has complained about (and with good reason!).
True, there is a small hidden pocket in one rear seam, but that’s not convenient for anything larger than about 4 inches by 6 inches. (And it’s got issues, too, since pacsafe calls it a “passport pocket”, but lists an RFID-blocker as a feature of the GII 350. The RFID pocket — meant to block radio frequency waves emitted by passports and financial cards — is actually inside the bag and isn’t relevant to this particular pocket.)
After being annoyed once too many times by my inability to stick a guide book, a subway map, an e-reader, the outgoing mail, or anything at all into an easy-to-access outer pocket, I took a brave pill or two, and cut into the bag. First I marked it carefully:
No, whoops, that’s not what I did first. First, I cut a piece of plastic quilting template into the shape I wanted for the finished pocket. Slipping the quilting template into the finished pocket keeps the pocket from riding up when it’s used. The template holds the pocket in place, but is thin and light enough to be almost unnoticeable.
(Note the round corners instead of angled ones that might have cut through the pocket.)
Then I cut two pieces of lining material for my new pocket, the same shape as the template, but with seam allowances — and forgot to photograph them. (Can you tell I haven’t had much practice, lately, at being a sewing blogger?)
Then I marked one piece of the pocket lining, and pinned it to the outside of the pacsafe bag.
In my fantasy, I was going to be able to do this on my machine . . . that was a nice dream. Instead, I ended up sewing by hand. Happily, the herringbone helped to keep my stitches even. Once the placket was sewn (twice-stitched for strength), I blanket-stitched the edges to stabilize them, and to prevent raveling.
Then I turned the lining to the inside, and attached the back of the pocket to the piece that formed the placket — that was tricky, but feasible, with a little patience.
I sewed the seam around the pocket bag three times; this fabric is probably fake dupioni, and frays like crazy. Once that was done, I tucked the new pocket into place inside the bag, and hand-stitched, invisibly, all around the placket opening.
Once the placket was reinforced, I inserted the zipper. Huge improvement! I use this external pocket every single time I take this bag out: Ironically, it is the single most useful feature of the bag! With or without “anti-theft” features, a bag that is a pain to use every minute of the day isn’t really a useful bag; one external pocket changed all that.
While I was inside the bag, I solved one other nagging problem: The side phone pocket wasn’t anchored at all. That meant that every time I took anything in or out of it, the lining came with it. Even worse, the lining floated out every time the zipper was opened, and regularly got stuck in the zipper coil. Really, pacsafe, you couldn’t be bothered to anchor the pocket???
It took only a stitch or two to remedy this, though anchoring the bottom edge one was tricky, since there wasn’t much room to maneuver. This is something that should have been done during construction. These bags are not inexpensive; there’s not much excuse for missing something so basic.
The straps on pacsafe bags tend to be quite stiff; this is really obvious on the skinnier ones. That is an inevitable result of designing them to limit the damage that might be caused by random cutting by bad guys. Sadly, the buckles pacsafe put on this bag — a backpack — are completely useless for holding the straps once they’ve been adjusted to the size the wearer prefers.
The buckles are slick, with no teeth or gripping mechanism on the underside. Even slight movement causes them to slip — it’s maddening! It’s also really dumb; buckles with teeth molded in aren’t any more expensive to make than buckles without them. Really pacsafe??? Did anybody actually test this bag before sending to market???
I sewed tabs of athletic elastic to the bottom edge of each buckle. This kind of elastic has grippers running along one side. It isn’t a perfect solution — the rubber doesn’t grip quite as effectively as the right buckles would — but it’s a whole lot better than the constant annoyance of having to readjust the straps every ten minutes.
There is room in this small pack for a regular-sized water bottle, and since there are no exterior pockets for one (that’s OK with me; that’s in keeping with the more sophisticated, urban-ish look of a herringbone bag), I added an elastic loop to keep mine upright. (It’s a covered hairband, attached to the side seam.)
This really attractive bag is finally practical, and less annoying, to use, now that I’ve hacked it. At the price, though, I shouldn’t have had to do this myself.
Here’s a brief summary of the pros and cons of this bag, unmodified, pros first:
Cons:
These bags are not inexpensive. As sold, I’d give this bag a C — or maybe a C-minus for the awful non-adjustablity of the straps. It’s just fine, though, now that I’ve made these changes. I’m glad I sew.
I love Baggallini purses; there’s one for (almost) every occasion, and I own way too many as a result. Usually I want a purse that can be used as a shopping bag as well as a handbag, and Baggallini has plenty of those, but sometimes I want the most minimal thing possible. That would be Baggallini’s surprisingly well-thought-out Teenee Baggallini.
What I don’t like on this small bag, though, is that metal plate on the front. It snags inside my purses when I use the Teenee as a wallet, and it adds an unwanted few ounces when I’m wearing it cross-body. So I remove them. This is tricky, but possible if you’re careful.
First I take a small, thin, screwdriver and carefully lift the plate from the front of the bag. Then I cut a very, very small slit in the lining behind the nameplate and gently pull the logo support from the back, on the inside.
This leaves two holes in the front of the bag, and a small slit in the back. I use a bit of clear repair tape over the slit in the back ( you can buy it at camping/recreational supply stores). Because these bags are kicky and fun, I cover the two holes left in the front with an embroidered patch from Demeritwear.
Here is the cookies and milk badge for my orange bag:
I choose this one for the color, of course, but I also for the whimsy of the motif. The embroidery is bright and clear; the patches are meant to be ironed-on, but I hate ironing stuff, so I just stitch them in place.
If you don’t know Demeritwear, you should! They make cheerful, kooky, silly and yes, even dippy, little “merit badge” patches for all occasions. (Theoretically they are “demerit badges” — maybe because scouting has the originals all wrapped up? — and there’s a story, but it’s not necessary to go into that here. Check out the website if you’re curious.)
These nicely made embroidered badges would be fun as faux buttons on tee shirt shoulders (or amusing faux epaulet-like decorations) , as identifiers on kids’ back packs or lunch bags, as logos on jackets, hoodies, or sweatshirts, or as a decorative touch on rear jeans pockets. I use them on and in my packing system, too, so that I can tell what’s in my packing cubes.
Other ways I’ve used these badges:
Disclosure: Please read it a the bottom of the Case Mod post.
On a trip to New York this past fall, a sudden, violent, downpour hit, and I ducked into The Container Store to wait it out, knowing that I’d find lots to look at. The Container Store seems like a strange idea to me, but in Manhattan it makes perfect sense: It’s kind of a hardware store for urbanites who want something a little more interesting than cardboard boxes for storing goods. I saw this, and was instantly inspired to make something like it as a gift for Noilette:
It’s so clever, isn’t it? I’m not wild about keeping any kind of jewelery in plastic sleeves, though, and those open pockets strike me as a bad idea for a Manhattanite like Noilette, who moves house constantly. I decided to make her version with net pockets and zipper closures . . . and to make the “dress” a little more like a real Little Black Dress.
That required finding black brocade fabric, which, needless to say, was not available at my local fabric store. I bought polyester “brocade” curtains instead, and black sheers for the pockets. I also picked up eight zippers and a faux-velvet clad hanger.
Then I sketched the outline of a sheath dress on shelf paper, cut it out, and used it as a pattern to make, first, the “material” for the lower front of the LBD:
I cut strips of the drapery sheers much longer than the width of the pattern I’d made, and attached the zippers by centering them in the middle of the strips. Then I pinned the “fabric” I’d made to the pattern, and trimmed all around.
The very top of the front is a small bodice, sewn to the uppermost zipper. Once that was attached, I laid the sheer front piece over a full-length front cut from the brocade, and stitched the strips to it appropriately to form long pockets with the zip openings. I also interfaced the all-brocade front backing, to support the pockets well. Here’s the two-layer front, pinned together with the interfacing beneath:
I stitched the pockets randomly, making them various sizes, with just two, extra-large ones, along the bottom edge. My only requirement was that it should be possible to get two fingers into each easily, to make retrieval of small things, like earrings, possible without frustration.
Let me just say that I’d rather sew the flimsiest China silk than ever deal with this poly again. This stuff didn’t ravel; it shredded. Is there such a thing as short-staple polyester? If so, this is it. Also, I think my scissors got duller just by being in proximity to this stuff.
I assembled the whole thing by putting the back right side to the mesh front, sewing the shoulders and the sides, and turning. The neck and armholes are finished with bias binding, turned inside and topstitched, and the LBD was finished by turning the “hem” in and edge-stitching it closed. I inserted the hanger, and voilà:
Yes, it needs a final pressing. That’s a lopsided fold line just above the “hem”. I’m terrified of my iron, and I took the photo before risking melting all that lovely poly.
The pockets look dark, don’t they? I tested the sheer before using it, though, and it’s quite easy to see what’s behind it. To wit:
See the brooch? Here’s a close-up of it in the pocket:
I added a loop at the bottom, in the back, with a silver button:
The button is to keep the loop from showing on the front, thus retaining the illusion of an LBD, but the loop is so that the “dress” can be folded up, held in place with the hanger hook, for transportation, or to save space:
Naturally, I loved the idea of an organizer disguised like this, but it’s also a practical solution for keeping jewelry visible and accessible in a tiny apartment where one might not want to leave such things just lying around. The zippers ensure that small pieces won’t get lost, and the sheer should be kind to whatever Noilettte puts into the organizer.
The “inspiration piece” has velcro loops for necklaces and the like on the back, but I decided against this feature, as I wanted to make something that would completely enclose the stored pieces.
I spent last Saturday with a group of fellow sewists at a Sew In hosted by Annette, of Fabricate and Mira. It was a convivial and productive day, and a lot of fun to re-unite with some favorite sewing friends, and meet a few new ones. Annette had never held a Sew In before, but you’d never have known it; everything was organized beautifully. She’s written up some tips on how she prepared — they’re a perfect blueprint for hosting your own.
Annette suggested that those of us who participated might write up how we prepared; I thought that was a great idea. I’d never attended a Sew In before, and, about a week in advance, I suddenly realized that I’d need to plan — especially if sharing even a large table with six or seven other sewists.
First item on the agenda was a rolling case for my travel machine. The one in the photo above isn’t meant for machines; it’s a “yarn tote” from JoAnn, but my mini machine fit perfectly into it:
All of JoAnn’s rolling sewing machine cases are ridiculously overpriced, but the yarn totes were less so, and with a 50% coupon, this was a reasonable purchase, although it probably has a durability rating of zero. That’s OK; I’ll baby it, and it will probably serve the purpose for years. The wheel and handle construction appeared to be the same as on the bigger machine totes costing three times as much, which made this seem worth the gamble.
Then I gave some thought to what project I should take. This is what I settle on:
I had just finished my Koos coat (Vogue 1277), and knew that a project with huge pieces like that one wasn’t a good idea in a shared space, so I decided to begin work on a coat for Mr. Noile. This one’s unlined, so I knew I’d have lots of Hong Kong finishing to do, and it’s also full of epaulets, pockets and flaps — small pieces that could be easily managed if space was tight.
For a long time I’ve been trying to convince myself to make a roll-up fabric sewing kit, but I could never decide on the configuration, or how I’d carry it, once made. For Annette’s Sew In, I used a plastic tote that fit into the open pocket on the front of the rolling tote.
There was plenty of room for all my sewing accessories and all the notions I needed for my project. It’s easy to put a container like this on the floor, out of the way of other sewists, saving table space, and easy to grab things from it, too. (I removed the jacket zippers before I took this shot; this box was full!)
I keep my small travel rulers and my Ginghers in another small, thin, plastic case just to make sure they don’t get bent in transit, or the points nicked. Everything in this box is s duplicate of supplies I have at home, so that I don’t have to unpack it after venturing out. (That’s a legacy from the days when I sometimes traveled 800 miles to Mr. Noile’s parents’ home and sewed there.) Keeping this gear packed up minimizes the chance that I’ll forget something on any particular day.
My project went into a zippered, mesh, double-sided packing cube.
I cut out everything (except interfacing, as it turned out), and put the small cut pieces on one side of the cube, and large ones on the other. Love those packing cubes! This one served as a handy file system, and kept the project pieces I wasn’t working on confined neatly and out of the way.
The packing cube and all my miscellaneous non-sewing stuff went into this tote:
And that was it for luggage.
My secret weapon, though, for portable sewing, is my little Kenmore 1030. It’s a small metal machine, made back in one of the rare eras when Kenmore made a good machine. (My 1030 was made in Japan in 1973-1974. The mid-seventies were kind of a golden moment in Kenmore sewing machine history.)
The first machine I ever bought was a Kenmore 1040, which was the model just above this one, with a few more features.That machine was the only one I used for years, and I was knocking out Vogue Couturier patterns on it with no trouble at all. It was a fantastic machine, and I’ve missed it a lot over the years since. When I went looking for a travel machine, I knew what I wanted, and found this one on eBay. The owner had loved it just as much as I do; I felt honored to give it a new home.
I packed several days in advance of the Sew In, which turned out to be a good thing, since I walked into the sewing room the day before and realized that I’d failed to pack the 1030’s controller. Whoops! That’s a detail you’d want to check carefully; they’re just too easy to overlook.
It was so good to see Andrea, Karen, Lee and Mimi again, to meet Annette in person, and to meet two (new to me) sewists, Val and a very nice woman whose name I am horrified to realize I never got. (Bad ears, and worse memory, I’m sorry to say.)
Annette’s blog post has a very helpful list for hosts, so I’m going to follow her example, and provide a check list for Sew In guests:
~ Choose a project that will be easy to manage in a group. Lee assembled quilting squares, Val made fabric bowls, and Karen whipped up three tee shirts during this Sew In. Andrea wasn’t able to join us until later; she was in the early stages of making a gorgeous coat, and still prepping the individual pieces.
~ Prepare your project with an eye toward space constraints (cutting pieces in advance, etc.).
~ Pack your project pattern (if you’re using one) and notions. Remember interfacing, zippers, buttons, cording and any other extras you might need.
~ if you are starting a new project and want to save time on the day, wind your bobbins.
~ Make sure you have the tools you’ll need: scissors, rulers, measuring tapes, pins, pin cushion, extra needles, and any personal favorites that make your sewing life easier, etc.
~ Double check to be sure that you’ve got both machine AND power cord/controller. Mimi had left hers at home, just as I almost did.
~ If acceptable to your host, bring any magazines, stash or other items you are willing to part with (but be kind, and take away whatever isn’t acquired by the time the day is over). I was thrilled to take home a couple of Burdas and Threads I didn’t have, and a couple of pieces of yardage I’d never have purchased, but can imagine using for fun. One womans’s stash is . . . another woman’s stash!
Annette wisely decided that we’d step out for food, and invited us to bring healthy snacks. (It is just post-holiday season!) Her home is ideally located for lunching, with a lot of eateries just around the corner, which was an advantage, of course. We brought pizza and sandwiches back to the house. Getting take out meant no fussing at the Sew In, no need to clear the table of our projects and machines, and no major clean up, either. In a less congenial area, everyone could potentially bring an easy-to-eat, fast lunch, and get back to sewing just as quickly.
Be still my heart! I can now walk in “barefoot” comfort with shoes on.
I love my Five Fingers, but, let’s face it, if you wear those babies around town you’re going to be discussing your feet with everyone you encounter. Merrell (whose shoes, along with Clarks, fit me better than any others) got together with Vibram and decided to solve this serious social problem.
Five Fingers have a separate little pocket for each toe, and they are amazingly comfortable shoes; Mr. Noile and I wear ours kayaking. The general idea is that they allow you to walk just as you do when barefoot; a whole bunch of runners swear by them, and feel they’re much better for feet and legs than standard running shoes.
These Mary Janes are the covert version of the barefoot locomotion. There are a bunch of other styles in this line (these are called “Pure Glove”), but this is the one I’ll wear every day. Someone described wearing these as being like wearing socks with soles; it’s true! Sooo good to the feet!
Oh, and they’re machine washable. They may just possibly be the perfect shoe in which to travel; they’re light AND sturdy — as well as being readily removable if you have the misfortune of encountering TSA.
These might be barefoot shoes even Lsa could love . . .
