My beloved robe is falling to pieces and resisting all attempts to necessitate it. This is what I made to convince myself to retire my beloved old friend:
“Very Benedictine” said Mr. Noile.
To make it, I hauled out Simplicity 2482, from 2009, and set to work.
It’s a baglet because, even though I made the largest size in the pattern, it’s still quite compact. But for my purposes, it’s a great size, and the design is just plain fun. Contrary to what you see here, this bag is more or less bright red, because all the black and white clothing I’ve made lately needed something bright to offset that starkness.
Stuffed to the brim.
As with Green Pepper patterns generally, the drafting was on point and the instructions were clear. Naturally, though, I couldn’t leave well enough alone, so I changed things up a bit. And, equally naturally, I got into a bit of trouble along the way.
I’m always dreaming of a woven tee for all occasions. (OK, for most occasions.) On a visit to my favorite fabric store anywhere — Stitch Sew Shop, in Alexandria, Virginia — I spied the pattern which became this little linen tee.
The person who helped me gave an honest appraisal of the pattern when I asked for it — that’s real customer service! — so I was able to go ahead with some idea of its limitations.
There’s a wonderful store in Montreal called MycoBoutique, which is all about the marvelous mushroom. Along with fungi, one can buy all kinds of foraging and collecting equipment, mushrooms themselves, and an assortment of lovely fabrics, all related, in some way, to fungi.
I made my second version of this Vogue 1486 top from a cotton/linen (I think) blend I bought there.
A circle-style skirt like my Adri Vogue 1524 wastes a lot of fabric, which left enough to make this Burda top. So I did.
Burda says it’s a one-spool “easy”, and technically it is, but naturally I had to complicate things.
Covid, and a long post-surgical recovery, have put me off clothes entirely. Yet, they somehow seem necessary, even in these weird days. How to wear clothes that don’t feel like clothing? That is the question!
As a start, I settled on these Burda pants, with a lovely, wide, stretchy, waistband. Flexibility! Soft around the waist! Almost cozy, dare one hope? (But the appearance of an actual, publicly-wearable garment!)
Vogue didn’t do Adri any favors when they showed this pattern in white and peach. Even in 1985, these were b-o-r-i-n-g color choices! Maybe the Vogue stylists took a look at that uninspiring top and just tossed in the towel?
But the skirt is another matter — it’s got a marvelous swoop, a Covid-friendly belly band, and giant pockets. Sign me up!
Read on . . .
Somewhere, in a bookstore (in Massachusetts?), in the Before Times, I found a clever, light, fold-up nylon backpack. I theoretically bought it for Mr. Noile, because we tended, in those days, to buy used books in vast amounts which were difficult to carry home using flimsy paper or plastic bags, and he usually ends up carting them.
The backpack I bought was really nicely designed, but I soon realized that we — not just Mr.Noile, but I, too — needed something similar, but different. Above, the original purchase, i black, from Flip & Tumble, a woman-owned firm in Berkeley, California, and my altered version, gray, below.
Read on for more details.
. . . but not. I made a version of BurdaStyle 12-2020-127, but using a fhandwoven wrap.
Details are on my weaving blog at this link.
I’m not sure why I bought this pattern. It might have been because the denim version looked as if it might possibly be some kind of cat-proof tunic for lolling around the house.
But in the end, I found a very different use for this, uh, somewhat sack-like garment.
