Things I’ve Sewn: Blue Stripe Trousers

Posted on May 1, 2014 by Tasha

So, after talking about these tops last time, it’s time to talk about the pants! They’re more of a trouser style (which is good since folks on both sides of the pond can agree what “trousers” means, right?). I bought this fabric last summer at Nob Hill Fabrics in Albuquerque. I wasn’t 100% sure about it for trousers, but it looked promising. In truth, I am not 100% sure about it for trousers now. But, after the untimely demise of my fantastic purple corduroys (so sad!) I really needed a new pair of pants nice enough to wear at shows (in public where I am supposed to look somewhat professional, or at least not like a bum off the street). The odds of my finding a pair to buy that fit and that I like are close to zero, so I pulled out the blue fabric.

A pattern epiphany

While I was cutting it, something pretty cool happened. As I looked at the back waistband pattern, I got a sudden flash of insight: this piece is trying to take in too much curve, and it would be much better as two pieces, with a seam in the middle as well! So I traced it into two pieces which matched the existing width at the bottom of the waistband, and took in a little more at the top. If you do this, don’t forget to add seam allowances to the edges at the new seam! This approach fit the shape of my body so much better that I ended up doing the same thing on the front, so that I now have four waistband pieces instead of two. A step forward in fit.

Fitting

This is the next evolution of the traced from-existing-pants-and-extensively-altered pattern I used to make the grey pair. The main problem with those is that they are a little tight around the crotch seam, especially when I sit down.

I will say that I’ve gotten a lot better at diagnosing what needs fixing in the fit of my trousers in the last year or two. At first, the fact that every part of the fit affects every other part made it nearly impossible for me to tell what I should change. But now, after fitting a few pairs, when I try some on I can feel which seams need more or less fabric in order to be comfortable and fit my shape. So I already knew (from wearing the grey pair) that I needed to let out the front inseam a fair amount. I wanted to cut the fabric outside of the pattern to make sure I would have enough in that area, so I decided to trace with thread the outline of the pattern. That way I’d be able to see where my new seam is in relation to the pattern, and transfer my changes back to it for next time (I can always add more paper to the pattern using this method). This worked great, I could see right where the pattern line was as I worked on the fit.

So, I let out the front inseam until it felt comfortable, and then played around with the crotch seam and back inseam to get the look and fit I wanted. I want the trousers to show that I have a bum, without hugging it too tight, and then drop into a wide leg somewhat reminiscent of 30’s style. I got pretty close! To be honest, I may have overdone it on the amount of added room around the inseams, these feel so comfortable that they border on I’m-wearing-my-pajamas-outside. But when I put them on and sit down it’s sooo nice!

Those back pockets

The back welt pockets are pretty sweet, yes? This is something I’ve really been wanting in trouser-style pants. I have one old pair of thrifted Gap wide-leg pants that has them, with little flaps on top too, and I love them. I almost skipped them for this pair though, just because I was running a little short on time before we left for Texas, and I really needed to get these trousers done. You know how sometimes, these decisions are made for you, just by the circumstances? Well, as I got close to finishing the fit, two things became inescapably apparent: I could not figure out any way to get the tips of the back darts to look good (hidden by patch pockets in earlier pairs), and under some conditions, you could see the line of my undies through the fabric. So, pockets it was, and since patch pockets don’t go with the trouser style I wanted … I basically just kept those Gap pants next to my sewing machine and figured out the steps from looking at them inside and out as I went. Fortunately, I didn’t hit any major snags. I have to admit, when I first tried the trousers on after finishing the pockets, my reaction was “no one told me they would look THAT cool!” I have a few tweaks to make next time, but overall, those back pockets are probably my favorite thing about this make!

Fabric verdict

I had a hunch when I went to add the pockets that it wasn’t the fabric being pulled tight that was showing my undie-lines, it was the fabric being just a little thin and just a little clingy. I was right. Now that the pockets are in, you can see that there’s plenty of room for them. Sometimes you can see a shadow from the pocket lining, but that’s much better!

While this fabric turned out fine, next time I will look for some with just a little more body for making trousers. I wouldn’t want it to be stiffer, just thick and soft enough to hold its own and skim over curves a little more.

And, did you notice it wrinkles like all get out? I swear, I pressed the trousers before setting up to take photos, but 10 minutes of adjusting the camera, kneeling by the tripod in the sun and moving around, and it was pointless. I do think that wrinkles are less noticeable in real life than they are on camera though.

Have I mentioned before that fitting and sewing trousers is a journey, not a destination? (Hint: yes.) I’m glad to get these under my belt, and to have a new pair to wear in public this spring. Happy May Day to all!

Things I’ve Sewn: Merino Knit Tops

Posted on April 24, 2014 by Tasha

In which I find some truly lovely fabric.

I’ve made a real effort to make the things that I really want to do (mainly creating for myself and for fun) a priority. No matter what, (unless I’m so busy I can’t think straight) if I’m home, I’m working on sewing something. And if I’m on the road, it’s knitting and drawing, etc. So sometimes it surprises me when I look back at posts here and realize that nothing I’ve made for myself for a while is visible! It’s time to catch up a little bit on sewn projects, especially with Me-Made-May’14 right around the corner.

I think I’ll talk a little bit about the tops here first (and save the pants for another post) mainly because there’s not a whole lot to say, except about the fabric. Last fall, I stumbled into the fact that a fabric store called The Fabric Store, based in Australia, had just opened a store in LA. This meant that a whole bunch of New Zealand merino knit fabric was suddenly within reasonable shipping distance of my house! And, AND they had organic merino knits, something I have been searching for, as a way to hopefully buy wool which is raised responsibly. (If any of the lovely USA-grown-made-processed yarn folks are reading this, some of you should mill some fabric!) Anyway, The Fabric Store doesn’t have direct online ordering, but if you call or email them, they will find out what you’re looking for, and send you several lovely cards of generous swatches.

What lens flare? Clearly I am floating in a sea of magical bubbles …

I chose organic merino knit in the “mushroom” color, and I love, love, love, this fabric. It’s soft, it has drape but it also has body, and great stretch and recovery. There’s something substantial about it that just says “wool” (I love wool) and it has a subtle sheen to the right side which makes it look just a little special.

When it arrived, I was in desperate need of a few more long sleeve tops for winter, so I made a simple T-shirt style first. In this fabric, my pattern (the same one I used for these tops) is just the tiniest bit tight/clingy (you can see my cami straps, which is not my favorite thing) but boy, it is a terrific layer for winter. And spring—I’m wearing it as I type this!

The second shirt I made just a little more complex, using another pattern that I copied from one of those lucky thrift store finds with fit and style I love. In an ongoing experiment to see if I can get knit shirts to more closely follow, and still flatter, my shape, I tried dividing the pattern into princess lines in back, so that I would have two extra seams to add width over the hips. If I do this again, I’ll curve the lines more so that they come in at the waist, and then out again, yes?

And I have fabric leftover! Somehow, despite an earlier failure to squeeze one uninterrupted long-sleeve knit top out of one yard, by careful placement and a somewhat generous cut, it looks like I will get 3 tops out of 3 yards of this. I was debating maybe dyeing the last top’s worth, until Bryan mentioned that he liked the way this color looks with my skin. That settles that—I’m looking forward to making another style, same color, this coming fall.

I wore this exact outfit, new top and pants, on both our way out to Texas AND my flight back. It’s just really versatile, comfortable, and perfect for the varying temperatures of spring. More about the pants coming soon!

Me-Made-May, My Wardrobe, and Drawing

Posted on April 17, 2014 by Tasha

Plus, I pledge to knit a sweater!

So, you guys know I love Me-Made-May, right? This challenge was a major motivator for me to start really building a handmade wardrobe, especially two years ago, the first year I had this blog and the first year I took part. Last year, I upped my challenge to wearing two me-made garments every day through May, which was great and gave me a kick in the bum to make at least one thing I had been thinking about for quite a while, but it didn’t have quite the feeling of realizing new things about what I make and wear, and opening up new horizons, which the first year did.

This time, I’d like to bring back a bit of the self-discovery element. Also, documenting my MMM has been a challenge, we’re usually on the road during much of the month, and it can be hard to find a time when Bryan and I are both not busy to take a picture. Plus, I am always looking for ways to bully myself into doing more drawing, just practicing drawing … so I’m going to keep a mini visual journal (pictured above) for May. I’m leaving the exact format of what I’ll put in it purposefully vague, to see how it works out, but it will definitely include drawings of clothing, words about what I wore and thought, etc. I’ll photograph and post at least some of what I put in it on Flickr and/or here.

And, about the sweater. I’ve had this particular soft blue silk and cashmere cardigan since I started traveling with Bryan. I got it at a clothing exchange/naked lady party right before we left that first summer, so really, it’s held up amazingly well, that was 10 years ago (egad—really?) and it’s been an indispensable summer wardrobe item that whole time. I’m wearing it at left, in a pic from MMM last year. It doesn’t have another summer in it though, the fabric under the arms and around the cuffs is totally shot.

I do have some light blue yarn, which has been in my stash longer than I care to remember, and it occurred to me that, in the spirit of making my own, I could knit a replacement sweater. It won’t be exactly the same, in fact I would like the style of it to be a little more interesting, but it must have the following characteristics, which I figure are key to indispensable-ness: soft, lightweight, cardigan (easy to layer), washable (at least by hand), go with most of my wardrobe. I’m thinking of starting with the Talamh pattern (links to Ravelry).

Here is my official pledge for Me-Made-May ’14:

‘I, Tasha of Stale Bread into French Toast, sign up as a participant of Me-Made-May ’14. I endeavour to wear as many me-made and handmade items each day as possible, minimum of two, for the duration of May 2014. In addition, I pledge to keep a wardrobe journal for May, and to share it via flickr/blog. And finally, I will knit on, and attempt to finish, a much-needed sweater during this month!’

If you’re thinking about taking part, I definitely encourage you to do it!

Make Your Own Retro Pro-Style Camera Strap

Posted on March 26, 2014 by Tasha

How to make your own camera strap, using the same hardware and webbing you’d find on one at the photography store, and practically anything you want for the strap!

When I got my new (used) camera, I just carried it around in the crook of my arm for quite a while, because I knew exactly what I wanted for a strap, and I couldn’t find it in any camera shop we visited. The new camera is heavy (by my standards anyway) and I did not want a thin strap that would dig that weight into my neck all the time, I wanted a wide soft strap that would cup around my shoulder and hold the weight there. I got this idea from Cat Bordhi (have I mentioned that she’s a mad genius?) specifically from knitting one of her mobius sling bags (in A Second Treasury of Magical Knitting), and it stuck with me.

You will need

I got the 3/8″ webbing and hardware to go with it from SewingSupplies on Etsy. She made me a package deal like this one, which includes enough supplies to make two straps (each end of a strap takes one piece of webbing, one slider and one keeper). I’m assuming that your camera has a ring or loop which 3/8″ webbing will fit through (most do, but some small point-and-shoots don’t. You might be able to substitute something lighter, I would take your camera to the fabric store and see what you can find).

You will also need sturdy material for ends of the strap, where the strap meets the webbing. I used Ultrasuede (faux suede leather) for my strap (above), and some scraps of real leather on a strap for my dad (the one at the top of the post).

If you want your strap to be adjustable, you’ll also need one slider and one loop of hardware, in a size that works with your strap material.

My strap is cut from a length of soft cotton textile woven about 2 3/4″ wide, which was in my mom’s stash. I suspect that my parents brought it back from somewhere in their travels in the 1970’s, but neither of them remembered where, and they both said I could use it, so I did. Dad’s strap is one his mom (my grandmother the weaver) made, which I put new ends and a slider on. I found some similar straps by searching for “handwoven band” or “handwoven strap” on Etsy. You could also start with a belt, or a guitar strap or anything else you like, as long as it’s sturdy enough to hold your camera and thin enough to sew through (which leather belts aren’t. You might be able to use rivets though …).

Prepping the pieces

Cut pieces for the ends from faux leather or leather, a bit wider than your strap (allow extra width if your material is thick, so that it can come together and cover the edges of the strap), continuing that width for about an inch, and then tapering to an end to cover the webbing. See below to visualize how the ends cover the strap and the webbing. You will need two leather end pieces for each end of the strap (four total).

Cut a piece of the 3/8″ webbing about 7 1/2″ long for each end of the strap. If you cut the ends of the webbing on a slant, it will make it easier to thread them through the slots on your camera. I like to sear the cut edges of the webbing (to keep them from fraying) by passing them quickly through the blue part of a candle flame.

Either figure out where you would like your camera to rest on your body and cut the strap to that length (accounting for the ends and webbing) or plan to make your strap adjustable. I knew exactly how long I wanted my strap to be (so that the camera would rest on the top of my hip), but I made Dad’s so he could adjust it (keep reading for how to do that).

If your strap fabric is prone to fraying/spreading out all over the place, you may want to stitch over the ends before putting everything together. You can even use that stitching to gather in the end of the strap a bit, which I did for Dad’s strap.

Heavy duty stitching

Sewing the strap is actually pretty simple, it’s all about how to join two things which you really don’t want to come apart. My camera is the second-most expensive and precious piece of equipment I own (sewing machine being #1 ) and as I said it’s kind of heavy, so I definitely want some heavy duty stitching here! Basically you’ll do this by adding extra stitches to reinforce the critical areas.

A good way to attach straps for extra strength is to sew a rectangle-and-X pattern (I just realized I have no idea if there’s an official name for this … but here’s how to do it anyway). Sew a rectangle just inside the edges of the strap, basically as big as you can inside the area where the strap and end overlap while catching all the layers (illustrated above). When you get to the point where you started (this is the point with the curved arrow, where the illustrated stitches change from yellow to blue below), sew to the opposite corner. Keep going, overlapping the stitches on one side, then diagonally back to the other side. Overlap one side’s stitches again, to come back to where you started.

Another way you can add stitches to an area that will get stress is to make a bar tack (that is the real name for this one) by using a wide stitch and a short stitch length. Just keep in mind that every time you make a stitch it also makes a hole in the material, so don’t make the stitches so close together that the holes touch and make a weak place where the material could tear.

I used a mini version of the rectangle-and-X to attach the webbing to the ends. A bar tack would work well too. As usual, it’s a good idea to try out your planned techniques on some scraps to see what works.

Once you’ve attached the strap and webbing to the ends, I like to sew around the edge of the ends to keep everything neat. Bury the thread ends wherever you can, and you’re done.

Leather

I’m not a leather sewing expert, but I can give you a couple of tips if you decide to use real leather for the ends. Although it’s more difficult to sew than the faux stuff, it’s wonderfully strong and malleable. First, you will definitely need a leather needle. The main difficulty is getting the machine to punch through the leather, and everything that would normally make your machine want to skip stitches (sewing over different thicknesses of materials, etc.) does so even more. Go slowly, go over skipped stitches again or pick up the foot and go back. Use the hand wheel if necessary, get the weight of the machine on your side. Try switching between a regular foot and a zipper foot to sew around the edges of the ends. I still ended up with some skipped stitches and broken/restarted threads to hide, but I was overall pleased with how my machine handled the leather and all the layers.

Adjustable straps

It’s not much harder to make an adjustable strap, you just have to wrap your head around how it works.

I’m such a visual learner, I need to draw it or better yet, lay out all the pieces to see how they’ll go together, as below. One side is a simple length of strap that goes through the loop and back to the end. The other side goes from the end, through the slider, through the loop, and back through the slider (inside the first pass).

Sew the strap end down so that there’s a short loop of strap inside the slider, covering the raw edge with the extra suede piece. You can use the rectangle-and-X method again.

Special thanks to Bryan’s first 35mm camera for modeling.

A note if you’d like the strap to hug your shoulder like mine: I used two lengths of the strap fabric so that I could separate them to either side of my shoulder. It turns out that it works even if I don’t separate them—I think as long as your strap is fairly wide and soft it will work to wear it on your shoulder.

Make any strap you want! Nice, right?

In Which I Make a New Handle for a Plastic Gadget using Silicone Putty

Posted on March 21, 2014 by Tasha

When my friend Becca introduced me to the site The Grommet, the thing I immediately wanted was this moldable, air-curing silicone putty called sugru. It’s supposed to stick to practically anything, be formed into any shape, and be washable and permanent when cured. Their motto is “the future needs fixing”—how could I not love that?

I got some for my brother for Christmas, and kind of hoped he might give me one of the little packets to try myself, which he did. (Whether it’s nature or nurture, we definitely share a tendency to tinker and fix things.) “I don’t care what color,” I said. “Then you’re getting yellow,” he said.

I really didn’t care, because the thing I wanted to fix was this cheese grater. It came with a handle that rotated, but the plastic clips which held it on eventually broke, meaning that the handle just fell off, leaving me with nothing to grab onto but the sharp plastic shards on the end. Nevertheless, this is the kind of thing I can’t seem to get rid of, because all the other parts of it still work perfectly fine.

Working with the sugru is a lot like molding polymer clay, except it smells different. It will hold fine details like a fingerprint, or you can smooth the surface with a light touch. I could have spent a lot of time minutely sculpting it, but I tore myself away and mainly went for function here. The contents of one little package were plenty to form the handle. It cures up harder than I expected, more like the grips on my camera than like a silicone spatula.

The new handle is working well! It doesn’t rotate, but it makes the grater nice and comfortable to use again.

A product that lets consumers fix more things themselves—yes please! We need more of that.

(Full disclosure: I don’t have any connection to this product other than buying some, and I wasn’t compensated in any way for writing this post. However, if anyone wanted to send me some free sugru, I would not say no … )

Turning a Lotion Bar into Handmade Salve

Posted on February 13, 2014 by Tasha

For some reason, people give me these lotion bars. It’s true that I have super dry skin, but the consistency of the bars doesn’t really work for me, it leaves a sticky film on my fingers. However, I just love homemade salve. I use it for lip balm, minor burns, on my dry fingertips before bed, etc. The ingredients of the bars and the salve are about the same (a combination of oils and beeswax, and sometimes a few other ingredients like shea butter), except the salve has a higher proportion of oil. So …

Basically all you have to do is heat the lotion bar until it melts, add more oil, and cool it again. I’ve tried this a few times and the mixture has always stayed emulsified.

A re-used glass jar is a good vessel for heating. The ideal container would have a pouring lip (which this one doesn’t). It only took a little brute force to get my lotion bar inside.

I melt it gently, in a pot with water over low heat. It might not be necessary, but to insulate the jar from the direct heat, I put an old dishrag in the bottom of the pot. The bar will take a while to melt, but you don’t have to watch it the entire time, just remember to come back and check every so often, until it’s completely melted.

To figure out how much oil to add, you really just have to let the mixture cool and try it out, as it depends on how much is in the bar to begin with, and the finished consistency you like. Err on the side of a little less than you think to start with, you can always add more.

You can add olive oil, almond oil, or any other oil you like that’s good for your skin. I’ve used jojoba oil for the last few batches, since I had some from another project. Stir the oil into the mixture, so that it’s distributed throughout (I used a wooden skewer).

The first time I did this, I let the jar cool down all the way to test it. Then it occurred to me that it would be much faster to cool a small amount in a little measuring spoon. Wait until it’s completely cool to test, and keep in mind that a hard skin forms on the surface, so break through it and smear the salve between your fingers, on your lips etc. to test the texture and absorbency.

As soon as you get in as much oil as you want, the salve is done! If you’d like, you can pour it into smaller containers for storage and use while the salve is still liquid (using a funnel or very carefully).

Every time I do this, I’m pretty excited about the almost effortless batch of lovely new jars of salve around the house. If you want to, you can even make fun labels for them, like we did for the salve we made at my craft retreat two years ago.

I find the best way to get the salve off the teaspoon, or out of a jar I’d like to use again, is to just keep rubbing it off with one dry fingertip after another.

Here’s to upcycling!

Recycled, Naturally Dyed Silk Camisoles

Posted on February 6, 2014 by Tasha

Plus My Favorite Method for Sewing Knit Fabric Straps, and Self-Fabric Binding with Elastic

The pink top before re-purposing, hanging with other materials dyed the same day.

Last fall, my friend Zuni invited me over for a day of dyeing with natural materials at her house. I have an informal craft exchange going with some of my fiber friends, and it’s fantastic to have Zuni as part of this group. All the mess and calculations for dyeing stay at her house, and we just bring home the colorful finished products. The day in question, one of the dye materials was indigo. Most of the craft exchange members tend to dye yarn. I’m pretty militant about not letting my yarn stash exceed the capacity of one big plastic bin (after, ahem, seeing what happened to my fabric stash), plus I sew more than I knit, and I’ve sewn for longer, so I tend to be the one who shows up with odds and ends of fabric or garments to re-purpose. This time it was a silk long underwear top. I inherited two of these from my grandma’s stash. The fabric is really lovely, but I hardly ever wore the tops, they were kind of baggy for layering, and looked awkwardly like underwear when visible—picture your classic long undies, but maybe a bit looser.

I think I had a class that morning, because I came to the indigo day partway through, at which point we literally just dropped the top into the dye bath. Indigo doesn’t need a mordant, but I learned something important: dyeing something without soaking it in water first leads to splotchy fabric! Funnily enough, a slightly mottled fabric was what I pictured when I envisioned how this would come out … although maybe not quite that spotty! I also think not wetting first may have led to some of the color not being bonded with the fibers, and then rubbing off. This was all an experiment though, and I was just happy to have a dyed piece to work with.

My plan was to cut the top up and make something I would definitely wear: a lovely silk camisole (tank top, vest, whatever you want to call it) for a winter-time first layer. I used the same pattern as for my summer tanks, which after many alterations, bears almost no resemblance to the starting point: Kwik Sew 3524.

Click on any of the pictures for more detail.

A couple of things that came out really well: the straps and the elastic binding at the top. I’ve used this method for straps on a couple of (not blogged) other tanks, and really like it. Basically I just sew a tube of fabric, using a narrow zigzag stitch since it’s knit fabric. I turn the tube with a wire, and then slide a piece of elastic through it, using a bodkin or a safety pin. Then I stitch through all the layers. The added elastic gives the straps more stretch, recovery, and sturdiness than they would have if they were just made from the fabric. This seemed essential when working with practically transparent silk!

For these straps, I used 1/4″ elastic, and cut the fabric strips for the straps 1″ wide. You need a little more than the elastic measurement for the fabric tube to fit around it, especially once the seam allowances are also tucked inside, and a bit for the seam allowances themselves. Sewing through the fabric and the elastic holds everything smoothly in place. I roll all of the seam line to one side of the elastic before sewing, which becomes the bottom of the strap, and the top looks clean.

My favorite thing about these camis (other than the feel of the silk on my skin, or maybe the color) is the way the edging fits at the top. I used another fabric strip, and plain 1/8″ elastic. I didn’t stretch the elastic at all when pinning and sewing it on, and the slight negative ease in the pattern (I checked—it’s about 88% of my body measurement at the upper chest) turns out to make just exactly the amount of stretch I want at the top. It just hugs against my skin, without gaping or digging in.

This dress form is a copy of my body in duct tape, and the binding fits just as nicely on me.

Below you can see in more detail how the pieces of the binding went together. After sewing through all the layers, I rolled the binding strips to the inside, and sewed again just outside of the first seam. The part at the top with the bronze colored elastic is the built-in shelf bra, which I attached at the same time, in the first seam of the elastic and binding.

For the blue one, I cut the original top completely apart, and used as much of the width of the original hem as possible. I didn’t want the seams to show at the bottom, so I tacked them down by hand.

Not long after I finished the blue cami, Zuni invited as over again, this time to dye cochineal and purple. I’m not that huge a fan of pink, unless it’s cochineal, and then I’m all over it. The particular shades that come from those little bugs really float my boat. So, excited by my first success, and learning from mistakes, I thoroughly soaked the second top in water and brought it over. I was also careful to stir while it was dyeing, and the result was an even, beautiful coat of color!

If I could have, I would have cut both tops wider at the bottom. You can see a little pulling, and stretching in the fabric around the hips. For the pink top, I decided for maximum width, to keep the hem and bottom of the original side seams intact, and taper my new seam in. Below you can see this, as well as the construction of the shelf bra and what the binding looks like from the inside.

With this method of binding, I like sewing the straps in at the end by hand, catching just the inner layers. That way I can try on and adjust them exactly, plus I think it’s more secure and less likely to distort the fabric than trying to catch them in the seam under the binding.

I got some good practice sewing with delicate petals of silk making these, and it seems less intimidating now.

The other fantastic thing about this project is that, when those long undies were just sitting in my drawer, I thought that maybe someday I would dye them and make them into something useful. In the same way that maybe someday I’ll spin enough yarn to knit with, maybe someday my studio will be completely clean and neat … things that I dream about, but may never happen. But this one did! I’m trying to acknowledge and appreciate this as a victory, rather than just rushing right on to the next project, as I am apt to do.

Plus, I just love having these in my closet! In fact, combined with two silk camis I already had (one is an earlier take on the recycled silk shirt idea, and one is the original I used to copy my woven tank pattern), I have just enough to wear one almost every day. That inspired me to pack away most of my summer tanks, shirts and dresses for the first time ever. I always carefully clean and store my winter woolens over the summer (mainly to protect them from the scourge of moths) but putting away the summer clothes never seemed that important, especially when I still used my cotton tanks as winter layers. The silk ones are noticeably warmer though, even as thin as they are. And I love that my summer clothes are getting a break from being on the hanger, and how much more space there is in my winter closet.

Take time to celebrate your victories, people!

How To Felt Basics, and Felting FAQ Part 1:

Posted on January 16, 2014 by Tasha

What is Felt, and How Do I Get Started Making it?

A hat I made early in my felting experiments (top) and a commercially felted hat. The hats are sitting on the pattern I used to lay out the wool . . .

As I mentioned in the post about my magic purple mittens, felting is probably the fiber technique I have the most claim to be an “expert” on, and, until now, I haven’t posted much about it here at all. Most of my deep explorations into felt happened before I started this blog, and as I’ve been digging into my research and photo archives, compiling what I want to say as an intro to felting, it’s clear there’s enough material here for a least two posts.

I’ve organized this roughly as a list of felt FAQ. I could go on at length from any one of these starting points, but I’ll try to keep it concise. The photos and illustrations here are necessarily going to be a little mishmashy, as they represent work over a big swath of time. Click on the photos to enlarge for an better view of the felt texture. Ok, let’s get started, shall we?

What is felt anyway?

The short answer: Fibers (for real felt these must grow on an animal: a sheep, an alpaca, a cashmere goat etc.) which have matted together into a permanent fabric. It’s the scales on the fibers (like the ones on your hair, visualize the close-up from a shampoo commercial) that open up and cling together. It doesn’t sound permanent, but if you’ve ever tried to pull apart a piece of felt, or un-shrink a sweater that accidentally went through the wash, you know it is.

There are lots of types of felt. It can be made from combed fibers alone, or from fibers that have already been spun into yarn and woven or knitted into fabric. In either case, as long as there are at least 50% feltable fibers in the mix, the fabric should be able to felt. It’s easy to make felt at home (even by accident) and there are factories that make felt on a commercial scale. I’d love to visit one sometime.

Wet Felt

When someone says their work is “wet-felted”, they’re probably talking about the seamless, stitch-less felt made from only fluffy brushed wool fibers (read on for how to make your own). Below is a piece of my hand made wet felt, which I cut and sewed after it was done, to make the wallet. The decoration was made at the same time as the fabric.

Most commercially made felt, whether starting from fibers or fabric, uses some kind of wet or steam process. When you felt your knitting, recycled sweaters, or fabric, you’ll also use water and heat.

A couple of special types of felt that I won’t cover in depth, but wanted to mention, in case you’re curious:

Nuno felt

Nuno felt is made with thin layers of wool on either either side of a piece of fine fabric, usually silk. We traded Bryan’s work for the totally gorgeous example below by Gina Pannorfi at one of our art shows this past summer. (Lucky me, it’s just the loveliest thing.) Because the silk provides some of the structure, nuno felt can be quite thin and drapey while holding together.

Needle felt

Needle felt is what it sounds like, made by pushing fibers together with a special barbed needle, or a collection of them. Although it doesn’t make a sturdy, hard-wearing fabric the way that wet felting does, amazing detail is possible with needle felt. Do a search for “needle felt” with your favorite animal name on Etsy, and you’ll see what I mean. I made the examples below in a class on color theory for felters—with Pat Spark! She has a whole bunch of good felting information and tutorials on her site if you’re looking for more felt info.

Fake felt

That slightly sticky, slightly glittery “craft felt” at the hobby store is usually made from polyester. The fibers are punched together with needles and/or held together with glue. It really has none of the lovely properties of real felt. Commercial wool and wool-blend felt is more readily available than it used to be (at least in the US), so you may be able to find it at your craft store as well.

How do I make felt?

The short answer: Most importantly agitation, combined with at least a little moisture, and optionally heat, on wool, alpaca etc. makes felt. There are about a million ways to apply these, depending on what you’re working on and what equipment you have.

I’ll start with a quick intro to making felt from just combed wool. I think that way, the rest of the felting process will make more sense, and it’s interesting to know, even if you only plan to felt from knitting or fabric.

If you’re looking for to buy wool for felting, it’s usually sold as roving (a loose roll that spinners use) or batts (which are more convenient for felting, since you can pull off big thin layers).

These photos are from my felt flower tutorial, which will walk you through the whole process if you’re interested.

Step 1

Lay out thin layers of wool, with the fibers alternating directions. Keep in mind that your finished project will shrink in as the fibers pull in toward each other, so make it bigger than you want (I’ll go into how much bigger in the next post). The wool is very fluffy and will seem thick, but it will compress to almost nothing once it’s wet. Use several layers for a cohesive piece of felt. Squish it down with your hand to get an idea of how much fiber is really there.

Step 2

Add a little water. Dripping it from a sponge is a good way. You want the wool to be all wet but not swimming in water. You can squash on the wool gently with the sponge to get it all wet.

Step 3

Agitation. Arguably this is the last step, but there are a few stages to it. At first, you’ll need to rub the felt very gently. You want the fibers to cling together, which they won’t do if they’re being shifted all over the place. For wet felting small pieces like this, I like to use two layers of bubble wrap (the ordinary, small-bubble kind), one underneath the fiber and one on top. The bubble helps spread and soften the motions of your hands. Think about getting the bubbles to massage the wool, not about moving your hands on the bubble.

Important!: Felting by hand involves a lot of repetitive motion. As you work, make sure your wrists are in line with your arms and not bent at a strange angle, to avoid injury.

Rub for a couple of minutes, then lift the bubble and check on how things are coming. You’ll probably need to rub some more. As you practice felting, you’ll start to notice subtle changes in the texture of the piece that show how it’s coming along:

Wet wool layers.

The wool is starting to cling together, but there are still a lot of loose fibers.

Although still soft, this prefelt is now a cohesive unit.

Once your wool is holding together enough that you can pick the whole thing up and it stays together, it’s what felters call a prefelt. A prefelt isn’t strong enough to be a finished object, and it has lots of fibers that are still ready to cling to each other or to other parts of your project. You can check by pinching up a few of the top fibers to see if they’re attached to the ones below. At this point, the felt is ready for whatever you have in mind for its next stage. It can be easier to work with if you dry it off, by squashing it between two layers of an old towel.

So, my wool is holding together, now what? Read on to Part 2 for how to finish felt like the piece above, how to felt your knitting, more questions answered, and even how not to felt . . .

DIY Crib Rail Covers for Teethers — A Tutorial

Posted on December 5, 2013 by Tasha

So apparently, small teething children will chomp down on wooden crib rails like beavers. I really had no idea until, visiting our dear friends at the end of the summer, I saw the evidence first hand, little teeth marks right through the wood finish. My friend the mama was thinking about ordering some covers for the crib rails, but I knew we, ok I, could easily make some, and I would get to sew! In August, after months away from my sewing machine, this seemed like a gift from the universe, plus it would be so useful and cute for friend mama and her little one! I’m going to share my notes and method, which should work for any crib, below. This is a fairly quick project, so if you are still looking for a gift for a young family, it could be a good one.

To make up for only having quick snapshots of this project (did I mention there was a baby involved?) I’m making it my illustrated post for this month.

First things first, I measured the crib. I wanted the covers to go around the whole rail easily, so I added a little extra ease to my measurements. The back rail is against the wall, apparently too awkward an angle for little one’s head to chew, so I didn’t worry about that one.

$crib rail protector math$ I know that the quilt batting (which I want here for padding) will shrink a little bit, probably not enough to affect the width, but for the length I’ll include a bit extra. I usually use 1/2″ seam allowances, which I did for the width. I decided to use 1″ seam allowance on each end for the length, since that is where I am likely to want more wiggle room. To figure out how much fabric I need, I made another diagram, since I’m really a visual thinker.

So here are the supplies I got, including a little extra fabric for shrinkage, since it’s 100% cotton:

Two yards fabric (Modern Bliss design #13662 by Robert Kaufman)

One yard super wide cotton quilt batting, for two layers of batting in each cover

Eight yards of totally beautiful soft cotton ribbon for ties

All of this came from Stitchin’ Post in Sisters, OR.

When getting ready to sew, don’t forget to preshrink your fabric! Wash the fabric and dry it the same way you (or the recipient) plan on treating the finished project. I also put the ribbon through wash and dry, in a lingerie bag, just in case it was going to bleed any dye, etc., since a baby might be chewing on it. I didn’t pre-shrink the batting. The package it came with says it will shrink 3%, which will give the covers a bit of that puffy quilted look once they are washed. After washing, I ironed the fabric and ribbon to get rid of wrinkles and make it easier to measure and work with.

Cut or rip the fabric and batting into strips 10″ wide (or the width you picked for your crib), and then divide them for the length of the covers, as in the diagram above. Take one fabric section with its corresponding batting to the crib, make sure the size seems close, and decide where you want to put the ties and how long they should be. We decided on 7″ for each tie, which divided fairly neatly into 8 yards, 20 ties with two sides each. I just cut the ends of the ties at a diagonal to keep them from fraying, and left the other end, which will be sewn inside the cover, squared off.

I pinned the ties to one side where I wanted them to go, and then with the fabric off the crib, folded it in half to match and pin the matching tie. It’s helpful to leave just a bit of each tie sticking out beyond the fabric, so you’ll be able to see where they are when you’re sewing.

Make a fabric stack for each cover, with two layers of batting on the bottom, then one layer of fabric (right side/public side up) with the ties pinned in place (I pinned them in the middle too, so that they wouldn’t shift around and get caught while sewing). Then top with the other side of the fabric, right side down towards the ties.

Hold the whole sandwich together with a few pins, and sew down each long side with a straight stitch, 1/2″ from the edge—our planned seam allowance.

Each time you come to one of the ribbon ties (which you’ll know because the ends are sticking out) sew over it, then back up and sew forward again, so that there are three lines of stitching holding each tie in place. Blend back to your seam allowance line, and keep sewing to the next tie.

Once you have sewn down both sides, turn the whole thing inside out and tada! The batting is on the inside and the ties are on the outside. I had thought I would trim the batting from the seam allowances, but when I got to this stage it didn’t seem necessary. I just pressed everything in its new orientation, smoothing things out and using the iron with steam.

Check the size of the cover on the crib, the fold the ends to the inside to get the length you like. I decided to stitch them closed by hand, using a ladder stitch which picks up a little fabric from each side. It just looks better, and I can also add a line of stitching near the ends when quilting so that the hand stitches won’t take much strain. The white UFO near my fingers in the photo is the head of a pin . . .

All that’s left is the quilting! I don’t usually quilt; I’m too obsessed with the properties of different fabrics, their drape as a 2-D material wraps a 3-D body, and the possibility of walking around all day protected and flattered by garments I made. I do see how quilting is perfect for something like this though, and I don’t mind the quilted look, but it does bug me when the stitching totally contrasts with the fabric, especially when I like the fabric as it is. I decided to use the diagonals in the print as guides for my quilting stitching, and not to worry about them being exactly all the same. It gave the covers more of a modern look, which the mama and I loved. I did check the batting instructions, which said to quilt no more than 8″ apart, and make sure the maximum distance between my lines was not more than that. I quilted to one end, checked the measurements and then did a second round. I didn’t have access to a walking foot, so I spread the fabric and batting sandwich outward from the foot with my hands as I went, and it worked just fine.

I just loved making these, mostly because at the time I was thrilled for the chance to take a project from idea in my head to finished object in my hand! I’m sure I could have looked up someone else’s directions, but I didn’t want or need to, and I love how my version came out. I played with the balance between making something as good as I can, because it’s for my best friend’s baby, and going with the flow, letting it be a bit inexact and show its handmade-ness, because it’s the real world, and because I always think handmade things are the most beautiful.

If you try this project, I hope you’ll agree, and have as good a time as I did! Happy week everybody!

How to Fix a Coat with a Ripped Back Vent

Posted on October 30, 2013 by Tasha

I’ve had this coat for, um, more than a decade now, around 15 years I think (!) . . . I bought it for $5 at a garage sale at my dad’s church, when I was in High School. It was, without question, one of my best ever thrift finds. I wear it all winter, every winter, and I still get compliments on it all the time. I have fixed it so many times, in so many places, which really is the biggest key to its success over all this time, that and the quality fabric. The only clue I have to the coat’s true origins is a little tag inside which says “wolle.”

The other day, as I was finishing up teaching, I looked over at my coat hanging on the back of my chair, and the back vent was completely ripped out. It’s cold here now, especially at night, so this project jumped right to the head of my line.

Fixing the outside part is actually not too big a deal. Thanks to interfacing and the aforementioned quality fabric, the stitches have popped but the outside fabric isn’t torn (the lining is another matter which we’ll get to later).

(As always, click on any of the pictures to enlarge for a better look.)

I lined up the vent in its original position, twisting the coat around to get a good angle for sewing. I can tell where the stitching was by the little channel the thread has left in the fabric, and by the bits of leftover thread. I lined up these clues, pinned things in place, and started sewing, overlapping the place where the original seam is still intact.

I used a double thread and backstiches sewn by hand to replicate the old seam. I could have done at least some of this on the machine, but by the time I got the thread, stitch length etc. all sorted out, I figured this way was faster and easier.

As near as I can tell, those bits of thick white yarn are for matching a point in the original construction, and weren’t used to hold anything together. When this coat does finally give up the ghost, I think I’ll take it apart and see what else I can glean from how the inside is put together. I’d love to make my next winter coat from scratch.

Back to mending for now; keep following the path of the old vent stitching. It makes several right angles which seem random, but they were obviously holding everything in the right place before, so just go with it. I found that right at the turn it was useful to make another pass and add a few more backstitches. It can be hard to get them as dense as you would like and still get through the thick layers. Turn the coat right side out and see if everything is held in place the way you would like. If not, it’s easy to add more stitches.

So that’s actually about it, just keep backstitching until you get to the end of the old seam. Since that’s obviously a point of stress, I stitched in a little rectangle all around it to distribute the stress, rather than just following the path of the old thread.

Flip the coat right side out, and if you are satisfied with how the vent looks, it’s time to fix the lining.

Sigh, the lining. On the night that the coat vent busted, I described its lining to a sewing friend as “a hot mess” which pretty much sums it up. Whatever this (I’m guessing acetate) lining stuff is, it’s not nearly as nice or durable as the outside, so that at this point, particularly at areas which get lots of wear (like the vent, and where the sleeves join the coat body), it’s a patchwork of repairs reflecting the techniques, scraps of fabric, and even moods I’ve had over the past decade or so . . . at this stage my goal is just for it to hang together and not look too awful if someone happens to catch a glimpse of the inside.

Since the fabric itself is ripped here, I needed to patch it with something. I settled on a scrap of grey knit fabric, because 1. I won’t need to finish or turn over the edges, since it won’t ravel 2. The color is a pretty close match and 3. a knit is stretchy, which might work well at an area that’s clearly getting strain.

I sewed the first part of this patch on my machine, using a narrow zigzag stitch. It proved difficult to go around the top without everything bunching up under the machine foot, so I decided just sew the second side using backstitch again (but only one strand of thread this time).

After stitching to the top and burying the thread ends, I trimmed the patch for a neater (ha!) look, and there you have it. I also tacked the bottom of the lining piece to the outside fabric.

This has got me wondering about lining my fantasy next coat in a silk knit. What do you think? Could be pretty sweet . . .

Tada! Fixed. I just gave it a good press from the outside (a quick ironing with a lot of steam in the repaired part) and it’s good to go. Pay no attention to the other small hole, I didn’t even see it until I was editing the photos . . .

I bet after all that you might like to see a picture of me wearing this fabulous, recently fixed, coat, yes?

I know, it’s lovely, right? If you look closely, some of the repairs are more obvious. I’ve re-sewn the buttonholes multiple times, re-covered and attached I don’t know how many buttons, tacked down the tabs on the back belt every way I could think of, I put a bigger pocket in one side . . . but I’ve been more than paid back for time invested in repairs vs. time wearing coat. I think it has another season or maybe two left. The fabric right around the cuffs and front is starting to obviously wear. When it does go I may just copy it and make a few modifications. It occurred to me while working on this post that since this is my only real coat, I’d better make the new one while the weather is warm . . .

Here’s to extending the life of the things you love!

Tasha Miller Griffith

Sustainability and Belonging through Textiles

Tag Archives: diy