#girl is fully wearing lingerie to the rave

[clementinebriar]

> CLEM AS “KILL” IN FMK.

( group costume with @xxshambles & @alecflynn )

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Pure (6/14)

Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.

Rated: E

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [AO3]

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Pure

Six

“Belle! It’s so good to see you! How was the honeymoon! Tell me everything!”

Ruby clapped her hands together excitedly as Belle entered the coffee shop and went over to their usual table. As always, Ruby and Mulan had her tea ready and waiting for her, and it was just at a perfectly drinkable temperature as she sat down and took her first sip.

“I want to know all the details,” Ruby continued. “I know you don’t normally kiss and tell, but this is a honeymoon. It warrants a proper discussion.”

Mulan grimaced. “Please, Ruby, we’re in a public place.”

“So? It’s never stopped us before. By now everyone in here should be used to the two of us discussing our sex life at every available opportunity. So, spill, Belle. What was the reaction to the lingerie of the century? Favourable, I hope.”

Belle nodded. “Very favourable, thank you.” She took a sip of her tea, wondering how to go about broaching the subject. She’d chosen Ruby and Mulan to be her confidantes for her problem: they were her closest friends in Boston, and as Ruby had already pointed out, they were definitely and unashamedly sexually active. She wasn’t normally around for the conversations that Ruby had mentioned; they had sensed early on that it wasn’t a topic that she was fully comfortable with, but since they’d helped her on the underwear-buying trip, her comfort zone with them was definitely expanding.

She decided just to jump straight in with both feet first.

“When I stopped freaking out about losing my virginity and we did actually have sex, it was pretty good. For a first time. I think. I don’t really have any field of comparison.”

Mulan and Ruby just stared at her for a couple of seconds, digesting the weight of her words.

“Oh Belle… Why didn’t you tell us that you were a virgin?”

Belle shrugged, although she knew, painfully, the reason why. Back in Storybrooke, her virginity had been her only defining trait, the only thing that she was measured on. When she had moved to Boston and started making new friends, she was determined to be seen on her other merits.

“Would it have made our friendship any different if I had?”

“Of course not, you silly goose.” Ruby leaned across the table and gave her a hug. “It’s your business when you do it and who with, but we could have helped stop you freaking out about being one on your wedding night. Why were you freaking out in the first place?”

“Look, you’ve been to Storybrooke. You’ve seen the place I grew up in and you know they’re a bunch of conservative nutjobs for the most part.”

“Yes. I did have fun arguing with the guy who was convinced that homosexuality is unnatural because it makes no sense for anyone to be attracted to someone they can’t reproduce with.” Mulan gave a contented sigh which was at odds with her truly wicked grin. “He was so desperate to get rid of me and so completely out of arguments that in the end, he just ignored me and started talking to a pot plant instead. It was the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of place I lived for eighteen years. Now, just imagine being brought up into a culture that tells you that if you have sex with anyone other than your husband, you’ll burn in hell, and that sex is for baby-making, not for personal enjoyment. Well, not if you’re a woman, at least. They don’t seem to care too much if men enjoy it. It might have something to do with the convenient fact that for men, the baby-making bit is also the enjoyable bit.” Belle groaned. “Getting off topic there. Anyway. You’d freak out about your first time too if you had all that behind you. But it’s ok. Aiden talked me down off the ceiling. I was just hoping that you two might be able to help out after the fact, so to speak. I realise that I probably should have had these conversations before I got married, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty and as long as I know I’m not weird, then it’ll all help, right?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I mean, I’ve only ever had sex with women, so I’m not sure how much use I’ll be, but if I can set your mind at ease, then I will.” Mulan patted Belle’s arm. “You’re safe with us.”

“My first time was kind of meh.” Ruby scrunched her face up. “We were both virgins, both sixteen. We were ready, mentally, that wasn’t a problem. We were just absolutely shit at the actual ‘having sex’ part, due to lack of practice. So, it wasn’t exactly mind-blowing. I think that’s a good argument against waiting until marriage, actually. If it’s your wedding night, you want that to be special and really good, and it’s never going to be the magical experience that everyone raves about if you’re both fumbling over which hole his dick’s supposed to go in and you’re nervous about it being the first time anyway.”

“That was part of the reason why I was freaking out,” Belle admitted. “I was scared of it hurting, and I didn’t want to end my wedding day by getting blood everywhere.”

“Yeah. It shouldn’t hurt, I don’t know who started the myth that you just have to accept that the first time always hurts. Probably some dudebro who couldn’t understand the intricacies of foreplay.”

“That’s what Aiden said.”

“I knew you were onto a winner with him!” Ruby beamed. “See! There’s no need to worry with a guy like that taking care of you. I only had girlfriends for a long time after high school, but luckily, the second guy I had sex with was a doctor, an OBGYN to be precise, and he definitely knew his way around. The third was a mechanic, very good with his hands. The fourth was a doctor again, but he was a psychologist. Then I met Mulan and suddenly my love life was a done deal.” She leaned over to kiss her girlfriend. “I’m still in touch with the psychologist, actually, if you need therapy.”

“I don’t think my upbringing was that traumatic.”

Ruby just looked at her. “Belle, you literally just told us that you had a freak-out about having sex for the first time as a direct result of your upbringing. Archie’s a great guy and I really think he could help you. Better than us non-professionals at any rate. Ok, ok, I’ll leave it alone for now,” she said when Mulan batted her arm to make her shut up. “What do you need? Because I am quite happy to take you toy-shopping. In fact, I have been itching to do that ever since I met you, but I always held off because you seemed…”

“Like a prude?”

“Yes. Well. No, because that makes it sounds like a bad thing. But you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.” Belle shook her head. She was only just getting to grips with having sex and enjoying it in the first place; there was no sense in rushing headlong into anything just yet, as liberating as the experience might be. “I think I just need female friends I can talk to about these things who aren’t going to freak out themselves.”

“Oh, we will definitely not freak out. And we’ll try to make sure that we don’t freak you out either. Well, I’ll try to make sure that I don’t freak you out. Mulan’s sensible, she won’t have to try.”

Belle laughed. It was good to be back in Boston and have her friends around her. It had been good to reconnect with some of her old school friends back in Storybrooke who had not moved on, too, but the very fact of them still being there, still being steeped in that culture, meant that she could not talk to them about her plight. They’d end up with exactly the same reaction as she had done so many times herself. Good girls don’t talk about that kind of thing. Good girls don’t think about that kind of thing.

She felt sorry for them in a way; it wasn’t their fault that they were stuck with such a faulty worldview as they were. Not everyone had her courage or means to get away from it. Part of her wanted to go back to Storybrooke and gather all her contemporaries together, shouting from the rooftops that it didn’t have to be this way.

With her declaration and all of the subsequent discussion out of the way, the talk turned onto other topics, namely the non-sexual aspects of the honeymoon. Belle had been able to take in most of the sights, even if she’d flown back to Boston thinking that she’d probably need another holiday to recover from everything that she’d done during the honeymoon.

Just as Belle was getting up to leave, Ruby pulled her back down and scribbled on a napkin, tucking it into her coat pocket. Belle fished it out to see that she’d been given Archie the therapist’s number.

“Just in case,” Ruby whispered.

Belle nodded. She hoped she wouldn’t need it, but it was always good to know that she had access to professional back-up in her mission.

X

It was still something of a novelty, sleeping in Aiden’s bed with him. In anticipation of their wedding, Belle had moved in with him three months ago, when the lease on her own apartment ended, but she had slept in the spare room. If it hadn’t been for all the kissing and teasing and the wedding planning going on all over the house, people would have been forgiven for thinking that they were roommates rather than an engaged couple. Now, all of her things had made the journey seven steps down the hall into the master room, with the exception of a few pairs of shoes that were a few too many to fit in Aiden’s closets.

Belle sat on the end of the bed, brushing out her hair and occasionally glancing over at herself in the cheval mirror. She was wearing her oldest and softest pyjamas, a pale pink camisole and long pants that had faded to grey with so much laundering. They were her favourite set, and she wasn’t looking forward to the day when they became so worn that she had to throw them out. She’d worn these pyjamas around the house so often that Aiden was used to seeing her in them, and she’d always felt comfortable wearing them around him.

Tonight, however, she was feeling different. Not uncomfortable, not at all. She couldn’t really describe it, but she knew that she wouldn’t have the confidence to keep feeling it if she hadn’t been wearing her favourite pyjamas, the ones she always felt safe in.

Up until now, Aiden had always been the one to initiate their intimate encounters. Belle had been happy to go along with him when he did; she had been very eager to agree with him when he suggested them, but she had never yet made the suggestion herself, always waiting until he brought the matter up. Tonight, she was going to turn the tables. Hopefully. If she didn’t chicken out at the last minute. She listened to the sound of Aiden brushing his teeth in the bathroom, remembering their wedding night involuntarily with a shudder. At least she knew that he wasn’t going to be hiding from her.

She was a married woman. There was no shame in her wanting to have sex with her husband. There wouldn’t have been any shame wanting to have sex even if she wasn’t a married woman. She still needed to keep reminding herself of that one. Trying to break the mental link between sexuality and morality was a lot harder than it seemed to be at first glance. Maybe Ruby was right and speaking to a professional would be a good idea.

She pushed the thought away for now; that was something that could be explored in the morning, when she couldn’t feel the heat rising in the pit of her stomach and calling out to her, telling her to get her man into bed and do something wonderful with him.

Almost on cue, Aiden came out of the bathroom, and Belle watched him cross the room to get into bed. Even in a t-shirt and pyjama pants, he still exuded an air of attractiveness and confidence. Maybe it was the confidence that made him so attractive. It certainly wasn’t vice versa; he had always been rather self-deprecating when it came to his own appearance. He hadn’t been able to believe when Belle had agreed to go out with him for the first time and his usual suave demeanour had pretty much instantly fallen as soon as she’d said yes, because he hadn’t had a plan for what to do in that situation, so convinced had he been of her imminent rejection. It was only now that she was working through her own confidence issues that Belle felt a new sense of kinship with him. Their circumstances were very different, of course, and their problems stemmed from different places, but the crux of it all came down to the same thing, a belief that had been instilled a long time ago that was very hard to break out of.

Belle slipped under the covers beside Aiden and switched off her reading light, plunging them into companionable darkness and cuddling in close. They’d fallen into their sleeping position so easily after that first night, although Belle had no intentions of sleeping just yet. It was easier in the darkness. She didn’t have to worry about looking like a fool who didn’t know what she was doing if Aiden couldn’t see her properly. The dark was kind to her.

She slid one hand down and under the hem of his t-shirt, resting her hand lightly on his stomach and feeling the little twitch he gave in response. She glanced up at him in the gloom, just able to make out his face.

She stayed with her hand on his stomach for a while, wondering where to go from there. Down towards his cock, or would that be too forward? Should she make her intentions known a bit more blatantly?

She kissed him in the dark, working her way slowly from his cheek, a little rough with the day’s stubble, round to his lips. He responded eagerly, opening his mouth to touch his tongue against hers. His hand came up to rest on her hip, fingertips drawing little circles on her skin under her camisole until Belle finally broke away from their kiss. She had gone into this with such determination to go for what she wanted, and now she just felt clumsy and embarrassed, unable to articulate her desires. It wasn’t that she lacked the language, nor particularly that she was having to deal with the snide voices telling her that she shouldn’t want this in the first place, let alone want to express how much she wanted it. It was more that she didn’t have the necessary gumption. She pulled her hand out from under Aiden’s t-shirt and let it fall back onto the mattress between them. Aiden kissed his way round to her ear.

“Was there something you wanted, sweetheart?” he whispered, his voice so soft and breathy that it sent a shiver of delight down Belle’s spine.

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you want, my love.”

“You.”

She felt rather than heard his little chuckle, and then he was pulling her over on top of him, running his hands down her back to cup her ass cheeks, kneading lightly through her pyjama pants. Belle dived in for another kiss.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about being on top. According to her research – well, according to the books she’d read – it was a popular position for women, but Belle couldn’t help feeling exposed, vulnerable. When she’d had Aiden’s warm weight covering her, she’d felt safe, hidden from whatever strange kind of angelic voyeurs might be out there checking up on her purity credentials. Now that she was taking the lead, there was far more chance of her shortcomings in the world of carnal pleasure becoming obvious. She knew that it made no sense in the long run; Aiden knew that the entirety of her practical knowledge came from what he had taught her already, so he wouldn’t be judging her for anything that she didn’t know.

That didn’t stop Belle judging herself, though. It was ridiculous, but she was still blaming herself for her lack of experience, wishing that she knew how to make Aiden feel as good as he made her feel. As much as she wanted to keep kissing him forever, because kissing was familiar territory and it always felt good, she knew that she was going to have to let them come up for air at some point, and she pulled away, sitting up a little and looking down at him. His hands came up to her waistband, thumbs hooking inside and continuing to draw little circle patterns against her skin.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked. His voice was so husky and seductive that Belle could almost feel her brain beginning to melt and dribble out of her ears.

The first words on the tip of her tongue were I don’t know. She had no idea where she was supposed to go from here, how she was supposed to vocalise it all having never really done so before. Aiden always liked her to talk to him, to tell him what felt good and what didn’t, not to be afraid to tell him if he was going too fast for her, and she loved him all the more for it, but now that their roles were reversed and he had put her in the driving seat, so to speak, she had lost all ability to form words.

“I want to touch you,” she said eventually, the sentence sounding stilted even as it came out of her mouth.

Aiden smiled. “I want you to touch me, too.”

“I’m just not sure how.”

“Well, putting your hands on me would be a good start.” Aiden sat up a little and pulled his t-shirt off before getting comfortable against the pillows again and taking Belle’s hands, placing them on his chest. “Tada.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I want to touch you how you touch me; I want to make you fall apart in the same way I do when your hands are all over me.”

“Well, I would suggest that you go with your instincts,” Aiden said, the words almost a purr.

It wasn’t the first time that she had explored his body with her hands, after all. It was just the first time that she was doing so with clear intent, as opposed to being caught up in the moment of intimacy. She slowly stroked her fingers over his chest, rubbing gently over his nipples and relishing the little hiss of pleasure that he gave, the buds tightening under her touch.

“Our bodies are not so very different,” he murmured. “What feels good to you will feel good to me.”

Belle kissed him again, pressing a line of soft little butterfly kisses down from his lips over his chin and neck, and down to his chest. She had always enjoyed his kisses to her breasts, although now that she was here doing it to him, she felt more self-conscious than she had ever done in bed before, and she pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Aiden was immediately concerned, the worried expression in his eyes at odds with his heavy breath and the stirring hardness in his groin beneath her.

“Nothing, I just feel silly.”

“Why?” His hand came up to cup her cheek, stroking her hair out of her face as her eyes remained downcast, unable to face him.

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just fumbling along like an idiot.”

“It really doesn’t feel like that, I promise you.”

Belle gave a soft huff of laughter. “You have to say that; you’re my husband.” She sighed; she’d had such grand plans when she’d come to bed, and now they were all falling down around her. She didn’t even know why. This wasn’t out of a subconscious desire not to do it; she could feel the heat already rising between her legs and the sight of Aiden’s flushed cheeks and lust-darkened eyes certainly weren’t helping her keep her head. This was more out of frustration, wishing that all the knowledge was there already.

“Practice and repetition is the best way to learn,” Aiden said. He pulled her down for another kiss. “The more you practice, the better you’ll get, and then you will know what you’re doing.”

“I know, I know; but doesn’t it frustrate you? Being with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing?”

“I maintain that you do know what you’re doing. You’re not naïve, Belle, just inexperienced. And why would it frustrate me? No, I think of this as a wonderful opportunity. May I?”

His hands had come to the hem of her camisole, and Belle nodded, letting him pull it off over her head in one motion.

“Teaching you how I like to be touched is a most… pleasurable… experience…” He punctuated his words with kisses over her bare shoulders. “One that I will gladly undertake for as long as necessary. There’s no exam to pass at the end, my love. We can keep learning for as long as you like.”

“But surely you’d prefer it if you didn’t have to teach me in the first place?” With his lips and tongue touching her anywhere he could reach, Belle was having rather a lot of trouble concentrating on what she was trying to say, and sure enough, her worries seemed really to be of secondary importance compared to what Aiden was doing with his mouth.

“Oh no, my darling Belle. This is just going to make the ending all the sweeter. Now… Where were we?”

He interlaced his fingers with hers, placing them back on his chest and moving them slowly down towards the waistband of his pants.

Belle took this as her cue, slipping her hands under his waistband and pulling the pants down his legs and off, throwing them off the end of the bed. For good measure, she shimmied out of her own as well, before making her way back up the bed to Aiden��s cock. It was flushed dark red, precum already beading at the tip, and as she drew her fingertip up the bulging vein on the underside, it twitched under her touch, Aiden’s hips jerking with the sensation.

“You like that.” It was a statement, not a question. She had learned some things over the course of their intimate relationship, and she was definitely learning to identify the noises that Aiden made when she touched his cock like this. She made very similar noises herself when his hands were busy between her thighs, and after all, he’d said that what felt good to her would likely feel good to him too.

“Oh, Belle…” His voice was low and gravelly, almost as if he was struggling to get the words out. She curled her fingers around his cock and stroked him again, eliciting a long groan. He was slumped back against the pillows, eyes closed, and Belle smiled to herself. Maybe she was better at this whole thing than she thought she was. “Oh, Belle, if you keep that up then I’m not going to last.”

She said nothing, but continued to stroke him up and down, touching one fingertip to the quivering head and smearing the pearly liquid there. There was something in the sight of him, so vulnerable and so undone, that made Belle’s stomach turn somersaults, and as she shifted her position on the bed, she could feel the wetness of her own arousal between her legs. Something told her that she shouldn’t be feeling such want at the sight of this; that it was somehow voyeuristic, but she pushed that voice to the side. She was enjoying herself too much and she had come too far this evening already for her old anxieties to start creeping in again now.

“Fuck, Belle! I want to be inside you, my love. May I?”

“Yes.”

She moved up to straddle his hips, and Aiden brought a hand down between them to help line himself up with her entrance, but she paused, the tip of him just inside her.

Being on top couldn’t be that different, surely.

She sank down onto him, slowly, carefully. It was a different angle; it felt deeper than it had done before, but she was not uncomfortable, and she began to move, rocking her hips a little. Aiden’s hips thrust up to meet her, his hands grabbing her ass for leverage, and she braced herself against his chest. There was something about this time that made everything feel more urgent, more heated, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was, she wasn’t complaining. This was the kind of sex she’d read about in her illicit romance novels, or at least, she’d read as much as she could before she started squirming and blushing too much to be able to continue. This was what she would describe as passionate. Not that there had been no passion in their previous encounters, but it had been far gentler. This felt more like something out of a Harlequin.

Aiden’s fingers dug into her ass cheeks as he came, the motion of his hips stilling and his breath coming in ragged pants.

“Belle, I think you’re incredible,” he murmured as she raised herself up on shaking knees and let him slip out of her. “You’re a natural at this.”

Although some of her earlier misgivings were still there – she wasn’t sure that they were ever going to go away completely – Belle allowed herself a moment to preen. Yes, she was definitely learning.

[13thsongbird]

…I’m not gonna lie, I’m incredibly proud of that blog post title. I don’t even care that To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before is a) a fluffy rom-com aimed at a demographic roughly a decade younger than me, and b) came out at least six months ago and has already faded into the shadowy background of the zeitgeist. It was an adorable movie, and has allowed me to make a clever referential joke, and now I’m going to talk about bras before I lose what minuscule readership this blog has. (But seriously – if you somehow missed that boat, and you love a good rom-com, TATBILB is a good rom-com. Watch it. It’s on Netflix!)

ANYWAY.

My bra-making journey started sometime in the vicinity of my first year in New York, circa 2015-2016. I moved to the city with a single suitcase, spending my first month subletting from a friend while I frantically searched for both a permanent apartment and a job. I’d left my sewing machine back with all my other worldly goods in Ohio, and while I’d blithely assured myself and others that I’d be fine being separated from it for only a month, I hadn’t anticipated how much free time I’d have weighing on my hands as I waited to hear back from job and apartment applications and tried not to think about how alone I felt. It was around this time that I started really diving deep into the sewing blog community. I’d started out a Gertie junkie (I own most of her books, although I don’t make a lot of vintage style stuff anymore), and I’d already found Closet Case Files (back when it still was the Files!) and Oonaballoona, but with lots of free time and not a lot of connections in NYC yet I started seriously clicking through all the links they provided and falling in love with the online sewing community. This felt like home! And one of the blogs I discovered early on was Madalynne.

Unfortunately a lot of the more personal content from her original blog is gone now, but when I first started reading Maddie’s blog she was a lingerie sewist and blogger with impeccable taste and a truly inspiring belief that anyone could make a bra. She still retains those qualities, but has turned her love of lingerie sewing and design into a successful business that encompasses bra-making workshops, sewing patterns, and even custom retail lingerie. (This is not an ad, just a plug for someone I’ve admired and followed for years through the online sewing community! Girl’s got serious hustle, and it’s paying off.)  I spent a lot of time on her blog when I first discovered it, fascinated by the exotic world of bra-making. Elastics! Negative ease! Stretch lace! Powernet! There was so much detail, and on such a limited scale – I’ve always had an intense love of miniature-making for just that reason, and although bras are made for regular-size boobs, it felt like the garment sewist’s version of miniature work.

This was right at the beginning of Maddie designing her own patterns, and while I know I have a Sierra bra I made floating around somewhere (I think I gifted it to my little sister and it ended up in a drawer in my parents’ house), I knew that her emphasis on airy bralette styles and what started as a focus on smaller-busted silhouettes weren’t really my thing. It didn’t feel structured enough, and my girls are all about structure! They like to feel like I’ve got them under control. However, in my deep dive into the Closet Case Files archive, I’d run across Heather Lou’s many iterations of the Cloth Habit Watson and thought this looked more like my thing. True, I hadn’t worn a bra without an underwire since roughly high school, but every blogger I could find who had made the Watson raved about it, and with the NYC garment district at my disposal I knew I could find the materials  I needed easily enough. I bought and printed the pattern, measured my boobs most carefully, took a field trip to Mood and Pacific Trimmings, and jumped in. By this point I’d found both a job and an apartment, and had been reunited with my beloved Joni, so I could finally make things again!

A recent photo – I’ve started trying to embrace my older me-mades more!

It turned out better than I expected! The only fit issue I had was the nipple area – I made the curve of the center cup seam a little gentler, as I was experiencing a subtle but unpleasant bullet boob effect. I had a few places were my elastic tension was more or less than it needed to be, and the finish at the center front where the cups and cradle all meet is not my finest work, but I had made a bra and it fit me. Still, even a more structured bralette didn’t really fit into my day-to-day hustle, and I wound up only pulling out my Watson when I knew I wasn’t going to be leaving the house. Lounge bra, check! I loved the feeling of making such a thing for myself, but was still a little intimidated by the notions and knowledge needed to really get into bra-making, so I let it go at that and moved on to other projects. However, I never quite got that bug out of my brain, and I was on the lookout for the next push that would propel me further into the world of me-made lingerie.

It came in early 2017, when Cloth Habit dropped the Harriet and my favorite bloggers went wild over it. Underwire, three-piece cup, option for lined or unlined construction and specifically designed for stretch lace – it’s a gorgeous pattern, and bolstered both by the fact that I’d successfully sewn a Cloth Habit bra before and that everyone and their bestie was raving about how well-drafted this one was, I bought the pattern and started doing my homework. I’d been surreptitiously collecting elastic, stretch mesh and lace, and findings since my brief dance with the Watson, but I couldn’t find everything I needed locally. It took some time for the underwires and bra lining to arrive from Bra Makers Supply, but once they did I was ready and raring to go.

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The first underwire bra I've ever made, and it doesn't even fit me! 😂 Ah well – on the bright side, @lochvess is getting a super nice early Christmas present! – – – @clothhabit #harrietbra #sewing #nycsewist #bramaking #memademay

A post shared by Brigid R (@reallybrigid) on May 26, 2017 at 9:29pm PDT

One thing I will probably always find frustrating about bramaking is that it’s damn near impossible to test fit without almost fully constructing the bra. I chose a size based on my measurements (although I cannot for the life of me remember which size that was – whoops), dove in with some black powermesh and pretty blue printed mesh I’d found at my local fabric shop, finished everything beautifully, aaaaaand… the bra didn’t fit. Like my Watson before her, Harriet had a weird bubbling going on around the nipples where the curve of the cup seam was just a hair too sharp, the cups themselves gaped at the top, and the cradle was too wide with too-big underwires. However, the finish was better than I was expecting, and my larger-busted roommate was more than happy to accept poor little Harriet into her lingerie drawer. So a sort-of win!

Feeling a little more secure in bramaking, and with the summer of 2017 already upon me, I turned back to my beloved Closet Case Patterns to try my hand at swimwear – specifically, the Sophie Swimsuit. It was my first time working with swimsuit elastic or cut-and-sew foam, and the finish was far from perfect, but I loved that I had made myself a swimsuit!  That fit! With underwires, and foam cups! This version was always intended as a wearable muslin, but it’s served me well for two years now – someday I’ll take the plunge again, but if my only swimsuit at the moment is a classic black two-piece I can live with that.

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Y'all – it's been at least three years since I last bought a swimsuit, and I thought, why mess up a good streak? So when I realized my old one didn't fit, I made a new one! @closetcase.patterns #sophieswimsuit #newyorksewist #imadethat #summertime #bathingbeauty

A post shared by Brigid R (@reallybrigid) on Jun 21, 2017 at 5:04pm PDT

The next Harriet I made, I overcorrected in the size department – the band was too tight, the cradle too narrow, and although I straightened out the bust curve, the upper edge of the cup still gaped slightly where I didn’t pull the elastic tight enough. On this one, I also experimented with using stretch lace, but it was an apparel fabric with waaaaay too much stretch and nearly no recovery that almost immediately started to bag out over the sheer bra lining I’d backed it with. (It also started pilling while I was still working on the bra – see below.) I also for some reason underlined each piece with the lining, instead of treating the lining and outer pieces as separate, so the finish on the inside was a little ragged – you can see below where the raw seam allowance has just been trimmed back to the topstiching line.

Still, a bra! A bra in pretty white lace, with blue topstitching because reasons. And I do wear it from time to time – it’s not a perfect fit, but it’s passable if I have nothing else clean or I just feel like wearing something I made.

I don’t know why I didn’t hold out for a white closure, but here we all are…

My next bra, I was determined to get the fit right – I found the happy medium in size between the first two I’d tried, cut out and basted my lining pieces to see where I needed to straighten out the bust seam and then traced off an adjusted upper cup pattern piece with the appropriate amount removed, and really took my time with construction. I’d found a lovely printed mesh while I was visiting my sister in the UK that I was determined to use – it was black, with gold glitter polka dots and ecru printed flowers, and I was determined to make a bra from it because GLITTER BOOBS! Paired with nude lining and black powermesh from my stash, I fought the urge to use contrasting elastic and thread in order to let the fabric shine, and I made the bra of my dreams.

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#sewphotohop Day 10: Fresh off the sewing machine – technically I finished this last week, but since I haven't finished anything since I'm counting it! This is the @clothhabit #harrietbra size 36DD with a little fullness shaved off the upper cup pieces, and SWEET BABY JESUS IT FITS ME!!! This is the first bra I've made that I'm 100% happy with the fit (don't be fooled by how it sits on Anne-Marie, she's not padded out to my current measurements), and now that I've got it sorted I'm planning to bang out a few more to round out my lingerie drawer. The only downside is that the glitter on this fabric does get all over me when I wear it, but is that reeeeeally a downside?? ✨#bringontheglitterboobs #sewphotohop2018 #sewing #bramaking #imadethat #makersgonnamake #nysewist #tobeblogged

A post shared by Joni Long-Legs (@jonilonglegs) on Sep 10, 2018 at 8:47pm PDT

The caption says it all. Recently, I finally got around to padding out my mannequin and taking better pictures (I had to include the one with the flamingle hat though):

I’m still so proud of the finish I achieved with this bra. The inside has no visible seams, the seam allowances are all neatly trimmed so they appear uniform where they show through the mesh, the tension on all the various elastics is right where it needs to be – it’s not perfect, but it’s as close to it as I could get! And with an adjusted pattern, I had all the tweaks I’d made down on paper and easy to replicate – I could make as many of these babies as I wanted!

Which of course means I waited around five months to make another. I know, I know! But in my defense, I’d used all my underwires, and ordering more is always a bit of a chore because I’m impatient and I hate waiting for shipping. Still, I finally got my procrastinating rear in gear when I realized I didn’t have a nude bra that fit, and took the opportunity to order four sets of underwires, some nude lace powermesh, and a findings kit in beige from Bra Makers Supply. However, something about the wait messed up my bramaking mojo, because I kept having irritating little problems.

Number one, I didn’t order what I needed. When I received the findings kit, it seemed light on strap elastic, and when I read back through the product description it literally said that the kit was designed for fabric-strap bras and that you might need to order extra elastic for a bra with all-elastic straps. This wasn’t heartbreaking, because I have pretty easy access to elastic, plus the strapping and hardware sent with the kit were 1/2″, which I find too wide and clunky-looking for my personal style. Still, annoying! Then when I went to pick up those extra findings, I also grabbed matching thread – which when I was halfway through construction, I realized was 100% cotton quilting thread. Not ideal in a garment where several major components need to stretch and be held at tension when it’s worn! Still, I was halfway done, and had also not ordered enough powermesh to re-cut any of the pieces I’d already trimmed seam allowances on, so I tried to make sure I didn’t skimp on the zig-zags of any attached elastic to avoid putting stress on the thread, and prayed a little for good measure.

I did have a snapped stitch here the first time I wore it – you can see where I had to re-stitch over the old zig-zag

However, the last minor indignity didn’t hit until I’d assembled the bra and tried it on. Everything was looking GOOD – the finishing was neat, the bra itself was fitting – but there was something a little off about the underwires. I’d noticed when I was putting them in that they seemed a little long, but I remembered having extra length on the previous bra too so I’d brushed it off. However, on my body, it felt like these came just a hair too far out on my ribs at the sides, so I pulled out the black glitter bra to compare the arch.

I’d ordered the wrong underwire size.

Correction: I’d ordered four sets of the wrong underwire size. In my hubris, I’d thought I just remembered which number I needed, and ordered enough to make me several new bras. However, I’d remembered wrong – I’d ordered size 44, when I think my black bra was made with size 42. The bra still fits, but I can tell it’s not offering quite the support I need, especially at the sides – it feels like rather than being pushed up and in, which is ideally what this style of bra does naturally and one reason I love it, my boobs are listing slightly to the sides. Never fun, and although it’s slight enough that the bra is not unwearable, I do have plans to re-order the correct size of underwire and replace them so I feel better about wearing this bra. Because not gonna lie – she looks damn good.

That shine! That cute picot trim! The not-quite-sheer of a beefy lace mesh that gives me coverage while still being pretty!

Also, who doesn’t love rose gold hardware?

In case it isn’t apparent, despite the minor foibles of its construction, I really love this bra. I’m incredibly proud of how neatly finished it is, how generally comfortable it is to wear, and how I feel knowing I made that all myself. For those of you interested in how this bra looks on, click through – I’d rather not put my girls directly into a post, but I know it’s nice when choosing a bra pattern to see how it fits!

So that’s my bramaking journey so far! While I now have the Harriet pattern perfected to where I want it, I’m starting to look farther afield for new patterns to try – I’d love to give a foam cup bra a go, as my usual ready-to-wear bras have always had foam cups; and I think I’d like to try something with a partial band. The Orange Lingerie Lansdowne Bra is definitely on my radar for both reasons (and also because I love a good plunge bra), as are several other Orange Lingerie patterns! And Evie la Luve has some truly tempting bralette and panty patterns that I might take for a spin. Then again, I do need more activewear in my life, and I’ve had the Papercut Patterns Pneuma Tank and Sports Bra pattern in my queue for months now…

This is why it takes me so long to make another bra! There’s just too many pretty things out there to choose from!

All three Harriet bras currently in my lingerie drawer – a rainbow of (semi)neutrals!

  To All The Bras I’ve Made Before ...I'm not gonna lie, I'm incredibly proud of that blog post title. I don't even care that 

[mysteriouslydarktale-blog]

Downgrade

Downgrade

 On February 14th, 2017, my boyfriend posted a picture of me on social media after 6 months of consistently dating him. It was a striking picture with a bold magenta backsplash and heart emoticons embellished along the border. I was front and center, head tilted slightly to the side, hair long wearing my signature awkward half smile.

 We were out celebrating Valentine's day earlier that evening and I didn't notice that he posted it until after our date. Instead of immediately removing my dress when I reached home, I went online to surf through my social media accounts.

  I was ecstatic at the 149 likes that the post had already garnered. Our relationship, although extremely private, was officially made public for the first time. It gave me a little anxiety to think about and I had to throw my phone on the other side of my bed to keep from having a mini panic attack. After composing myself and giggling a little bit, I clenched the phone and started to read the comments. They were overwhelmingly positive…

 -"Wow, Bron…she's bad."

-"Ooooo…cuzzy got a new girlfriend. She's cute."

-"Congrats bro!

-"Aww, she's pretty!

-"My man!"

-"Yay, I love Victoria!"

 I was super excited to say the very least - I was having such an amazing day. The weather in South Philadelphia was relatively warm for February at a cool 59 degrees. My neighborhood, which was usually bustling with movement and loud noises, was very still and everyone seemed to be moving leisurely.

  It was as if their steps were slowed down a little bit and they actually took the time to smell all the corner store bought red roses. It was Valentine's day and I didn't feel miserable or bitter. It was Valentine's day and I felt absolutely loved, admired, cherished and relieved that I found someone great to share this day with.  

 I started to remove my dress. It was a little difficult to get out of because of the thin latex material but it was worth it. The dress was dress was black, short and pretty revealing. I don't usually show myself off but tonight I was feeling very bold. We ended the night politely and by politely I mean we made out. I never truly liked or appreciated kissing until I met Labron.

 His kisses are simultaneously tender and passionate. He was aggressive and gentle, he was dominant and submissive and his hands were always on the small of my back or the roots of my hair. He was ravenous and attentive and highly sensual but – we never had sex.

 Tonight, I wanted to have sex. I was definitely ready to get fully intimate with my boyfriend – this was the longest I've ever held out in every relationship that I've had. I was looking great and feeling even better. It was Valentine's day and roughly six months since we've been together. Oh yes, tonight was definitely the night!

 I wanted to change first and slip  into  something more appropriate for the occasion. Earlier that week, I had purchased a very racy, un-Victoria like lingerie set. It was a bright coral color with a patch of lacy material on the front part of the thong.  The store attendant raved about how much it would complement my caramel complexion. I was hesitant at first but was very fond of the color – so I went ahead with this chancy purchase!

 After getting everything on, I observed myself in the mirror. My makeup was already done from today's events and still looked impeccable. I grimaced a little as a I further scrutinized my frame -  I was on the smaller side. I always hated my figure. I had very subtle curves but I desired obvious, voluptuous curves. I didn't care for being so petite. My hands and forehead were particularly big and there was some discoloration across my body. I was far from perfect but I was also kind of cute. I smiled at myself and instead of the usual awkward half-smile, I grinned wholeheartedly – with anticipation, excitement and sensuality.

 "I'm about to get laid!" I said to myself and it felt better than ever before because I waited until I was ready.

I grabbed my phone and sent a text to my boyfriend. 'Come over baby, I'm ready for you."

 "Omw," He replied back in less than a minute. Goosebumps erupted all over my forearms, I was so excited.

 I sent him a red heart emoticon and opened up the social media app, "Showyaface," where the Valentine's day selfie was uploaded. I was really happy to see that the post gained 232 likes. I rolled my eyes momentarily because I knew that Labron was insanely popular on social media but still 232 likes in less than 2 hours! I started reviewing the comments.

 -"J <3 Happy Valentine's day!"

-"Yassss Vicki!"

-"#Goals"

- C'mon Bron, she's a downgrade, you know this– Ashley was way badder –"

-"Aww Labron…who's that---"

There were about 5 or 6 more comments but I couldn't continue on reading. Someone actually had the audacity to post something so utterly…uncalled for…. on my boyfriend's post! The post of me! I couldn't believe it. I've never come across something so bold. I drew the post closer to my face to make certain that I was reading it correctly. "…downgrade…Ashley was way badder."  I felt clenching in my throat. I wasn't understanding why I was reacting so poorly. Downgrade? Harsh. But maybe….

 At first I was shocked, then I was angry and then I felt consumed with sadness and…vulnerability and a little bit of inadequacy.

 I tapped twice on her avatar to view her profile. Her username was pretty_dimples_90 but I recognized her as Sandra from my 7th grade literacy class. I was a little taken aback to see her considering that she transferred to a new school in a different town after middle school. I was even more shocked to see that she was a friend of my boyfriend's. I scrolled down her profile and briskly came across a picture of her posing with another girl. The girl was tagged as AshesnAshley_. It became immediately apparent that this was the Ashley that Sandra was talking about. It was even clearer that the two were extremely close friends.

 I clicked to view Ashley's page.

 Wow.

 She was stunning.

 She appeared to be some kind of Asian. She was tall and curvaceous and had an unimpeachable sense of fashion. According to her bio, she worked as an Assistant Manager at Barney's downtown.  This girl was perfect and I suddenly felt overexposed and…just hideous. Apparently, she was his ex-girlfriend. I didn’t ever remember him mentioning her and I was confused as to why it took me this long to find her. I couldn't look away. She was a sight.

 Sandra was right…I am a downgrade.

 I walked over to my closet and pulled out my favorite plush robe. I needed to cover myself. I needed to succumb into a ball and roll up under my comforters. I needed to loosen the knot in my throat and let a few tears fall. Just a few. I suddenly felt unbelievable unattractive and embarrassed. I couldn't help but to focus on that one comment. She was Beyoncé and I was feeling like Michelle x3 with a bad weave. How could he have let her go for me? Obviously, Labron felt seriously sorry for me when he decided to give this relationship a chance.

 I went from feeling incredible to feeling repulsive in matter of seconds. I retreated back to my bed and began to lay down, hoping that some sleep would lessen the complete humiliation that I felt. I barely closed my eyes before Labron came strolling in. I sat up in bed and he immediately went over for a kiss.  I conspicuously turned away.

 "Hey babe," He said frowning slightly. He gently grasped my hands and pulled me up on my feet.  Pushing the material of the robe away with one hand, he kissed my collarbone instead. That little sneak. "Why you look so bothered?"

 I decided not to beat around the bush. "How come you didn't delete that comment from Sandra? She said I was a downgrade Bron…from Ashley or whoever the fuck. How do you even know Sandra?"

 He looked genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?" His hands were still on my shoulders and he was looking down at me carefully. I clumsily tried to reopen the post and shoved the phone into his hands. '

"There! She's bold for writing that...like seriously?"

 His brows furrowed and he didn't seem angry or surprised…but very curious. "I didn't see any of these notifications – I'm sorry---"

 "Who's Ashley?" I asked accusingly. The front of my robe untied and revealed the lingerie underneath. I barely realized it but didn't care because I was heartbroken. Labron didn't seem to notice either because his eyes were focused on mine. He was truly handsome and It took a significant amount of strength for me not to succumb into his embrace. I had to remain firm but I was slowly forgetting why I was angry in the first place.

 "Ashley?" He replied. I grew enraged when he said her name. "I don't know, she's someone I used to talk to a couple of years back. Nothing serious."

 "Are you sure she's not creeping back into your life?"

 "I'm sur—"

 "Why are you even with me anyways? She's fucking beautiful." I felt extremely weak for saying it. But the words were like vomit, they were impulsive and difficult to resist. "I mean…no…but did you feel sorry for me or something? Am I the sorry rebound?"

 "Vic, calm down. That's not at all what this is. That's wild – please stop." He paused for a second. "I dated her for a few months but it didn't work out – and her friends were crazy."

 "Well, why didn't it work out?" I said, a tiny bit softer this time.

 "That doesn't matter."

 "It does matter!" I pushed back in frustration. "Bron…wow, compared to her I'm like a fucking clown. I feel like a clown.  She's beautiful – she's fucking bad Bron! And this other girl really had the audacity to comment under your post like that? I can't believe that shit."

 "It doesn't matter. I love your personality."

 Now, when someone says they love your personality, it's usually code for 'I think you're ugly but your personality kind of makes up for it."

 "Wow, thank you Labron. Thank you," my voice was oozing with sarcasm. "You love my personality. I am definitely the class clown." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, it was becoming exceedingly difficult to keep from crying.

 "No, seriously…I really love your personality." He started and pinched my arms softly when I tried open my mouth in interjection. "You're the coolest female I've ever dated and I mean that sincerely. You're intelligent, you're caring, you're awkward but in a cute way – you’re attentive, you ask questions, you're an amazing listener. You're so dope. I love everything about your personality."

 I still wasn't convinced. "Okay."

 "Okay," he started again. "Ashley was a cute girl. I'm not going to lie about that but she had the worst personality ever. She was hateful and she complained constantly – and she was just a little too vain and materialistic for me. She was cool in the looks department but her personality was trash," he looked down at my lips. "She wasn't you."

 Labron began to close the space between us. "We don't even have to have sex tonight. I can see you're a little dressed up and a little upset – that just doesn't mix."

 In intense situations like this, I would sweat profusely. I could feel little beads of sweat forming on my forehead. He smiled – wow. "And also, you're absolutely gorgeous. You don't ever have to be insecure in the looks department. You got it. You're bad. You – your lips, your cheeks, your frame, your ears, your eyes. You are everything. Don't get all flustered. I like you and no one else." He combed his fingers through my barely-tamed curls and lifted my chin.

 I couldn't look at him directly in his face. I was utterly humiliated and felt silly for overreacting. Labron was a very attractive man. He was tall, toned, haircut low, teeth white with a gorgeous smile and a chic way of dressing. I often wonder if people think about why he chose me – but I guess he was right. Nothing really mattered. All that mattered was us. Here. I had to compose myself. I didn't want to ruin this night. I quickly realized that it didn't matter why he chose me. I was just eternally grateful that he did.  Tonight, in this moment. I pushed back any insecurities and doubts. Usually, it feels terrifying to feel so vulnerable but tonight, it felt more natural.

 I looked back at him. "Thank you," I stood up on my toes and kissed him on the lips. I pulled off my robe, revealing the sexy, lacy material. "Let's go."

 And he began to kiss me - in the contradictory way that he always does. Fast and slow. Hard and soft... Vigorous and affectionate. It was a metaphor for how this night was going to end.

 And slowly, I began to feel like the opposite of a downgrade. I felt like a queen…and I was finally with my king.