#no sewing machine but know how to hand sew

[marzipanandminutiae]

I do think one very interesting thing about not getting that stitcher job in the costume workshop is that it highlights the different types of sewing out there

I can sew. I can produce wearable garments. I have and I do and I usually have at least one project on the make at any given time

but

I only sew for myself, so I've never really had comprehensive training in a wide variety of diverse techniques. I know what I need to know to make my own clothing. if a project requires a technique, I learn it; if I never need it, it's not in my skill-set

how did I get to be a 31-year-old accomplished hobbyist dressmaker whose wardrobe is largely self-made, and not know how to do French seams until a week ago? simple. I never needed to know

I also make historical clothing, specifically mid-late Victorian, which was a HUGE proponent of Good Enough as far as construction goes. does it look good? will it hold together for its purpose? is it as comfortable as it's supposed to be? if so, the rest is unimportant. you had a lot of people producing garments with limited machine-sewing functions, who were being paid by the piece and whose clients expected the fastest turnaround possible- corners were going to be cut

speaking of machines...I don't really know what to do with them. I can Make Machine Go Forward and Back and that's really about it. my sewing knowledge is all gleaned from an era where machine-finishing was almost exclusively for underwear, because stitches weren't supposed to show on the outside. and I don't usually make my own shifts, combinations, or petticoats. I also prefer hand-finished buttonholes because doing buttonholes is satisfying and you have greater control over placement. so machine-finishing is largely a closed book to me

being picked out of the crowd on the street like that by the shop manager was exciting and very flattering. but I do think it highlights the fact that, just because someone can produce wearable garments, doesn't mean their skills are transferrable to another sewing arena with different needs

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 7

Check out part 1 here.

CW: Momma drama. If you have a bad mom relationship like I do please read with caution. Also John comes home a bit broken. He gets better but not in this part.

John appears behind you as you are stepping into your shop. When his hand pushes the door open wider from behind you startle.

“Jesus fuck me!” You jump and spin, eyes wide and chest heaving as you confirm who stood behind you.

The slightly worried look on John’s face tells you he didn’t mean to startle you.

“Sorry dove thought you heard me.”

“Apparently my thoughts were too loud,” sheepishly you push the door shut behind him and begin to flick on lights.

Waiting for you at the counter with John is your jewelry box. It looks better than before if that is possible.

“I didn’t stain it,” John runs a finger down the side and you wish that digit dragged down your side instead.

Fuck, bitch you can’t be this horny yet, he just arrived. Apparently, the earth-shattering orgasm from your vibrator last night with the taste of him on your lips wasn’t enough. When did you get so greedy?

“Why not?” You ask as you fold your arms, not one hundred percent sure your bra would be able to trap your steel-tipped nipples.

Glancing from the box to John you see a soft smile. When he looks up at you it grows.

“I noticed how much you seemed to like the grain of the wood and seemed sad at the idea of it being covered up. A few coats of clear lacquer to protect it and it was done.”

“I love it. I’m so glad you chose lacquer. I would have been happy with any choice you made but this? It’s wonderful.” Leaving the box at the counter you waved John to follow you.

“I made you something as well.” Putting a hand on the nob of the door to the back room you spun. “I know it’s not really a problem, but you have complained about going into what you call “power meetings” with only your slacks or your fancy uniforms so I made you something that should hold up against scrutiny.”

John’s arms are folded, head tilted ever so slightly to watch you with the smile tucked under his mustache.

Taking a deep breath you twist the handle and step back into the room. You hung the suit on the wall directly in front of the door so you could watch his face as he saw it. You had paid a pretty penny for the fabric, thread, and buttons. They all came together so seamlessly that even your friend who was a tailor wouldn’t have been able to know a suitmaker hadn’t put it together unless he started to pull it apart at the seams. You had also purchased the silk for his shirt and made that by hand as well.

The smile falls from his face as he steps up to the suit and runs a hand lightly over it.

“Holy fuck.”

Glancing from side to side you bite your lip.

“So what do you think?”

When he turns you know why people like blue eyes so much. John’s blue eyes are enchanting with the tears rimming his lashes. They remind you of the ocean in the photos you’ve seen of tropical places.

“I can’t think of a gift that has ever meant more to me,” he chokes out around the tears in his throat.

“Do you want to try it on?” You suggest, heart fluttering in your chest.

“I want-”

His desires were cut off by the sound of the bell.

Turning you call out.

“Sorry, we are closed today,” when you catch sight of your mom.

The warmth that had settled over you like sunlight as spring breaks chilled to the harshest of winter breezes. Shutting the door to the back room, and your joy from your sorrow you face your mother.

“You didn’t come to Christmas,” she starts.

“I told Pop I would be going to Nana’s this year.”

“You’re still mad at me,” she pouts with her eyebrows.

Your mother had skills in expressing herself without making a scene about it.

“I am not mad, I’m done.”

Your mother stepped up to the counter, slowly opening each drawer of your gift. Snatching it off the counter you placed it on your working desk next to your sewing machine.

“What does being done have to do with not coming to Christmas?”

She’s pulling that mom tone again, trying to force you into a child role whether she knows it or not.

“I do not enjoy the way I feel while spending time with you. I do not like the comments you make or the fact that even when my brother is being rude I am still in the wrong. And I am done putting myself in situations to be hurt because you happened to get knocked up and produce me.”

She had told you once that you were a birth control failure baby. She had been drinking, you had been ten.

“I did not happen to get knocked up,” she sputtered.

Taking a deep breath you point your eyes at the ceiling and pray for patience.

“That is not the point of this conversation and I apologize for bringing it up. What I am saying is that I won’t be spending more time with you until we can go to family therapy. I’ve told this to Pop several times. I will send you a few options between us and will set up the appointment as well.”

“But I am your mother!” She is getting shrill, a sure sign she is losing control of the conversation in her mind.

“And I am grown. Now I have a private appointment I need to get back to.”

“Is this because of the comment about no one paying to see you naked? I’m sorry that you were offended by what I said.”

Your jaw works as your fingers curl into talons and your shoulders stiffen.

“I am not having that discussion here and now. Pick a therapist from the list I send you or leave me alone.”

Mom looks shocked, scared even, at the tone you use. She turns leaving in a huff and you open the door to the back to see John, shirt unbuttoned and eyes blown wide as if someone dosed him with drugs.

“That’s an option? I can pay to see you naked? Is a hundred enough?”

“A hundred?” You ask, confused but slightly hurt that he thought you were so cheap.

“No? Okay, a hundred and fifty thousand?” He looks desperate and hopeful and lost and like he might combust all at once.

You choke on your spit. Did that man just offer a hundred and fifty thousand dollar bucks to see you naked!?

All it would have taken is a glass of wine, a smokey look, and an invitation to bed and your clothes would have disappeared from your body like they never existed. Like damn you had high self-confidence, forged out of hate comments online and in real life, but you weren’t worth that much. Maybe John did like you like you liked him?

He stepped forward, mouth opening to form words when his phone went off. The instant change told you it was work.

“Dammit all to hell and may it never return,” he snatched up his pants from the cot and answered the phone as he moved it to his ear, snarling. “What?”

You watched as the soldier overtook the man. His back straightened as he tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear beginning to work at the buttons at his wrists. Stepping into his space you took over the task freeing him faster than he would have managed. Helping him out of the shirt you fold it over one arm, watching as he disappears below his shirt to reappear through the head hole. You don’t offer to help him remove the pants but take them when offered without comment.

John doesn’t spare you a glance as he pulls his cargo pants up, sheathing the deliciously thick thighs he hides. When he sits to tie his boots you toss the clothes from your arms to the cot and kneel to take over that task for him. Tying them tight you stand and offer him a hand. He takes it, holding on as he stands.

Still on the phone he pulls your knuckles to his lips and turns the phone away from his mouth.

“When I get back, we are talking about this.”

It’s all you can do to nod before he dons his coat and slips into the precipitation of January.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

The last of the snowdrops are blooming when John makes it back home. Between the knocks at the front door and the vibrating of your phone from under your pillow, you wake enough to stumble to the front door. The door opens fully before your eyes do.

John looks haggard, as if he aged ten years in the three months he was gone. A full beard had grown in, the ends ragged and uneven. His eyes flick over you. No expression crosses his face.

“John? You’re home,” the sigh in your last word pulls him through the door and into your arms.

It’s too late for your mind to come up with reasons why dragging him into your room after locking the front door would be a bad idea. Stripping him of his boots and his pants you invite him to lay under the blankets with you by laying them atop him and letting him settle into the mattress. Crossing around the bed you join him between the sheets. Laying on your side you stare at him.

Something about him felt broken and you didn’t dare hold him and make it worse.

“What can I do John?” You ask the darkness between you.

The words settle on him like the ice blown around in the wind of the gulag.

“Tell me what happened while I was gone. I don’t feel real.”

You scoot closer to him in the bed, less than a handswidth between you.

“I brought your suit home. I missed you a few weeks after you left and had nothing but the photo from the party and your gift. My mom started going to individual therapy. We tried a couple of family sessions but the therapist recommended that she do some personal work before we attempt to do much more work on fixing our relationship. My brother called me on my birthday, which was unexpected. I bet my po-”

“I missed your birthday?” John’s broken whisper cut you off.

“Yeah,” you reach out and touch his pinky. He flinches so you shift your hand back, but before it can go too far his hand chases you locking your fingers together.

“When is your birthday?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“You must hate that.”

The accurate observation surprises you. You’ve talked with other people who have birthdays on holidays, most Christmas and New Year’s babies hate it, birthdays on big celebration days that aren’t the big big ones tend to go either way but for you, it always felt required to have a date on your birthday. Were you out because your date wanted to celebrate you or show off for the table around you?

“I do,” you let out a small chuckle. “My brother was born on May Day, he doesn’t seem to mind it. When is your birthday John?”

“July second.” He pulls in a deep breath, “Will you hold me?”

Small and scared his voice pierces into your chest.

“However you want to be held,” you answer in earnest.

“Lay back?”

You adjust to settle on your back, fixing the pillow below your head. John follows you, as cautious as an alley cat. Once his head is resting against your chest, chin tipped between your breasts you curl your arm around his shoulder next to your ribs and rest your hand on his back. The shuddering breaths that start from him prompt you to keep telling him about what happened while he was away.

“Did you know your muppets came to visit me? They all brought in their own fixes and asked to use your cot. Every one of them woke looking like they had no clue where they were and agreed that they understood why you kept coming back for naps.”

You talk until you drift into sleep, but your dreams are full of stories so maybe you talk to John until you wake.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[inkskinned]

there are days that it is hard, and unfair, and some horrible part of me wishes i could have been born in a different world. i love being queer, i hate how others react to it. when i first came out at 15, my mom whispered: please don't say that. your life would be so much harder.

it is harder.

it is also a tuesday, walking my dog. we are both skiving off of work, and yes both of us have dyed hair and pronouns. mine is patchy - it was my first time trying bleach; i didn't have enough. theirs is a resilient toadstool green. a little girl comes up to us and asks um, excuse me? is your hair real? 'cause jason says you're a fairy.

it is sunday brunch, all of us talking over each other, overfull on love. she is trying out a new name today, and we made her a cake with today's name scrawled in shaky purple letters. she laughs so much she cries and then gets frosting in her hair. someone young at a different table keeps giving us these large, wide eyes: the same look we have all been on the other side of. the kind that says, breathless: wait, is that possible?

it is a half-fight in a supermarket because he loves "dance moms" and says abby's tiktok is funny and meanwhile i think the children in that show should be allowed to sue abby lee miller for child abuse. i tell him that it led to the casual acceptance of child harassment for mainly adult views; and then i am standing, suddenly, in someone else's thrown soda. there's a white lady standing there, furious, saying something about hell-on-earth. i had forgotten i was wearing stuff with pride colors. and then it is this: he had just been casually arguing with me - and within an instant, he squares his shoulders and goes after her like i am his sister

on saturday i sat in a circle while beca played with my hair and we were all over 30 and we laughed about how much happier we are being this old, how much more we appreciate our community. 25 minutes from now, we will be on stage to dance in baggy beige clothing, but for now we look on with envy to the dancers in loud-and-bright buttondowns. where are they getting these shirts! i cry, distraught. everyone laughs. one of our friends has a mushroom witch hat. this would have been cringey in high school, probably. instead we are all delighted with each other; happy just to be here and alive and moving

it's that last week my new friends cried with joy for me when they heard i'm getting top surgery. every so often i have the honor of being the first person someone feels comfortable enough to tell. i'm trying to make long fluttery butterfly wings to wear to pride; but i don't know anything about fabric or dye, so my friends have been sending me their personal advice.

i think in a different poem i would talk about how sometimes you walk into a room and put the mask back on. but i'm sleepy and my whole brain is fuzzy so i think in this one, it's a monday, and my dog and i took a nap on a couch, and i had missed texts from friends. i used to wake up lonely. i think this poem is about walking into a room and seeing someone and just knowing, the way you just-know-sometimes, and then giving them that little smile, and seeing them light up with joy and relief. it is how we always seem to be able to find each other in a crowded room. how we always seem to make friends with each other before even we know-it-to-be-true. it is saying: we're very different people; but i belong to you.

it is harder, yes. but it comes with a built-in family.

[grasslandgirl]

uh oh having ideas outside of my realistic ability range (wanting to make a maxi skirt out of an old tapestry I got from a friend)

[officesupplied]

no I get that

[antisocialxconstruct]

I might take a break from the puppy for a bit and ruminate on the pattern, what do you guys think I should shift my focus to in the meantime?

[apuzzledprince]

guys the character hyperfixaction is starting to make me want to hand sew a plushie

[viciousewe]

Got tired of piecing by hand after like 8 hst blocks lol. So I sat down with my beautiful and heavy sewing machine to finally work out the tension issues.* I've also already deviated from my original plan to just sew a bunch of hst oriented in the same direction together to this diamond and triangle pattern and before someone tells me there is a much less labor intensive way of working it I know! This is where indecision gets a person! Also it's my first quilt so..

*by work out the issues I mean I sat down with her and it was miraculously working perfectly. I am now too scared to put her back in the box out of fear she will start skipping stitches again and have decided to name her Superstition.

[the-halfling-prince]

Designed a dress I want to make heavily inspired by Merida from brave and then I decided to draw it on Merida.

The original sketch:

[marzipanandminutiae]

so help me god if I tanked the chance for a well-paid job with full medical benefits, sick leave, paid vacation time, etc. because I hardly ever do machine seam-finishing

I'm going to be. really really really upset

[wool-string]

I haven’t taken Kei out in a while. He’s getting dusty.. so I took him out to pick some mint n make some lemonade

[werebutch]

Slowly becoming a textiles artist that never really learned how to sew

[damienthepious]

craft people please. advice for trying to sew a pair of elbow length gloves for a cosplay. im scared.

[trishmishtree]

A list of things I sewed in 2022

Last year I compiled a list of the things I sewed in 2021, except for some reason, I made the list in November so it missed some of the stuff I made at the end of the year, like my reversible apron and the cottagecore/modernized chemise a la reine, among others.

So this year, I figured I’d actually do my year of sewing in review at the actual end of the year. (Btw I have no idea if these are actually in chronological order. This is just the order I found them in on my blog, which is the order in which I photographed them.)

First, a needle holder made from scraps of fabric from old projects, because I was just keeping all my needles in plastic cases and desperately needed a better way to organize them.

Then I made a short underbust c0rset I drafted myself by tweaking the fit issues I had from the previous c0rset I made and self-drafted in 2021. That previous c0rset was based on a dress pattern that I got by tracing one of my dresses that I then used to make the silk satin dress I wore to a friend’s wedding. (Yes, this c0rset was made with the same navy blue silk satin I used for the dress. No, the two projects have nothing to do with each other, as the dress was not made to be worn over a c0rset.) It has a zipper front and laces completely up in the back since it’s not meant for waist reduction. I use it as a back brace for days at work when I’m expecting to spend a lot of time standing.

Then there were the first regency shift, short stays, and partially bodiced petticoat that I made and never got around to using for anything because the silhouette wasn’t right for the 1810-1815 era gown I want to make. I still have them hanging in my closet for when I finally get around to making something from the earlier 1790s-1805 era. The partially bodiced petticoat is absolutely necessary because I made the stays a little too long and they rise above the mid-bust level and make lines. The shift works fine for this set of stays, but it’s just a tad tight in the bust to work with later stays that lift the bustline much higher.

Because the regency short stays weren’t the right shape and height for the 1810s look I was aiming for, I made another set of regency stays after that. This I made and immediately hated because the silhouette was all wrong. I used the Bernhardt pattern but didn’t get the bust and hip gusset shapes right, and I used bias tape for binding, instead of straight grain binding, so the whole top edge stretched out and flattened my bust instead of lifting it. I also found out that the Bernhardt stays pattern just inherently doesn’t work if you have scoliosis at the level of your spine where you take the measurements needed for scaling this pattern. These stays are now in my scrap bag because I harvested the boning and lacing from them for the new and improved pair (discussed below but not pictured, for decency reasons).

After that came the historybounding Victwardian shirtwaist and skirt that I made this summer. The floral skirt is a calf-length full circle skirt with a pleated back and is my absolute favorite skirt in my wardrobe, if only for the sheer amount of work that went into making it. The only issue is that I miscalculated when I was cutting out the waistband, so it ended up about 1 inch too short. It’s still wearable though, and I don’t mind it too much because the slightly tighter waistband means that the weight of the back pleats won’t drag the back of the waistband down. Alas, I don’t wear it all that often because I spend all of my waking hours either in a hospital where I wear scrubs or in a doctor’s office where people cough on stuff. While the skirt is machine washable, it’s a nightmare to iron, and the sateen weave warps with every wash. The blouse I’m much less fond of because it’s too poofy for daily wear, and the lace collar is annoying to deal with because it somehow manages to gape and choke me at the same time.

Then I took apart my purple floral skirt from 2021 and remade it because I have control issues and perfectionism issues and there is a long list of problems I had with the original skirt and wanted to fix:

Because my first attempt at a Victwardian shirtwaist was only minimally successful, I took another attempt at a historybounding blouse, this time with a Peter Pan collar and tucks instead of lace. I did go back and reposition the sleeve gathers after taking this picture. Still not entirely happy with the sleeves because I prefer 3/4 length or elbow length sleeves, so I tend to roll these up when I wear them. Also not entirely happy with the positioning of the collar. I feel like it should be higher up on the neck and sloped, not flat against the collarbone area, so I kind of want to make a set of detachable Peter Pan collars that I can wear with different outfits.

Then in August-September, I made the Capetember cape while working inpatient for a month. I didn’t end up wearing this one as much as I thought I would, mostly because it’s too short to curl up and wrap myself up to lounge in. But it did keep me warm for the like 2 slightly chilly days of autumn we had this year. Next time I’m including arm slits for practicality.

My first attempt at Edwardian/late Victorian combinations took 2 solid weeks.  The combinations themselves didn’t take all that long to assemble or drape on myself, but what sucked up most of that time was the amount of hand embroidering I took upon myself to do because I couldn’t find the right kind of beading lace to go on the waistband and leg cuffs. The combinations are based on the extant from the Met. I think I ended up making the straps too short because it’s not blousing at the waist quite right. The waistband lace is pretty, but it’s too bulky to wear under c0rsets, and I cut the buttonholes too narrow for the ribbon to come through without puckering and folding on itself. The drawers overall are just not full enough and bunch too much in certain places, so if I ever make this again, I’m going to try the Laura Baldt Clothing for Women circular drawers pattern instead. I would also go for a thinner, drapey-er fabric next time.

Then I made another c0rset. This time it’s an Edwardian S-bend c0rset based on the Aranea Black Tulip pattern. It’s made from a heavy cotton canvas with an outer layer of silk shantung. It’s also the first c0rset I’ve made thus far that actually has a metal split busk, which makes getting in and out of it way faster. It still needs some hip padding to fit properly, so that’s going to have to be a project for next year.

The S-bend c0rset doesn’t actually fit without a bust improver, which I made from stash/scrap fabric based on the LACMA extant:

And then I finally circled back to the regency era to make a new set of stays to redeem myself. They’re definitely an improvement on the old pair, but I can’t post pictures because it’s an underbust design, and the historically inaccurate cotton voile shift I’m wearing under them is completely sheer. So you’re just going to have to enjoy this photo of the new fully bodiced petticoat that I also made around that time and am wearing over it for modesty. (You can also barely see how the shift is just ever so slightly compressing my bust down because the new stays lift it into a higher position than the shift has room for.)

And then, since I was in the business of doing everything twice when it comes to regency costuming, I made another regency shift. This one is made from 100% linen (but probably not as sturdy as 19th century linen). It makes for a really comfy nightgown too.

And then, I finally got started on the regency gown project that I keep referencing but never got off my butt to do this year. I managed to embroider and finish the bodice before the end of 2022, so I’m including it on this list even though the gown is still nowhere near finished.  (Using my hand as a censor bar because my new 1810s stays are really good at lifting the bust, and my new shift was being Opinionated today and didn’t want to help contain it.) The final gown will have a front bib panel that’s attached to the apron front skirt and will cover everything that’s currently threatening to spill out of the neckline of my shift.

Not included in photos because I didn’t think they were worth photographing:

a seam roll I made from scraps of the purple floral and black and white chair slipcover fabrics

a set of fabric face masks I made from the last scraps of the same two fabrics. I haven’t worn them all that much, though, since they tend to fog my glasses and I prefer the regular blue masks

a couple of polyester satin half-slips that I made to wear under my skirts so they don’t cling to my tights when I walk

a mousepad I made for a coworker’s birthday

a wine tote and matching coasters I made for another coworker’s birthday

a couple of floral embroidery pieces I made for two other coworkers’ birthdays

an apron I made as a going-away present for a former coworker’s graduation

a fleece blanket I made for my cat

a pocket I sewed into the inside of my whitecoat so I could have my iPad on my person while rounding in the hospital without worrying about accidentally leaving it in a patient room

a newer, bigger, studier tote bag to replace the one I made in 2021 (nothing happened to the old one, I just wanted a bigger bag for work)

an alteration I made to improve the fit of a dress I’ve owned since 2017 that had since shrunk in the wash and was too tight in the shoulder area

an Edwardian dip waist belt I made from the same floral fabric I used for the skirt above

Overall, this looks like a pretty good list for someone who sews exclusively by hand. With 33 projects/items made, and me working 12 weeks of inpatient shifts in the past year, I’m basically averaging about 1 project per week on the weeks that I have the energy for creative pursuits.

Looking back, it seems like about half the things I made this year were 1800s-1810s and 1900s underwear that no one is ever going to see. Hopefully I’ll get around to making actual clothes to go over these pieces in the coming new year.

[reanimatedgh0ul]

ik this scene was played off as a joke but if i'm being honest this is like one of the few aspects when it comes to sam being alt that the show gets right in that it would make sense for sam to be diy w his fashion

[thefaultinourchickennuggets]

i'm crocheting a bag and wanted to add a fabric lining so i'm looking up how to do it and bitch!! she's got so much shit just to add some fabric to yarn, i don't have an iron!!