Complete! - the two dress mash-up

Well, we never did come up with an official term for combing two dresses into one garment (Whatsitsname), but I'm glad to say, it's done! I unpicked, re-positioned and re-stitched to produce a dress that not only fits me better, but also looks more up-to-date and stylish.

By removing the central panel from each of the two dresses, and replacing the plain blue one with the floral one, I've managed to create a passable impression of a "body-con" dress. The floral panel was slightly wider than the plain one it was replacing, so gave me a few extra centimetres to accommodate my slightly curvier shape. I had to cut into the yoke panel on the plain dress, which was a bit scary - for everything else I had just been following established seams. I placed the floral panel on top, and used that as a template for the required shape. It's worked quite well, although the new bust-line is quite high. This is a dress that needs to be worn with really good underwear!

I was also very lucky with the lengths of the two dresses - they were really very close. For a few brief moments of joy I had thought that they were exactly the same length, but actually there was about half a centimetre's difference. Luckily the length belonged to the plain dress, so it was a simple case of lowering the floral panel a little, rather than the whole dress. Phew!

I'm pleased with the finished result, and even had it done in time to wear to a summer wedding. Project completed and on time - result!
Hx

Whatsitsname?

Does anybody know if there's an official name for combining two garments into one?
I know that when it's done with songs it is called a "mash-up" (I've seen far too many episodes of "Glee"!)
And I know that when it's done with cars it's called a "cut-and-shunt" (and is highly illegal!)

But I have these two dresses that I'm thinking of combining into one "body-con" style dress, and I have no idea what the technical term for that is. Can anybody help?
Hx

Trouser adaptation - from flares to "with flare"

I have a good pair of wool tweed flares, which have seen me through a number of official engagements. They are smart enough to suggest business dress, but the flare hints at unconventionality.
 I hadn't worn them for a while - being off sick meant a lack of business appointments - but I recently decided they had languished in the back of my wardrobe too long. I put them on again for the first time in three years, and was promptly reminded that I've put on weight while I've been convalescing. I can still get into them, but they are now uncomfortably (and rather un-flatteringly) too tight.

Hurrah! Another excuse for an adaptation-job!

My first thought was that there is quite a lot of fabric on these trousers, and that it might look good combined with some crocheted lace and made into a paneled blouse. Whilst hunting out patterns, I was forced to face up to the fact that such a blouse would have to be quite close fitting, and this may not be terribly comfortable in wool tweed.

I began to look at them again, this time bearing in mind that they would be more use to me as trousers, if I could adapt them to accommodate my slightly fuller shape. A few brain-strains later I started to form some ideas.

First things first - get rid of the flares! 

The front and back panels of these trousers are different widths, so I had to measure them separately to work out how much fabric I would need to remove. I also wanted to insert a contrasting side panel all the way down the outside leg (to give extra girth, and to look pretty!). So, this seemed the right time to do a bit of de-construction. I unpicked the outside-leg seam all the way from the hem to the waistband, and the inside-leg seam from hem to just above the knee.

I measured the width of both the front and back panels at various points down the leg and took the narrowest measurement as the width I would make the new legs.

 To ensure that the new leg-shape remains even, any fabric has to be removed from each side of the fabric equally. If I were to cut from one side only, the legs would end up curved!
So, to keep everything balanced the measurements have to be made from the centre outwards. Having measured and marked these, I cut off the excess fabric, and stitched up the inside leg seam again.


I then set about planning for the contrasting side panel. I had a piece of red wool suiting fabric left over from a project some years back. It was long enough and wide enough for this, and although it isn't quite as weighty as the tweed, it is still wool, so washing won't be a problem.

There were two aspects I needed to take into account in re-construction. First, the waistband. A quick try-on and re-measure had convinced me that I was going to have to expand this too! And secondly there is a rather attractive (but somewhat complicating) turn-up on the trousers. This triple-layered cuff, and the waistband would have to be replicated on the contrasting panel to prevent the adaptation from looking like a simple extension-job!

First of all, I had to create the "cuff". If I had been making this garment for someone else, I would have deconstructed the trousers further, undoing the turn-up and re-sewing it when the side panel had been attached. When sewing for myself, however, I am a little less precise. As long as it looks okay from the outside, and wont fall apart, I'm generally pretty happy with it!
I don't think I've ever really studied trouser turn-ups before, but they are actually very clever. There is a real genius to creating them without having an external seam. Here the fabric is folded back on itself, and stitched just below the height of the cuff. The fabric is then folded back again, and a small seam allowance is pinned to the back layer, to be hand-stitched later. It may well be possible to do this last step with a blind hemming foot, but that was more than I could get my head around! (If anyone knows the technique, I would love to hear it)

 The waistband was the second (and simplest) step. Having measured and checked the length, I created a waistband at the top of the piece using the same technique as you would for any garment. This is incredibly simple on a straight piece of fabric. The only complication was ensuring that the finished band matched the height of the trouser waistband.

Finally, I cut the two panels and stitched one into each outer leg seam. Waistband and cuffs were carefully aligned, and the seam allowance was back-stitched  by hand into the garment to prevent any unsightly edges peeping out. The last stage was to hand-stitch the hem on those turn-up extensions.


I'm quite pleased with finished result. I've worn them a couple of times now, and received nice comments. However, the more I wear them, the more I feel that they have a slightly military look. I think I may add some lace detailing to give a little more femininity. I'm sure there's some peach or cream antique lace somewhere in granny's stash. This adaptation may not be over yet - I'll let you know!

Hx

Adapted sweatshirt

This was another of those pre-loved sweatshirts that I was given. The quality is good, but the style was just not me - another long, baggy, hooded top that would not have been out of place at a sailing club. Sad to say the likelihood of me going sailing is extremely slim, so it seemed more useful to adapt it to something more suited to my lifestyle.

Off came the hood, and the neckline was trimmed down to create a boat-neck (apologies for seeming to be a stuck on the nautical theme!).

Off came the elasticated waistband and cuffs.

Off came the pouch pocket.

Off came approximately five inches of the length.

Some of the removed length was used to create a new dropped collar. The pocket was cut into two, and re-positioned to give side patch-pockets. And the bottom and cuffs were given a simple turned hem.

The new shape and style

And so to the decorations! I had an old t-shirt made of fine netting fabric with a rose pattern. It was another garment that had seen better days, and that I no longer wore. Out with the scissors! I spent a very happy afternoon cutting out all the individual flowers and leaves.

Some of the flowers were incomplete, and had an almost straight line down one side. Rather than throw these away, I decided to utilise the flat edges of the re-positioned pockets. With careful placing, the flowers looked as if they were peeping out from behind the seams. I also had one of them positioned at a pocket opening, with similar effect. By happy chance, placing the flowers in this way also covered any slight mis-alignment of the stripes on the pockets and the main body. I had positioned the pieces carefully when I pinned them, but the fabric shifted very slightly during stitching. This is probably one of those moments when a walking foot on my sewing machine would have been helpful!

I kept the decorations on the pockets themselves to a minimum - opting to embroider only leaves rather than whole flowers. These were stitched before the pockets were attached to main body, and I used thread in a slightly lighter tone of green to give some definition. I like the detail it creates.

All of the flowers were stitched using the freehand embroidery foot on my sewing machine. I used the faint detailing on the flowers and leaves as a rough guide, and went over each stitched line twice. This gives some shape to the roses, as well as a slightly shabby-chic feel to the whole piece.
I think freehand machine embroidery is rapidly becoming my new crafting addiction! Apart from liking the finished results, I really enjoy the process. There is something extremely satisfying about putting my foot down on the sewing-machine pedal whilst steering the fabric in every which way. It's like having control and complete chaos at the same time, and the finished result has potential, but little predictability. As the late, great Spike Milligan said, "We don't have a plan, so nothing can possibly go wrong!"

H x

Linen culottes adaptation

Among the pre-loved clothes that I have been given was a very lovely pair of black linen culottes. Sadly, they were too small for me. Gladly, in my vast stash of fabric I had some pale green linen of a similar weight. Again I have reason to thank my late paternal grandmother's addiction to textiles! I suspect the fabric had originally been intended to make napkins or a table-cloth. Instead it has become a practical and decorative border to a pair of culottes, and a matching top.

I decided to adapt the garment from the waist - since this was the area that was too small for me. The original had a zip at one side. So, I put on the culottes, zipped the zip up as far as it would go, and then marked the position with chalk as the new waist position. I marked all the way around at that height, before un-picking the zip down from the waistband to this same height. (This meant I didn't have to completely remove the zip, but could just re-stitch it into the replacement waistband.)

There had also been pockets in either side seam. By cutting off and replacing the waistband I was shortening the pocket opening. However, I was not too worried about this. These pockets are not the sort that I would want to fill too much, or put my hands into, as this would spoil the shape of the garment. There is still enough of an opening to be able to put a handkerchief into the pocket if needed.

To replace the waistband I cut a panel which was double the width of what I had removed, plus a bit extra for seams. I ironed interfacing along one half of the length for stability.

Confession time. I had a bit of a brain-melt moment when I was measuring the length of the new waistband, and it was a brain-melt moment that lasted quite a long time! Instead of measuring my waist, and  then adding a bit extra for seams (which would have been the right thing to do), I measured the newly cut waistband and added a bit extra for seams (which was completely the wrong thing to do!). When cutting off the old waistband, I hadn't taken into account the pleats in the fabric.

I carried on making the waistband, without even considering the implications of a waistband which was measuring at more than a metre! 

I attached it to the culottes and stitched in the zip.

I even completed the top-stitching.

And then I tried it on..... and the culottes slid down over my hips as if I was attempting to wear a small duvet-cover.                                                 That old adage of "measure twice, cut once" only applies if you are measuring the right bit!                                       Had I been making this for someone other than myself, this would have been the time to unpick and re-work. But I am not quite so scrupulous when it comes to my own garments. I took up the extra fabric in five rather generous pleats which I built into the waistband. I positioned two at the back and two at the front, each in line with the darts in the original garment. The remaining difference was turned into a box pleat in the centre front, in line with the central seam. They all seem to line up quite well, and look natural on the finished garment. I share my embarrassing mistake to help you avoid the same pitfall!

Finally, I wanted to put a panel at the bottom of the culottes. On a practical level, this was to replace the length that had been lost when I had cut off the old waistband. Although I had replaced some of this with the new waistband, the complete length had come in a little shorter. However, I also wanted to include it as a design feature. I liked that I could tie all the elements together by attaching a waistband-matching panel at the hemline, and then top-stitching it in a thread to match the main fabric. It was a small detail that I found  immensely satisfying.

Overall, I am happy with the final result.
I was also excited to realise that I had enough of the green linen to create a matching top, so look out for details of that in a blog-post soon!
H.x

Too old to risk a "muffin top"!

Some years ago, I was given three pairs of fashionable jeans. They were fabulous - well, the two pairs that fitted me were - but slightly too close to the hip for comfort. I always felt uncomfortable with the idea that if I sat or bent down, anyone behind me would get a dramatic view of bum-cleavage! It's not a look I particularly like in others, and I'm definitely not happy about sporting it myself. Apart from anything else, I think you can only really get away with things like that when you are a certain age, or have spectacularly expensive underwear. I am way past that certain age (the words "mutton" and "lamb" spring to mind - hope that's not just a British saying), and I've never felt justified to spend a lot on garments that are hidden from view.

So, apart from the odd occasion worn with a long jumper, I seldom wore these fabulous jeans. And it always felt like a waste to wear them with a long jumper - and lose my waist.

First, a confession. The photos in this post are appalling! My apologies for this. I could use all sorts of excuses, but really these photos are worse than is excusable! I share them because I really want to share the process of adapting these jeans - that is the interesting bit, after all. So I give you my poor photos, my apologies and my promise that I will try harder!

First things first - I took off the waistband. Strictly speaking at this point it was a "hip-band", but the process was the same - care and patience with a seam ripper and a pair of scissors, with extra attention to remove the belt loops and logo-tag in one piece. The transition from hip-band to waistband involved some shortening, but I was lucky. The position of the belt loops and the amount I needed to shorten balanced out. When I cut off a section of the hip-band to make it fit my waist, everything still looked even.
I opted to cut from the button end of the band. This meant that I wouldn't have an unsightly seam in the middle of my waistband, that I could match a new button to buttons I would be including in the extension panel, and that any possible lumpiness that might occur in squaring off the new end would be hidden behind the buttonhole! As it worked out, that last concern wasn't an issue, but I've always been cautious.

The next step was to calculate the size of the panel needed to fill the gap. I won't bore you with the maths involved (although do contact me if you want to know the details), but basically I chose to insert a panel which was the size of the hip measurement, and reduce it to the desired waist measurement by inserting darts. The two pieces side by side looked a bit daunting - and that was before I had cut any length off the waistband! It seemed like I would have some massive darts to incorporate.

Actually it worked out okay. For once I was grateful for my almost "straight-up-and-down" figure (I believe the recognised term is "boyish". I have always craved curves). I managed the required reduction with four reasonably sized darts. I positioned two at the back and two at the front, with each dart extending about half way down the extension panel.

There is a salutary lesson here. When I was calculating the positions of these darts, I measured out from the centre point of the fabric. It seemed perfectly sensible at the time. However, when I came to put all the pieces together, the darts weren't quite where I was expecting them to be! After a bit of head-scratching I realised I hadn't taken into account that stitching the first set of darts changed the measurements. My advice would be - measure and stitch your back darts before measuring for the position of the front darts. It wasn't too drastic as the darts are virtually invisible anyway, but they are a little further over than I was expecting!

My next concern was the seam around the top of the original jeans. I try to over-lock as much as I can, for strength as well as neatness. It wasn't until I had unpicked the waistband of the jeans that I discovered just how much of a scrappy unfinished edge is concealed under that top-stitching! My original plan had been to simply stitch my extension panel to the top of the jeans. However, the condition of that edge gave me concerns that the seam wouldn't hold and the jeans would just fray (not to mention being uncomfortable against the skin). I remembered vaguely having sewn an enclosed seam for a pair of trousers, but it was a long time ago and I couldn't remember the technique. Then, as luck would have it, I stumbled across an explanation for French seams. Hurrah! A solution!

French Seams
For those who are familiar with dressmaking, but not with French seams, here's a brief explanation of the technique.
First, (and completely opposite to sewing normal seams when dressmaking) the two pieces of fabric are stitched together wrong sides facing.
To be honest, this concept messed with my head a bit. It goes against everything I've ever done when dressmaking. The reason it feels so awkward is that when the seam has been sewn all the rough edges are on the outside of the garment. I had to pin and check several times before I dared put it under the sewing machine. Even knowing that the seam wasn't yet complete, it just felt incredibly wrong!

The next step is to fold the pieces of fabric over, so that they are right sides together. This makes more sense to dressmakers! Re-pin the seam-line, enclosing all those rough edges.

On finer fabrics, or when the bulkiness of the seam might be an issue, the seam allowance can be trimmed prior to doing this. When this part of the seam has been stitched you are left with a totally enclosed (and very strong!) seam.
Incidentally, you can see in this photo that I applied interfacing to the ends of the extension panel. This is to give added structure where the buttons and buttonholes will be placed.


...And on with the jeans!
Although you would generally trim down the seam allowance I didn't bother, as the finished French seam would later be top-stitched. By using a thread that matched the colour of the original seams, this gives some continuity to the added panel. It begins to look like it has always been there. It also makes the seam very, very strong. Long after these jeans have dissolved and perished, that seam will still be intact!

The final stages were fairly simple. Firstly I reattached the now shortened waistband by pinning it in place and top-stitching it in the matching thread.

The belt loops and logo-tag were a little harder to deal with. Due to the bulkiness of the layers I found that my sewing machine didn't want to feed the fabric loops, so I applied "on-the-spot" zig-zag stitches at each end instead.
The logo tag had such defined stitch holes in it that it seemed a waste not to use them. I hand-stitched the base of the tag into place.

Then it was simply a case of placing buttons and buttonholes in the newly extended front. I included two extra buttons to the extension panel, and matched them with a third on the original waistband. By doing this I managed to avoid having to remove and replace the zip - that's far too daunting for me at the moment! If I ever pluck up courage to tackle changing a jeans zip, I'll let you know how I get on.
H.x

Freehand machine embroidery

A good friend gave me a couple of tops that she no longer wears. They were good tops, but not quite my usual taste, and a little too defined in their commercial style. However, she knows me well (I've made some items for her in the past), and she's very generous. When I asked whether she would mind if I altered or adapted them, she replied that that would be no problem at all.

Hurrah! Out came the scissors and sewing machine. Also, out came the free-motion embroidery foot for the sewing machine. I've had it for a while, but not quite been brave enough to start playing with any conviction. This seemed like the ideal opportunity, as I had neither sentimental attachment to the clothes, nor a fear of wasting good fabric. If things went wrong, I wasn't going to feel too bad about it.

Firstly, off came the hood! I'm not averse to being a "hoodie", but I think I'm getting a bit too old for the look. The top had a fairly low neckline, so I cut off the hood and replaced it with a contrasting border.

 There was also a rather nifty overlap detail where the hood joined. This allowed me to make a feature of the transition between the original neckline and the added border.

Incidentally, all the red fabric pieces used in this project are cut from one of hubby's old work-sweatshirts. I used the reverse side so that the colour was fresh, and actually this added an interesting texture to the pieces too.

Next, I cut a selection of organic shapes suggestive of leaves, flowers and circles. I arranged them in a satisfying pattern on the front of the top, before setting to work with the free motion embroidery foot.


I made a couple of valuable discoveries as I worked.
 Firstly, and probably most important, I discovered that the texture of the reversed sweatshirt fabric didn't swallow  the machine embroidery detail as I had feared it might. Instead, as I mentioned above, it gave an interesting texture.

 Secondly, I discovered that by simply trying to embroider in a spiral radiating from the centre of a circle, and then following that same line in again, I was able to produce an effect not dissimilar to a Charles Rennie Mackintosh rose. This gave me a huge sense of satisfaction. I love the Art Deco style, and I also love it when a simple technique produces beautiful results.

In fact, by using some really basic and naive shapes in the embroidery, I was able to produce some satisfying effects. For example, just defining the petals and centre of this flower shape in black thread created a hint of naive folk art in the style. This can be heightened by stitching twice (or more) over the pattern.
Combined with the unfinished edges of the shapes, this gives the whole piece a feel of deliberate shabby-chic.

I had to be careful not to get carried away with my ideas, so restrained myself when it came to embroidering the leaf shapes. For these I simply followed the outline of the shapes.

I then added the red embroidered swirls onto the black background to tie the whole aesthetic together. I used a tailors chalk to pre-mark the lines, and then embroidered over them with the same double line I had used when embroidering the shapes. 

Finally, I added the circle and swirls to the back of the piece, to give some continuity throughout. 

I wore the top when I next met up with my friend. "Recognise this?" I asked, and after squinting hard at me for a couple of seconds she shrieked, "Oh my God, yes! Wow! That looks great!"

I already quite liked the piece, but it meant a lot to get her seal of approval as well.

H.x