Monthly Archives: September 2013

Testers?

Almost two years ago, I designed a little woolen jumper for my niece, Lucy, in Brooklyn Tweed Loft. Ada obligingly modeled Winter Garden back in January of 2012. (It doesn’t sound all that long ago, given that this is only 2013, but oh my heart, look how little she was!)

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(This expression has endured, I’m happy to say. 100% Ada Lillian right there.)

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Close-ups of the Fluted Rib bodice and the colorwork:

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I had every intention of getting the pattern done soon after these photos were taken. But the sizing and, oh yes, the growing baby on board scuppered that plan. I’m happy to say I’ve finally righted the ship and Winter Garden is now ready for testing in sizes 12-18 months, 2/3, 4/5, and 6/7. I’ve altered the fit a little so it’s more of a bell skirt than a bubble, and it’s a longer length in the upper sizes. If you’re game for a project at 8 7 sts/” with some techniques that are probably new to you, leave a comment and I’ll be in touch! UPDATE: I’ve got folks willing to be formal testers for all sizes now. Thanks, everyone!

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Waterspout

This title is not, I am happy to report, a description of my nasal passages. My timely application of tea, wool, and Richard Armitage seems to have done the trick and the cold is at bay. No, I’m talking about what the itsy bitsy spider climbed up. That song was Ada’s favorite as soon as she could talk, and now it is also part of her favorite dress. She obliged me by posing for some pictures, so today I can show you one of my crafty triumphs of the summer:

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Can I tell you how much I love the Geranium dress pattern? I eyed the lovely versions appearing on Rae’s blog all winter and spring. Then I stumbled across the Heather Ross Nursery Versery fabric (psst… it’s on sale at that link!) at Cool Cottons and I knew what I had to do.

For me, the cutting out of the pattern and the fabric is the big hurdle to sewing. Once I get to sit down at the machine, I can steam along, but I need a push to get past that initial block. So I set myself the task of making not one but two of these dresses and finishing them before we went to New York for my niece’s birthday. Lucy got the really special treatment: Nani Iro Little Letter cotton lawn. My own child is not nearly pretty enough for this fabric. Don’t get me wrong; I think my girl is gorgeous. But Ada’s is a vigorous, uncurried beauty. Single gauze, ruffles, and daintiness in general are not for her. Lucy, on the other hand, has an impeccably curated wardrobe and submits gladly to hygiene and adornment. If ever a three-year-old could wear beautiful Japanese cotton lawn, she’s the one. This stuff was so lovely I could hardly bear to begin with it. I pictured it slurped into the guts of my sewing machine and mangled irretrievably. But fear has no place at the workbench and it does no good to make anything too precious. I held my breath and stitched. And it went beautifully.

Lucy got Version A, with the ruffled sleeves and the gathered skirt. (The fabric demanded it.) I wish I had a picture for you, but that didn’t happen while we were in the city. Ada got the more structured Version B, with the cap sleeves and the pleats and the pockets—definitely the pockets—which suited the cotton/linen blend of the Nursery Versery. I considered the sleeveless version, but I’m glad I went with the cap sleeves. I was afraid they might overwhelm her little shoulders, but that wild mop of hair balances out pretty much any width you might add to her silhouette lower down! Both girls got the 4T size in the hope of stretching the wear through next summer as well.

I never felt beyond my depth with this pattern and found it clear and educational. The one thing I’m left wanting to know is how the heck you’re supposed to finish a curved seam around those pockets. I opted for pinking shears because I couldn’t think of a better way to do it. But it felt so much more satisfying and professional to flat fell the skirt seams on Lucy’s dress. (Actually, I had to unvent something between a flat fell and a French seam to solve a disaster. As careful as I thought I was being with that delicate lawn, when I went to trim one seam allowance to set up the flat fell, I cut both layers for several inches. Ack! So I trimmed both allowances to 1/4″, cut a new strip of 3/4″, and stitched it on along the whole seam. Then I folded it over the original allowances, pressed them down, and edge stitched the resulting sandwich.) Help, sewists: what should I do about the pockets on the next one? Because there’s sure to be a next one.

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Coddling

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I have a cold coming on. This is no surprise; Jolly has been snortling since last week and it’s hard to avoid catching germs from people who love to slobber affectionately all over your face and poke their fingers into your mouth. It’s another sign that fall is coming, despite the blasts of humid heat that keep interrupting the natural progression of the seasons. Here’s a story about the strange weather, tangentially:

Yesterday we had a rare—though not so rare this past month—thunderstorm. We arrived home to find a six-pound bag of epsom salts destroyed all over the bathroom. And the basement corner where we’ve piled our boxes of shelfless books looked as though it had been nested in by monster sea rats or possibly beavers of prehistoric size—boxes had been upended, corners had been gnawed off most of them, books were cascading onto the floor. We anxiously entertained the thought that, without the deterrent of the cat we lost last year, mice had moved in. A lot of mice. But Mr. G assured me that the scale of the damage was too epic to be the revenge of the little fellas I recently evicted from the garage. Maybe monster sea rats really had moved in? I mean, life at sea can’t be what it was for the rats, now that wooden tallships full of stinking bilgewater and offal are so thinly distributed around the globe. And maybe now that they’re holed up on dry land in our basement they missed the brine and that’s why they went for the salt bag? It took me an hour to connect the wanton destruction with the storm. Poor Lark hasn’t the neurological constitution to endure severe weather. Even with her family close for comfort, she’s a quivering, panting wreck if there’s thunder or even heavy rain. Home alone, she clearly tried to preserve her life by frantically burrowing for shelter, first behind the bathtub and then in the basement, shredding everything in her path. I am now seriously considering buying her a “thunder shirt,” even as I roll my eyes at the pampered pet culture that spawns such things. Maybe I could sew one myself out of Ada’s old swaddling blankets. I do feel for the dog, terrified as she must have been. And next time she could decide to take refuge in the yarn closet!

But back to my sinuses. Since this is a work-at-home day for me, I decided the best remedy for a nascent cold was a gurt big breakfast of poached eggs (from our friends’ chickens) on toasted olive bread (am I the only one who’s charmed that a slice from a good boule looks like a rabbit?) with a hillock of lovely golden chanterelles sautéed in butter and a pot of Townshend’s No. 10 Sticky Rice Pu-erh tea. Where has this tea been all my life? It doesn’t actually contain sticky rice, but the tea has been scented with nuomixiang, an herb that tastes exactly like it. It comes in little paper-wrapped “nests” that can steep forever without turning bitter. Also good for coddling yourself is a sumptuous heap of Brooklyn Tweed Loft. (Can you guess why I’m winding these up today? It’s something I meant to do about eighteen months ago…) But first I think I’m going to weave in the last three ends on my Moroccan Nights to get perfectly cozy. I’ve already queued up the BBC’s North & South on Netflix. Being under the weather isn’t all bad.