Sadness

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Ever since the arrival of Louis, just before Xmas, other things have been on the back burner. We are first-time dog owners and on a steep learning curve. He’s energetic and mostly cheerful, adores new people, needs far more exercise than most pups his age (four months now) and gets his inquisitive nose into everything. And he chews and/or eats just about anything. So sewing has become a high-risk activity.

Hand sewing can take place relatively safely at the kitchen table. Getting the sewing machine out needs a bit of advance planning: no dog in the immediate area until the big red plastic Bernina box has been closed and stashed away. So far it’s undamaged, unlike the IKEA rocking chair, chewed all along its wooden arms. Unlike a series of very old books, none of them valuable but all of them well loved. Unlike the back garden… but let’s not go there right now.

Puppy kinder was lovely, but more is needed. Today I came back from the library with TWO books on how to train your puppy. From now on, everything’s going to be different.

Meanwhile the current sewing project has languished. This is unfortunate.

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The fabric came from Japan: a soft double gauze in dusty blue, plain on one side and white stripes on the other. Miss Matatabi sells an irresistible range of cottons, many of them from Nani Iro, who might just produce the most beautiful fabrics in the world. This one is very simple, chosen with the intention of making a long dress for summer.

But when the double gauze arrived, it just didn’t seem quite right for the pattern. Too light, a flyaway cotton, it wouldn’t hang right. This has been one of the greatest challenges to me as a novice seamstress: matching pattern to fabric. Get it wrong, and no matter how carefully you make the garment, it won’t be worth wearing.

I thought about using a pattern that would use both sides of the fabric, like Tessuti’s Ola tunic.

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This patterned linen was just a bit too heavy for the style, bunching under the arms and not really following the lines of my body. The double gauze, however, would be just the thing, and the pattern offers a version which is patched together from a range of fabrics. I could reverse the fabric, cut some of the pieces at right angles so that stripes were horizontal as well as vertical – perfect.

Meanwhile, however, I had been admiring the Tessuti Helga shirt pattern. Oversized, beautiful details, just my kind of thing. So, a week or two before we got the phone call from a dog rescue group to say that we were successful applicants for one eight-week-old pointer / beagle puppy, I forgot about Ola and went with Helga.

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One thing I failed to think about. Tessuti classify this pattern as suitable only for intermediate to advanced sewers. The complexity should have been obvious to me but wasn’t, so – having been duly warned – I ignored their good advice and went ahead. Cut it out. Starting tacking pieces together. Realised that I had never made a shirt with a proper collar, not to mention one with a broad swathe of interfacing all down the front and round the back of the neck, to be machine-sewn immaculately into place in due course. Managed not to contemplate the likelihood that said interfacing would not lie flat unless sewn extremely accurately into place… and so on. And that’s before we get to buttonholes. Haven’t started the buttonholes yet. Or found the right buttons.

In another life – the one in which Louis did not arrive just before Xmas – I probably spent a couple of days in January tacking, pressing, hand sewing, undoing seams, tacking again, swearing quite a lot, and eventually picking a good moment to do that perfect bit of machining up one side of the front of the shirt, round the back and back down the other side, all in one go. For me, this is not routine: it requires absolute concentration, no interruptions and a certain amount of luck.

In this life, the shirt has been packed into a (hopefully) puppy-proof plastic box along with basic sewing equipment, and placed on the bottom shelf of a bookshelf, taking the place of some of our more precious books which are now right up at the top, well out of reach. It comes out for the occasional half-hour of hand sewing – fix this little seam, unpick that one, read ahead in the instructions, work out what comes next, accumulate as much machine work as possible and do it all at once on a day when the puppy is asleep or elsewhere. The shirt goes to sewing group, and every month I find myself apologising for its lack of progress.

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It may turn out to be quite a wearable shirt. That is still possible. It won’t have the clean lines of the one in Tessuti’s picture, but it’ll be soft and loose and maybe not even obviously home-made. I’m not giving up on it. I like the way the side seams curve round to the front, and the way the stripes meet at an angle.

But it’s been hanging around for so long now. I’m glad I didn’t try to make the Toni dress out of this beautiful fabric, because it wouldn’t have worked. But I’m so sorry I didn’t choose to make the patchwork version of the relatively easy Ola tunic, which might have been finished before Xmas, and would have been worn all through this cool summer we’ve been having – just south of a serious heatwave – and would also have shown off the fabric to perfection. I’m sorry not just for not having a finished, summery top instead of a half-made shirt, but for the fabric itself, which deserved to be used with greater skill.

Meanwhile, on my way back from the library, I picked up a vintage pattern in a Sydney Road op shop for fifty cents.

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It’s Donna Karan, 1989, the pattern pieces cut to a size 14. I did love those big 1980s jackets, and I’ve still got a couple gathering dust in my wardrobe. It’s a bit Diane Keaton, as in ‘Annie Hall’.

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Will I ever make it? Maybe not. Certainly not until I’ve finished my neglected Chanel-style jacket, currently occupying a plastic bag upstairs, away from the puppy. But it’s lovely to think about the possibility. A Vivienne-Westwood-style loud check wool, perhaps? Just don’t let me do anything about it – beyond stickytaping the ripped envelope together – until I’ve finished the striped shirt.

 

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