Beatriz
02-17-2003, 06:03 PM
{The following is in NO WAY meant as a slam or anything negative against either the e-pattern or talented lady whose website I got it from}
Warning number two--this is a loooooong one!
A while back I asked for some advise on making a chemise. Several of you were generous with your advice.
So, after procrastinating FAR too long, I played hookey from work today and tackled the trial run chemise.
Good thing I didn't use the good lace fabric.
I followed the directions from Lara's site. I happily ripped my muslin into four pieces. Gleefully I began sewing. I was entranced and rather proud of myself. Steps one and two were completed with no major snags. Time to lug this huge bunch o'muslin to the mirror to see how its shaping up.
And then. . . tragedy struck.
You see, I'd sewn the arms into the body of the chemise. So unless I planned to walk around without my bodice and *with* my arms pinned to my sides, this was not going to work.
I swore. And I sat on the couch and carefully unpicked the seams (and learned to serge the egdes BEFORE I begin construction, not after, because now I had to rip all that out and resew that, too! Lesson number one for today)
Fabric unsewn, I return to the dining room table, re-read the directions I'd printed from the website. And read them again. And again. after about the 12th read thru, when I realized I didn't have a single, solitary clue of how to put this cursed chemise together, I decided it was time to take a break. Shower, lunch and then I was ready to tackle this project once again.
This can't be *that* difficult, can it? I'm a reasonably intelligent woman who has a bachelor's degree--not to mention 18 months experience teaching computers. If I can do that, I can do anything.
Except sew, it seams. Or seems. Whatever.
Re-read the directions again. Go get my favorite chemise. Study its construction. Study directions. Twist pieces of fabric around like jigsw puzzles, trying to get them to fit. Cry. Stick pins into fingers. Re-read directions. Get an idea. Get smart and pin the @#$3 thing together this time before sewing to see if its right. Drag fabric to mirror. Pull on, poking self in boobs several times with straight pins during process.
Realize that it's *still* not right. Cry some more. Swear blue blazes and call best friend names, since this is all HIS fault you need a new chemise. Vow to learn to sew well enough to make voodoo doll in his image so you can stick pins in him. Remember that you often have to pin his sash on him before faire and swear at Save the Boobies he will feel your wrath for this day. :cuss:
Feel the cathertic relief of blaming all this mess on someone else. Return to drawing board. Remove pins. Study favorite chemise. Study scraps of muslin that lay on the cutting board, taunting you. Pick up shears and threaten to turn them into confetti. Realize you are yelling at fabric. Put down the scissors. :augh:
Re-read instructions. Hurl instructions across room, swearing that access is easier to learn than sewing. Get an idea. Sew some, rip out some seams, pin like mad and grin proudly. NOW it is right. Take heap of muslin to mirror once again, this time prepared to do a victory dance.
Only to discover...
the sleeves STILL ain't right. Crumple to the floor in a heap and cry. No new very cool black spider web lace chemise. No new plain white muslin this-is-a-test-only-a-test chemise.
And that's why I don't sew. :tantrum:
Warning number two--this is a loooooong one!
A while back I asked for some advise on making a chemise. Several of you were generous with your advice.
So, after procrastinating FAR too long, I played hookey from work today and tackled the trial run chemise.
Good thing I didn't use the good lace fabric.
I followed the directions from Lara's site. I happily ripped my muslin into four pieces. Gleefully I began sewing. I was entranced and rather proud of myself. Steps one and two were completed with no major snags. Time to lug this huge bunch o'muslin to the mirror to see how its shaping up.
And then. . . tragedy struck.
You see, I'd sewn the arms into the body of the chemise. So unless I planned to walk around without my bodice and *with* my arms pinned to my sides, this was not going to work.
I swore. And I sat on the couch and carefully unpicked the seams (and learned to serge the egdes BEFORE I begin construction, not after, because now I had to rip all that out and resew that, too! Lesson number one for today)
Fabric unsewn, I return to the dining room table, re-read the directions I'd printed from the website. And read them again. And again. after about the 12th read thru, when I realized I didn't have a single, solitary clue of how to put this cursed chemise together, I decided it was time to take a break. Shower, lunch and then I was ready to tackle this project once again.
This can't be *that* difficult, can it? I'm a reasonably intelligent woman who has a bachelor's degree--not to mention 18 months experience teaching computers. If I can do that, I can do anything.
Except sew, it seams. Or seems. Whatever.
Re-read the directions again. Go get my favorite chemise. Study its construction. Study directions. Twist pieces of fabric around like jigsw puzzles, trying to get them to fit. Cry. Stick pins into fingers. Re-read directions. Get an idea. Get smart and pin the @#$3 thing together this time before sewing to see if its right. Drag fabric to mirror. Pull on, poking self in boobs several times with straight pins during process.
Realize that it's *still* not right. Cry some more. Swear blue blazes and call best friend names, since this is all HIS fault you need a new chemise. Vow to learn to sew well enough to make voodoo doll in his image so you can stick pins in him. Remember that you often have to pin his sash on him before faire and swear at Save the Boobies he will feel your wrath for this day. :cuss:
Feel the cathertic relief of blaming all this mess on someone else. Return to drawing board. Remove pins. Study favorite chemise. Study scraps of muslin that lay on the cutting board, taunting you. Pick up shears and threaten to turn them into confetti. Realize you are yelling at fabric. Put down the scissors. :augh:
Re-read instructions. Hurl instructions across room, swearing that access is easier to learn than sewing. Get an idea. Sew some, rip out some seams, pin like mad and grin proudly. NOW it is right. Take heap of muslin to mirror once again, this time prepared to do a victory dance.
Only to discover...
the sleeves STILL ain't right. Crumple to the floor in a heap and cry. No new very cool black spider web lace chemise. No new plain white muslin this-is-a-test-only-a-test chemise.
And that's why I don't sew. :tantrum: