So my very lovely lady Nikki has a Special Event to attend this weekend with her husband. It is her first Really Special Event in a while and coincided with her birthday-ish (hiphiphooray!) so it warranted a bit of frenzied dress and accoutrement procurage. (is that even a word?)
So, after some referral to trinny and susannah and Gok Wan, she made some ebay decisions (the first of which ended in a fit of giggles and muttering along the lines of “RSL pokies room”) and came up with a nice slinky modern take on an Edwardian frock. After some thought, we decided to shorten it to show off her luverly legs and ankles.
Seemed like a reasonable suggestion.
At the time.
Until today when I realised I’ve never actually worked with slinky stretch net, and that I had no black overlocker thread. Ah well, always up for a challenge, and quite frankly, Nik had braved our “pox de chook” quarantine zone, and she was one of the first adults I’d seen in a week. If a woman is that brave, I have to be brave right back.
So, we kicked it off with coffee and scones and then she put on the whole ensemble and did a twirl, nice, but yes, frock too long.
So, I measured vaguely, worked out how much of each layer to hack off before attempting a hem, and we felt quite cheerful (read, cocky) about it all. Now, for those who have hung around patchworkers, or thrifty depression-era types, you’ll have heard the line “Measure twice, cut once.” We certainly have. And we will never forget it again.
So, being cocky, caffeinated, hot and over tired, I just took the length off with my rotary cutter and set about the hem, which worked beautifully. And it would have stayed so, had Nikki not tried the damn thing on to check we had gotten it right.
We hadn’t. Forgot to leave bloody allowance for her and her bloody magic lifting garments. Dress had gone from long and elegant to short. The words “Gosford Skirt” were snorted in semi amused disgust. There was an awful silence. We went to look at it in another mirror. We put the shoes on. Nope. My teeth gritted and I recalled that bit in my brain which knew darn well how bad I was a hemming things. I blame it on being Aries, far too impatient. Better to pay people at the laundromat. Nikki gritted her teeth and said it was ok, she could buy another one on ebay. Her fingers twitched.
“Sorry Nik. I’ve frocked it up.” grins.
So, hunt for the offcut, halve it, stitch it back on, whip and roll hem. If you look closely, you can see the dodgy bit, but its a black dress, for a night time sit down dinner thing. Phew! I remind Nik to wear really interesting fishnets. Between them and the balconette no one will notice……will they? Erk. Then for the over layer.
By this point we had eaten lunch, the babies were both asleep, and Zephyr was watching Gardening Australia happily. This time, given the manufacturers had hemmed this layer wonky style, I decided to hem based on their hem. My reasoning was that then it would be their fault, not mine. The hem required no folding, just overstitching in a nice fluted manner. I started measuring. (we do things in inches often now, mostly i think it is because the numbers are marked in larger font on the tape measure and are easier to read.)
Z:OK. Lets cut 3 inches off and then try it on.
N: Yep. No, I was just thinking. No I dunno what I was thinking. (walks out) Z: (follows) Ok, come on, 3 inches That or 5 inches. N: OK. (looking indecisive)
Z: Alright, lets leave it to the Universe. We’ll flip for it. (gets 5c coin)
N: What are we calling? (Z flips coin)
Z: Heads 3, Tails 5.
(coin flips to heads)
I then proceeded to measure, chalk, cut, fit. Too long.
measure, chalk, cut, fit. getting dangerously close.
Hem. twice.
FITS!
A nice sharp kick in the sewing machine. I still have to bead her clutch, but that’s a walk in the park for me.
So, now I might be able to get this last kid over the pox and get on with mousepocket .
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“…I still have to bead her clutch…”
Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Wow, I’m so out of the loop.