A Tale of Two Shorts

Wow, admitting defeat is hard.  Admitting it with unflattering shorts is even harder.

This is a story of 24 hours, two shorts patterns, and lots of aqua twill.

I bought the Iris shorts recently and was looking forward to making them, especially because there have been lots of cute versions on Flickr and, well, I give in to peer pressure easily (see the Wiksten patterns for reference).  I had a gift card and decided to just go for it!  I've had some Lisette twill sitting around since March 2011 that would make a perfect wearable muslin, and in the meantime, I'd order the last two yards of Melody Miller Viewmasters anywhere and mint green twill to make for two versions.  I'd be adorable and I'd wear them to Savannah in August.  What would I wear with them?  That was seriously my biggest concern.  I hadn't even attempted the pattern yet and I was worried about coordination.  (Don't tell me you don't do that.)

How the mighty have fallen.

These shorts were a mess.  A mess!

So major props to my phone for producing such crappy pictures, but I wanted to send these to my mom before I made a final decision.  These were left unhemmed, because, by the time the yoke facing was in, I knew I was in trouble.  The instructions were easy, but something was wrong.  Things weren't looking great.  I have wrinkles everywhere and my butt is even wider and flatter than usual.  

I would also like to note that these are supposed to be worn about an inch below your natural waist.  These came exactly to my waist.  I have a very short torso, so high waists aren't my friend at all.  The cute vintage look isn't for me.  When I buy shorts retail (I prefer Old Navy, just btw) I buy a size larger to wear them even lower just so I look a little more like a normal person than I am.

Okay, so I chalked this up to a learning experience and decided to salvage the zipper and move on with my life.  I still have two (very expensive) yards of Viewmasters and the mint green twill, which I bought exactly enough of for the Iris shorts.  What to do?  I knew Simplicity patterns were on sale at JoAnn this weekend, and chose the Lisette Souvenir shorts (S1879) because they also have a pretty big Flickr presence.  They were a quick cut-out and this time I decided to go true muslin and baste the whole thing together, not interfacing or even cutting facings until I knew what I was in for.

Well.  These weren't good either.  I'd even say they are worse.

I basted the side seam together where the zipper would go in case I needed to adjust when I was putting them on.  I didn't even bother with a zipper in the muslin.

What the hell is going on with these shorts?  They also sit too high on my waist and there's about a yard of extra fabric in the crotch but not enough in the waist?  Also, if it was possible to make my wide butt look about three feet longer, well, these accomplished it.  God, that's just bad.

The fun thing about basting is that you can be the Incredible Hulk and rip your clothes off:

And then your cat wonders if that's a new pile she can sleep on.

So what should I do, everyone?  Stick to retail?  That's where I'm leaning right now.  I do need some ideas for 1 1/8 yards of mint green twill and 1 yard of polka dot lining that would have looked so cute with it--any good skirts that will work with that?  I wish there was enough for a Beignet...

Also, I would like to note that I don't wear all aqua outfits everyday.  I just happened to be a crayon yesterday and today.  The two days I take pictures of myself, of course.

Big Ol' Fail

Let's talk about failure.  I've seen a lot of it lately.

Sometimes I wonder if I bring this onto myself by diving head-first into so many projects--at any given time, I have at least one embroidery project and one sewing project going simultaneously, but more often than not, I have even more.  My attention is always very divided, and I think that's just how I work; I have to multi-task at my day job, so I'm used to splitting my time and priorities and making sure everything gets done on time.  While there's usually no deadline for my personal projects, I get bored if they linger too long.

Naturally, because I'm a bit all over the place, so is my work.  However, I can normally hide that or just push through so I don't have as many challenges.  I'm not saying my work is perfect; the opposite is true, because my thread and bobbin rarely match at the end of a project, my invisible zippers never align at the top, and my buttonholes are a crazy-ass mess.  But I can hide things with a pretty fabric or a cardigan thrown over and no one notices.

This past weekend, however, the fails started rolling in, and apparently, they're sticking around for a while.

I cut out a ton of the Michelle Patterns Basic Wallets a couple months ago.  I could use a fat quarter for each and the only notion besides thread and interfacing was some magnetic snaps.  I thought it sounded great and easy and I'd be able to sell them quickly.

I finally sat down to make these Friday afternoon.  I used a heavyweight fusible interfacing, I Googled how to insert the magnetic snaps, and I was off.  Except they all look like shit.

Those are just a few of the ones I made.  As you can see, a couple are wonky and none have wonderful topstitching.  I'm guessing this is because I used a magnetic snap instead of Velcro, which I thought would be a great substitute but apparently not.  So now I'm sitting on all these crappy little wallets that will never sell.  What a waste of fabric!

I also have been trying to work through my stash, so I set out to cut two Simplicity 2209s from a couple prints I've had.  I've made this dress before, I think the fit is great, and it works really well for the office.  I cut out the first one from a Denyse Schmidt Hope Valley print--a navy basketweave which will translate well with tights and a sweater in the winter.  I also have been itching to use my Anna Maria Horner Summer Totem print I picked up from Cinnamon's in Jacksonville last Christmas.  It's so summery and bright--I was afraid the print would be too much, but I got a lot of support on Instagram, so I stopped hesitating and just did it.  I laid everything out twice, making sure I'd be able to fit both bodice pieces and both skirt pieces (I could finish the bodice with bias tape if I needed to).  I still don't know what happened, but when it came time to cut the skirts, this was in my way:

Kind of a crap picture, but I was over it.  That's the top of the front bodice, taking about four inches of room off the skirt fabric.  Well, that's just fantastic.  It was already a tight squeeze, and being a one-way directional, this just wasn't going to happen.

Do I scrap it or keep going?  I couldn't decide.  I think I spent 30 minutes folding and re-folding, moving the pieces around, shortening the skirt--just trying to make it work.  It wasn't happening.  My plan had failed and I felt like an idiot. 

In the end, I ordered another yard from Hawthorne Threads--that should be enough for one of the skirt pieces and I'll cut the other one out of the messed up fabric.  

It's just so frustrating to have high hopes and big plans and see them crash right in front of you.  I'm certainly no stranger to this kind of heartbreak, but it's still disappointing each and every time.  You always think you've learned!

How do you deal with your failures?  And is that too harsh of a word?  I wanted to use "challenges" but let's keep it real, folks.

A Week of Fail

I know I should be positive, but after the week I had creatively, I was completely disappointed in myself and my endeavors.  How did I go from spitting things out left and right the week before to ruining everything I touched?

So let's just sort some things out, shall we?

I decided to work on the Purl Soho Braided Handle Canvas Tote for me and my cousin.  This is what theirs looks like:

Beautiful, right?  Modern, clean, simple.  Even Nick liked it.

And these were mine:

Um...yeah.  Not so much.  The handles bunched, the corners came out messy, and the bias tape did not want to be sewn to that duck canvas no matter what I did.  It was a mess.  I gave up Wednesday night and left it alone until Saturday evening, when I decided just to get through both of them and move on with my life.  They will be sent to Goodwill.  Such a shame, but such is life.

Also I've apparently inherited the family curse for bread baking.  My mom can bake anything in the world--her pie crust is to die for, and her meringues are always perfect, despite living in Florida.  Yet, she cannot make anything bread-based.  Her rolls always burn, her breads don't rise.  It's sad.  But I thought I'd be safe when I attempted the Smitten Kitchen Braided Lemon Bread.  First of all, everything on that website is beautiful and wonderful and perfect.  Second, I thought, okay, doesn't look too hard.  I can do this.



Hers, in all its golden glory

Well, the dough never rose.  It just sat there in its greased bowl, looking more like cookie dough than anything.  I went back through the ingredients--nothing was missed.  I read the directions--I followed every step.  What happened?

I have no idea, but I threw it out Saturday morning, after over 24 hours of "rising."  It was so disappointing.  So I went to Giant, grabbed some Pillsbury bread dough from a can, and attempted to replicate it:

It certainly isn't the same, but I didn't want the filling to go to waste, so I had to do something with it.  Nicholas liked it, so that's all that matters.

Finally, I don't have a picture of this failure, but I'm working on the Oliver + S Ice Cream Dress for my parents' neighbor, and cut out her dress yesterday with the pattern going upside down.  Unfortunately there wasn't enough for me to finagle it and make it work, so I had to order another half a yard.

Can I get a collective ARGH! for last week?