sloping and revelry

you guys. its mardi gras.

fun fact: galveston has the second largest mardi gras celebration in the u.s. after new orleans, of course. i'm pretty sure its a distant second, but still...

not so fun fact: mardi gras is happening right outside of my window. and it goes on for twelve freaking days! wtf!! so. much. revelry! truthfully we don't get the revelers-in-the-midst-of-revelry outside of our window as much as we get the revelers-stumbling-to-their-hotels-and-cars. so. much. broken. glass. if you live anywhere near the downtown galveston area you will find your daily routine... impeded.

i think the world might be divided into mardi gras-ers and curmudgeons. i fall into the second camp. i've found myself putzing around my apartment and muttering to myself "don't these people have jobs?" more often than i care to admit. and yes - i realize that is the same thing that the grumpy 90 year old ww2 vet is doing too. i may also sigh and say "kids these days..." under my breath too. i always did feel a kinship with the over 60 crowd...

so to drown out the sound of blaring classic rock and drunken raucousness i've been doing what any sane sewista would do. i've buried myself up to my eyeballs in my patternmaking book, surrounded myself with measuring tape and pattern paper and colored pencils and erasers and rulers and muslin, in an effort to draft a sloper.

fellow sewers, do you slope? do you find it helpful to have this basic, made-to-your-measurement pattern on hand?

i am curious because i've always somehow felt that if i actually sit down and draft a sloper (or pattern block, whichever term you prefer - i don't really know if one is more correct than the other...) that it would magically open the door of designing to me. like all i needed was this flat pattern and then the world would be my oyster (sartorially speaking).

but the actual drafting of the sloper seemed so.... boring to me. first, you take your measurements. and these measurements aren't for the faint of heart. we measure things like bust arc and shoulder slope and new strap length (whatever the hell that is - i certainly don't know - but i measured it). you need these measurements for your front AND back. and this is where it gets tricky. unless you are skilled in the ways of dislocating your shoulders - getting accurate back measurements is impossible to do on your own. i asked my husband to help take my back measurements as i stood as naturally as possible while still craning my head in the mirror to see if he was doing it right.

then you do a little magic with your pencil and ruler and a little while later - you have a flat pattern of your upper torso. or so you think. i had to fudge some of my back measurements a bit because somehow my across waist measurement was bigger than my across back. i may not have the sveltest of waists, but even i was pretty sure this was a measuring error and not some quasimodo like proportions.

and this is where it gets deathly dull. because even though you thought you were all careful with your measurements and stuff - you have to test it. so you sew your sloper up in muslin. this is, without a doubt, the most boring garment sewing ever. but whatever, at least it goes fast. then you try on your sloper to see how it fits.

prepare yourself for awful photo booth pictures (and say hi to my messy apartment and winter belly - hi!)

this is my second test fit. the first was a good 2 inches too big all around. not sure how that happened - but rather than remeasure and redraft i just pinched and tucked out the excess then transferred those markings back to my flat pattern.

i'm pretty happy with the fit of the front. i may trim off a teensy amount in the shoulders to fit the slope of my shoulders more accurately. you can see the little bit of drag lines from the neck to the armpit in the first photo. when i lifted the shoulders just a smidgen (we're talking maybe 1/4 inch) the drag lines disappeared.

but this...

edit: perhaps you can see the wrinkles better in this equally bad photo?

is the back... i mean... whats going on back there? ignore the weird flipped up bottom. i'm running into the same problems fitting my back as i did trying to get measurements. unfortunately, my husband (bless him) isn't really much help in this matter. last night i thought perhaps i could talk him through helping me fit the back. it didn't go so well.

me: can you see where the big wrinkles are?

him: yes.

me: can you maybe locate where they are the worst?

i got an impromptu back scratch. perhaps to signify they were everywhere?

me: can you maybe find the big ones and pinch them out?

he pinched my butt.

well fine. this is why i have the internet. fellow sewinas (i just made that up) can you help me figure out whats wrong with the back of my sloper? is it too long back there? is it just too big all over? how do you fit the back of your garments? and most importantly - does anyone else use photo booth to help them assess fit?

if you're into mardi gras - may you have a fun filled and safe twelve days - and for gods sake keep it down!

xx

inspiration for the cold that never comes

images from the no. 6 blog

i'm not really sure what sort of lifestyle would render it possible for me to dress like this - but whatever it is... i want it. "swedish ranch hand" perhaps? "post-apocalyptic gypsy"? "mongolian sheep herder socialite"?

i just don't know.

but what i do know is that in another life i lived in a place that had cold weather. and when that cold weather hit i seriously contemplated wrapping my duvet around me, belting it, and calling it a day. maybe i'd throw on some super stylish clogs too.

but in all seriousness (sorta) its no secret that i love a little bit of drama in my looks, and there is just something about draped and layered fabric that has a certain theatricality to it. can you imagine the billowing that happens when the wind blows? when she walks? gasp! what a silhouette!

you can bet that when if the cold weather ever comes to my part of texas i will start eyeing up my navajo throw. and i suggest you do the same.

xx

hi. my name is sallie forrer, and i am not a witch.

Well, maybe I am.
I thought I should introduce my face to this here bloggy blog. Hello blog. This is me. And despite my feverish gesticulations with twigs, stringing together some vaguely Latin inspired words, and poking and prodding at newts, I am, as of yet, not a witch. However, I have been inspired to dress like one lately.
Today I wore a blanket / shawl. The impetus for this being me moaning and groaning about the house (a witch, no - but perhaps a ghost?) this morning, not wanting to go to work, and finally I called out to the man of the house "why don't I own a poncho?!?"
To which he thoughtfully replied, "I don't know - why don't I own a poncho?" (Uh oh! I know what someones getting for Christmas! Twinzies...)
Anyway I instead decided to throw this blankety item I bought from UO to keep the chill of the A/C off of my shoulders while at work over me and added this bestial belt and some shoesies. And I was off. On my broom In my car.

Wearing: UO blankety shawl thing, Anthropologie wolfman belt, Levi's Mom-butt high-waist jeans, Jeffrey Campbell clogs

I usually end up throwing some sort of blanket/shawl over me while at work anyway - since I get very cold - so I figured I might as well style it into some sort of outfit.

So full disclosure here: I really am not a witch (yes I am) but maybe it is just this Autumn-y time of year (its still really freaking hot) that has me thinking of cloaking myself (no seriously, I'm sweating) in layers and adding voluminous elements (to hide all the tacos I eat) to create a different silhouette (taco belly). Regardless I like the slightly mysterious "how does that woman use her arms" sort of feeling it gives. Answer: I don't. I'm typing this with my nose (see: witch). Plus, yesterday while at the Walgreens picking up the necessities and in full on drapey mode some fine gentleman, who wasn't creepy at all, stopped me and said, "You look so familiar, are you Russian?"
I didn't know if I reminded him of his babushka wearing grandmother or his mail-order bride who used him as a ticket to the U.S. then ditched his creepster ass. My thigh-high stockings and smudgy red lipstick leads me to think it was probably the latter.
xo
s.
p.s. I really am planning on giving ya'll (note: non-ironic use of ya'll) a post on things I am making very soon - since that is really what I want this blog to be about - not whatever asshole outfit I put together or my latest gripes about the 90's fashion trends. Okay bye!