ALERT: Charlietalk

There’s a big spider in my office downstairs. BIG. I go to the bottom of the stairs and call up to Bretty.

Me: “Bretty! Come help me catch this spider! It’s super big and I’m freaking out!”

Charlie appears at the top of the stairs, dragging a play-sword behind him. He looks concerned. The sword is at least three feet long. Taller than he is.

Me: “Daddy’s going to help me catch a big spider in my office.”

Charlie: “Is he gonna use my sword?”

a wildcards tutorial: the t-skirt

I’ve been playing around with the idea of morphing a t-shirt and skirt into one piece for a while now. I finally tried it. This is the result:

I’ve hung on to this skirt for several years. I love the print but the skirt just didn’t fit me quite right after Jack was born. Bummer. I saved it hoping my body would return to its former shape. No luck.
This turned out to be a pretty easy project. If you’d like to know how it was done, read on!

The T-Skirt Tutorial
Here’s what you’ll need:

One lightweight, elastic-waist skirt. Make sure it fits comfortably around your chest and you can take it on and off over your head.

Mine has thin elastic around the waist.

One form-fitting t-shirt. This one has a bit of spandex in it.

You’ll also need thread to match your t-shirt and your skirt. (You might need one more t-shirt to get the job done. Or not. Keep reading, and then decide.)

And that’s all you need.

Put on the t-shirt; then put the skirt on over it, right where you want it to rest around your chest. Safety pin the front; ask a family member or friend to help you safety pin the back. (If you’ve never met your neighbors, now’s a great time to break the ice.)

I am digging the photo above. I never look busty.

Remove the shirt/skirt and pin well so the layers don’t shift. You can make the job easier by placing a large rotary ruler or a book in between the layers (see next photo).

Note: I inherited a “gross” of safety pins from my mom years ago. Sometimes I just want to use them so I can justify keeping them. How much is a gross, anyway? A LOT. Anyway, in the step above, regular straight pins would have worked just fine.


Use thread that matches your skirt to sew around the bodice, following the existing stitching lines on the skirt waistband. My skirt had two lines of stitching, and I sewed along both of them.

At this point you can either 1) turn the piece inside out and cut away the length of the t-shirt to about 1/2" away from the seam you just sewed, or 2) leave it as is and wear your t-skirt with the full shirt underneath. I had planned to cut away the shirt length, but when I tried the piece on the spandex held in my two-baby stretch a bit. So I kept the entire t-shirt intact.

If you cut away the t-shirt length, congratulations—you have fabric to embellish your t-skirt. If you decide to leave the shirt intact, you’ll need to round up another t-shirt for embellishment. I chose this one:



Now, lets add a few details.

There are lots of ways to embellish with the t-shirt fabric or with any skirt fabric you’d like to cut from the length. This was my initial sketch of the project:

I decided that although I like this sketched design in theory, I wasn’t sure I would end up wearing it. So I changed my mind. Be sure to change yours too, if you like. But here’s exactly what I ended up doing.



Just below the skirt’s elastic waist, I sewed a 1" band of t-shirt fabric around the chest. I cut two 1"-wide strips from the width of the t-shirt—one about 1/2" longer than the skirt front, and one about 1/2" longer than the skirt back. No need to measure; just cut strips from the t-shirt, lay them across the front/back widths of the skirt, and cut the strips at least 1/2" longer than that.

Pin the back strip to the back of the skirt. Using a 1/8" seam, sew along the top of the strip. Repeat along the bottom of the strip. The strip should reach past the side seams of your skirt by about 1/4". Pin and sew the front strip to the front of the skirt in the same manner, overlapping and sewing over the back strip at beginning and end.

Sew a tight zigzag stitch to connect the front and back pieces together.

When I tried on the piece again I decided the skirt was a bit too long for me, so I cut away 1 1/2" in length from the bottom. To do that, I measured 1 1/2" from the bottom hem all around the skirt, making dots with a washable marker every two inches or so; then I cut along the dots with scissors. I tried it on and liked the length better.

I added a thick, doubled black border to the bottom of my t-skirt. I cut two 4"-wide strips from the width of the t-shirt—one 1/2" longer than the skirt front, and one 1/2" longer than the skirt back. Again, no need to measure; just cut strips from the t-shirt, lay them across the front/back widths of the skirt, and cut the strips at least 1/2" longer than that. Press the strips in half lengthwise, wrong sides together, and then unfold.

With right sides together, align and pin one long edge of the border along the back of the skirt; sew using a 1/4" seam. Repeat to attach the front border to the front of the skirt, overlapping and sewing over the back border at beginning and end. Press the seam toward the bottom of the skirt.



It should end up looking sort of like this on the outside.

Pin the short sides of the two overlapping borders together, making sure the seam you pin is perpendicular to the border seam you just sewed. Use a tight zigzag stitch to connect the short edges of the borders. Clip any overlapping fabric on the wrong side to 1/4", if needed.

Fold the border to the wrong side of the skirt, using the fold you pressed in earlier as a guide; pin. Change the thread on your machine to match the skirt. Sew the border layer to the bottom of the skirt using a 1/8" seam.



When you’re done, it should look like this on the wrong side of the skirt.

This is how it should look on the outside.

Now, I know I’m not model material. (Reason one: I’m 39. Reason two: I wear glasses. There are more reasons, but I’ll stop at the main two.) At the same time, I love to sew things to wear. When I see what others have sewn to wear, I really like to see the project on a body; it helps me envision what it might look like on me if I make it. I think others who sew might like that too. So, a bit uncomfortably, I asked Bretty to take some pictures of me in my t-skirt.



I wanted to try different backgrounds to get the best picture, so we took pictures in three different places. After a while, I started to get self-conscious. I asked Bretty for inspiration.



Me: “Bretty, I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Brett: “I dunno. Just do something else. Look in the pot. Imagine that you love the pot.”

Me: “Okay.”

I look down into the pot.

Me: “Oooh, I love the pot!”

Click.

And that’s the end of my t-skirt story.

There are many variations for playing around with this basic idea—as many as there are skirts and t-shirts! If you make one, I would love to see it. You can upload your photos here.

Hope you enjoyed your visit here. For more refashions you can check out my book ReSew. Thanks for stopping by!

Thrifted!: Hand-embroidered flowers. With love from Taiwan.

I love dressing up. On any average day, it’s unlikely that you’ll find me in sweats. I don’t typically head out (or stay in) in a t-shirt. And I never, never wear shorts. Long story. (We all have our body-image issues, right? ‘Nuff said.)

That being said, I’m no girly girl. I’m not into ruffles, or puffy shoulders, or lacy edgings. Flowery feminine flourishes aren’t really my style. But when I noticed a big, bright bouquet of fuzzy flowers on a sweater at my local thrift store, I stopped. I swear that sweater was pointing and giggling at me. I just had to point and giggle back.

Perhaps it’s a bit too flowery; a bit too feminine. But to me, it’s hand-embroidered happiness. And I just can’t say no to wearing that!

Ah, yes. A good thrift.

Next on my thrifting list: sweatshirts. Lots of them. I’ve been told I’ll be sharing a few of my sweatshirt refashions from ReSew on the PBS show Sew It All. I’ve got some major sweatshirt shredding to do before taping time come October. Get ready, rotary cutter.

Happy weekend—thanks for letting me share one of my favorite thrifts with you!

learning to fly

I fell in love with a sewing project recently. I found it at Artful Parent, who found it at Prudent Baby, who found it at Llevo el Invierno. So, from North Carolina to Texas to Mexico comes the Utah version of fabric wings. Made for my niece’s 4th birthday.


The process is very simple—you can find different versions of how to make these at all the links above. I hand-drew a scalloped template, traced it onto the back of different-colored fabrics again and again and again, cut the fabric out on the way to Heber City to see Thomas the Train, and sewed them onto two sorta triangle-shaped background fabrics. Then I bound the wings together quilting-style and tacked on some lengths of twill tape for the neck and wrists. Plus a bit of velcro at the neck.


Basically, I winged it.

My niece was feeling a bit camera shy when I gave the wings to her. But I think she liked them. Time will tell. My boys pleaded to try out fabric flight before we gifted them to Willa for good. Willa obliged.

Flapping.

The boys want yellow/orange/red/brown/black wings for themselves. Jack wants to be a bald eagle or a raven or a hawk. Charlie wants to be “a birdy.”

Big requests from my little birds. My scissors better get ‘flyin.

ALERT: Charlietalk

It's dinner time. After being asked for the fourth time to start eating, Charlie begins negotiations.

Charlie: "I will eat my dinner, mom. But just not the food. Okay? Just not the food."

My life. In hair.

In the past few weeks I've seen several posts on blogs I follow about new haircuts. Those posts reminded me of something:

Hey, I was gonna do that.

According to the date on my photo scans, I was planning to document my hair history back in 2009.

Got a new haircut last week.

See?

Somehow it feels like the right time to use the photos I so meticulously scanned two years ago. Otherwise, it'd be an awful waste of computer memory.

With that, I give you my personal history. In hair. Mine is a journey filled with innocence and simplicity. With rebellion, lies, and deceit. With dangerous chemical abuse. With dozens and dozens of cases of cheap hairspray. (Seriously, cheap stuff only, please. I need it to work like glue.).

Here goes the long and short--and long and short, and long and short--of it. You'll see what I mean.

Exhibit A: The innocent years. With and without perms.

Kindergarten. There are a few photos of
myself that I love. This is one of them.

Shortly thereafter, we find Dorothy Hamill in her
living room sorting Girl Scout cookies.

During my growing years, I begin to notice that genetics are going to assure me a lifetime of arrow-straight locks. Thin and limp? Envision a chewed-up piece of bubble gum stretched between two lamp posts. In an attempt to battle nature--and with mom's help--I try a perm. At home.

Yes. You know what I’m talking about. It’s the DO-NOT-TRY-THIS-AT-HOME home perm.

That's my sister Melainie in both shots above, and my old friend Cathy.
I love the bottom photo. Magically, with a home perm I can become
almost as handsome as my brother-in-law. We’re practically twins!

Luckily, home perms fall out of my hair as quickly as a toddler falls out of a tantrum when you give him a sucker.

And anyway, perms are out. Even though they were never in. Fancy feathering becomes all the rage.

I would've had the hippest hair around…

  ... if I had been a boy.
photo photo photo

At some point during my teen years, I decided to take hair matters into my own hands.

Exhibit B: The rebellious years. With and without bleach.

Perhaps I worked on this ‘do above just for the photo; perhaps I was on my way to school. It’s hard to know for sure. At the time, I would try anything. Except dyeing my hair.

I wanted to dye my hair so very badly. But mom wouldn’t let me. So secretly, I started “dyeing” my own hair. With bleach. Just a secret spritz every morning from a trial-size spray bottle.

I’m sure my mom never noticed.

If mom ever said anything about my hair, I was planning to
blame it on these guys--my high-school buddies.
I mean, look at the hair here. Major peer pressure.

Now that I'm looking closely at the photo of my friends, I guess perms were in.

Somehow, my hair survived those years. It didn’t fall out, and I don’t think the bleach gave me cancer or anything. Yet.

Exhibit C: The college years. With and without politics.

Arm-wrestling a mannequin at the Utah Shakespeare Festival.

Above: early college. Major: education. When I cried the first time I taught a class because an 8-year-old called me a name, I decided teaching wasn’t for me.


Above: late college. Major: women’s studies. And the hair to prove it.

Exhibit D: The get-a-job years. Where the growing gets tough.

Our first year in Seattle. Slowly leaving the pixie cut behind.

Still short at my first Quilt Market as a copywriter
for Martingale & Company, but growing.

Three years later, we moved back to Utah. Hair can grow a lot in three years. I was growing it long for one reason. An impending wedding.

Sometimes I wore my hair down. (I like this picture of
me. I like this picture of Bretty even more.)

More often than not, though, I wore my hair up. No patience for fussing and flyaways. (Flanked by my gorgeous, now all-grown-up niece and nephew, top right. Both valedictorians and full-ride scholarshippers, yo! Okay, I'm braggin'.)

Aaah, the wedding day. Long hair, curled
and flowing. As much as my hair can curl and flow.

Wedding’s done. Long hair, be gone! Or . . . not.

Exhibit E: The baby years. A hairdentity crisis.

In the time of baby Jack. Short.

In the time of toddler Jack. Medium. (This scarf was featured
in Quilts and More magazine; pattern here.)

Another perm? Really, Jenny, you should know better.

In the time of growing Charlie. Long.

Oh my goodness, I was so very pregnant.

It is so very nice to not be pregnant.

In the time of kid Jack, toddler Charlie. Short again.

These photos were taken for ReSew by a
wonderful photographer out of Southern Utah, Juanita B.

I've pretty much worn the haircut above for the past two years. Until last week.

So that brings us back to present-day hair. What a long, confusing, indecisive journey it has been. But rather than confusing and indecisive, I prefer to call it "creative." Yes. A creative journey.

That's my hair story. And I'm sticking to it.

The other day, my sweet husband--who has always leaned toward liking long hair on me--said of my new haircut, "You look so cute. You look great with short hair. Yeah, keep the short hair."

Between the two of us, it's decided. Welcome back, pixie!

At least, for now.