Refashioned Linen Shirt-Jacket

 

I have finished my two-month Wardrobe Refashion pledge, and signed on for another two months.  This means that I will not buy any new clothes for the duration of my contract.  Instead, I will change what I already have to make it work better for me. 

 report on the last two months

Given the selection where I live, and my tightwad nature, it was easy to avoid buying new clothes for two months.  For my last contract, I also pledged not to buy any thrift store clothes. This was harder.  I broke down once on a stressful day.  

One of the items I thrifted that day was the linen shirt-jacket pictured above.  I bought it for its nice quality (Nygard) and espresso brown color—my favorite neutral. 

The garment had issues, though. 

Many details would have to go, and it was way, way too big.   

Here’s what I did to it.  

1. Removed pockets, sleeve-rolling-up straps, cuffs, belt and belt loops.  
2. Took in the side seams a lot.  A more skilled sewer might have removed the sleeves and cut a new armhole, but I don’t know how to do that.  This was a learning experience. 
3. Took in the sleeves by about two inches. 
4. Put in six new vertical pleats.  There were already four—hard to see in the top photo.  
5. Topstitched in white to add vertical lines and interest.   
6. Shortened the hem by about 3”.
7. Finished the sleeves and hem with a raw edge. 

here’s what the back looks like now:

Back pleats:  Two were there already, and two are new.  (Now that I can see the back when it’s on, I think I need to take it in further to remove that flappy stuff in the middle.) 

here’s part of the front:

Front pleats: two are new and two were already there.  Two other new ones were not topstitched—they’re kind of acting like bust darts and were not entirely successful.  You can just make one of them out on the right side. 

You can also kind of see the raw edged hem in this shot.  This is to make the blouse a little less staid-looking.  I used my new thrifted 75-cent pinking shears after putting in a row of black stitches near the fabric edge—hoping that after washing, the pinked look will rough out into a cute but not stringy raw edge.   

here’s the collar and some new stitching:

This part was fun.  The collar and placket each had single rows of white stitches.  I added more in irregular lines to make it more interesting. 

Do you have a Wardrobe Refashioning story to share?

Here are my other posts on Wardrobe Refashioning.  And if you’re interested in learning more about this cool website and how the pledge works, visit Wardrobe Refashion here. 

thanks for visiting…Sallymandy  

My two-month Wardrobe Refashion contract officially started Thursday, May 1. 

Here are some principles I’m using as I embark on this contract not to purchase new clothes for two months—and the additional deal I made not to buy thrift clothes, either, for that period.   

1.  I will refashion to make my clothes fit better or otherwise be more enjoyable to wear. 

2.  I will refashion to make use of good quality and fabric.

3.  I will have fun and experiment.   

4.  I will accept failure and learn from it.

5.  I will attempt to make things I love or at least can wear comfortably—the same standards I have for new clothes.   

Okay. 

I’ve now written enough text that you didn’t see any pictures of me when you  opened my blog.   

I can now proceed to this.  Here’s a Woolrich dress I wore when I was pregnant.  It takes a lot of courage to post this.  Why did I keep it?  It feels like a blanket, the color is neutral, and…I don’t know.     

Clearly, though, I can’t wear it like this. The night I committed to my WR contract, my sewing machine was in the shop.  So I got this dress out and started cutting.  Here’s the result.  

Better?  I think so.  I didn’t even hem it.  This refashion took about ten minutes. 

The empire waist is a style that works for me, and it’s worth the challenge to make it work.  I’ve noticed that the new-millenium style of empire waist has the horizontal bodice seam way higher, which cuts right across my bust.  This older style is better on me. 

I’ve used other principles about what looks best on me, like where the bottom should hit, and having 3/4 sleeves.  When I get my machine back I will hem the bottom.  The “rolled” hem tends to flip up and draw attention to that horizontal line. 

I like this new top.  It strikes a reasonable balance between flattering and comfortable.  I don’t have to suck my tummy in every minute, either.    

You might also be interested in some other posts about wardrobe refashioning and “post consumer clothing.”  Here, here, and here. 

So, what do you think?! 

All the More Reason to Stop Op-Shopping for a While

Let me tell you what happened today.  Something to underscore my

pledge to stop shopping even at thrift stores for two months.

My friend W. was having a rather serious medical test done, and she needed a ride home from the hospital.  When the time came for me to get her, she called me on my cell phone.  She said they needed her to stay at the hospital for another hour.  She asked if I would pick up a sandwich for her on the way.  

Yes, of course I would come later, and I’d pick up a sandwich.   

Okay.  At this time I was in the car, and I was close to the sandwich place.  I could have gone straight there, and then to the hospital.   But NO.  This is Sallymandy. See, not only was I close to the place with the delicious sandwiches, I was also close to the

I reasoned:  Sure, I just made that pledge not to thrift-shop, along with my Wardrobe Refashion pledge.  However, I have some extra time, and… I’ll just go in and look.  Just look. 

So, I go in.  I take a spin around, see nothing I like, and buy nothing.  But when it’s time to leave, I realize I don’t have my keys.  They appear to be locked in my Subaru.  Nor is my spare key, usually velcroed on to a secret place on the bumper, there.  I now have half an hour to get W. a sandwich and get to the hospital on time.   

Standing in the parking lot, powerless to get in my car and pick up W., I’m feeling a wave of shame and guilt.   

I should not have stopped at Bargain Corner.  Knowing that I just posted about my Spending Hiatus has made me feel guilty, and I now wonder what’s wrong with me (forgetting for the moment that I didn’t buy anything).  

What to do?  The closest spare key is with my husband.  He’s working out at the gym about three miles away.  I have my phone in  my hand, but his phone is turned off.  And I do have my wallet, with money.  I’ll have to get to the gym myself and get the spare key.   

I ask the thrift store lady for a phone book and start calling cabs.  As I talk to the cab people I’m looking at shoes.  The first place says they can get me in an hour.  The second guy says five minutes.  I say fine.  Waiting for him to come, I’m looking at linen blouses. 

The driver is a sympathetic, youngish guy named Joe.  In the car, I call W. at the hospital and tell her I’ll be late.  She’s kind of drugged up and not very happy.  She wants to go home.  Her dog is out in the yard yearning for her.  I feel terrible.   

“You will get the sandwich, though, right?” she asks.   

I will.  I know where the deli section is at the store, and the little case of ready-made sandwiches.  When I get there, I can grab it, pay, and go.

The cab has now arrived at the gym.  I ask Joe to wait for me in the parking lot. I want him to drive me back to my car so I don’t have to rely on my hubby, who has gotten my out of many of these lost-key scrapes, and for whom the cuteness of his wife in these situations has worn off.  Plus, it will be faster just to get the key and leave. 

I find my husband on the treadmill.  After I greet him lovingly, explain in a calm and rational tone what’s going on (anyone laughing yet?), I find his keychain and the key. 

Back in the cab with Joe, I fork over a twenty so I’ll be ready to leap out we get back to my Subaru.   

Okay, we’re there.  I’ve leapt out.  Joe’s driving away and I’m dashing up to my car when I kind of offhandedly notice that the key in my hand says Nissan on it.  It’s the wrong key.  I picked out the wrong key from hubby’s key chain.

I turn around in a frenzy yelling Joe! Wait! I have to go back!  He looks out the window, kind of scared, I’m being so shrill.  He gets on his radio and fairly nicely tells the dispatcher, Ahhhhh, she’s got the wrong key.  ‘Nother round trip to the Y. 

So back in I climb.  We’re now at the 3rd Street stop light for the second time.  I tell Joe I’m late picking up a friend who’s just had a biopsy.  We hope it’s not cancer.  He makes a pained face and when the light turns green he slams his foot on the gas and starts clenching the steering wheel. 

Ha ha, I say.  Now don’t you go getting a ticket on my account.  He says, the cops around here are pretty easy on us.  They never give us tickets.  I say, well, in that case, go as fast as you want.     

I don’t have to tell you all the rest of what happened—about getting back to my car twenty minutes later, having forked over another twenty; or how, at the store, W’s sandwich was not ready to go but rather had to be made to order with grilled tempeh and sauerkraut, and when I suggested I just take it cold to save time, the woman said that would be disgusting, so I killed another ten minutes waiting for that; and how I got lost at the hospital for another twenty minutes looking for the “central” waiting area that’s located far, far, from the center.  I don’t have to tell you how W.’s phone by this time had lost its charge so she didn’t get my messages. 

W. forgave me pretty fast, even though I ended up being really late.  She’s hopeful about the outcome of her biopsy.  We had a good conversation on the twenty-mile drive to her house.  

What I do want to tell you is that my obsession with thrift shopping whacked me in the face today.  I knew I was pushing it when I turned down that street instead of going straight on toward the sandwich.  My Spending Hiatus beckons.  Next time I won’t even drive into the parking lot.      

The first painting is Christine Von Diepenbroek, The Day After