Perhaps I’ve mentioned this before, but sewing isn’t really my strong suit. Possibly because I don’t do it often enough to get good at it. I feel like it should be so quick and easy a way to make garments, since you don’t even have to make the fabric, but it is often an arduous task by the end. Nevertheless (inexplicably?) I aspire to great feats of sewing. I have a considerable collection of sewing patterns, but I’ve never managed to make much. Until now.
You see, the Man of the House broke an ankle, so has been home for some weeks. Enterprising soul that I am, and knowing how easily he gets bored, I thought he would benefit from being given some homework. Does my altruism know no end, you ask. Indeed, no! I immediately set about making lemonade with lemons and set us up as a sweatshop of 2. Having a sewing assistant has been great and I finally have some finished objects.
First on kitchen catwalk is the kimono dress:
I have this thing about dresses with pockets just now–in fact all garments should have pockets if you ask me. Hats, scarves, socks, all of ’em. So when I saw this dress, I celebrated the pockets by popping it right into the shopping basket.
Many years ago, the Man of the House and I married and honeymooned in Japan. I bought many souvenirs, including vintage kimonos with the intention of up cycling them into some fabulous thing yet undecided. I also came across 2 rolls of kimono fabric at a junk shop and had to have them.
This one is rather floral for my taste in clothing, but, I mean, really, how could I resist? When I realized that the Simplicity pattern could be easily modified to accommodate the narrow width of the fabric, I got cutting. Only after I cut everything out did I notice a rolled up newspaper in the fabric tube;
Though I could be wrong, I reckon this dates the fabric to at least 1981. The newspaper had some comics that you will no doubt also find hilarious:
He doesn’t do bad work, eh? Of course, I am in no way advocating the hobbling of loved ones in order to get those languishing projects finished, and no hubbies were intentionally harmed in the making of this dress. But you know, silver linings…
Happy knitting (& sewing),
**Edit: Turns out, Man of the House occasionally reads this blog, and objects to being called ‘Man of the House’. ‘Why don’t you just call me Ben. It’s my name,’ said Man of the House to me. ‘Fair enough,’ I replied.