Life on a Movie Set and Stripes on the side.
Since another tee shirt review, by any sewing blogger, is--well--an easy way out I'll warn you now. Stripe matching and a spy movie set are really the reason for this posting. The tee shirt is really just the train car du jour.
A Sloppy Josephine, slightly shrunken, in red and grey stripes, made perfect for a day of throw your clothes on and be done with it. Cause sometimes you gotta remember that not everything has to be a tailored shirt, a pencil skirt, or a dress requiring heels.
Sometimes a tee and a pair of jeans past their prime are better served with a side of reading, reviewing, and in my case writing and grading. Always. Especially as I sprawl in a dying chair, feet on the desk, drinking (oh, who am I kidding . . . guzzling) iced coffee, and tapping away at a keyboard.
Seriously, though, I thought it was time I wore something besides running pants or tatty yoga pants with a Briar or Renfrew white working from home. I at least figured the park hounds of a two-legged nature would appreciate a less worked over and grungy fixture on the walks with my Mutt.
I've got some fly away hair there . . . look the other way. Of course, that backdrop we'll get to in a minute. I know, I'm oddly out of place and matching at once.
I gathered the back neck two inches (the next version I'll gather the whole back neck to remove the off the shoulder look).
FYI, I use a soft drapy knit for this one. Bamboo, rayon, tissue . . . anything less and the shape hangs instead of laying.
I matched those stripes better than a 50s housewife matched wallpaper to sheets.
I bet you want to know how to get them? Well, aside from misplacing your sanity for a moment, see what I did. I will say, a 45 minute top turned into nearly three hours (that includes photos, coffee swilling, Muttly playing, and outright bellowing at street urchins to STOP drawing penises and boobs on the sidewalk . . . though, the day they wrote "Boom Boom Fuck" it was funny for a moment). This will probably take you 1.5 hours without the relentless dicking around I did. And . . . 45 minutes if you aren't stripe matching.
To get those stripes . . . I was sans wine, but I would certainly recommend it. Why? Makes it more amusing.
First cut your front and back bodice pieces. I generally cut the front and then I cut the back. When cutting the back lay the front side seam next to the back piece, match the stripes. Pin or weight. Cut.
Now to make those raglan sleeves match.
Next, lay the back cut front piece on on the fabric. Match stripes.
Next, place your pattern piece corner to corner.
I slowly peel the bodice piece back while pinning . . . My mani chipped because, well, I sew. 'Nough said.
Second sleeve: flip the first, align stripes. Cut. So much easier, I know.
Now, to sew. Well, pin and then baste.
Pin. I really recommend a drink here, as you will probably have to repin it once or twice (or three times because your cute dog came in the room, promptly sat her rear on your foot, put her head on your leg, and then proceeded to whimper until you dropped your rayon fabric pieces and dotted on her). Though do remember that knits are forgiving and there is something to be said about a little tug here and there. Just don't pull the fabric to be tight.
Baste, preferably with a walking foot . . . the baddest of the feet. Seriously, the walking foot gets it name from the walking motion it does (it moves a bit, first time you use it it will freak you out a tad) and it pushes the fabric through in a near glide manner that prevents slipping.
Perfectly matched.
Now, serge or sew for real.
When I gathered the back, I had some excess at the top. C'est la vie. I trimmed it, which also helps in make the SJ top a little less of the shoulder . . . FYI, this one is still a sliding one, that I don with a red tank underneath.
Next time, french terry full back gather for a colder weather sweatshirt de couture.
When I gathered the back, I had some excess at the top. C'est la vie. I trimmed it, which also helps in make the SJ top a little less of the shoulder . . . FYI, this one is still a sliding one, that I don with a red tank underneath.
Next time, french terry full back gather for a colder weather sweatshirt de couture.
And . . . life on that movie set. A week to set up, endless screams for action (and outright bellows from Spielberg on that bullhorn), all for a less than five minute scene. And . . .this ain't Jamaica by the rail.
Tom Hanks is in a spy movie . . . St. James Place.
The movie had the park too, so it was a parade of old cars all day.
Though, Muttly and I wandered for her walk and you would have thought I had literal shit on my face from the movie crew stares. On the other side of the park filming for Blacklist was going down, and three or so blocks farther back from me in the Old Astoria Village section another show was shooting. Needless to say, when the cameras shut down for the day I was elated . . . but then Nurse Jackie came in the next day to shoot RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY BUILDING.
And while we all know my dog is pretty damned cute, there is still the odd factor of crews unloading trucks and stopping to stare as we walked past. Apparently, two days in a row I had shit on my face. I never did find out what it was. Day two: probably as I was in a pencil and fucking wedges . . . as I did go to campus that day.
I hate film these days.
Hijack someone else's block.
The display of the details, the signs, the fresh coats of paint, the water trucks making the street wet, the black man carrying the violin case, the couple making out . . . seeing the amount of detail is amusing, but . . . most of the summer has been movie and movie and show after show taking over streets and park grass by me. After a while . . .eh.
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