Lingerie, not Valentines, and the markers of feminine security
I could lie and tell you in light of the impending Crown Jewel of Hallmark Holidays I replenished my lingerie drawer. I could. Yet, like a bad penny that always comes back, I'm too damned honest. I've been home a whopping three weeks (shocker, I know . . . hold your gasps, it won't be for much longer), and in that time an impressive list of to-dos has been done and an even more surmounting of stitching has been done.
Last year, about to the day, I posted the first (of a few (or this one too)) diatribe on bra making. Then, there was the one post where my Mom and Dad (who apparently read things their daughter writes--who knew!) found out about my newest tattoos. Yea, that sports bra and top is like a feat of gravity in and of its own . . . though, the final frontier is a strapless. I heard a rumor of one being released this year, and let's just say if that happens I'm all about that. No lie.
Anywho . . . Last year 99.5 percent of the people in my life didn't realize that my marriage was over and I was in the middle of moving when the lingerie postings started. Of course, 90 percent of my life didn't know about the failure of love and such until months later. I am on of those oddities . . . I'll blather one about the construction of a well made bra, swimsuit, or pair of jeans but when it comes to the nuts and bolts of my life that's on the private plate, one locked in a fireproof box on the back shelf, usually covered in a bit of dust. Just how I'm wired, as we say. Those knickers posts, last year, had mounds of giggles and salacious comments about bedroom dancing and what not.
I should note that even if there was someone in my life these days, I'd have the same approach to making bras, jeans, and tees. I make what makes me happy, fits my life, and--well--lets me walk, run, and crawl down the city block without getting a wedgie, feeling the need to curl myself up in a ball like a body hating teen, or shredding after a day's hard wear. That being said, we have from functional, scraps, to full on sultry.
The Watson, in white.
Folks, we all need plain, white, near granny style bras. It's called the white tee, white tank, and not every day is a show your bra off kind of day. Here we have some polka dot mesh over some leftover white knit. The white knit is some my Mom bought about two years ago at Mood, and . . . well, when I was down there I pried it from her hands and made us two shirts.
If you read the last posting, it was post nursing home hell and she was well on the way back to herself as she had told my Dad and me to get out of her face that morning. True story.
That's the Seamwork Rio. The second of two version for me. Read on . . . the other one is below. The one here, and the one for my Mom, have no side slits. Mom's isn't pictured because she was already wearing it and threatened to disown me if I posted a pic of her that day. I obliged.
After functionally using scraps (that when I made those shirts I knew exactly what the hell I was doing with the remnants (as a bra takes far less than you would imagine, even with the large cups I wear) I went onto make two more functional wears of more frilly desires.
Why of course, another Marlborough. The white is one of the last kits the old Grey's Fabric sold, as on her closeout sale I scooped up one. Of course, in the first time in my bra making history I actually used a kit as is. Cha cha. The black number has lace and bra fabric from Bra Maker's Supply, but it was not a kit. As with most of the bras I'm making these days kits are to the wayside. I'm pretty good at sourcing my own materials, and in most cases scraps tend to take center stage. These are the oddities of recent.
Though, as with my other wired bras . . . I have that pattern down. I added an inch to each band, and I do not fold up the band elastic before sewing in the wires. I find on my frame the girls are happier, and my rib cage doesn't feel like it is--well--caged by the end of the day. I do have to say, though, that I'm wearing wires less and less. The Watsons are my typical go-tos, and with most of my clothing--from camis to button downs--the work well. The wires, though, hang around as there are days that the little girl in lace and pearls comes out. I'm willing to bet a good 90 percent, or more, of women will admit to this one . . . that feeling of being an adult and all dressed up/put together with a layer of lace underneath. Hell, you can be in a pair of sweats and a baby doll tee and wear a lace number underneath and feel pretty. Not that I would know or anything . . .
Maybe that's cultural wiring. Maybe it is genetics. Either way, sometimes a girl just needs a little lace number to hold the girls like a couple of strong firm hands. Indeed. And, if you are like me, I highly recommend making one of your own for when the hands on your girls are far and few between. If nothing else, it reminds you that life alone isn't all bad as you can certainly still be yourself, jaunt the city, and find the center of your soul without the fear of being derailed and distracted by someone not on the same path as you.
Then, with some more scraps, I made another Watson number. While the Marlborough might hold the girls like some firm, strong hands the Watson cradles them like a gentle lover on a warm summer's night. Every girl--ahem woman--should have that fine balance of firm and gentle in her life.
The lace and elastic are all leftover from some kits I bought last year, on ETSY. The fabric, that's some knit my Dad got me at JoAnn's. We stopped in for a zipper--I think--as he needed me to fix something for him. I intended another cheap tee with it, but when the new Seamwork came out I was all . . . free to me, why not.
So, here's Rio version one that I had to pull from the laundry to take a pic since I wear so much! With side slits. The shoulders fit well, but it is loose overall. I cut a large and sewed it on a standard 3/8ths serge allowance. Eh, it's a little big (which has been the trend for Seamwork and me). On number two, that white one earlier, I used a half inch allowance (meaning I cut a large and just sewed it half an inch on the serger, letting my Mom's serger cut off the excess.
I took a momentary break from bras for a couple of hours one night. I pulled out my tried and true Savannah Cami. Ok, so . . . these are like numbers seven and eight of this pattern. The fabric, here, is some rayon I picked up on that last jaunt to Turkey. I bought two meters of each print, from a little shop in Antalya. Though, I thought they were standard 45" wide. They were like 36" wide. Hence, two camis. C'est la vie. The camis are french seamed, a straight up 16, on the bias cut (pro tip: I cut these out and then let the pieces hang over the back of a chair overnight . . . it removes the bias stretch). Read, I french seamed them as my serger had the wrong color thread in it in and I was being lazy.
Yea, lazy and the making of your own couture is an oxymoron if there ever was one.
The brown has lace from Turkey. The purple has some vintage lace from my Mom, that I soaked in bleach water to remove the yellow from age. When I first made this pattern I was beyond pissed as it didn't fit well. then I tinkered with it. I can say this is the last one I'll make on the 16 as I'm a 14 now, but my seams are different than the pattern calls for . . . I use a half inch seam instead of the 5/8ths. Minor, but it works for me. Also, I've never used stretch lace on these. I always use stable. Pull it slightly taught on the curves and it all works out.
Of course, having a cider, beer, or adult beverage while sewing is the way to go.
I've been wearing the hell out of these with a cardi and the black jeans I made. I'm a '90s child in many ways, and the cami and jeans look . . . I rock that with a pair of heeled boots like Nirvana rocked the teen anthem of the decade. If you need to ask . . . look it up. Of course, the little lace trim at the top adds a point of frill to the everyday grub.
In the meander these past few weeks, I also made what I call my Aztec Habitat. Another score when the old Grey's was going out, I got a yard or so of this Art Gallery print. I had a vision. I made a vision. I am wearing this vision now, if you really want to know. It's under a baby doll Wonder Woman tee and a pair of sweats, with a Seamwork Oslo Cardi over it all. Sexy, I know. The wool socks are really adding a nice touch, and the do rag on my hair is even better. See above out single life. Also, note there's a polar vortex moving through NYC right now. Need I say more?
My tried and true Watson, with ingrained alts I refined long ago . . . the Rosy Lady Shorts that every girl should have (and it's a free pattern YO!) and I finally tried out the Seamwork Geneva. It's a straight up win in my book. I used mesh on the back because A) why not, B) if there ever is a dude in my boudoir again I have a hunch he'd find it amusing, and C) I didn't have enough cotton for a front and back on the second pair. I made three pair of knickers: the Rosies and two Genevas. I should probably note the necessity/function of the granny panty, but seriously . . . form and function meets funky and pretty. See the first part of this post about wearing the fabric and clothing of my life. And . . . I don't think we can call these granny panties. Why? Well, look at them. LOOK AT THEM.
You're welcome.
Oh, two years ago on the way back from Ecuador I bought a bottle of coffee flavored rum at Duty Free. Finished the rum and kept the tie from the bottle (the painted bottle sits on a shelf littered with travel memorabilia too). So, yea, that's a rum bow on my bra.
After form and function I felt the need to feed my own inner self. Lingerie is one thing. Lingerie is another all together. In the movie Eat, Pray, Love--yea, a chick flick if there ever was one--there's a scene where Liz buys herself a little silk nightie number to wear "just for herself." She eats breakfast, on her Italian floor, in it. Channeling a bit of that, I used some silk jersey scraps I had been hoarding.
Before they became scraps, I made my Mom and me matching Mesa dresses last summer (and yes, my legs never tan). She tells me she loves that dress, and when the weather was still warm she wore it to church more than a few times (and maybe her quilt guild meetings too). I should note, since she reads this blog, that I pried that fabric from her. Well, not really pried . . . I just showed her three patterns, knowing two she would hate, for matching dresses. Call it what you will. :)
And, here's the stripe from when I took mine in last fall. I haven't felt moxi enough to sport it recently, but when the polar vortex passes I am sure I will. It goes well with a black sweater and boots, much like a '90s child met the Go-Gos in 2016.
Finally, the scraps and what they became . . . one Watson. One Rosy. Silk Jersey lingerie . . .
Perhaps that is my lingerie this year, for my own Valentine per se. Who knows if they'll be used as a package wrapper for some dimly lit candle laced evening. In the interim, they're in my dresser drawer. One day, when it is not negative butt freeze outside, I'll probably wander my little studio in them. Most likely alone, but that's okay too. Sometimes we all need reminders that femininity comes in many layers, colors, and--in this case--fabrics. In the meantime, my favorite little accidental makes linger and wait.
If you look close at those pictures, you will see the bottom looper of my serger. Why yes, these panties broke my serger. Sergio is at the shop for another week or so, as a part has been ordered, and in the meantime I'm french seaming and doing things like making a lined jacket that doesn't need finished seams. There is some irony in the fact that the sultry pair of panties, I made just for show and perhaps to sleep in from time to time, are the ones that broke my machine. Not jeans. Not the coats from hell I've made. Not the bags that made me rage . . . nope, a simple and sultry pair of silk jersey panties. There are many jokes to be made here. Many jokes. Those, I am certain, we should keep to ourselves.
And finally, with some stretch silk charmeuse and some vintage-esque lace from Turkey (a la my bestie's Mom cleaning out her stash), I soaked that lace in bleach water to remove age stains and cut up that silk for the latest Seamwork pattern. Enter the Lisbon slip.
And, those on IG saw me post my bit of ill . . . this stupid thing fit more like a cami tunic than a damned slip. I really wanted the stupid slip so I could--well--sleep in it or wear it under a dress. Instead, I lopped off four inches and made it a cami. Seriously, I wasn't wasting this fabric OR lace. That lace especially! I meticulously french seamed this entire beauty . . .
That lace . . .
Come weather that doesn't require a parka and twelve layers of thick wool it will go well with a cardi and jeans. What can I say? An error du jour saved for my '90s Child salvation.
On that note, may those in the northern half of the western hemisphere stay warm and bundled--unless you are in Florida, Arizona, or Southern California . . . then, may you not rub the rest of our faces in your warmth and body well stocked with vitamin D. As for Valentine's . . . I've got some Crabbies Ginger Beer (the adult kind), some triple chocolate, pudding, and fudge laced cake I made, and a leftover Polish chowder of potatoes, bacon (or fake bacon in my book), and other goodness I also cooked up waiting on me. Sad? Perhaps. Comforting and the perfect fit these days? Indeed.
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