Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

I haven't really posted anything about sewing in a while, since--well--probably in earnest since before Oregon . . . in all fairness, I doubt anyone wants another run down of my sculpting scraps into a swanky, borderline hooker bra, the abuse I'm giving my serger with a well crafted raglan after another, or of the hilariously obscene things I add to the crotches of my jeans and say while making them (okay the fly details are just drop dead jovial, and I will not apologize for kisses on my fly, compasses, or xoxo labels). Yet . . . I've also found myself making more basics and eschewing the need to deviate from classics, tried and true, and what I know works.  Why? Part of that comes from the six or so weeks I spent out left last summer.  I left New York with a backpack, a carry on, and one well-crafted suitcase.  In two months--during insomnia hours--reading and pinning notes on the capsule wardrobe craze, and then I spent several days combing through my closet and dr...

Coats.  As 2015 is still an infant, it seams coats are a mantra of this year.  Perhaps.  Or, perhaps I'm a sucker for creative upper body workouts.  Or something.  And, since I'm sitting in the middle of this… Welcome to the photos of my hallway I took on Friday. And some of my drowning.  Along that line, after waiting a year--or so-- Grainline finally released her duffle coat.  Indeed.  I won't lie, I was near about to give up and start drafting Colette's Albion for a girl.  Then, I stopped . . . remembered that every single Grainline pattern has met m e with happiness and such.  Yea, I get endless happiness from good architectural lines and silhouettes that look like an adult on me. And since it's winter and all, I haven't been able to get a photo outside ...welcome to my hallway. The Instagram pic, that let it all out . . . So, Cascade came out and in a hot minute I scooped up the printed copy.  We all know how I h...

As of late the days are getting longer, or so I hear.  Though, there's still stale, dingy colored snow lurking on the ground . . . in March.  C'est la vie en  New York.  Word is that there is snow, there isn't snow in the forecast.  Who knows . . . all I know is that the pace of life and the dreary days of winter take their toll on anyone.  I've craved and eaten more citrus fruit than I have in my entire life, and in the course of that I've struggled with the toils of Lupus and swollen joints.  When I had to see my doctor for international clearance and got the godsend of a plaq script (while still being devoid of health insurance) it all came in the perfect moment. A little more than a month later and, well, I'm near my mojo again.  C'est la via.  Plus vrai . . . Of course, as I've mentioned more than once (most recently  ) body image is always a Pandora's Box of hell shaped goo that leaks and seeps out a...

Well, as most of the world knows (even if they don't celebrate it) Christmas just came and went . . . and in the western sense I celebrate it with gifts.  Of course, since I am American scores expect me to celebrate it in terms of mounds of cheap crap bought from local chain stores or procured via the internet and home delivery.  Yea, well . . . that didn't happen.  Just as I was (and am) serious about not buying clothes (bras, knickers, sock, and jeans are the exceptions . . . with my jeans now coming from a local maker when I purchase my next pair sometime in 2014--I bought two pair this year (from Turkey)) I am serious about the handmade gifts.  I am long done trying to shop for people.  For the few people I gift, they all know . . . orders and requests are permitted.  And trust me, the people who get handmade are pretty slim in number.  Why? I only gift people who matter and who will appreciate it.  Also, handmade . . . well, a shockingly larg...