So her mind turned to suit-building

by Emily

They told me it was impossible. They told me I was crazy. They told me "you can't do major sewing projects in a 400-square-foot apartment while sharing it with another person." Reader, I am about to prove them wrong.

That is a sea of pattern pieces pinned to a delicious royal-blue, medium-weight wool crepe. Apparently not content to stick to mere "dresses" and "sweaters," I am embarking on my first ever full skirt suit--lined, trimmed, and with all the fixin's. As you can see, even cutting out the pieces in the main suit fabric took pretty much David and my entire apartment floor:

I'm quite excited about this project, actually. It's a flared, knee-length skirt and a really sharp little hip-length jacket with lots of endearing details: horizontal darts on the back of the skirt, a diagonal lapel that creates a "V" shape of buttons down the front of the jacket, and diagonal welt pockets that sit jauntily on the wearer's hips. The jacket will be lined in a pretty mahoghany silk, and I'm trimming the whole in a camel-colored wool suiting, which I think will really "pop" with the blue, making me look more like a well-clad hipster and less like I'm off to join the navy (that blue is a bit intense!).

I am venturing into somewhat uncharted territory (personally uncharted, that is), which is also exciting. I love to learn a new sewing skill, and it's exciting to read through a pattern that Vogue classifies as "Advanced" and find I understand almost everything they tell me to do. Vogue Patterns have a notoriously high opinion of what their patrons are capable of, too, so it's not like that "Advanced" label is a freebie. After doing the paper alterations to the pattern, I can see why, too: many of the "normal" lines that I've been using to alter my patterns are different with this suit. Instead of the easily-adjustable front darts and side seams, this suit bodice has princess seams and consists of about twelve small pieces instead of two large ones. Likewise, the skirt is composed of pieces of fabric whose shape I have never dreamt of before. How to perform a simple task like adding 1/2 inch to the hips, when you have eight pattern pieces shaped like unruly ice-cream cones rather than two of the normal trapezoidal shape? Nevertheless, I soldiered on, and when it came time to cut I was feeling enchanted with the fabric and the whole process, the way my pin-cushion sailed along the sea of fabric like a perky red boat:

Making the first cut, with my back wedged against the couch so as not to upset the delicate balance on the floor, I got that nice intrepid-explorer-making-the-first-steps-toward-a-great-conquest feeling.

As I'm sure Sir Edmund Hillary could tell you, however, great explorations are not always comfortable, and I regret to report that doing your cutting bent over the floor, crouched on your haunches is no exception to this rule. There were many pieces to be cut, and my back did not like that I was going to cut them all before going to bed. Amusingly, David and I followed the same basic emotional trajectory over the course of the evening: he was lying on the sofa, trying to read to page 480 by the next day:

Isn't he nice to put his feet to one side so I can cut? We were both relaxed and engaged at this early point in the evening, and even comfortable despite our cramped environs. By 11:30pm, however, we were both feeling somewhat limp:

Oh dear. Those last few pieces really were a challenge. Now, though, I have a satisfying little pile of cut pattern pieces awaiting the white chalk of the marking pencil. Of course, I also have the contrast fabric, lining, and interfacing still left to cut, but we'll think about that later. Until next time, this is SepiaSew signing off, and reminding YOU to measure twice, cut once, and never sew on an empty stomach. ('Cuz, you know, I always follow those rules to the letter...hmmm.)