Sustainable sewing

This is a first - I've never posted a five-year-old dress on this blog before! There have been lots of posts about things made from fabric which has been lurking in my stash for that long (especially this year), but not a finished article.

Old dress, new repair

Because it slipped under the blogging radar, I can't remember exactly when I made this dress. But I do recall wearing it for a friend's birthday party in July 2015, so I'm going to guess that it was fairly new then. It's my second version of New Look 6093, and my favourite of the three I've made. As a result, it's had a lot of wear, and a couple of weeks ago the zip broke. Even though the fabric is now a bit faded compared to its covered hanger, I wasn't prepared to let the dress go.

Dress and hanger comparison

Fortunately, it was an easy fix. The broken zip was an invisible one, which made it a little harder to unpick but not impossible. Then it was just a case of basting the seam together, hand picking in a new zip, and stitching the back facing back in position.

It's always fun to make something new, but increasingly I'm finding that I get a different, but equal, sense of satisfaction from mending something I already have. As the harmful effects of throwaway culture become ever more apparent, knowing that I can care for and maintain the clothing I have made becomes as important to me as having the ability to make it in the first place.

Much as I'm enjoying the Vintage Sew A Dress A Month challenge, I did worry when I started it that I might just be 'churning out' a dress a month which I didn't actually need. But this repair has reminded me that by choosing my fabrics and construction techniques wisely, and making clothes which fit me properly so don't suffer from stress points, I am creating clothes which will remain in my wardrobe for a long time. And because I favour vintage over up-to-the-minute styles, they will never look more 'dated' than they did when I first made them!

Which brings me on to this month's dress. A couple of weeks ago I bought a 1930s dress at auction. It is beautiful, but currently in rather a sad state - I will post about it when it is restored. Also in the lot were 'assorted textiles'. I hadn't paid much attention to these, but when I got them home I found various goodies in there - a couple of skirt lengths, a coat length, some lining, and a dress length.

The dress fabric is only 90cm / 36" wide, and a print which just screams mid-to-late 1970s. It's also in a twill weave which I just couldn't imagine coming across now in such a soft material.

Showing the weave, and the pattern

Eventually it dawned on me that the fabric is probably Viyella, a wool/cotton blend with a twill weave. It was common when I was a child (growing up in Scotland, it was a popular choice for winter dresses) but is no longer made. Naturally such vintage fabric requires a vintage pattern, and I'm indulging in my love of 1979 Style patterns to make up this one.

Style 2630

Even though the fabric is narrow, there are five metres of it, so I'm planning to make the long-sleeved version. There's no cutting layout given for it on 90cm wide fabric, but when have I ever let that stop me?! So after 40 years, this fabric will finally be used.

One for the DIY enthusiast

I don’t know if it's still the case, but the phrase 'Would suit DIY enthusiast' used to be an estate agent's euphemism to describe a property which was in a terrible state and needed a lot of work. And I recently bought a dress which may just be the clothing equivalent.

I came across it when I was on holiday in Somerset the other week. I had gone to a vintage fair in Wells Town Hall (or, for viewers of Poldark, Warleggan's Bank - the building is used for the exterior shots). Normally when I go to vintage fairs, I don't tend to look at the clothing in any detail: because I prefer to make clothes myself, and because I know that dresses in particular won't fit me as the bodice will be too long. However while browsing, I overheard this conversation behind me:

Woman 1 (who turned out to be the stallholder's mum) - This collar is coming off this one.
Woman 2 (the stallholder) - It just needs a bit of sewing.
Woman 1 - A bit? It's coming apart here, and here . . . and here. Someone will need to know what they’re doing.

Well to paraphrase slightly, you had me at 'needs a bit of sewing'. I turned around to look at the offending item. Yes, it had seen better days, but I absolutely loved the fabric and the basic shape. My guess is that it dates from the early 1960s. I tried it on and, apart from the bodice length, it fitted. The price reflected its sorry state, so I rescued it. This is me wearing the dress, and demonstrating why ready-to-wear clothing and I do not play nicely together.

So. Much. Bunching.

The dress is home-made, and is a curious mix. Some parts are skilfully stitched: for example the seam edges are well finished, and there is a neat stay tape holding the waist seam of the bias-cut bodice front in place.

Stay tape round the waist and sewn-down pleats

Other areas are a mess; sewn with large stitches in white thread. On top of this, there are signs of wear and (literally) tear, which suggest that it was too small for one of its wearers and was altered - badly.  The hem has been let down and finished with bias tape, which is coming adrift in places.

Neat seam finishing, not-so-neat hem tape

The zip only just works, and needs replacing

Coming apart at the waist . . .

. . . and at the side vent . . .

. . . and at the armscye and facing, which is coming away from the dress

The kick pleat at the centre back is torn

And the collar. I have no idea what is going on with the collar.

Collar - front view

Collar - back view

So the plan is to: mend all the tears and unravelled stitching; take out the zip; unpick the waist seam: shorten the bodice and re-attach it to the skirt; and put in a new zip. Oh, and to work out how on earth the collar is meant to lie, and fix it. For the bodice length and the collar, I'm planning to enlist Mum's help and advice.

There is one previous mend which I am leaving well alone. It was only when I looked at the dress closely that I noticed that it had been torn near the hem, and very carefully darned with embroidery floss. That someone had taken the time and effort to do this just made me like the dress even more.

Darning as seen from the back and the front