More fabric shopping

When I was writing last week's post, I realised that there was a fabric purchase in there which hadn't been added to the Stashometer! Tsk, tsk. Time to rectify this.

It is at least a fabric which was bought for a specific project, rather than in the, 'just because it looks pretty' camp (which happens more often than it should). About a year ago, I posted about finally getting hold of McCall's 9155, a 1984 Laura Ashley pattern which I had previously owned and disposed of.

My version had white text on a dark green background

I fancied making this up in baby needlecord, as I had made one of my 1980s versions in this fabric, and it worked really well. However, I just couldn't find any in a colour that I liked. Most available options were in pale or muted colours, which just aren't me. But then I spotted this bold print/fine wale cord in the remnants bin in my local fabric store.

Big print, small cords

It's perfect, but for a couple of issues. First up is the quantity. 1980s clothing erred on the looser side than I would want to wear now, so although I will need to enlarge the pattern, it's probably not by a full size. According to the pattern envelope, I should just about have enough yardage. However, it's in two separate remnants. It's fortunate that I enjoy pattern tetris, as I think there's going to be a lot involved.

Another 4.3m added

The other thing is that the finished article will have to be washed separately, probably forever. I'm used to some dye-run when I pre-wash fabrics, but not this much!

I did consider trying to dye something in this!

I know that pre-washing is a divisive topic, but this shows why I am firmly Team Wash. Despite all this, I'm looking forward to having a version of this dress in my wardrobe again.

Fabric shopping - in more ways than one

No sewing this week, because I have been concentrating on knitting a summer cardigan. Which admittedly is a slightly odd thing to be doing in late October, given that I'm not planning any trips to the Southern Hemisphere and Storm Babet has been causing havoc for the last few days and making it very clear that summer is over.

Not the most obvious project

The reason for this is that I really want to begin some winter knitting. I have both yarn and plans, but I don't want to start on the slippery slope of having knitting UFOs to add to my sewing PHDs (UnFinished Objects and Projects Half Done, for the uninitiated). So the only way I'm allowing myself to cast on my new project is to crack on and finish my current one first. Not a lot of progress had been made since I cast on the first sleeve in late July, so I've really dedicated some hours to it to get this far.

But a 90% complete cardigan is not a bloggable topic, so instead I'm looking at another area of my creative life where my enthusiasm gets the better of practicality - my fabric stash, and my latest attempt to tame it.

I am lucky enough to have a dedicated workroom, with lots of space. This means that most of my stash is neatly stored, which does lead to a certain 'out of sight, out of mind' mentality. So I am slowly documenting everything, with pictures, to create what I'm calling my Stash Shop. Crucially, rather than just keeping these plans on my laptop or online, they will be permanently visible in my workroom. The hope is that whenever I'm thinking about what to do for a new project, this will prompt me to choose something from my own 'shop' rather than going out and buying yet more supplies.

I started by photographing the fabrics for which I had definite plans. I also photographed the intended use, and put the images together in a spreadsheet. Naturally, most of the plans involve patterns.

A pattern-based section of the spreadsheet

But there are a few other sources.

Inspiration from my 1940 Vogue counter catalogue

Photograph from a 1940s costume book

Quick on-the-train-home sketch of a dress I'd seen in a shop

Once I had built up enough of these to fill a sheet of A4, I printed them off and pinned the sheet on a noticeboard in my workroom. And so it goes on.

A completed sheet

Of course, these plans are not set in stone. My original intention for this jaunty print was a Butterick reissue, but when I found some peach cotton poplin which was a perfect match, I immediately thought of a contrast section at the bust, and found a suitable picture online to illustrate the idea.

Original idea, and the current one

Admittedly, this hasn't stopped me from buying some fabric recently. But at least it wasn't an impulse buy. My self-drafted pinafore is starting to look a bit worn - hardly surprising given that it's been on heavy rotation in the six years since I made it. There was nothing suitable for a replacement in my stash, so I felt that in this case I was justified in buying new.

Just the right weight, and a subtle pinstripe to boot

It's a charcoal remnant of either wool or a wool-heavy mix. The lining will be from stash however, even if it ends up being a couple of different colours, so hopefully the overall effect will be stash reduction. And for once, I actually have a zip of the right colour and length - wonders will never cease.

But first, I really do need to finish this cardigan!

Whoops again

No post yesterday, as I succumbed to food poisoning earlier in the week and have spent a lot of time in bed - sadly not looking anything like as chic as these ladies!

If only

I am starting to feel better (and able to drink tea again, which is always a good sign), so hopefully things will be back to normal next Sunday.

Selling Singer, 1953

Not much sewing this week, so instead here is a new to me Singer sales brochure from May 1953.

"May I help you?"

Unlike earlier brochures, this one is in colour, and features the Singer Girl in her ever-so-slightly-migraine-inducing dress.

Excellent stripe matching

My eyes!

By this time the model 66 was no longer being made in Britain, so the choices were the 15k or 201k for a full-size machine, or the 99k for something smaller.

The machine options available

The larger machines could be fitted into a 'library table' or a more traditional cabinet, although I'm not sure if the latter was only suitable for treadle machines.

I'm guessing that this was the top of the range

Like my 1930s cabinet, this model has a "commodious" drawer which looks to be straining the meaning of the word!

Similar to my cabinet model, but with two doors

The 'contemporary' style table is the only one which has a version for the 99k. My guess is that this leaflet was given to its original owner in a Singer shop, as she has jotted down a few prices on these two pages. As with the 1930s sales, the cash price was lower than the price spread over 11 or 17 months. Mum's 99k with a carry case, bought cash price in April 1953, cost £30.8s.6d - which gives an idea of the price of the cabinet.

I think that the cash price of the 99k in this cabinet was £56.4s.6d

Even in 1953, clearly enough customers still wanted a plain treadle machine to make Singer include a double page spread of the options, although these were mostly the same base in different woods. The leaflet implies that the use of wooden legs rather than an iron stand is a recent development, even though they had been the available for at least 20 years!

Treadle options available (click to enlarge)

All three models are available on small wooden bases, although I would argue that describing a full size machine as "mobile" is pushing it a bit! Again, a non-electric option is available.

And 'portable' options

Definitely portable was the 221k, the 'Featherweight'.

The Featherweight is almost an afterthought in this leaflet

I love the quote that "a Singer is built to give years of trouble-free service". Whether Singer quite meant that to be the 70 years of my treadles, or the 100-plus years of Maud I’m not sure.

Mum remembers that the price of her machine included free lessons, and that the saleswoman was keen to ensure that she took them. A machine was a big investment, and personal recommendation was good (and free) advertising for Singer, so it made sense for them to ensure that their customers were happy with their purchase and could get the most out of it.

Why you should buy a Singer

Getting customers to understand and use all of the attachments which came as standard seems to have been an ongoing struggle, however.

Those funny metal bits in the cardboard box? Use them!

So that's what they do!

The 'typical' Singer shop on the back cover, with all its goods and services, looks marvellous.

Sewing heaven

I wonder which, if any, model the owner of this leaflet eventually bought?

Trim tribulations

As I hinted last week, I have decided to perk up my not-quite-right Riviera dress by adding a trim of ruched ribbon around the neckline. So I duly set off to my local fabric shop, leftover piece of dress fabric in hand, to look at the ribbons available. There were lots of them. I looked at blues, pinks, golds, and even white, but nothing was quite right. Then on a separate stand I spotted some double-faced satin ribbons, including one which was dark green on one side and pale green on the other. The darker shade was just right.

After some experimenting, I decided to position the trim ⅝" in from the neckline - which is the same measurement as the width of the ribbon. I ran a line of basting stitches round the neckline to mark the position.

Trim position marked with orange thread

Then I ran tiny gathering stitches along each edge of the ribbon, pulled them up, and started sewing the trim onto the dress by oversewing the edges in place. I had to keep alternating between the top and bottom edges.

Even this much took some time

It quickly became obvious that this is going to be a long job. It's very tricky to keep the gathers even on the straight section, and round the curves will be even harder. Right now, I don't want to devote a lot of time to something which I won't wear for months. So, the dress is now on a hanger in my workroom, to be picked up whenever I feel like tackling a bit more.

Then I went back to another part-done project which has also been on a hanger for ages, Butterick 7598. The next job on this was to work out where the two lower bands of sleeve trim should go. This involved pinning them in place with an educated guess, trying the dress on, marking with pins where changes were needed, re-pinning the trim, trying the dress on again, basting the trim down once I was happy, trying the dress on again, more marking pins, unpicking some of the basting, redoing it, trying the dress on yet again - and all the while forgetting to take any photos!

Sleeve trim basted on - finally

Once I was satisfied that the trim was in the right place, I could undo the basting that holds the dress together. It's interesting to see that what look like parallel trim bands when the dress is worn are actually far from parallel on the flat sleeve pieces. The next job is to tidy up the rather wonky basting, and then machine the trim in place.

The bands are further apart at the back

It’s just as well that I am fully committed to slow sewing!