[ I call this Still Life of Broken Sewing Machine in Spring. ]
Here’s the tricky part of March’s challenge for Wardrobe Architect
: How do identify the holes in your spring/summer wardrobe and plan out your sewing projects for the season when your summer/spring wardrobe is still in a plastic tub in the basement of your building?
(Also, how do you sew said items when your sewing machine is on the fritz AGAIN? BLAARGHH)
It comes down to a plan. At the end of last summer, I talked about how the end of a season is the best time to plan for the next one. All your recent wardrobe gaps are fresh in your memory, since you’ve had to deal with them week in, week out for months.
And that’s exactly what I did at the end of last summer, before I let myself get all excited about fall sewing — I made up a list of the things I lacked. I drew on that plan pretty heavily to make up this post, and I’ll make notes for next fall/winter at the bottom.
Well, I’m still working on my vintage shirtdress, but as I got to the end, I realized I was out of snaps and ordered more. Then when the snaps came, I realized I’d lost my snap tool and had to order one of those.
So while I waited, I jumped into my next spring/summer project — lightweight, drapey, lovely blouses to wear to work. The kind that feels like you’re not wearing anything.
I cut out three tops at once and dove in.
You know about Colette’s Wardrobe Challenge, right? Right. January’s challenge was satisfying, but easy. The real work begins now.
February’s challenge: Inventory and clean out your closet.
I didn’t exactly follow the challenge — there’s a worksheet that I didn’t use — but I followed along with the spirit of the thing: Get rid of things you don’t love to wear. Not things you don’t love. There’s a difference.
I feel like I’ve said this a thousand times, but here it is again: I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before! After poring over my ideal silhouettes via Wardrobe Architect, I realized shift dresses are the perfect answer to my personal style, which can be summed up as basic, basic, and boring, with lots of dresses. I’ve always steered clear of them because I’m a pear shape. I mean, can this style really work if your hips are two sizes bigger than your waist?
Spoiler: It works. It skims everything and looks effortless. Only downside is that even my dress form Constance can upstage me in pictures if she’s wearing a flashier fabric. Thanks, Constance.
WELL DUH ISN’T THAT WHY WE’RE ALL HERE, RIGHT? Building a wardrobe?
Well … in theory, yes, we’re here to make clothes we’d wear.
Yet I’ve got all sorts of garments malingering in the closet because I got all excited about an idea and it turned out to work better in my head than in real life. Not that getting excited is bad. It’s what makes sewing fun and worthwhile. Trying to avoid that would make this a pretty joyless pastime.
So what do we do? We balance excitement with an assessment of what works and what doesn’t. We point our excitement in the right directions. That’s where Wardrobe Architect comes in.