I’ve done it. I made something for me. Little dance of joy. It has been a while. This is my Cleo and I love it, but it almost didn’t happen.
I wanted to sew something that was straightforward and easy to wear. Something I could wear on an ordinary day, which, let’s face it, is most of my days. It had to be quick to make without posing any potential hurdles like fancy fastenings and fittings. My tendancy to procrastinate steps in too easily. The Cleo seemed to fit the bill.
To start with, I had my doubts. I wasn’t sure if a pinafore, with a bib and buckles, would be the right choice for someone cruising crazily towards… ahem … her half century. Was it too young a look? Would I look like I should be serving tea in a tea tent? Could I expect flashbacks to the 70s?
As you can see, I totally ignored the nagging voice in my head and went for it. Continue reading
My sewing and crafting mojo left me. No notice. No “if you please”. It just went. For someone who plays fantasy sewing projects in her head when separated from her sewing room, this can be devasting. Imagine writer’s block, but with fabric. Fabric calls to you. Inspiring you to make it into all sorts of gorgeous somethings. With my mojo gone, it was silent. To make matters worse, it was December. December! Running up to gift giving time. Oh. Too. Cruel.
There was one project that I could not let slip. I had planned it in November. Let me set the scene. On Christmas Eve, the children each receive a new pair of pyjamas, a book and a special hot choc. It’s a gentle and calm way to settle them down, before heading to bed, on a night heightened with excitment. Admittedly, they’ve all reached the stage where they no longer find it difficult to slip off to sleep, but it’s a tradition and no one is ready to let go of it.
One day, I will manage to make all three of them pjs, ready to gift on Christmas Eve, but this was not the year. I was thrilled to find the Little Bear pjs, from Next. I added the three children size sets to my basket. Punched the sky and knew I was winning at this parenting thing, if only momentarily.
Then, I spotted the grown-up versions. A Daddy and Mummy Bear version. Should I? I wasn’t sure I could commit to a full on family look, but I was sorely tempted. Although without a dog version on offer, it was always going to be a compromise. Half complete. I mean, she would have stood out. Continue reading
I made this outfit so long ago, I barely recognize it as one of my creations. Except I did. I really did. I remember sitting and working on it for hours. This must be the first dress I ever made that didn’t fall to pieces as soon as I tried to fit it on.
I was 10 years old, or there abouts. Certainly no older than 11. Even at that age, I loved to sew. I didn’t play with dolls much. I never saw the point in dressing them up, only to undress them 10 seconds later. It irritated me. Still does.
No. Bizarrely, I was probably showing signs of being a designer, except I didn’t think in those terms. A doll to me was a model for whatever I chose to sew.
I won the Sindy doll. It was the Queen’s Silver Jubilee in 1977, and our neighbourhood had come together to celebrate. An adult had printed out beautiful invites for all the children and we were invited to a tea party on the green. There was a fancy dress competition and I won as the Queen of the Daisies. Although, someone else must have added the “Queen” part as I remember it being a surprise to me, when I was called forward as the winner. My prize was the Sindy doll. A photographer captured the moment for next week’s paper. I have the newspaper cutting somewhere.
As I received my prize, my heart sank. Continue reading