A Plunge Worth Taking

After completing the renovations to my wannabe hacking jacking jacket, but before attaching the new hand-tied leather buttons, I did what any sensible tailor would: I put it on the dress form and paced nervously around it for several days. Then I asked you, Gentle Readers, whether to risk washing it or not. Then I started knitting a dress. And finally, I decided that the potential reward of washing it would be worth the risk, and busted out the Dawn Dishwashing Liquid (friend to all things filthy and wool):

My jacket, relaxing in the bubble bath. Note the throw-uppy brown of the water.

I lay herc arefully into a farm sink filled with cold water and Dawn. Then I gently pressed down, to make sure the surface tension and air were released. Then I walked away; Far away; for three hours. I steadfastly resisted the temptation to check, swish, or otherwise agitate the jacket in any way. I *may* have forced myself to leave the house, just to be safe.

Then I let the water drain without actually moving the jacket for another several hours. I knew squishing/wringing the water out would, at best, create hard wrinkles, and at worst, rumpled/shrunken canvas and padding. I had to leave again to keep myself from messing with it.

Still unsure of the results, I removed her from the sink and lay her flat to dry on a pile of clean towels. I rolled an additional towel up and placed it crosswise along the shoulder line, for support.

A full two days later (it’s the dead of winter, remember), I was able to hang her on an antique suit hanger (read: shapely wooden shoulders) over a heat register in order to get the hems fully dry without stretching out the length of a damp jacket.

And miracle of miracles, she barely had a wrinkle! Not so much as one nasty crease. My uncharacteristic patience paid off! Let that be a lesson to me. It won’t, but it seemed worth saying, at least.

I assembled my pressing tools. Knowing I was going to blog this, I searched for equivalent pressing accoutrements to which I could direct you. Sadly, they are hard to find, and smaller/less robust than those my mother passed down to me. But have a look HERE and HERE, if you’re inclined.

A selection of pressing tools, all vintage, from my childhood, and still going strong

Steaming and pressing in the bag without incident, I was finally able to attach my newly-arrived buttons. The were/are unequivocally worth the wait.

Thanks, Italy, by way of NYC!

And there we have it: A hacking-style jacket from handwoven Scottish wool, for less than $50 (the buttons cost far more than the jacket, and are worth every penny) and a couple of hours.

I love this thing, both coming;

And Going!

And lastly, a Selfie, with Atlas Puppy looking on approvingly in the foreground: As with the jacket, what this shot lacks in artifice, it supplies in authenticity:

What say you, Friends? Might you try a simple restoration like this, given a worthy wool and the right pricetag?