My Need for Tweed

It turns out that tailoring handwoven tweed is the fiber equivalent of a comfort food binge. Mac and cheese has nothing on this, people. It’s so maleable, so coorperative, so downright deluxe to play with. I may need an intervention.

I started by doing this. Even I, who have no problem eviscerating my own knitting, had to take a calming breath before hitting an otherwise perfectly made garment with the shears. But hit it I did, and I’m glad I took the dare.

Removing the lower 6” of fabric. The black tape is the original stabilizer from inside the front hem. I recycled it, since it was already trained into the perfect curve by its maker. Thanks, unknown tailor!

Renovations are underway. Can I tell you about the smug satisfaction I derived from making handsewn buttonholes on Harris Tweed? My last real tailoring adventure was in 2016, when I finally attended formal kiltmaking school. Buttonholes are a fairly big deal in kilts, even though there is usually only one. This little trip back to my roots feels so organic. It’s good medicine to occasionally pivot from one fiber art to another.

New back belt (more buttonholes!), waiting for buttons to arrive

And while I’m on the subject: I found a new treasure trove of sewing supplies!

Bias Bespoke is a NYC tailors’ supply company who offer quality, hard-to-find sewing items that may be of interest to you, Gentle Readers (no consideration is paid to me for this endorsement - just passing it along). Click HERE to see the goodies. They shipped right away after receiving my order, and helpfully provided tracking and updates.

While I wait for my new buttons, I’ll finish the last bit of shortening and handwork, then decide whether or not to pull the trigger on hand-washing or not. Being so satisfied with my alterations has me doubting the wisdom of risking a hand wash. But I don’t love the idea of living with decades-old garment soil, either. Post your opinions in the comments. won’t you, Friends?