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?

In Which I Pull a Rabbit From My Hat

Oh and there’s Knitting! There’s always knitting. My current WIP is going to be a dress when it grows up. Bizarrely, I’ve never knitted a dress before, and lately it’s all I can think about. Enter the exquisite merino from Jorstad Creek, called Shuksan:

I only had one skein of the gorgeous moss green to start with, so I had to plan accordingly, in case subsequent skeins are of a different dye lot. I could have just worked from the top down to start, but doing so would have resulted in motif stitches that are reversed (oriented like “A’s” rather than “V’s”), which I just can’t abide. So I measured around my chest and shoulders (Do Not Attempt This at Home), worked a provisional CO, and jumped right in. I hadn’t planned on the turtleneck; It just sorta happened in my hands. But I totally dig it; it’s super cozy.

Another thing I’ve never done before is to draw a chart which occasionally features three strands in a round. That’s been a big non-no of mine, but I just couldn’t control myself this time. My rationale is that I’ve spaced the three-color rounds far enough apart to rest in between, and the vast majority of the remaining knitting will be single-color stockinette in the round, which is kinda boring.

The finished pattern will be written to be worked from the bottom up, due to my fixation with motif stitch direction, but it should be easy enough to reverse the direction for my top-down junkies (I’m looking at you, Carson Demers)

So, who’s got a great idea for the name of a dress with hares on its yoke? Kindly share in the comments, won’t you?

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?