I recently acquired an adorable little coat at a secondhand shop that had once fit a toddler until it met a sad fate in the hands of a washing machine. (Pardon the photo, I broke all my own rules out of sheer impatience.)
Its once-proud woolen sleeves and hood were reduced to the ridiculous. But I loved the idea of the coat (wool sleeves and hood, soft velour body, kitten-soft fleece lining, double-breasted, neutral colors), so I took it home. I had vague plans for copying the original idea and knitting new components and attaching them in the proper parts, but I didn't really know how I wanted to do that and I had no undyed yarn hanging around anyway. And then I happened to go to the Pendleton Wool Mill Store with a friend of mine and picked up many generously-sized pieces of blanket header for a song. Less than a song, maybe a hackneyed whistle, it was stunning. I felt very clever for being there, and for scooping it up. This fabric is far softer and lighter than the average Pendleton blanket fare, and those large expanses of undyed wool beckoned to me...
Let me preface all this by saying that I am not, by an stretch of the imagination, a sewer. One Who Sews, or seams or whatnot. I do own a machine, which has been mainly employed for the Sewing On of Patches in Male Pants. I happen to have a bevy of friends who are extremely gifted in this realm, however, and they make it look so easy...Plus, as a veteran(ish) knitter, I flatter myself that I know a thing or two about garment construction.
I ripped off the Lilliputian sleeves and hood, pondered for a bit, and decided to just sort of jump in.
I busted out a paper bag, got to drawing shapes on it, said some quick prayers, and merrily hacked away at my beautiful new cloth. Then it was just a matter of putting pieces in place.
Ta-Da!
Once I had the hood mostly assembled, I paused. It was so plain, it just begged for some applique. I love applique, just ask my poor friend Heidi how often I have abused our friendship (and her sewing skills) because of my love of applique. I found some buff wool fabric scraps, and cut out a bunny, because an adorable, soft little coat needs a bunny.
I am busting my buttons over here, folks. This came out way better and was so much easier than I had dared to dream, and it was so FAST! And with any luck, it will fit for the cold months next year, as well.
I put some pleats in the hood so that it could be extra deep, and with the sleeves rolled up now it's a nice trench coat for the Little, so I am optimistic. I think I may add another row of buttons, just the two leaves it kind of breezy about the legs.
(Ahahaha! This kills me.)
Stand back, folks, I'm getting all kinds of cocky and ambitious. I've even done some knitting, as I said before, but I have to hold my son down and take some more photos before you get to see.
I put some pleats in the hood so that it could be extra deep, and with the sleeves rolled up now it's a nice trench coat for the Little, so I am optimistic. I think I may add another row of buttons, just the two leaves it kind of breezy about the legs.
(Ahahaha! This kills me.)
Stand back, folks, I'm getting all kinds of cocky and ambitious. I've even done some knitting, as I said before, but I have to hold my son down and take some more photos before you get to see.
Also, totally unrelated, but my friend Alex had this on her blog for a contest, and it was bewildering and hilarious, so in case you have been dying to find out what your steampunk name is, die no more: Steampunk Name Creator. You're welcome. (Somehow mine is 'Her Royal Highness Amelia Bucket'. What?!)