sturdiness

Another couple of garments, or more.

I’ve been on a quest to make clothes that are suitable for yard work and walking in the woods, because on any given day I may suddenly start doing one of those things, and it can be inconvenient to have to change clothes first. So comfortable, warm layers that also work for outdoor work or adventure. I knew I wanted skirts. I love wearing skirts. The only problem with skirts is that they are often designed to not be sturdy, but flowy, or dressy, and such garments are liable to catch on things, and tear easily, and otherwise cramp one’s style in the forest. But there’s no reason a skirt can’t be a perfect forest garment, if made from the right fabric. So when my husband gave me some old khakis for the donation pile, my mind went ka-ching!

Plotting and scheming - my sewing notebook has the idea and measurements, fabric is being auditioned for pockets. I added the orange fabric by sewing one side to the khaki, then putting it on my body and drawing a line where the other seam needed to be to give me enough flare. Not very scientific.

Inverted leg of khaki pants, spread flat and bordered by orange cotton blend - half the skirt in side view, with drawstring, before pockets.

It so happened that a trouser leg, cut open and free from pockets, waistband and zipper, then flipped so the cuff is on top, is just the right size for the side of a skirt. The two cuffs nearly fit around my waist, and I just had to fill the front and back wedges with another strong cotton cloth. I had this orange stuff from Thailand - may be part synthetic, so I wasn’t in love with it, but for this purpose it was just right. Threaded a drawstring through the cuffs-now-waistband, and added huge pockets using some of my hand-dyed fabric (also unloved, in theory, but perfect for this job - it’s amazing how that happens.)

Side view of garden skirt, showing full inverted trouser leg panel, with large yellow & green pocket, discharge dyed with square grid stencil.

Back hip pocket with secateurs, taken while on my body, so not great. Pocket cloth is brown Thai sarong fabric, same as back of Lichen Duster skirt.

This immediately worked as a gardening skirt. All I had to do was add a back hip pocket, since my secateurs are hard to retrieve from the voluminous side pockets. What a revelation, that a pant leg works as a skirt panel. I hope Sharon Kallis is proud - it’s the sort of thing she would figure out. I would plan to do this again & again, except that this skirt will probably serve me for a good long time. It is hard to give away high quality fabric, though, so if more donation pants come my way, maybe in a darker color…..?

The second new garment is made of new fabric. When I saw the rust denim for sale at District Fabric, I knew it would be my next Sturdy Outdoor Garment. Priority wardrobe items for me are those I can throw on over top of whatever else I’m wearing. I am big on layering, and live in a place conducive to it. In the last couple of years, most of the clothes I’ve made are of the tunic/apron/jumper genre. (And I say jumper in the American sense, not the British sense of sweater or pullover.) This rust denim jobbie is what I grew up thinking of as a jumper. As you can see, it goes on over everything I’m wearing, in this case sweatpants and a wool sweater (a jumper over a jumper, wot?) And yeah, I’m really happy with it.

Rust denim jumper over sweatpants and neutral wool sweater, as worn indoors (over my basic house clothes, that is)

Huge pockets again, an enlarged version of those from the Odacier Elizabeth Shannon apron, which I’ve made three times now. For the dress itself, I started with a base of 100 Acts of Sewing Dress No.3, and made large armholes in place of sleeves - I did sew a mock up of the top section, to check the fit. This is such a great, warm, rugged outer layer. It’s exactly what I need and has been into the woods with me several times already.

Ok, this is a lot of clothing and sewing and me pictures, so here, have some clouds and sky.

Clouds and tree silhouettes over the bay and the low, distant mountains. A beautiful evening.

I gotta say, for everything I write about here, there are a dozen things I don’t write about. There are usually about a gazillion thoughts in my head that I would love to share, but the process of getting those into this “space” in a meaningful way is kind of clunky, and so there is usually less here than I intended to include.

Anyway, we’re still on the theme of making clothes. Another category of clothes I love is the underlayers. I’m happy when I can put something on over everything, or under everything, and I made an underneath layer recently, too. At some point during perusal of historical clothing and sewing videos, I saw the 18th century style of petticoat, which is made from two rectangles, with a split at the top, and tied from back to front, then from front to back on top of that. This struck me as brilliant, because cloth is not cut and shaped and yet, it can be sized large enough and gathered at the top to fit nicely. I am a big fan of rectangular cloth as garment, but in many cases, such as Southeast Asian sarongs, the fit leaves something to be desired on this body. I knew the 18th C petticoat would work, and I fully enjoyed the calm demonstration of its construction by Burnley and Trowbridge on YouTube.

Detail of the slit where the two halves join below the waistband. There is a small bar tack sewn at the base of the slit, instructions for which are included in the B & T video. This is one of my favorite details!

Super closeup of the tape, sewn to the pleated top edge of the skirt. I did all the basting recommended in the video, which gave an added sense of security. Color is more true in this image. The shirting looks ochre yellow overall, and is actually woven from dark brown, rust orange, and bright yellow threads.

I had two remnants of a beautiful Japanese shirting fabric that I bought for the admiration of it, not knowing what it would become. This is cotton, but it’s a tight weave, so as a layer, it adds warmth. I often wish for something underneath skirts or dresses, and like my other handmade garments, this is not part of a conscious outfit, but a needed element that will fit nicely who-knows-when (or possibly all the time.) The tape I was weaving a couple of posts ago was finished with enough length to make the back and front ties, and I stitched the entire thing by hand, just because. Half the reason I sew clothes is to work with the nice fabric, so sewing by hand adds to the pleasurable experience - and this was an exercise in honing my hand-sewing skills (that video really got me going - see captions.)

Apron pattern from Odacier on Etsy. I have another one of these, closed-back style, that I wear All The Time. It can be thrown on over everything for instant presentability and pockets!

Back of apron. I had fun centering the floral motifs of the sarong - and the floral border at the bottom was a serendipitous surprise.

Here’s a picture of me wearing the petticoat, under the Elizabeth Shannon apron I impulsively made from another long-treasured Thai sarong. See? The petticoat is going to go with everything. And this is apparently use-the-sarongs year. I’ve sewn no less than four into garments, so far. I know! I’m making tons of clothes! But it’s constructive self-soothing, and for the most part I own the fabrics already, or have long wanted the type of garment being made.

As the post title says, the point lately has been sturdiness. Each of these should last for years and years, and I’m not afraid to get out and do stuff in them. They can handle it, which is another reassuring aspect of this activity. Nothing like being able to make what you need, and knowing that it’s well made.