See a New Dress...

...at my new home, handmadelibrarian.com. Please visit me there in the future, because this site will be shuttered soon. Thanks!

I'm Moving.

I'm now writing and posting at The Handmade Librarian and I'll be retiring this blogger site in the near future. So please visit me at my new online home--you'll be able to read both old posts (which I've exported from here to there) and new posts alike.

And while I've now closed comments here, you can comment over at The Handmade Librarian. Thanks!

Teatime Top.

A few months ago I picked up this worn out blouse at a Salvation Army in Detroit.
When I say that it was worn out, I'm not kidding. The sleeves had tears and holes that someone had tried years ago to mend with canvas patches and some crazy zigzagging; the upper back and shoulders were faded and thin; and the hems of the sleeves had given way. But I loved the print so much, and the shirt showed such evidence of stewardship, love, and use, that I had to bring it home with me. Last week, inspiration struck and out it came for refashioning. First I dismantled the blouse to see what usable bits I had to work with--the lower half of the shirt back, much of the sleeves, and much of the two front panels. I strategically used some of these parts in combination with some cotton from my stash that seemed like it might complement the teapots since it was the color of freshly brewed tea. And after following Made by Rae's tutorial on Sew Mama Sew, I ended up with this finished top:
I'd recommend this tutorial and I will return to it myself and make more summer tops like this. And these teapots have been given a new life thanks to Wardrobe Refashion!

What Were the Chances?

I have to thank Millie Motts, who curates an ambitiously extensive collection of images of vintage clothes and advertising and ephemera, for a huge happy surprise today! Over at her oh-so-fabulous blog, she has posted images from a 1966 Simplicity pattern catalog, and one of the patterns pictured is none other than the wedding dress that my grandmother made for my mother. What were the chances that this pattern would arrive on my virtual doorstep as it has? This is the same dress that I wore when I got married a couple of years ago, and I'm now a step closer to finding the pattern. (To see the dress advertisement, check out the sixth image down--the dress is question is there in all its glory!)

I'm hoping that Millie will help me out with the pattern number so that I can continue to hunt for this pattern with more information at hand. If you haven't yet discovered Millie Motts, please add her to your reader IMMEDIATELY and also take a gander at her image sets on Flickr--you'll be treated to heaps of fabulous images of fashion, ads, patterns, and more.

Sheep to Shawl, with Oxen Along the Way.

Yesterday afternoon we took a quick trip up to Philipsburg Manor to see what was happening at this historic Hudson valley farmstead's Sheep to Shawl Fest. We arrived just in time to see the last batch of sheep being herded to the shearing area by a very intrepid dog. There are no shearing action shots, I'm afraid, because the place was swarming with children whom I felt should get up closer than I to see where sweaters come from.
In addition to the sheep and the shearing, there were spinners and weavers and knitters on hand to explain and demonstrate their work. And a wool dyeing demonstration as well--all very impressive. And so, as advertised, we did have an opportunity to see wool travel from sheep to shawl.

We also met a couple of oxen who are from a handsome and distinctive heirloom breed of cattle that shares a background, genetically-speaking, with those oxen that arrived with 18th c. colonists to North America. The breed, Randall, has brown and white coloring and a distinct white line down their backs. We met them after their day's work, when they were relaxing over dinner in the barn (and not letting me get a good picture of their nice white linebacks, alas).
And speaking of farms, I'm thinking that I might have to get my hands on this book sometime soon.

A Dutch Blue Dress.

I have a vintage suitcase in my closet that was, until last week, overstuffed with a variety of curtains from many previous apartments. And after at last admitting that there is really no need for such excesses of window treatment potential at hand, I looked through the offerings in search of refashioning inspiration. This dress is the result:
I made it out of three large blue curtain panels, and the pattern is the result of a grafting of two patterns (one being in a child's size) into something new. Here are the two patterns that I used:
The neckline, buttoned shoulders, and top stitching detail all came by way of the pattern on the left from Oliver + S. It's a sweet (and satisfyingly straightforward) pattern for a children's Sailboat Top, which I bought at Purl Patchwork last week. I based the rest of my dress on an old pattern (on the right: McCall's Stitch 'n Save 9153), a summer dressmaking staple for me. Its simple silhouette can be altered easily by changing necklines, sleeve lengths, waist details, etc. By combining the new neckline and the dress body, and then shortening it and adding the slender tie belt, I had a new dress from old curtains!

The fabric's a heavy blue cotton that I think of as Dutch blue. It's sturdy and a bit stiff and not the sort of stuff I'd usually use to make a dress. But it provides an interesting substance to the garment's shape, and its color sets off the tomato-red-orange buttons and top stitching. Now I just have to wait for spring weather to catch up so that I can take my new dress outside.

I have a couple more curtain reincarnation projects in the works, so more soon!

Onion Skin Easter Eggs.

I didn't know that onion skins (yes, the papery brown ones from plain old yellow onions at the grocer) would dye eggs until I read about it in a 1945 craft book at the library. But I soon learned that this idea is far from forgotten, and I decided to try it out for myself. A bag of onions, a carton of eggs, a few cotton swabs, and a couple of candles later, and the project was complete. It's like alchemy that a humble item like an onion skin has such transformative power. Add to this domestic magic the fact that I can dye eggs with plants instead of the strange chemical Paas tabs, and I'm sold on the plan.

I started with room temperature eggs, and then used cotton swabs to make dots of melted wax all over the shells. (The hot wax wouldn't adhere to a cold egg.) I peeled a 4-lb. bag of onions and threw all of the papery skins into a saucepan and arranged the eggs on top before filling the pot about three quarters full of cold water. Then, I brought the pot of water to a boil, turned off the heat, covered the pot, and let it all sit there for a little bit. I forgot to keep an eye on the time, but I think that the eggs were in their hot bath for about 15 minutes. At that point, I fished out the eggs and gave them a cold water rinse before putting them into the fridge.

It was dead easy and I'll do it again--perhaps plain crayons instead of melted wax would simplify things next time. In addition to having sweetly decorated Easter eggs in time for the holiday, we reap two additional benefits of this project at home. One, we now have a batch of hardboiled eggs at hand for snacks and salads; the natural dye doesn't alter the flavor at all. And two, we have LOTS of onions, already peeled, ready to be made into Nigella Lawson's oomphy and delicious onion mush from How to Eat. If you haven't made this concoction of supremely caramelized onions before, please do--and then mix a spoonful with some hardboiled eggs and mayonnaise for a nice Easter-y baguette spread. Happy Spring!