Insty-Skirt
What color would you call this skirt? Acid/grass/Kool-aid green? I don't have a Pantone wheel handy, or I'd give it a number. That's not very romantic. Can you imagine walking into a fabric store and saying, "I want the poly/nylon fabric in FF203456." The sales clerk would just give you a puzzled look. It's much more effective to say, "Oh my gosh, I adore that lettuce/metallic shot silk dupioni. I must have it. Give me three yards of it please." The employee would whirl faster than a robot and pick up the exact fabric without hesitation. And she would be right. So numbers don't mean much in the tactile, visual world of textiles unless you're printing a book and every hue must be just right or the cheeseburger on page 52 is going to look very unappealing.

Anyhow, back to the skirt. This is the Bottom of the Summer (the other bottom on my body is with me all seasons, thank you). I wear this slip-on skirt constantly since I made it last week before I met a bunch of writers at Elephant & Castle pub in downtown Chicago. I wanted to impress. Most of all, I wanted to wear something else besides the black variation of this same piece of apparel. Basically, I wanted to look like I actually do laundry and own other clothes to all the people who see me on a regular basis - the postman, bus driver, the dogs and their owners who pass me on their daily jaunts in the neighborhood.

I sewed that skirt faster than it takes me to get to the grocery store and back on public transportation! I laid the fabric on the carpet in my bedroom and put the sole pattern piece down twice. Cut and snip - two sides of a skirt. I attached the two sides lightening-fast on my baby Viking. Then I whipped out the bathing-suit elastic, did a three-step zig-zag (similar to the triple step in lindy hop) on that stretchy stuff. Then I flipped that edge over, and secured it inside with a a normal zig-zag. Done!

I put on a black girdle underneath instead of a skirt and It Felt Good. All lower curves on the southern part of my being looked smooth. I was happy.

Now, I have to say I'm doing just as my niece Jackie suggested. When I asked her last year how she would wear a certain crochet skirt that was inadvertently made by a certain person to fit a child, she wrinkled her nose and said, "A pair of shorts."

At the time I was appalled. Shorts with a couture crochet skirt? This young girl certainly wasn't going to be the recipient of a certain handicrafter's wizardry.

Now I'm doing just that. Wearing shorts with my skirt, although I have yet to try it with the crochet kind. But a girdle on a hot day is so much more comfortable than a slip that sticks. What do you think?

Skirtronics

I made up that word. I have no idea what it means. It just sounds nice, very techno. Kind of mod, like this skirt here. You will not believe this - (or maybe you will considering how much I spend at Vogue Fabrics) - but I made this skirt from a pattern abandoned in the classroom at the abovementioned store.

I was trying so very hard to make this fabric - a lightweight black batiste with matching diagonal ridges, and white rickrack and lace - into Simplicity 4179 (a retro-blouse with an adorable Peter Peter collar and drop-waist). I thought I could get a nifty chevron effect going with the trim at an angle. Alas, I could not get the lace bits to match up. But I wanted so badly to make something - since I rented the classroom for a whole $7.50 - I started digging in the classroom shelves to see if there was a skirt pattern that I could use. And there was! I think I might be Vogue or maybe it was McCalls. I don't know. But it was manna for this craftster lost in Sewing Limbo.

I figured this skirt would look best and very trendy if the trim was slanted like a blackslash symbol, rather than striving for a V (the chevron). So a very sweet Vogue Employee helped to lay out the pattern on the bias. I was very nervous about that part - I've never sewn anything on the bias. I figured left to my own devices that this sewing project would end up off-grain and -kilter and the whole kit-kaboodle would end up in the dumpster on my way out.

But I bravely cut the pattern as it was laid out (and the same employee helped me cut out an impromptu yoke). But I didn't start sewing until I was in the safety of my own home. I actually hung it in my closet to let it streeeetch for a couple of days. And then I sewed the sides, putting in my second invisible zipper (boy, do I splitting the coils with that invisible-zipper foot. What fun!). Then I put my Work of Art on my mannequin, to let the fibers do some Yoga, relax, do some more poses, and streeeetch some more.

Then after 48 hours or so, I spun my mannequin around lopping off the excess fabric so I'd have a beautiul and even hem. Just that alone made me less afraid of hems - I'd always been hesitant to do 'em because who's going to help Ms. Lonely Hearts chop out the extra stuff at the bottom when the Time comes? I don't have a maid, ghost or even a dog at hand to aid in the task. Then the sewing machine, with my assistance, stitched down the hem so it wouldn't go anywhere.

That done, I tacked down the yoke with an extra row of stitching at the waist and the Viking went to work once more. I even let the machine put on the hook and eye. I'm not fond of hand-sewing little gizmos.

Now I've got a favorite new skirt. It fits me fine. Well, it's actually loose now that I've lost 10 pounds. What do you think I'm going to do with the remnants? They're going be the waist, collar and sleeves for Simplicity 4179. I'm going to do the bodice in basic black batiste so I don't have to worry about the trim coordinating. Phew!