January 2020 | Mismatched Buttons (A Monthly Journal)

Shy Summer

It took a minute for Wellington to realise that it was summer this year. Even though the weather was reasonably good, it was cold, which meant that rather than my sewing turning to light and floaty garments, it felt like a good time to make things like jackets and jumpers (shoulder shrug). In spite of the weather, though, I had a really, very creative January, in which I branched out into a different type of sewing, started some knitting, went rogue with my weaving, and dusted off my water colours. Sounds like a fun summer, huh? Let me tell you more…

Seamwork Audrey Jacket

Fabric Rigid Selvedge Denim from Drapers Fabric.

Pattern Audrey Denim Jacket by Seamwork.

Size My measurements are B-37”, W-30”, H-40”. I toiled it at a size 10, which was a good size for my hips and waist, but too big at the bust (ironically, the measurement in this pattern that really matters) so re-toiled it at a size 8, which was perfect.

Key Modifications I wanted a very cropped jacket I took a total 10cm off the length at various points through the waist to keep the integrity of the pattern piece shapes. I also took about 3cm length out of the arms.

Final Word It felt like such a risk, cropping this jacket so much, but I’m so very pleased I did! I absolutely love it! My one problem with a blue denim jacket is I so often wear blue denim jeans, and I just can’t bring myself to do double-blue-denim. So you know what this means, huh? Audrey number two is already in the planning!

The pattern was really great to follow, and I would highly recommend signing up to Seamwork for a month so that you can follow the online video tutorial. When it came to certain tricky points, I found it so much easier to watch the method than to try work it out from words on a page. So thrilled with this make that I plan a longer blog post on the Audrey Jacket once I’ve finished my second one.

If you want to read my tips on topstitching, head over to my blog post Tip Top Topstiching Tips.

Oberlin Tote

At the end of 2019, and after several weeks hemming and hawing about whether I should, I decided to buy a full maker’s kit for a Oberlin Tote by Klum House, using limited edition fabric designed by Amy van Luijk. I eventually took the dive as an early Christmas present to myself, and I’m so pleased I did. It took me until January to make it, but what a joy!

This is the first highly-detailed bag I’ve made, complete with a new range of materials, hardware and skills to grapple with. Using a full maker’s kit, however, really simplified the process. Klum House’s maker’s kit comes beautifully packaged in a tube, with all the fabric (pre-cut and notched) leather (all prepared) and hardware the project needs. The instructions are excellently written and very considered, meaning that I had no problems, even with tricky bits like the zipper. I loved putting this tote together, and I love the bragging rights to including me-made bags in my outfits.

My only thing about this bag—and it’s a very small thing—is the white of the exterior pocket picks up the dye from rubbing against my jeans. My recommendation with this tote is to use a darker or more robust fabric for the pockets on one side, so that it doesn’t matter so much if it picks up dyes from other fabrics.

Miscellaneous Summery Making of Joy

It struck me as super counter-intuitive until I worked out why, but I always get really excited about knitting during summer. The itch sets in, and all I want to do is cast on a new project. I couldn’t figure it out: was it some sort of internal preparation for winter? A slowing down necessary to knitting that sets in with that summer holiday vibe? Or a weird fetish to have my hands very hot and sweaty at the hottest time of the year?

It finally struck me: it’s because of cricket. In summer, one of my greatest enjoyments is knitting while watching the cricket. They just compliment each other perfectly. You see, knitting and cricket move at a similar pace: slowly. They have a similar rhythm: you might knit a row during an over. With both you generally teeter between boredom and engagement, paying enough attention to know what’s going on, while also being able to crowd-watch, have a beer, chat with your companion, ruminate on the current goings-on. And then something happens—a dropped stitch, a dropped catch—and it’s exciting again! A flurry of activity and heart-racing attention, and then you settle back into the slow-moving relaxed rhythm you were in before. Knitting and cricket are just the perfect companions.

So, I’ve started a jumper, and I have high-hopes, this time, of finishing it. It’s the Cline Sweater from Julia Hoover Designs, and I’m knitting it out of Quince and Co’s Chickadee-weight yarn in the Honey colour way. I bought it from my favourite local yarn shop, Holland Road Yarn Company. It’ll be a long-running project and I’ve resigned myself to having to do some substantial frogging as I work out size, but this time, my friends, I’m going to finish it. Watch this space!

Weaving and Watercolour

One day in January, I just wanted to weave, but not as I’d planned to do when I set myself up in the latter part of last year. My sensible idea of a relatively plain piece of weaving for a cushion were thrown into the wind after a blustery walk on Wellington’s South Coast.

I wanted to capture the high winds frothing up the sea to roiling and fleeting light casting the land forms into deep shadow, so set out to do so in this piece of monochrome weaving. Let’s see where it goes.

On another day, I wanted to capture the sharp forms of some of the ceramics on our kitchen bench, so I dusted off the watercolours for a play. The more I look at this painting, the more I think I’d like to make it into a little embroidery.

And yet another day, I wanted to play with something more ambitious: painting the dried flowers that we have in our bedroom. I love the unusual shapes that come from the combination of the crinkled lines of twisted willow, the small, joyous globes of crespedia, the other-worldly lotus blossom forms and the comical hotdog-like bulrushes. It was one of those pleasant mornings of time lost track of, but satisfyingly spent.