How often in life do you expect to meet a soul mate? Once, if you’re lucky?
How about meeting a hundred soul mates over a weekend where all you have to do is nothing more than sew, chat, listen, learn, eat, drink wine and devote 48 hours to nothing other than yourself, your sewing and your friends?
Do you ever sew outside your comfort zone? I recently decided to take my own sewing experiences one step further by enrolling for a sequin embroidery workshop with the Royal School of Needlework, hosted at the Bath Fashion Museum. And if that’s not a sentence to make you swoon, I don’t know what else to write.
Meet my beloved velvet press board, scooped up for me from a car boot sale. I barely use it but love owning it. A bit like this brass tape measure, I bought myself from the same car boot sale (different day, same venue).
What can I say? I loves me a car boot sale.
I wouldn’t actually use this tape measure in my dressmaking. Woven tapes become stretched and distorted with age. But I enjoy owning it.
The Maker’s Atelier second quarterly magazine release (kindly gifted to me) inspired me to dig these items out. The theme is velvet, and what a sumptuous production this magazine is. I defy you not to utter gasps of delight as you turn the thick, snow-white pages.
I am currently sewing a blouse that asks you to attach a button band to a pre-hemmed front pattern piece. Above, you can see where the base of the button band meets the hem of the blouse front.
Whenever you have a junction like this, you want the two sections to meet up closely and accurately, so that there’s no ‘jump’ in the hem’s line.
Over the years, I’ve discovered a trick when attaching two sections like this – I end my row of stitching just short of the finish line. Can you see below, the little gape?
That little bit of leverage allows you to adjust and tweak the way the fabric sits, when you flip the rear of the button band over and sew it down. This, in turn allows you a smooth and accurate meeting point along the hem. Job done.
Sometimes, sewing is about knowing when not to sew. Sometimes, it’s the empty spaces that count! Do you have any tips like this, learnt from trial and error?
You know, I’d almost be tempted to get married, just to wear a wedding dress like Juliet’s. It’s definitely a dress, rather than a gown. And that’s what I love about this wedding outfit – it’s so grown up.
If you’ve read a bestselling novel or even gone to the cinema over the past few years, it’s likely you’ve enjoyed the talent of a Juliet Mushens client. Juliet is a literary agent known for her laser eye, immaculate taste and editorial skills. She also has excellent taste in dresses, as evidenced by this once-in-a-lifetime commission from Maggie Cooke.
Juliet kindly agreed to tell us in her own words the story of a dress that truly took my breath away…
HOLY MOLEY, WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING, DID MOTHER NATURE NOT GET THE MEMO, WE DON’T DO HEAT!
Or as a friend wrote to me today, ‘I find sleeping at night with no clothes and no covers strangely discomforting rather than liberating!’ No kidding. I mean, we’re British. We don’t do flesh – not of the naked kind.
I’ve been mulling kindness lately. To me, this photo represents:
Sewing gifts made to me
Sewing gifts I have failed to make (baby quilt, I am looking at you!)
Sewing gifts from me to me (the best kind?)
Gifts yet to be handed over
Gifts that have nothing to do with sewing but make me happy
Kindness is contagious, we all know that. It’s also good for our minds and bodies, releasing all sorts of chemicals such as serotonin, endorphins and oxycodone.
Making makes us kinder. Actually, I think I stole that theory from Almond Rock, but it’s a great theory. There’s all sorts of evidence, from sewalongs to grief quilts, to sewing a wedding dress for your best friend, to the fabulous Knitted Knockers that a reader brought my attention to.
Do you use sewing to show kindness, or has anyone gifted kindness to you with a needle and thread? I’d love to hear.
I need to be kind to myself with some more sewing. I miss sewing right now!