Mrs Darcy Wears the Trousers tutorial part two: assembling the pockets and trouser fronts

Welcome to the second part of the Mrs Darcy Wears the Trousers tutorial. This week you are going to construct each trouser leg separately before sewing them together. For each of the following instructions, repeat them for the other leg.

First of all, you need to insert the pleat in piece 1. Lay piece 1 out with the right side facing upwards. Bring the two solid lines together until they meet, directly on top of the dotted line. Press this (box) pleat, making sure that it is even on the back. Pin this:

and sew down (horizontally), using a straight stitch within the seam allowance, but very close to your marked sewing line.

Now it’s time to construct the pockets. Find the pieces 1 and 4 that face this way, right sides up:

With right sides together, pin and sew pieces 1 and 4 together along seam NA, stopping at #. Start from the top of the trouser front/ pocket, and sew downwards. Here they are pinned:

and sewn:

Now find pieces 3 and 5 that face this way, right side up:

With right sides together, pin and sew pieces 3 and 5 together along seam LP, stopping at *. These seams will feel strange – a bit unevenly matched and bulky. It’s just because they are slightly different curves and lengths. Just pin them carefully. It’s really important that you don’t pull on the fabric when you are sewing curves, as they stretch out of shape quite easily. To combat this, pin them pieces really carefully and feed them gently and slowly through the machine, without pulling on them. You could even hand sew them loosely first, for extra security. It will look nice and flat when you open it out. Here they are pinned:

and sewn:

Next, you need to attach your pocket lining to your pocket piece. Attach pieces 3 and 4 by pinning and sewing seam MO with right sides together. Here they are side by side:

and sewn:

Now arrange the fabric, right side up, so that edge A meets edge P. The pocket fabric should lie beneath the trouser front.

Finally, pin and sew between # and * of the pocket pieces. (Do not attach the pocket pieces to the trouser front at this point.) In this photo, it’s the bit between the pins.

Press all your seams. If you really want to, you can understitch the seams where your pocket meets the trouser fabric, to stop the pocket fabric from rolling out. But I don’t like to: the pockets are made to gape slightly and show off the pocket fabric.

Madeleine

What fabrics have you chosen for your pockets? I’d love to know!

Two quilts, maybe three

Not so very long ago – within the last five years – the airing cupboard held bulging bags of would-be quilts. There were old wool blankets from our grandparents’ homes, a stained batik tablecloth of my mothers, a tired feather duvet, ripped sheets, leftovers from dressmaking projects and more than a couple of bags of old clothes in patterned fabrics. One summer holiday I got the whole lot out and divided it up as best I could, never having made a quilt before. I divvied up the blankets and other bits of wadding, assigned backing, and estimated how many scraps I’d need for each. Armed with a pair of scissors and the fact that a coin quilt really couldn’t be all that tricky, I set about making my very first quilt, which Seb has had on his bed ever since. It took far more scraps than I’d anticipated, and I wouldn’t use such a heavy backing again, but it still looks nice enough.

Ilse’s Irish Chain took several months more, even with the loan of a cutting mat and other game-changing equipment. It took so long, in fact, that I wondered if the library would allow me to keep renewing the same book for so many months. But eventually that, too, was done, and the bags in the airing cupboard were a little bit lighter.

That summer I got organised and made up two more ‘kits’, dying white sheets for backgrounds and setting myself up for the next two quilts. That autumn I ended up making three, two of which have never been blogged and Ben’s fast and furious leaving-home quilt. And, finally, the airing cupboard was empty and all the children’s beds were covered in a bit of homemade warmth.

Five quilts down the line, a huge kingsize one is next, for John and I. In my head, I place a glorious order with Liberty and spend a happy month or so making a starburst of truly cosmic dimensions, radiating from its epicentre in a blur of colour and light. One day.

In reality, all the sewing I’ve done over the past couple of years has generated a significant number of scraps, and this is what I quilt with. I’ve learned a thing or two about keeping them quilt-ready. Inspired by professional quilters who keep their bins full of precut fabrics in every size, shade and scale, I’ve been keeping on top of my own cutting in a rather more specific way.

The thing about using scraps and old clothes is that for every nice big 8″ square you get, you end up with fifty much smaller bits that simply can’t be used. So I’ve chosen three quilts to have on the go, in sizes that can be cut down into each other if I change my mind.

First of all, there’s a postage stamp quilt, designed to use up all those pesky little 2.5″ square pieces (anything smaller goes in a scrap jar and gets used for making cards, and crazy quilting and the like. Ilse loves digging through it). I don’t think I’d have the patience to sew 1936 little scraps of fabric together in one go, but it’ll take years for me to accumulate that many scraps. In the meantime, I’m stitching them into 16 patch blocks with no rules other than that no fabric can be repeated in each block. When I’ve made 121 of them (or earlier, if I get sick of this project) I’ll sew them all together and finish the quilt.

The quilt that I’m really excited about is the next size up. I cut anything that would allow into 5″ squares, so that I could cut them down into 2.5″ squares if I wanted to speed the postage stamps along, and spent a very pleasant few months considering what to do with them. For a long time, I pondered a hand-stitched clam quilt, but in the end Christina’s gorgeous Drunkard’s Path sent me on a little pathway of my own, and I am planning something like this beauty. I’ve dyed and cut more than enough grey squares (yet another worn out sheet) in various shades to pair with the number of coloured squares I have so far, and am looking forward to some steady piecing as and when the fancy takes me.

Finally, I’d like to make a very simple, large scale quilt of half square triangles. Whenever I can – and it isn’t often – I cut a 10″ square. These seem to get used up faster than I can collect them: twenty went into the back of a baby quilt, and several more were cut up into 5″ squares. I’ve got eleven at the moment, and think the duplicates will hit the cutting mat soon. That leaves just eight, which is a very small beginning indeed. Perhaps that pile will grow, and one day there’ll be a kaleidoscope of all my favourite fabrics on our bed, in triangles large enough to show them off. Or perhaps I’ll need just a few more squares here or there to finish off the other quilts, and that’ll be the end of that. Whichever happens, it doesn’t really matter. All things being equal, there’ll be a quilt on our bed in the next couple of years, and another for the guest room. Two quilts is what is really planned, and a third would be a bonus.

Madeleine

How do you plan your quilts (or do you not plan them at all)? Do you make them fast, or over months and years? With new fabric or old?

Introducing Mrs Darcy Wears the Trousers

Like many others, I greet the autumn with wool in hand, my to-knit list growing faster than I get get through it. But by the time December arrives, my appetite for knitting is sated somewhat, and I start planning my New Year sewing.

I love to sew in the cold and crisp new year. The winter is the only time when I can fully turn my back on the garden, and so any spare daylight hours can be given over, guilt free, to sewing. We light the big stove in the dining room and I’m happy in there all day, cutting and pressing at the big table before moving to the armchair in the bay to hand finish garments in the last of the afternoon light.

I do almost all our sewing for the year in the winter months. By February, the emphasis is very much on summer clothing: simple cotton frocks and skirts and whatever else is needed. I like to have an easy quilt on the go, so that I can make a block here or there when a spot of making is required and I don’t have time to dive into dressmaking. But in January, you’ll usually find me making any winter clothes that my wardrobe is lacking. And this year, what was lacking was most definitely a warm pair of versatile trousers.

These trousers are inspired by all those button-up trousers that men wear in period dramas – you know, the pale beige trews sported by Mr Darcy and his friend Bingley, for example. Rather than a complicated fit involving a fly, or the unflattering bulk of an elastic waist, I wanted a simple button front. I also wanted a appealing cut, and the simple lines of peg trousers look elegant on everyone, in my opinion. The beauty of this design is that the button closure, combined with the easy fit of the peg style, means that you don’t have to worry about fit. Simply make your trousers in the correct size, try them on, and sew the buttons in the right place for a perfect fit. Trouser fitting doesn’t get any easier than this.

I made my first pair of these last winter, from a gorgeous dotted chambray, using scraps of Liberty Maybelle for the pockets. As you can see from the photos, they look equally good styled for older and younger models. The lovely Ella wore them in a way I never would, and I loved their funked-up cool. In fact, I loved them so much that I wanted a version to carry me through the cooler months, so made another pair from a soft wool tweed. They work equally well in any soft and drapey fabric and are ridiculously comfortable. What’s more, they look good with everything. Dress them up with heels for work, or down with boots, pumps or sandals for home. Make the pockets from scraps of something beautiful, as they do peek out in the most delightful way. They also provide the all-important modesty needed with button-up trousers, ensuring that there’s no chance of an unfortunate gaping moment. And because these are a feminine take on the style, and we all know who was really in charge in that particular marriage, I’ve named them after Miss Elizabeth Bennett as was.

This is very much a beginner trouser pattern. If you can sew straight lines and curves on a machine, you can make these. There is some pleating involved around the waistline, and pockets to insert, but these are clearly explained. As you might expect, I’ve put together a fully-photographed tutorial which will be published beginning in January on this blog, and will remain freely available thereafter.

I’d like to run a little giveaway for this pattern, so if you’d like to be in with a chance of winning a free copy, please leave a comment below. To be eligible to win, you need to tell me who you are making the trousers for, and whether or not they will be your first pair. The deadline for entries is midnight (GMT) on Wednesday 9 January 2019. I’ll announce the winner on Thursday 10 January, which is also the day that the pattern will become available in my Etsy shop. The tutorials will be published over four Fridays from Friday 11 January.

Madeleine

Who would you make these trousers for? Will they be your first pair? Leave a comment answering both these questions to be eligible to win a free copy of the pattern.

As I’ll ever be

I have spent quite a bit of this holiday getting ready for the new year. There’s a lot on the books for 2019: a significant increase in work hours, a big birthday, work on the house, more patterns to publish, an outdoor swimming event, a couple of nice holidays… Then there are all the things I want to carry on with: parenting and gardening, ballet, music lessons, reading and crafting and working on my writing. Enough to keep me out of trouble, at any rate.

Yet for all my planning, I am not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I don’t see the logic in having just one shot at changing habits every year. If I want to change something, I’ll change it, no matter what the calendar says.

I do, though, always feel a shift during the Christmas holidays. It’s less to do with dates than the passing of the winter solstice, the subtle lengthening of the days, and the inevitability of the spring to come. Winter is here, and it won’t last forever. So I find myself making preparations, and urging others to do the same.

This year, as every other since we’ve lived in this house with its big old garden, we’ve had a family day out there, hacking and chopping and pruning until it is in a fit state to leave until it greens again. We filled two enormous builders’ sacks with evergreen waste to haul to the council compost facility, and have a heap of branches by the fire pit just waiting for den-building and a spot of chicken-proofing before an enormous bonfire one dull weekend to come.

As is also always the way, my focus has shifted away from knitting to sewing. I love to pull all my fabric out in the quiet days after Christmas, and write little labels assigning projects to each length. This year, though, I tried something new. Conscious of the fact that my time and attention are going to be stretched, I went ahead and cut every single one of my projects for the coming season. I have to give full credit for this to Jo at Three Stories High, who wrote a post about this in November. I have to admit, I read it and thought that while it was a good idea, it wasn’t for me, because I don’t like to have more than one work in progress on the go at a time. But when I was writing my labels, I realised that I probably wasn’t going to want to draft a new skirt pattern on a Saturday after the cleaning and shopping and ballet runs. I certainly wasn’t going to be in the mood for grading boys’ waistcoat pieces for the upcoming dance show. And I would probably put off dyeing the background fabric for my 5″ scrap quilt when faced with another week’s worth of laundry. Besides, in my head, a length of fabric is a work in progress the moment I pay for it. So I got on with it.

First I pulled out my tailored skirt block and drafted a new style I want to develop.

I drafted a bias-cut cami, and some new underthings, and cut up a stack of old clothes into scrap-quilt squares. There are also three bags and two lined zipped pouches, ready for some simple evening stitching.

I bought a couple of packets of Dylon and turned a ripped sheet, old pillowcase, stained dress shirt and boringly white fat quarter into grey background fabric.

And then I cut out 197 background squares in various shades of grey.

I dealt with all other the leftover pieces straight away, and now my quilts are ready to sew.

I graded a waistcoat pattern for Seb and the other boy in his ballet class, and cut all the pieces.

Then I tidied my little studio, including my sewing drawer. All that’s left uncut are two lengths of fabric for pattern tutorials (because I need to photograph the process) and one piece of rather lovely Liberty that I suspect is destined to be used whole, on the back of a quilt.

Everything else is ready for garments, bags, pouches or quilts.

And then I set my space up to carry on with my 2 1/2″ postage stamp quilt.

Not all the days have been quite as purposeful, though. I’ve been going for lots of long leisurely swims with John or one of the children for company. I’ve done some very relaxed piano practice. There has been a lot of lounging around watching films and knitting up my latest design. We’ve been for a few lovely sunshine-y strolls, including one down into the Hole of Horcum yesterday, when the purples and greens and oranges of the winter landscape delighted us all. We’ve been planning lots other of walks for the coming Sundays, with the odd pub lunch thrown in, as well as other nice things to do together in our downtime. And there’s a fiendishly difficult jigsaw in progress on the dining table.

Mostly, though – and especially in the week to come – I am going to be attempting the impossible, in trying to store up as much rest as possible for the weeks ahead. So yes, I will definitely be having that second cup of tea in bed, and perhaps doing a few rounds of colourwork before I get up. There’s nothing urgent, just now. Everything is as ready as it’s going to be for the weeks and months ahead. Now we just need to remember to enjoy them.

Madeleine

Are you ready for – and looking forward to – the new year? What does it hold for you?

A small, sustainable wardrobe: sticking to the plan

A series about the clothes we wear and the impact they have both on us and the world around us.

***

Do you like my new trousers? I did, about three weeks ago, when I had envisaged several days of leisurely sewing and tutorial writing. I had thought I’d be wearing them by the time the cold really began to set in. Before the rush of Christmas (and work in the run up to Christmas) began. Before I was squeezing awards nights and advent services on top of the usual evening activities of piano lessons and swimming and ballet. But alas, thanks to some computer programming issues, I’ve not been able to start them until this morning. Now I have a very limited timeframe to make them and photograph the tutorial and test the pattern. I’m not loving those ‘trousers’ quite so much any more.

The temptation to just go into town and buy a pair is pretty strong. I could combine it with a trip to the big central library, and have tea and cake with my mum. We could have a little wander around the lovely medieval streets of York and drink in the Christmassy ambience (and maybe some mulled wine). I could simply hand over some money and a lovely new pair of warm woollen trousers would be mine. There must be a nice pair out there somewhere.

If I’m honest, I haven’t even looked, because if I did find some, the temptation to buy them would be pretty strong. Today I am wearing a pair of Seb’s age 12-13 navy M&S tracksuit bottoms, because my other (mended!) pair of trews is in the wash and trousers are what I need to wear today. Fortunately, they are warm and comfy. Unfortunately, they are not quite my style. And while I would happily be seen in public in them (I wore them to the pool last night), it’s not an image I’m all that keen to cultivate.

The thing about trying to have a small, sustainable wardrobe is that it involves trying to stick to the plan even when the plan fails. And in our have-it-now age, that can be tricky. So I’ve reminded myself of why I’m going to stick to the plan. Why it matters. Because knowing that something actually matters is always my very best motivator.

  1. I’ve already bought the fabric. If I buy a pair of trousers, I’ll have a load of obsolete fabric sitting around. For some people, this is just stash; for me, it’s a waste.
  2. Even if I do buy some other trousers, I’ll probably use the fabric I’ve already bought to write and photograph the tutorial at some point. Which will result in two pairs of trousers, when I only need one.
  3. I do actually have the time to get it all done. I just need to get my head down and not stop until I get there. 
  4. I know that I never like ready-made clothes as much as homemade ones. I have got so used to my own fit, my own details, my own choice of fabrics and finishes that I find fault with even the nicest shop-bought clothes.
  5. Honestly? I don’t value shop-bought clothes as much as home made clothes. I know, I know. Even though I appreciate that someone, somewhere in the world put effort into making the garment, I am much more likely to donate it when a better alternative comes along. Given that I’ve got to make a pair of trousers anyway (for the tutorial), a bought pair will most likely end up being guiltily donated sooner or later. A homemade pair, on the other hand, will be worn beyond what is probably decent and then cut up to insulate potholders or something.

(And yes, I know that I could just make the tutorial pair in another size and gift them, but I really want a pair of the trousers I designed in wool, as I love them so much in chambray.)

Whether we make our own clothes or are shopping for a more eco-friendly wardrobe, we all come up against temptations to throw the plan out the window. I suspect that shoppers often see something really lovely when they weren’t looking for it, and have to resist the temptation to take it home. Makers might spend ages on a garment and then be really disappointed by the fit or finish. Sometimes it does us good to change our minds and deviate from the plan. They are our plans, after all.

But I’m sticking to this one, because I know that it really is the best way forward. After all, it’s just a pair of trousers. It’s only clothing, and I’m not going to end up naked if I don’t get these finished on time. So I’m going to end this post here, and get stuck into that basket of fabric and notions. With any luck, I’ll have a pair of trousers I love before too long.

Madeleine

Am I alone in finding it hard to stick to the plan sometimes? What are your pitfalls, and how do you talk yourself out of them? On the other hand, when do you go off piste?

A small, sustainable wardrobe: everyday mending

A series about the clothes we wear and the impact they have both on us and the world around us.

***

The very first thing I did today was mend a pair of trousers. I have a pair of chinos from a well known high-street store that I have worn and worn and worn over the last couple of years, and as a result I have worn a couple of holes right through the fabric by the back pockets. They are pretty baggy and saggy and out of shape. The fabric is fraying all along the waistband, pocket edges, and anywhere else that it possibly can. I could quite legitimately stick them in the rag recycling bag, except that they are now the most buttery-soft, not-in-the-least-bit-fussy, I-don’t-care-if-I-get-them-dirty trousers in the world. There’s room for them in my wardrobe yet.

The reason they were finally mended today was that I wanted to add them to a lights wash, and as anyone with experience of such things will tell you, adding things with holes to a washing machine is a recipe for disaster. Your little holes will grow. Sometimes they even turn into huge, unmendable rips. It was time for a quick fix.

Mending is one of those things that a lot of people just don’t do any more. It’s seen as fiddly, and difficult. There’s still some sort of myth that mends need to be either pretty (think Liberty patches) or invisible. So it’s no wonder that those of us who do intend to mend end up with a basket full, waiting for several hours of our attention.

In the real world, mends need to be quick and functional. If this had been a dropped dress hem or a snag in a pair of expensive woollen tights, I would have taken more time over a bit of handsewing. But these trousers are not going to be worn anywhere fancier than around the house, in the garden, or to the shops. I don’t care if people can see that I’ve stitched them up. In fact, I rather hope they do, and that it encourages them to do the same.

This particular job took less than the time it takes to make a cup of tea. I threaded my machine, set it to a narrow zigzag stitch and ran  over both holes a few times.

I didn’t even bother to change the thread on my bobbin: no-one is going to see the inside anyway.

People of a certain generation tend to mend their clothes because they were taught to do so as children. Most of us don’t. For some people, mended clothes feel like poverty, and I understand that. But for the rest of us, mending is a choice, and it is one that we really ought to take. A new pair of cotton chinos costs much more than £30 or £40. A quick search throws up all sorts of figures for water usage in the production of a single pair of jeans – any where from 3,781 to 11,000 litres. Whichever figure you choose, that’s an awful lot of water. Cotton chinos will have a similarly outrageous wet footprint. These weren’t organic cotton either. Cotton is the most pesticide-hungry of all major agricultural crops, and I’d like to get as much use as I can out of these to make up for the havoc they have already wreaked. The last thing I want to do is go out and buy another pair to do the gardening in.

The truth is that I won’t be wearing these to work or out to dinner. I do now have a reasonably-smart-and-warm trouser-shaped hole in my wardrobe. But these will serve beautifully as a way of keeping a new pair clean and smart for much longer than if I chucked these and went out and bought a new pair to wear for everything from cleaning my bike to public speaking at work. After all, that’s what people used to do with their clothes: keep old, mended ones for everyday, and enjoy something new as their Sunday best. No ordinary person would have dreamed of going out and buying something  new to dig the garden in.

I like to mend things as they need it, rather than letting it grow into an intimidating pile. Mostly it’s a quick fix – I’ve been known to use duck tape to keep old slippers going – but I do take my time occasionally. As a rule, though, no mending job should take more than ten minutes, which isn’t much to give in return for a freshly functional garment. You don’t need much in the way of skill, or even a sewing machine. Everyone should be able to sew on a button, pick up a hem and whipstitch a rip, in my opinion. It’s as much a life skill as being able to cook a meal, or change a tyre.

There has been a surge of interest in mending lately, with the most beautiful visible mends all over the internet. Some of them are truly gorgeous: sashiko stitching, fussy-cut patches, floral embroidery over holes. Visible mending is a rabbit hole that I could very happily fall down, given the time. Mostly though, I’m sticking to the fast and furious everyday mends that just keep everything ticking over. Five minutes, and the job is done, and I can get started on the washing.

Madeleine

Do you mend your clothes? Are you skilled at it, or do you take the fast route, or (like me) do you use a mixture of the two approaches?

A-line skirt sewalong part two: the darts and the waistband

Hello there! Welcome back to week two of the A-line skirt sewalong. In today’s tutorial you’re going to learn how to insert darts, interface the waistband, and attach the waistband to the skirt.

The first thing you need to do is zigzag around all those edges, apart from edge E. Just set your machine to a wide zigzag stitch and whizz your way around all of your pieces. This stops the fabric unravelling. You can see that I’ve done that in the photo below.

Set your machine back to a straight stitch. Now it’s time to insert those darts into piece 2. Working on just one dart at a time, fold the fabric right sides together so that the two diagonal lines of the dart lie on top of one another. The excess fabric should be on the wrong side of the fabric, as shown below.

The trick with darts is to iron them flat, pin them along the sewing line, and sew from the fat end towards the point. Never sew all the way to the point: stop a few stitches early, leave your ends long and tie them in a granny knot. This prevents the end from puckering. You can see one of my finished darts in this photo:

Press the darts towards the centre back of the skirt:

Now you’re going to prepare the waistband. Lay your waistband (piece 3), wrong side up, along your ironing board.

Centre your interfacing, glue side down, on your waistband. The glue side is normally a bit bumpy to the touch. You should have the seam allowance of the waistband showing evenly all the way around the interfacing. You can see this in the photograph below. Following the manufacturer’s instructions, iron the interfacing onto the waistband. It’s advisable to place an old cloth between your iron and the interfacing, to protect your iron.

Now fold your waistband (piece 3) in half lengthways and wrong sides together so that seams F and G are touching. Your waistband will be the right way out. Press along the fold to create a crease. I’ve just pressed mine in the photograph below.

Sew seam BD down the left hand side only of the skirt. With right sides together, pin seam BD of the skirt fabric from top to bottom. If piece 2 is on top of piece 1, you are pinning the seam on the right.

I forgot to take a photo of this stage (sorry!), but here’s a photo of the finished seam, so you can see which side seam you are sewing. It’s the sewn, pressed and therefore slightly sticking up seam on the right. Remember, piece 2 is on top.

With right sides together, sew seam BD of the skirt fabric from top to bottom. Press seam BD open. You can see how I’ve draped the skirt over my ironing board to do this, here:

You are now going to sew the waistband to the skirt. Open out your skirt, so that it is lying right side up.

Open up your waistband. Now line up edge G of the waistband with edge C of the skirt, so that the raw edges of each are together and the stitching line of H is in line with the stitching line of D (not seam BD). The right side of the waistband should lie against the right side of the skirt. Pin seam GC. It should look just like this:

Then continue round the top of the skirt, pinning piece 3 to piece 1 along seam GA. Because the waistband is straight and the skirt is curved, you have to pull gently on the curved skirt to fit the waistband to it, like so:

Once it is pinned into place all the way along, sew all the way along the seam GC and GA. (Make sure you keep edge F out of the way.)

Now unfold the waistband, smoothing it upwards, and press seam GA and GC open on the wrong side. You want all the seam allowances to be pressed upwards towards the top of the waistband too. Then you need to fold the seam allowance on edge F down, over the interfacing, and iron it down. You can see that I’ve done all of this here:

Next, you need to fold the whole waistband in half lengthways, wrong sides together, so that F is folded down to G. It should look like a finished (but unsewn) waistband, like so:

Pin this into place.

I always like to finish my clothing by hand, as it gives such a neat finish. Sew the folded edge of F to the inside of the skirt, taking care that your stitches can’t be seen on the right side. It’s easiest to insert your needle a couple of millimetres above the folded edge of the waistband, and sew through the seam allowances hidden inside. Then bring your needle out on the folded edge of the waistband, a bit further along. Here is my needle in the middle of taking a complete stitch.

Then insert your needle a couple of millimetres above where you have just brought it out. You’ll leave a little trail of tiny stitches on the inside, and nothing at all on the outside. It should look like this on the inside:

When you fold the back of the waistband over, it should look like this from the back of the skirt

and like this from the front:

It’s beginning to look like a skirt! Next week, you’ll be inserting the zipper and finishing the other side seam.

Madeleine

How are you getting on? It’s always great to get feedback, be it questions, comments or suggestions – do let me know if these tutorials are helpful to you.

A-line skirt sewalong part one: gathering and cutting

Hello, and welcome to the first part of the A-line skirt sewalong. If you’re new to garment making and would like step-by-step support in making this simple skirt, you’ve come to the right place.

Please read all of the instructions both here and in the pattern booklet before cutting out your pieces.

This skirt looks lovely but different in all sorts of fabrics. The stiffer the fabric, the more it sticks out. I made a lovely structured version a couple of years ago in a boiled wool felt, which looked a bit Jetsons. This time, I’ve gone for a floppy but thick linen, which hangs beautifully. Choose your fabric according to what you want, but make sure that it’s sturdy enough to stand up to being sat on a lot, and firm enough that it won’t go baggy around the rear end too quickly.

Whatever you choose, wash it the way you’ll wash it after it’s made up, dry it, and iron it. Make sure that you have everything else that you need, too.

I’m going to assume that you’ve measured yourself and chosen a size, but if not, go and do that now.

The first thing that you need to do is print out one page of the pattern pieces. Then – and this is imperative – measure the little test box at the top of that the page. If it measures 5×5 cm, go ahead and print the rest of the pattern in the same way. If it doesn’t, check that your printer is set to print at 100% and try again. If the box is the wrong size, the pattern will be, too.

Next, cut out all of the pattern boxes and arrange them in a grid pattern. You’ll notice that each pattern box has two numbers in the top left corner. This indicates its place in the grid. The first number indicates the row, and the second indicates the column. The rows run from top to bottom and the columns from left to right. So box 1,1 is the top left hand box. Box 4,5 is on the fourth row from the top, fifth box from the left.

Then stick them all together. Try to be as accurate as you can, as this will affect the fit of your skirt. Obviously the odd millimetre doesn’t matter, but do your best.

Next, highlight the size that you are going to make. It is all too easy to cut out the wrong size, or sew the wrong dart.

Now you can cut out your pattern pieces. For this tutorial, I’ve laid out my pieces on a 45″ wide piece of fabric, as this is the simplest layout. Fold your fabric in half, along the grain (lengthways). Lie your pattern pieces out at shown below, with the fold of the fabric in line with the fold line on the pattern pieces. Remember to leave a seam allowance around all the other edges.

(If you want to use a 150cm/ 60″ wide piece of fabric, the layout is slightly more complex. Fold one side of your fabric in by 44cm/ 17″ and lay out one skirt piece as shown.

Then fold the other edge in by 44cm/ 17″ (they will overlap) and lay out the other pieces as shown. Make sure that you leave a seam allowance between the two skirt pieces. You need to place, cut, refold and place each pattern piece for this method, but it is more efficient than using a square 150cm/ 60″ piece of fabric.)

Pin or weigh down your pattern pieces so that they don’t move. Then, using either chalk or a fabric pen/pencil, draw around each piece (but not on the fold). This will be your sewing line.

Then draw another line (again, not on the fold) 1.5 cm or about half an inch outside of your sewing line. This will be your cutting line. You can make this seam allowance bigger or smaller as you choose. Personally, I like small seam allowances, but it can be handy to have a bigger one in case you want to let the skirt out later.

Along the bottom hem of the skirt, allow a bigger 6cm/ 2″seam allowance. This will allow for a nice deep hem, and for some flexibility when determining the final length of your skirt.

Go and have a cup of tea. When you get back, double check everything. Only then can you cut out your skirt and waistband pieces. You should also cut out your interfacing at this point.

Now you can unpin the paper piece from the back skirt, and transfer all the markings so that you know which seam is which later on. You also want to transfer the dart markings to the back pieces. I do this by poking a hole in the paper at several points in the dart, making dots on the fabric through the holes, and then joining the dots. Then unfold your fabric piece and flip your pattern piece over to transfer all the markings to the other half the back skirt piece. Remember that there’s a dart on the other half of the back, too.

Phew – that’s the hardest bit done. Next time, we’ll be putting in the darts and attaching the waistband.

 

The A-Line skirt pattern is now available!

It is with no small amount of excitement that I’m writing to let you know that my first ever dressmaking pattern is now for sale! You can find it in my Etsy shop. I cannot begin to tell you how much I’ve learned through this process – in fact, it could be the subject of another whole series. For now, allow me to share a couple more images with you.

We took the photos while we were on a family holiday in Derbyshire this half term. My parents booked the most beautiful house for all 14 of us, and this was the view from the kitchen windows:

So naturally it became the location for a little photoshoot. The stone steps with flowerbeds take you down from the back of the house to the lawn.

I had planned to give this skirt to Fliss, but having styled it for the photoshoot I think it’ll be filling a skirt-shaped hole in my wardrobe until I try out another pattern. It is as elegant and easy to wear as I remembered – perhaps even a little more so.

We had such a lovely time, pottering about and having a little outing every day. One day most of us went down a local mine. Another – rainbow-filled – day we spent in the grounds of Chatsworth:

And my personal highlight was our visit to Haddon Hall. I’d never been there before and I was blown away. I’ve been to a LOT of stately homes and never seen anything like this. No wonder they shoot so many period films there. I’m going to write a post all about it next week, but for now let me share just a glimpse here and there…

When we got home, I spent a couple of days finalising the pattern pdfs for the Little Flurries jumper and the A-Line skirt, before doing more pottering around my own house and garden. The week culminated in a big 40th birthday party of a friend, which meant a night away in Harrogate, before starting the Christmas knitting in front of the fire (and Doctor Who, of course) yesterday. It has been such a lovely holiday, and I feel refreshed and ready for the next couple of months.

But for now, let me leave you with one last photo of the skirt. The sewalong begins tomorrow, and you’ll find full photographed tutorials to accompany the pattern published every Tuesday in November. Do let me know if you make one, and how you get on. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you!

Madeleine

Do you have a good basic skirt pattern in your collection? Which patterns do you turn to again and again?

A Lined A-Line Skirt – we have a winner!

First of all, thank you to everyone who entered the ‘A Lined A-Line Skirt’ giveaway. Your interest and support is much appreciated, as always.

Congratulations to Kathleen, who is the winner! Please check your inbox for an email from me.

The launch date of the pattern has been amended ever so slightly from today to Monday 5 November. Thank you for your patience and understanding. I will post a link to it in my Etsy shop as soon as it is available for purchase.

Have a great weekend!

Madeleine