I Fought the Fabric, and I Won, but There Were Some Casualties.

This weekend, I participated in an age-old SCA tradition: make all new garb the week before the event. You see, my Celt and I decided to take the little Celtlings on a weekend-long war against our good brothers to the north. This would be the Midrealm (us) against the Kingdom of Northsheild (them). Since the site is only an hour and a half away, it was convenient for us to try out camping events on the Celtlings. There’s just one problem with that:

They needed garb.

Don’t get me wrong. My Celt has made garb for them in the past. Good garb, passable garb, perfectly fine garb. But, oh no. Ms. Trying too Hard to be Period over here (that’s me, folks) decided that the Celtlings needed Viking/Celt garb to go with our own. And, of course, the biggest problem with that is that this little Viking does not sew.

Insert dramatic and frustrated sighing here.

Luckily, my friend Samona is working her hardest at learning patience, and was kind of enough to take me under her wing. She cut out all of the pieces for me, while I took notes on how to do all the measurements properly; and at fighter practice last Thursday, she walked me through each step of sewing the kirtle (and effectively, the tunic) together. It was easier than I thought. And the very next day, I spent an evening sewing another dress, and the tunic I needed.

The Littlest Celtling strikes her best fighting pose in her new kirtle.

I would love to say the story stopped here; that everything worked out and that this was the best learning experience of my life. But unfortunately, that was not the case. I spent yesterday afternoon learning how to sew hems and make necklines. I watched Samona do all this but was far too chicken to do any of it myself. Not to mention the fact that time was not on my side, and she does do it so much quicker.

But regardless, all of this good sewing fortune got me in the mood, and I woke up this morning with determination in my veins. I spent the better part of the morning fighting with a dress for myself, and to be honest, I’m surprised I still have all of my hair. The neckhole was not cut out, so I had to do that, and kind of messed that up. I screwed up sewing one of the gores for the side of the dress, so I had to cut out a new one of those. I’m convinced that I do not know how to cut a straight line, because I had to do a lot of fudging to get the gores to all go together properly. It took me a good hour longer than any of the other dresses, and since I’m sewing at a tiny desk, instead of a nice kitchen table (since, you know, I don’t own one), I had a lot of trouble with all the fabric.

By the time I pulled into my Celt’s driveway with the finished (I thought) dresses and tunic, I was ready to collapse on the couch and spend my afternoon playing Guitar Hero in peace. We even had two successful fittings. The dress for the Littlest Celtling and the tunic for the Middlest Celtling fit pretty well (though the Middlest Celtling’s tunic is a bit too short, and may immediately be a hand-me-down for his little sis).

The Middlest Celtling wasn't grumpy about his tunic; he was grumpy about getting his picture taken.

And then came the catastrophe.

When it came time for the Oldest Celtling to try her dress on, my worst sewing fear happened. The dress did not fit. It was so tight in the arms that she couldn’t even get the thing on to see if the rest of the dress fit. I was so tired and frustrated already at that point, that tears stung my eyes and I grabbed my phone (to call the sewing guru herself) and headed outside so the Celtlings wouldn’t see me upset. Samona, of course, saved the day. She remembered that we had originally planned on making a mock sleeve to fit beneath the Oldest Celtling’s sleeves, and figured that I must have sewed the sleeve on improperly; forgetting that it was wider than it was long. I spent a good hour with a sharp exactoknife cutting apart the side and sleeve seams and lo and behold, she was right.

After dinner, I made it home and managed to sew everything properly with an hours worth of work. I had to put in a small patch where I’d cut the fabric with the knife, but it’s finally done, and I’m confident that it will fit this time. I’m also decidedly chickening out with my own dress and refusing to tackle the hem or neckline until I can be under the tutelage of my guru once more.

I’m tired, my back hurts, and I want to be done sewing for a while. But I did learn a few things along the way:

1. Pins are friends, not food. You may have seen accomplished sewers doing a technique they call “finger pressing,” in which they just hold the fabric together and it magically stays in place. I do not recommend this for new sewers. Pin everything you can. It’s a bit tedious, but I found that it helps a ton when dealing with lines that are not straight, and fabric that is being fussy. You may have also seen the veteran sewers put pins between their lips for easier reach. I don’t recommend this either. Pin pricks on your fingers suck; imagine them on your tongue.

2. Invest in a good seam ripper. While the exactoknife, or a good pair of scissors may help in a pinch, they’re far too risky. You’re going to screw up, and a good seam ripper will do the job admirably. After all, that’s what it’s made for.

3. It’s ok to cry. Let it out. No one will blame you.

4. Always buy extra fabric. You may never need it, but then again, if you’re like me, you’ll be more than happy to have it if you screw up and have to cut an entire new gore or something. And if you’re lucky and you don’t end up needing it, you can always make a cute little pouch or bag later.

5. If at first you don’t succeed, call a friend who knows. I honestly don’t recommend learning to do this on your own. When you get stuck and you don’t know what to do, or if you think you’ve done it right, but you’re just not sure, it is extremely handy to have someone who knows this stuff, and can tell you if you’ve done it right or wrong. I’m thankful to have my guru, you have absolutely no idea how much.

6. Leave your sanity at the door. Let’s face it, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re probably following someone else’s way of doing things. Things aren’t always going to be straight. You will probably break a needle. You will probably run out of bobbin thread right in the middle of a seam. More than likely, something with tear, or be sewn improperly, or come out all wrong. You need to be able to laugh at yourself. If you’re trying hard to do it, and you end up making a mistake, even a dramatic one, it’s ok. Use the “I’m new at this” excuse as long as you can.

I’m certainly going to plan better for next time, and I’m definitely not waiting until the weekend before to tackle this much sewing. I have ideas about garb and about what I want to do, and I know that I can no longer rely on others to do all my sewing. All I need is a reminder that it’s ok to make mistakes, and that taking a step back, and a fresh breath, can make all the difference.

My Life Through Projects

It seems lately that I have done nothing but gain new interest in fiber arts. I'm sending my Celt to Pensic (the 2 week-long SCA war) with extra money to find an inkle loom; I've been teaching myself how to embroider; I’ve started learning to crochet; I've purchased cross-stitch kits and two books to help me make stuffed animals; and yesterday, not only did I received a lesson in sewing period (late 9th century) kirtles, but I saw yet another period project I’d like to start learning. Not all of these projects are SCA period, of course. But there's a part of me that's always been jealous of friends who could knit or crochet, and making my own creations by any method has always been a huge draw.

It was with this jealousy and vigor that I attacked learning how to crochet. Once I got past the initial confusion and resistance to learning something that might challenge me, I discovered that I actually enjoyed doing it. I made a potholder, at first, and taught myself more stitches than the original single stitch that my fiber arts mentor, Meadhbh started me on. I found myself sitting in front of the television, crocheting blocks for a blanket I decided to tackle with ease and pleasure. I shopped for yarn with a friend with the glee of a child in a candy store. And I got an account on ravelry.com to show off my new found passion, as well as search for patterns to further my practice.

The beginnings of a granny-square blanket for my goddaughter, Lybbe.

Once that was conquered, it was easier to get past my life-long fear of sewing. As my sewing mentor, Samona, cut out rectangles and triangles of fabric, I dutifully took notes on measuring properly, the right side of the fabric to cut out, and how many of each shape I would need for which purpose. While my Celt practiced sword slinging andwarfare, I happily (yes, happily) sat at a sewing machine and plowed through my very first kirtle ever: a piece of garb for the littlest Celtling. This morning, I woke up with a drive, a desire, to pull out all the other rectangles and triangles Samona had cut out, and stitch them together too, all by myself!

My very first Kirtle, sewn for the Littlest Celtling.

This blog is labeled “one project at a time,” but as I write this opening entry, I’m wondering if perhaps it should be called something like, “my brain is on over-drive,” because even as I write this, I’m thinking of dozens of other things I could do. “My life through projects” sounds even more actuate. I think I’d just like to take a beginner’s look into learning all these things, and hope that some of this helps someone else.

If I can encourage one person to try something new, then I can feel like a success.