Epic Sewing Fail! Anyone want a 1925 Schiaparelli meets Portlandia “Mom Jeans” Vest?


Every now and then, we all have a make that’s better in theory than practice, right? So let’s just put this one in the UFO closet of shame without showing it on my middle-aged middle.

My intentions were good…I had a 1925 pattern, loosely-based on a Schiaparelli design, that I’d been dying to try.


I say “loosely-based” because back in the 20s, most Paris-designed patterns and garments released in the U.S. were watered down versions of the originals. They were either licensed copies dumbed down for manufacturing in the States, or out and out thefts of the designs. The U.S. garment companies would hire young fashion school “sketchers” to memorize the designs at the Paris fashion shows, who would make quick sketches of the designs afterwards, and then put them on the fast boat back to the States to be knocked off. A number of famous designers from that era (Elizabeth Hawes is one example) got their start as sketchers.

Elsa Schiaparelli is perhaps best remembered for her surrealist designs, sometimes created with artist Salvador Dali. For example, the hat that looks a shoe:


(Details here from Metropolitan Museum’s Online Collection)

And her famous “Lobster Dress” (which was included in that tart Wallis Simpson’s trousseau):


(More info here from the Philadelphia Museum of Art)

This “cracked egg” design in the pattern was avant-garde and beautiful in it’s time:


(More about this much-better version at MetMuseum.org)

But jeez, I should have known it was a little too ubiquitous now. And, having grown up in the north woods knitting and crocheting with “chunky” yarn in the 70s, I was not ready to rock that look post-millennium in this preppy East Coast metropolis. (One journey through the zeitgeist of pullover granny-square vests is more than enough for one lifetime.)

No, it was one of those things where I’d bought this fabric for a wrap, but it wasn’t drapey enough because it had a stable backing, but it would work for a jacket, but there wasn’t enough for sleeves and well…


Plus I don’t get vests! To me they’re a hot flash with frozen elbows.

So anyway, so far so good:


(Some nice seam finishes with a stretch overlock stitch that looks like a blanket stitch, using the Bulky Overlock foot. Karl, my Bernina 560, was on fire, baby!)


A little binding made of ponte, my new favorite thing… (After you stitch in the ditch, you flip it over and trim off the excess.)


But then I tried it on and thought NOOOOOOOO! No No NOOOOO! It was supposed to have buttonholes and cute lobster buttons along the lines of Schiaparelli’s bug buttons:


(More on those buttons from the Met Museum here.)

But at that point I was too over it to dig out the buttonhole foot.

And that was that. Elsa Schiaparelli, I am so sorry. I’ll make this pattern again with lighter fabric and sleeves and then we’ll talk.

But I did have success with a different project a few weeks earlier. In the spring, I’d made what was dubbed a “McCardellgan”: a version of Claire McCardell’s famous cardigan jacket design.


I’d worn the jacket a lot, but thought the design needed tweaking to be more authentic. So I went back to the drawing board and drafted a new pattern from two McCardell jackets in my collection.

The first is this sweater knit jacket, part of a sweet suit that would fit a modern 11-year-old:


And the second is a woven McCardell jacket, cut on the bias with big French darts and tapered sleeves. (No pictures as it’s buried in my closet somewhere…)

The edges of the jacket are finished with expertly-sewn bias binding, and how the 50s garment workers pulled that off on a knit–using straight-stitch machines–is a mystery to me.


In my last post, I talked about how I finished the inside of my new jacket with French seams. I decided to use ponte to make piping on my jacket, to give it some soft structure around the neckline. McCardell often used piping in designs.


I overlapped the fabric a little, so the raw edge of the piping could be turned inside to become facing, and sewed the seam a little bit away from the piping cord. Then I sewed the piping on the front of the jacket, this time with a seam a little closer to the piping cord. It looks smoother that way:


(Bulky Overlock foot 12C again. It’s very useful!)

I flipped the seam allowance of the piping to the inside of the jacket and stitched in the ditch on top, close to the piping.


Then I fell stitched the seam allowance to the inside, making a facing. The raw edge of the ponte doesn’t need to be turned under, which makes the finish less bulky.


I finished the hem and sleeves with binding, with the help of Karl and Wonder Woman.


Then it was picture time! Fellow bloggers, you know that look you get when you ask your Significant Other to take your blog photos for the umpteenth time? Well I got that look from my husband, so I decided to use the self-timer to do it myself.


Oh forget it! I went to my son’s soccer game, then tried it again when I was in a better mood:


Ahhh, another deceptively simple, yet sophisticated, modernist design from Miss McCardell. This jacket is already in heavy rotation, and another is in my “make” queue.

Hope your sewing’s going well, and that you’re avoiding epic fails this season!

(For details about how the nice folks at BERNINA of America are loaning me Karl, the wonder B560, please click the “Bernina Collaboration” tab.)

Why are we sewing? For the clothes or the experience?


Back to school shopping time? I don’t think so.


I just saw an article in the New York Times about how U.S. retailers are in trouble, because Americans are less interested in acquiring “stuff” and more interested in paying for “experiences,” like travel, restaurants, or gym memberships.

Which is so unlike us. Even though we value individual freedom, there’s definitely a herd mentality when it comes to style and shopping in the U.S. Here’s the link to that article: “Stores Suffer From a Shift of Behavior in Buyers”

It’s true for me, though, and I used to love, love, LOVE to shop! But back in the day, shopping was an experience. New clothes would only hit the stores a couple of times a year. They were made of better fabrics. You would buy just a few pieces, so you’d spend a lot of time in the fall dreaming up your school or work wardrobe.

I used to mull over what I would buy, and think about how it would go with what I had in my closet. I’d look through magazines and pattern books to plan what I’d buy and sew. Then I’d go to Goodwill and throw in some vintage, too.


Retail stores were much more pleasant places to go, too, and not jammed with ill-fitting, poorly sewn stuff like they are now. Then came online shopping, which, though it was fun at first, has become overwhelming and weird.

So I’ve embraced the “experience” of sewing instead. Let’s say you take 70+ hours to plan and execute something like a Chanel jacket, for example. When you’re done, let me tell you, you’re really invested in that jacket! It feels luxurious and looks unique. When you wear it, it’s yours alone, and it fits! The whole process is a lot more satisfying than shopping.


(One of the zillions of times I’ve worn that jacket)

And I really enjoy the “experience” of communicating with sewing peeps like you, because it alleviates those moments when modern life is dull and crappy. (Like when I’m procrastinating about the dishes I’ve been abandoned with. Which is now.) Most sewing people are friendly and encouraging online and that’s something every girl needs, right?

I was reminded of the ickiness of shopping when I was looking through U.S. Vogue Magazine’s September issue the other day. It’s not terribly inspiring because nobody in there has a body like mine. (Medium height, short waist, spare tire.)

And even though some of the modern designs are cool, the advertising people have clearly run out of ideas. Most ads can be grouped into the following cliches:

I Love Animals:


“Hello little birds! I plucked your friends to make this puffer dress!”


“I risked ripping my $800 down jacket to rescue this dog. That’s just the kind of person I am.”


“I am your trophy spirit animal. Pull the Beemer around to transport me.”


“I am your spirit animal when you’re skiing in the Italian Alps. Or I’m a muppet. I’m not really sure.”

I’m so angry:


“I’m so angry that I have to hold two bags. Where’s my assistant?”


“I’m so angry that I can’t find my brush. Where’s my assistant?”


“We’re so angry that we’re unpaid intern assistants. And we have to wear Pleather. But we’re too cool to emote.”

I’m so ennervated:


“I’ve been in bed so long, I’ve become one with the sheets.”


“Can you help me?…get out?…of the corner?”


“It’s so boring here at this Swiss boarding school. Let’s throw ourselves off the rocks and end it all.”


“Zut, they found out we were going to throw ourselves off the rocks, and locked us in the library.”


“I’ve had so much peyote that I’m starting to over-accessorize.”

Not sure if we’re gay, but we are trite:


“Let’s play kissy-face and then show off our expensive bags.”


“Does my lipstick need to be touched up, Kate?” “Sorry, I’m not getting paid to turn my head right now.”

IMG_3776“Astor, when we get to Trump Tower, don’t tell my father that we’re sorta gay.” “But what if he hits on me again, Wisteria?”


“Oops, I’m so sorry! This dress is so heavy and my heels are so high!” “I know, and this clutch weighs a ton.”

It’s time to RIVERDANCE!



(My dancer friends think it’s hilarious when models try to be ballerinas.)

From the land of clueless gifts:


“One year old today! Here’s your bag!”


“Lagerfeld wants you to have this $10,000 concept bag. Just watch your fingernails–it’s bubble wrap.”

But there was one ad that tempted me…


Hosanna! Come to mama! (Rats, I just realized that I spent that $200 on my 13-year-old’s school books, supplies, and soccer equipment. And a couple of patterns. And fabric. And some Steam-a-Seam. And some thread. And a zipper. And one of those little rolls of fleece. Because you know when you stop at Joanns just for one thing?)

After combing through the entire magazine, I only found two or three ads showing women who are within 20 years of my age, either way:


I’m down with looking like that in 15 years.

But then I saw…


Jeez, having lunch with Madonna, Donatella?

I know where my fall wardrobe’s coming from–my trusty sewing machine. How about yours?

Hope your sewing is going well!

Never Too Old for a Toga Party (or–Cotton Jersey, never again!)


Can a middle-aged woman pull off a toga? (Figuratively of course, though I went to my share of toga parties in college…)


For Pattern Review’s Historical Fashion contest, I was raring to go with a pattern by a famous 50s designer–fabrics, notions, everything I needed. Then I read the rules…nothing later than 1929! Eeeeek! Darn you contest committee! (Actually, though, not knowing the rules until a few days before the contests start makes them more fun.)

I still wanted to be a part of the contest, because making garments with a history is what I do. But I wasn’t taking it too seriously, what with all of those Regency, Renaissance, Downton Abbey and reenactor sewing people out there. I knew someone would be ripping down the drapes and coming up with an antebellum outfit that would put Scarlet to shame, so my chances of winner were low. I wanted to join the fun, though.

Rooting through my stash, I saw that I had a nice length of lightweight cotton jersey that I’d bought at The Fabric Store in L.A. I’d been wanting to make my own version of the Claire McCardell dress that I’d made for my sister last fall. Here’s my niece modeling the dress:


Though McCardell first introduced a version of the “monastic dress” (loose and belted, like a monk’s robe) in the late 30s, it morphed into a more Grecian toga-like style in the 40s. This design was so popular that I remember women wearing cheap nylon nightgown versions of it (and those pink plastic hair rollers) in the 60s, several years after McCardell’s death. The design is gathered tightly at the neckline, and then either gathered at the waist with a belt, or gathered under the bust with McCardell’s famous “spaghetti strings” that wrap three or four times around to the waist.


But the origins of this design are earlier–the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century–when wearing a toga-style gown was an act liberation for women. In the late 1800s, the “Aesthetic Dress Movement” encouraged women to lose the corsets and dress in a more bohemian way, in loose, simple dresses with a more Renaissance look. Here’s an example from the 1880s, by Liberty and Co., in The Metropolitan Museum’s online collection:


The style caught on in the U.S., as women began performing amateur theatricals with “tableaux vivants” that resembled the artwork on Grecian urns. In the vaudeville halls, Ruth St. Denis was performing dances evoking ancient cultures, though nothing about the dances was particularly culturally accurate. (Apparently she got the idea for one dance when she saw an Egyptian illustration on a pack of cigarettes.)


In Europe, people performed “Eurythmy” in togas (a form of movement to music):


And Isadora Duncan’s performances popularized this free-spirited look throughout the world.


Soon, this style of toga-like design, worn without much in the way of undergarments, showed up in the day and evening clothes of the time, one example being the form-fitting pleated “Delphos” gowns by Fortuny:


The toga look was part of the “Physical Culture” movement in the U.S., which encouraged women to get out of the corset, get out of the house, and exercise for health.


“That’s going to be meee in the backyard!” I shouted. My husband and son looked up briefly, nonplussed, and then went back to their iPads. McCardell herself was a fan of Fortuny, and she owned one of the Delphos dresses, which were so highly pleated they were kept coiled up in what looked like a small hatbox. So I figured  this was the right pattern to mimic the toga style.

Having made this dress before. (here’s the scoop on that) I learned a few things:

1. Don’t put the pocket in upside down:


It’s a big dress. You can get lost! This time I used chalk to mark the pieces so I could keep track of where I was.

2. Do the piping and other details before the dress is assembled to avoid this:


3. Gather and assemble the neckline before doing the side seams, because the dress below it is so big that the fit can be modified during the construction. I was able to use the same size pattern that fits my size Medium sister, though I’m a retail XL, because most of the fit takes place in the underbust gathering.


The most challenging part of remaking this dress was working with lightweight cotton jersey. Those little roll-y edges! I had worked with wool jersey plenty, but if you press those edges before sewing, they’ll stay put for awhile. All I had to do was breathe on the cotton jersey and the edges rolled back up again, making the seams very difficult to sew. (I don’t use a serger.) Grrrr! I finally ended up using Steam-a-Seam to stabilize the seams and hems, because it’s what I had around.


It does give you nice hems on knits!


This dress has a very similar structure to the bodice of Marilyn Monroe’s “Seven Year Itch” dress, designed by William Travilla, which starts with pleats at the neckline and is gathered again under the bust.

Seven Year Itch on Marilyn

The good thing about all of the volume in the gathers, though, is that jersey doesn’t cling to your lumps and bumps.

I made McCardell’s famous “spaghetti strings” using some scraps of vintage fabric to create more than 5 yards/meters of piping:


I stitched it twice, then trimmed close to the stitching:


So comfortable to wear! The volume of the gathers really gives it movement.


Here’s Writer/Actress Mindy Kaling, wearing a similar look in InStyle Magazine a few months ago.


It never goes out of style! Now out to the backyard, to thoroughly embarrass my family with some Isadora Duncan dance moves! Tra la! How’s your sewing going?

More Faking Vintage Looks with Modern Patterns, and first official Intergalactic Sewing Blog!


It’s been awhile since I’ve written about using modern, commercially available patterns to create vintage looks. Some new releases have inspired me, though!

Vogue 9126, for example, is a 40s style that’s wearable in modern life.


I like to mix vintage in my day-to-day look, as my “true vintage” days are behind me. This would be a fun dress for a mother (or in my case, stepmother) of the bride to wear to a hipster wedding. Comfortable, easy to dance in, and SLEEVES! We like sleeves!

This Vogue Badgley Mischka pattern is modern, but has a 60s element to the neckline. It’s a “crushed boatneck” with a little fold in the shoulder seam to give it some drape.


I like this pattern as a dress, and the bodice would be easy to hack into a top. I made a top with a neckline like this several years ago, and you can read all about it here: Crushed Boatneck Frankenpattern


I’ve made three versions of that top, and have worn them to death.

I like this new “Retro” pattern from Butterick, as well, with a boatneck, cut-in sleeves, binding on the neck and sleeve edges, and a bias cummerbund to hide a multitude of desserts. It looks like it’s flattering and easy to wear.

Butterick 6242

And how about these cute sailor pants from Sandra Betzina? I wore the real thing from the Army/Navy store in the 70s, but now, I’d go for something like this, made from a stretch woven. We all need a little lycra in our lives, don’t we?


Earlier in the year, Simplicity released this playsuit pattern that I ended up buying. Even though the bra top and skirt are not for me at this age, I really like the way the sleeves are cut into the blouse. I’m not much of a blouse-wearer, but this one looks stylish and easy to wear.


(I still haven’t made it though…)

And how adorable is this pattern from Simplicity?


Even though my granddaughters would not wear this unless it was pink, sparkly and had a giant picture of Elsa from “Frozen” on it, it’s fun to think about them in it.

Come to think of it, I have seen a version of this design made up…


Yep, the little girl on the right is me! My sister Janet is on the left, and my sister Diane is in the middle. Diane, a choreographer and dance instructor, is also a world-class knitter. (I remember she taught me the “popcorn stitch” as a kid.) She’s the one that whips up fun, gourmet party food in about a half an hour and throws warm, relaxed family gatherings. A few months ago, she sent me our grandmother’s button box, full of vintage buttons!


The photo of we three sisters is from 1961, at which point, when you wore a dress, it was going to have a “stick-out slip” under it (AKA a crinoline). I remember being in first grade in a dress like this (because you weren’t allowed to wear pants), with an itchy crinoline, sitting on the freezing, gritty linoleum floor for 45 minutes watching a tiny black and white TV, waiting for one of the Apollo rockets to launch. It would always get delayed, and it was so boring! And cold! And dirty!

I was in northern Michigan, which is cold and snowy, so we would either have snowpants under the crinolines when we went outside, or we stuffed the whole thing, slip and skirt, inside the snowpants.

So if you’re wondering why baby boomer-aged women in the U.S. run around in yoga jeans, black sneakers, knit Breton tops, and giant sweaters long enough to sit on, that pretty much sums it up.

I’m glad that the Big 4 pattern companies are offering a variety of vintage styles, and not just the big “I Love Lucy” full skirts that have been popular for awhile. I have to give a shoutout to Vogue-Butterick-McCalls for reaching out to sewing enthusiasts and doing market research about what types of patterns we’re looking for. Their new collections are quite appealing.

And here’s my all-time favorite of the Big 4 vintage style patterns…

(Are you expecting this?)


McCalls 7154 has been the talk of the town on vintage blogs and boards, and it is gorgeous. I can’t pull it off at this age, but Lisa of Paprika Patterns  is giving it a go now. We’ll see how it turns out!

No, my favorite of the Big 4 vintage-style patterns is this:


Isn’t McCalls 7206 the most fabulous young guy hipster/old guy hipster pattern!?! You can make it solid, in two colors, or in three colors. It could be made into a bowling shirt, a Hawaiian shirt, or you could embroider it for a Cuban guayabera… And those seams are like princess seams. Someone needs to hack this for a girl!

The indy patternmakers have been busy as well.

Decades of Style has a new line of easy vintage patterns. I know some of you readers are just learning to sew or returning to sewing after a long time, and these look like fun projects.

Here’s the “Given A Chance” Dress pattern:


It really has that “let’s have highballs on the patio” look to it, doesn’t it?

Eva Dress is another reliable pattern re-release company, and they’ve just put out this pattern for 1935 Beach Pajamas…something I wish I could wear to the beach now:


I like the retro patterns from both Decades of Style and Eva Dress, because they spend time testing their patterns and rewriting the instructions to make them clear for modern sewing enthusiasts. Having worked with original vintage patterns myself, it can be like reading hieroglyphics!

I’d also like to mention that the blogger Shelley, of New Vintage Lady, offers some extremely cool plus-size vintage pattern repros on Etsy.


She’s an animator, and her indy comic called “Vintageville,” sold through her Etsy shop, is so unique and worth a look.

If you’re in the mood to make a Chanel jacket (or French jacket or cardigan jacket), Susan Khalje’s new jacket pattern is available on her website, with or without her Couture French Jacket course. The pattern makes the two jackets pictured here:


70 years later, they’re still in style.

And just a reminder that my two free vintage-style patterns, for the 50s Buttonhole Scarf and the Claire McCardell-Inspired Wrap, are still available on WeAllSew.com. Just download and go!


As for being the first officially-sanctioned Intergalactic Sewing Blog, well, it’s true!

I know that you (and perhaps Karl) may be skeptical, but I have proof.

My last post was about finishing a Claire McCardell UFO (AKA an “Unfinished Object”) from my stash pile, just in time for International UFO Day, which of course we all celebrate by wearing hats with antennae and exchanging gifts of small porous rocks.

A couple of days later, I was looking at my Twitter feed and saw this:


My post had been picked up by an international UFO sighting website (which is mostly in Japanese), and clearly broadcast throughout the Universe and beyond! Who cares about some NASA pictures from Pluto! Pluto’s not even a planet anymore. This is the real deal.

So even though some of you may think that your blog posts have communed with the heavens, I’m the first one to have proof.

Be that as it may, you won’t be seeing me in any of those manned flights to Mars that are coming up. How would I take all of my sewing stuff?

Hope your sewing’s entering a new dimension!

A Claire McCardell Bolero UFO has landed, just in time for International UFO Day!


Do you ever have that experience where you’re rooting through your stash, and you find some fabric pinned to a pattern piece that’s already cut out? And then you think, “what the heck is this?”

In honor of “International UFO Day,” (on Thursday, and thanks for the heads up about that, Instagrammer “mesewgood”) here’s a report about a Claire McCardell bolero, cut out in October, finished in June!

I don’t have a lot of UFO’s (Unfinished Objects) because I don’t have a lot of space during the winter, and my sewing things are constantly coming in and out of a closet. The only exception is my husband’s “Christmas Tie,” renamed his “Birthday Tie,” then his “Father’s Day Tie,” and now, his “Next Christmas Tie.” Someday I’ll be feeling it.

But back in the fall, when I made this Claire McCardell dress for my sister:


(Here’s the post about making that dress.)

I had also cut out some pieces for the matching bolero, but ran out of time to put it together.

So that’s what was sitting in my stash. Already cut out? Why not finish it?

Well, one reason is that the exterior “fashion” fabric is the wool jersey that I used for the dress, and right now, this guy is Public Enemy #1:


But I figured I could keep the pieces in a plastic bag when I wasn’t sewing, to stop Morris Moth and his many, many friends from munching my delicious merino. Mmmmm…

Reason #2, which I’d forgotten about since I’d made the Edith Head bolero, (here’s that post) is that a lined bolero is every bit as tricky as a lined jacket. Fortunately, this one has cut-in sleeves, as many McCardell designs do, so I didn’t have to set in sleeves four times.

So I forged ahead.

For lining, I used knit jersey from International Silks and Woolens in L.A., which has vintage fabrics on the third floor. This is some kind of acrylic from either the 50s or the 80s, but it feels like cotton jersey.


I bought it because it reminds me of the “Modern Masters” fabrics, issued in the 50s, which used designs from famous artists like Picasso and Chagall. McCardell designed a number of garments made from that fabric. Here’s some info about Modern Masters fabric from the Cooper Hewitt museum in New York. Lizzie of The Vintage Traveler has also written about Modern Masters.

The bolero pattern is cut as just one piece that connects via a center back seam, goes over the shoulders and is sewn under the arms. It’s a very clever pattern draped in McCardell’s unmistakeable style.

And did I mention that it has piping? Sandwiched between the layers? “Hunker down over that ironing board and start pinning, sister,” I heard a little voice (Karl) say.

Actually, it’s pretty easy to make piping with this Bulky Overlock foot, so I stuck some cording in a 2″ strip of fabric and got going. Since this a knit that will stretch, I didn’t bother putting it on the bias. I read recently that you should make the stitching by the piping loose while you’re making it, then closer when you attach it, to keep the seam along the piping smooth.


I made the piping in loops to attach to the neckline/front/back and the sleeves.


So far so good. Then, looking at the directions…la, la, la…whaaaa?!


This early 50s pattern is telling me to “bag” the lining? And look at those directions. Clear as mud! (“Bagging” a lining is a method where you attach most of the lining to the exterior by machine, and work on parts through a little hole, and it’s kind of like a Mobius strip, and yiiii!)

Fortunately I’d read about bagging linings in the past and then got a headache and drank a glass of wine. But I knew the piping would look better if I bagged it, so I gave it a go.

First I connected the neckline, center front and sides by machine, sandwiching the piping inside. I used lots and lots of pins for this nervous-making endeavor!


I graded (trimmed the seam allowances at different levels) the four layers of seam allowances between the exterior, piping and lining, and pressed.


I was a happy girl!

Then the tricky part…figuring out how to get the sleeves and lining put together, with the piping inside, without hollering at everyone in the family, who were stopping by frequently to find out whether they would ever be fed.


Not for the faint of heart, but it did work! So I graded and pressed the sleeve edge seams, then decided to make a burrito.


Sadly for my family, the burrito was not for dinner. I used a “sorta” version of the “burrito method” that’s used to make shirt yokes, where you roll everything up and stick it between the exterior and lining, so it looks like a burrito, then stitch it up and pull it right side out through the neckline.

In this case, I stuffed the sleeves and piping inside the bolero and closed up the back lower edge by machine, leaving a 4″ opening. Then I pulled everything out of that opening, and hand-sewed it closed.



It did dawn on me then that I could have done a better job of matching the pattern on the center back seam, as this bolero is reversible. Which of course I never thought of. So if you run into me wearing this inside-out, please don’t bust me. You know our non-sewing peeps will never notice.

The original bolero was black and red, to be reversible with the black dress. McCardell wanted all her pieces to be versatile. Lovely design, Claire!

As for the dress I made my sister, here’s Janet’s daughter, Madeline, modeling it…IMG_2436

My sister is tall and Maddy is petite, so you can see that this design fits a variety of body-types. After Madeline put it on, she said, “Mom, do you think it’s too hot for me to wear this to work this week?”

So I believe the McCardell dress is now “whereabouts unknown.”

As for the bolero, though cut for Janet, it fits me fine, another McCardell miracle…so Janet and Maddy, don’t be looking for it under the Christmas tree. And Mr. Jet Set, I wouldn’t be holding my breath about that tie, either.

Readers, what UFOs do you have in your stash? Confess!

And happy Independence Day to all of you who are stateside with me. What a glorious weekend so far!


Free patterns for quick projects! (So not like me, right?)


FullSizeRender copy

While I’m getting my summer sewing operation set up, (the “thinking about it” phase is so much more fun that the “pinning and cutting” phase…) here are a couple of free patterns I had fun with earlier in the year.

The first is a hack of the Maria Denmark “Kirsten Kimono Tee.” Maria Denmark offers a line of simple, classic indie patterns, and this pattern is free when you sign up for her newsletter. (Here’s the Maria Denmark website)

I got the idea reading the rules for the Pattern Review “Best Patterns” contest in March, and, darn you Deepika, you always get me with those contests!!! I start reading the rules and discussions and the next thing you know, I’m rooting through my stash to make a copy of the wardrobe from “Titanic” in a week and a half.

The Kirsten Tee was one of the patterns in the contest, so of course the night before the contest was over, there I was downloading it. (You can see the original pattern and reviews here.)

The original pattern is a very simple tee with a ballet neck and kimono shoulders that extend to cap sleeves. I decided to raise the neckline to be more bateau-shaped and extend the sleeve lines to the elbow.

The next morning, I laid out and cut the two pattern pieces on some organic cotton French terry in my stash.

IMG_2245.JPG (2)

(Yes, one of those pattern weights is my son’s Nintendo…)

The one thing that’s confusing about the pattern is that you need to add different-sized seam allowances at different places. So I compared the pattern to a ready-to-wear tee in my drawer to ballpark the size and seam allowances. I cut it a little big, since at this age “negative ease” (cutting knits a little tight so they stretch on your body) is not my friend.

Then I used a narrow zigzag on the seams to check the fit, since that stitch is easy to pick out if needed. The fit was looking good, so I used a stretchy lingerie stitch to finish the seams.


I decided to jazz up the neckline and hems by using the “Greek Key” stitch I’d tried on the Issey Miyake knit top I’d just finished. I just turned up the edges and went for it.

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Done for ten o’clock yoga class!

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(I was so not in the mood to ask my husband to take more pictures, and I’ve been going to that class for so long that no one thought I was nuts.)

The other free pattern is one of mine, and I bet you’re going to giggle when you see it.

I came up with the idea for making a “cuff” bracelet out of fabric last summer (with a button and working buttonhole), and then thought, “why not make it look like the cuff of a Chanel jacket?”


If you’ve ever wanted to make a Chanel jacket, but don’t have the patience, you can make one of these in an afternoon and get it out of your system!

My pattern and instructions are free on WeAllSew.com, and you can find them by clicking here.

This pattern is part of JetSetSewing.com’s collaboration with BERNINA of America, and you can see the details by clicking the “Bernina Collaboration” tab.

As for my next project? Well, the Pattern Review Historical Fashion Contest does start on July 1st. Uh oh…

Hope your sewing’s going well!

Susan Khalje on Making a French Jacket, Issey Miyake, and Kiss Me Karl



Hi everyone! Just a heads up that part two of my interview with Susan Khalje, where she spills the secrets of “The Little French Jacket” (AKA making a Chanel Jacket, cardigan jacket etc.) has been posted on WeAllSew.com, and you can find it by clicking here. When I spoke to her, she gave me the history of this enduring design, and explained how the famous three-part sleeve is fantastic for fitting.

Aren’t those jackets she made beautiful? Her online “French Jacket” course has just launched, and I’m eager to take a look at it! You can find the info on SusanKhalje.com.

As for my sewing, hm, the end of my son’s school year kind of did that in. But now that I’m back in my island summer sewing shed, I’m going to get right on it. Just as soon as…


Somebody, GET THAT MAN OUT OF HERE! (Just because I can run a high-tech machine doesn’t mean I know how to fix the printer for you, hon…)

During the winter, I had fun making up some classic Issey Miyake Vogue patterns. The construction was so fascinating! Even though, technically, patterns from the early 2000s aren’t “vintage,” these designs definitely fit under the “modernist” umbrella, which starts with Vionnet and continues through Claire McCardell and Halston.

When I looked up info on Issey Miyake’s theories of design, which include using technically advanced fabrics and manufacturing techniques, I found that trying to pin down his Japanese philosophy and express it in English was beyond my cross-cultural capabilities. So here’s the bio from his official website: Issey Miyake Bio

I decided to make up two of his patterns as part of the PatternReview.com Travel Wardrobe contest, which was loads of fun. I was short on time, so I wanted to make things that required only one or two pattern pieces.

My first make was from this pattern, Vogue 2814:

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The sleeveless top on the right was intriguing, because the pattern was cut as all one piece!


That’s it, you’re looking at it. I cut it out from some light cotton/lycra jersey in my stash, and proceeded to scratch my head over the instructions. (I don’t envy the people who had to write up the guide sheet at Vogue.)


In lieu of top-stitching the edges (but leaving them raw, as called for in the pattern), I used a kind of 50s-looking Greek Key decorative stitch to finish the edges with a little stretch.

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After a number of twists and turns, and more head-scratching, I ended up marking the center front, left and right sides etc. with chalk so I could figure it all out.


Lo and behold, the pinwheel became a nice summer top with a twist!

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It only took a few hours start to finish, which has got to be a new record for me. Here’s the play-by-play on Pattern Review.

Then I decided to go for a Miyake skirt, from Vogue 2437. (Alas, I don’t have a photo of the pattern at present, but if you go to my review on Pattern Review Vogue 2437, it should turn up.)

This skirt is also cut from one pattern piece, and here I’m using Eileen Fisher rayon ponte, which has a nice drape.


Just a big rectangle-ish piece, right? Not so fast. There are so many weird darts and closures that I used white tracing paper and a tracing wheel to mark them, followed by chalk.

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See what I mean? Yes, those are overlapping darts.

The only closures on this skirt are two rows of snap tape. The idea is that you can snap it how you want to give it variations in the drape. I had some brass snap tape from Paris that did the trick.

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Upon giving the skirt a test drive, though, I discovered that the snap tape did not have enough hold for my middle-aged behind, so I added a giant snap at the top.



It’s a hard to photograph, but it’s a really fun design. I used Steam-a-Seam Lite 2 to secure the edges and snap tape before top-stitching, which helped a lot.

Here’s one way that I “styled” the two pieces for the contest.


(You may recall that I made that quilted Chanel bag “homage” last year, and the info on that is in this post.)

I really recommend the Miyake patterns from this era!

In other news, last June I announced that BERNINA of America was loaning me a B560 for a year, and, of course, my on-going love affair with my “Swiss Intern Karl” has been fodder for the tabloids ever since. I’m happy to let you know the good news that Karl has signed on for another couple of semesters here at JetSetSewing.com! Which is great because I don’t know what I would do without his fabulous feed and New Wave yodeling. My thanks again to Bernina of America for their generosity. Details can be found by clicking the “Bernina Collaboration” tab above.

Do you think Karl is sticking around because he’s jealous of this new member of the Jet Set Sewing team?


Well hello, sweet little Carline! Fresh off the Ebay assembly line. She’s gotta be 50-something, and yet this little Minimatic can still satin-stitch like a champ. (I did my research before I bid, because the cam gears on these girls can crack after all of this time. This one had an overhaul by a collector.)  25 pounds of fun in her own little suitcase!

Hope your sewing’s going well!

An Interview with Susan Khalje, Halston Inside-out, and The Battle of Versailles!


More pics below from the Yves St. Laurent + Halston exhibit, and the 70s patterns you can find to recreate them… but first a heads up about an interview just posted with haute couture master teacher Susan Khalje.


I’m a huge fan of Susan and her practical approach to sewing haute couture. In fact, it was Susan’s “Haute Couture Dress” course that elevated my technique from the “Michigan Basement with Mom School of Sewing” and gave me the courage to tackle the high-flyin’ projects I attempt now.

I had a ball interviewing Susan in her studio last summer, and found her warm and affable in person. She’s now launching her own video series, the first of which, “The Couture Cocktail Dress” is available on her website. Her Classic French Jacket course will be launching soon! I’m really looking forward to that.


Part One of our interview has just been posted on Bernina USA’s website WeAllSew.com, and you can find it here. In it, we dish about haute couture sewing, how to approach the vexing issue of fitting, and why it’s important to MAKE A MUSLIN, people! (Even if it is like eating your spinach.)

The interview is part of Jet Set Sewing’s collaboration with BERNINA USA, and you can learn details by clicking the “Bernina Collaboration” tab above. Once again I have to give a shoutout to Alice, Jeanne, and all of the other nice folks at Bernina who are making this possible. I never could have pulled off the projects I’ve done this year without my B560, Karl, (who’s over there right now tapping his presser foot and saying, “less writing, more sewing, sister”).


Now, back to the YSL + Halston exhibit that was at the Museum at FIT during the winter…

I wrote about Halston’s background in this post, but it wasn’t until I saw the dresses up close that I got a clear picture of the genius of his draping.

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Like Madeleine Vionnet and Claire McCardell, two influences mentioned in the exhibit, Halston created simple, elegant dresses, many cut on the bias, with clean lines and few visible closures. Those of us who sew know how difficult it is to wrangle a bias cut, which can easily pucker and shift. That his simple designs fell properly, and yet made a statement, was a testament to his skill.


During the 70s, McCalls Patterns released a number of Halston patterns, which appear to be cut directly from his designs. At the exhibit, I saw several dresses that could be recreated using those patterns:

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(Yes, Yves Saint Laurent and that glamorous 70s fashion model/Halstonette are back to show off more patterns!)

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(You need a Bedazzler for that one.)

There were examples of his “working women” clothes made from UltraSuede, a washable microfiber that’s still being sold:

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The funny story about Halston and UltraSuede is that he learned about it from Japanese designer Issey Miyake, who’s known for his pioneering work with engineered fabrics. There was a language miscommunication, so when Miyake told Halston that UltraSuede was machine washable, Halston thought he meant waterproof. So Halston used it to design the highly impractical trench coat seen on the right.

When I informed my sister that I was coming to New York to crash on her sofabed, something I’ve been doing for, oh, 40 years, she casually mentioned that she had “some Halstons” from the 70s in the back of her closet. Whaaaattt?!

But it’s true…here are some closeups of an UltraSuede jacket of hers, with cut in sleeves and an underarm gusset. No seam finishes needed…easy to cut, sew and wear!


Even after 40 years, the buttons were still sewn on nice and tight.


They don’t make ’em like they used to.

I’ve mentioned before that Janet is the Artistic Director of the Martha Graham Dance Company, and back in the 70s, she was one of their big stars. She danced a number of the classic Graham roles, and Martha even choreographed a version of “The Scarlet Letter,” featuring Janet as Hester and Rudolf Nureyev as a pretty dishy Dimmesdale.

During that period, as I mentioned in this post about the Museum at FIT’s “Dance and Fashion” exhibit, Halston was very involved in creating costumes for the Graham company, and dressing elderly Martha herself. You didn’t always have to be young and lithe to pull off a Halston design.


(That’s Martha on the left, looking good with Betty Ford, Halston, Elizabeth Taylor, and Liza Minelli.)

Since this was dance and not Hollywood, the dancers weren’t making a fortune, and on the weeks they weren’t rehearsing or performing, they would go on unemployment. So when the big galas and events would come up, Halston would give Janet and the other dancers gowns to wear.

Here are pictures of a knit cashmere maxi dress and giant cape wrap that Halston gave Janet for the premier of Scarlet Letter:


It takes up the entire bed! The outfit is similar to the sweater-knit dress and long cardigan on the left of this photo:


You can use this Halston pattern to approximate that big luxurious wrap; the cut is very similar:

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Here’s Martha Graham looking smashing in a similar wrap, again with Liza Minelli and Halston:


So, digging further into my sister’s closet, out came this uniquely cut Halston made of chiffon and crepe backed satin.


It has a silk underslip, and on the overdress, there’s a large circle of satin that starts right below the waist, goes to the bottom of the dress and creeps up the lower back, creating a bubble hem.


In the middle of the circle is an erotic slash that you put your legs through to walk.

Here’s a little Botticelli angel who floated down from the sky to model the dress:


(Actually, it’s my sister’s daughter, but same difference. What a gene pool!)

The waist is secured with a six foot long chiffon scarf.


Mackie the dog, what are you doing getting into the act?


When I looked at the design, it seemed unusual for Halston. It reminded me of Charles James, who consulted with Haston in the early 70s. (To take a look at the skirt I recreated last year from a 50s Charles James pattern, check out this post.)

Looking on the inside of the dress, I was amazed at the amount hand stitching involved:


It’s a gorgeous dress.

The last piece of history dug out of my sister’s closet was one of Halston’s famous “Sarong” dresses, shown here in the Museum at FIT exhibit:

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Halston had given Janet one of these dresses in black velvet, which she wore after she performed at the White House during the Ford administration. First Lady Betty Ford had studied dance with Martha Graham, and became one of the champions of the Graham Company during that era.


That Betty Ford was First Lady at all was completely accidental, as Gerald Ford became President after Nixon resigned in disgrace. Yet she used it as a platform for great social progress; telling people about her battles with breast cancer and drug addition way before anyone else was talking about those things publicly.

According to the book “Halston and Warhol, Silver and Suede,” the sarong dress was invented by Halston one afternoon on Fire Island, when he draped and tied a big bath towel on model Chris Royer.

So here’s the thing about this dress that my sister learned the hard way. You’d better tie it tight.

After Janet’s dance performance, she put on the Halston sarong dress and joined the party. President Ford himself asked her to dance.


They were having a lovely time. Then her dress started slipping down!


“If you’ll excuse me Mr. President, I think I need to make a little adjustment…” Luckily, it didn’t land on the floor.

As you can see, when she wore the dress at the Carter White House a few years later, she tied it good and tight!


Once I got my hands on the dress, I turned it inside out. It looks like a long column, but actually, it’s cut on the bias, and constructed like a corkscrew.


At the top, there were small pleats with binding at the cleavage, where the ties would meet:


The ties themselves were part of a self-facing that was cut into the top of the dress. The wearer would fold the top facing inside, around the high bust line, and then tie those ties tight, because nothing else was holding it up!


The dress itself has a hand-sewn blind hem:


The silk lining was cut from all one piece as well, hand-hemmed.

And here’s the thing from the interior that really killed me:


The Independent Ladies Garment Workers Union Label. Made in the U.S.A. Remember the 60s commercial where the women from the union sang “Look for the union label, when you are buying a coat, dress or blouse…”? Well, in hindsight, they were absolutely right.

Okay, we’ve been stranded far too long in the 70s, I know, but I did want to add how much I thoroughly enjoyed the new book The Battle of Versailles by Robin Givhan, fashion critic for the Washington Post. It covers a rare moment in fashion history when five American designers, Halston among them, were invited to show their collections in a “battle” with five French designers, including Yves St. Laurent, in 1973.


(Yes, I was reading it in the car during school pick-up time…)

Givhan does a masterful job of describing the thrown-together nature of what became a watershed event in fashion. The thing went on for hours, and included Liza Minelli, Nureyev, and Josephine Baker! For those of us who get nerdy about fashion history, there’s plenty of background and dish about the players and egos in the garment industry on both sides of the Atlantic.

She also talks about how the African American models at the event, along with designer Stephen Burrows, broke new ground in the industry through the Versailles event, while saving the bacon of the other U.S. designers by pulling the whole thing off.

My thanks to Stephanie of the blog Ernie K Designs for tipping me off about this great book!

Here’s New York Times Style section photographer Bill Cunningham’s reminiscence about attending the event:

Here are a few more photos from the Yves St. Laurent + Halston exhibit, by both designers.


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(Looks a lot like Claire McCardell, Halston…)



And here are a few more Halston patterns. They’re not too hard to find on eBay and etsy.com:

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So long, Funkytown! Hm, where should we go next?

Yves St. Laurent, The Birth of Vintage, and Listening to Records and Kissing


I’ll admit that attending the Yves St. Laurent + Halston exhibit (at the Museum at FIT) threw me right into a disco pit of nostalgia, thinking about the early days of vintage fashion in the 70s. Unfortunately, this frisson led to ill-advised vices such as listening to Kenny Loggins on YouTube, remembering old boyfriends, and coming this close to buying UltraSuede yardage.

Here are some photos from the exhibit, which compares YSL’s romantic costumes, culled from cultural history, to Halston’s streamlined, expertly-cut modern fabric columns.


(In both cases, Halston is on the left, and YSL is on the right.)

But here’s what cranked up the nostalgia machine: a timeline in the exhibit, which compared what was going on in the careers of YSL and Halston in the 60s, 70s and 80s.


I hadn’t realized that while we 20-something girls in the U.S. were combing the thrift stores for what was just starting to be called “vintage,” Yves St. Laurent was being influence by retro looks from fresh faces like Paloma Picasso. Here she is with Andy Warhol, dressed in 40s chic.

Paloma Picasso and Warhol

YSL’s collections from that era were inspired by 1930s Chanel designs, La Belle Epoche, Russian peasant gear, the Ballets Russes and Chinoiserie, among other things.


It was a thrill to see his iconic Safari jacket and Le Smoking:


His “Forties” collection, in 1971,  was a critical flop, but it captured the vintage zeitgeist.


And here are the kinds of things we were wearing during that time in the U.S.:

Wearing vintage in '75

That’s me on the right with my roommate in our “co-ed dorm” (still a bad idea) at SUNY Purchase in 1975. We’re wearing original 40s dresses that I’d bought at one of the first true “vintage” stores. I think she’s wearing Kork-Ease platform sandals, too, which looked retro and were great for spinning around on the dance floor.

SUNY Purchase bustier '75

And that’s me the same year, wearing a “long-line” bra that I’d dyed orange, with a man’s white dinner jacket, black tie and elbow-length gloves, all thrifted. I can’t believe how modern everyone looks, 40 years later.

All I can say about our nostalgia for 30s and 40s styles was that it sprang from an intense desire to forget the decade before. The late 60s and early 70s in the U.S. were such a roller coaster. Vietnam combat on TV! Man on the Moon! Peace and Love! My Country, Love It or Leave It!

My husband, more than a decade older than I am, went from a Kennedy idealist to a drafted army lawyer, heading to Southeast Asia in an ill-fated war marriage. He was tasked with explaining the Geneva convention to a bunch of nice guys from small towns who, like him, really didn’t want to be there.

Howell on tank

Even as a teen I could sense how quickly the country had devolved from an “ask what you can do for your country” mentality to “what the hell happened here?” By the time the troops withdrew and Watergate was over, we were exhausted.

When things started to calm down in the mid-70s, we just wanted to get on our feet again, and now the baby boomers were inheriting the place. And boy, were we tired of dressing like hippies.

So we went back in time. Bette Midler put on 40s rags and sang the Andrews Sisters.

Bette Midler

Manhattan Transfer put on 30s drag and revived a cappella.


After years of seeing scruffy, angry comedians in jeans and army jackets, Steve Martin put on a tailored suit and joked about “happy feet.”

When an older grad student boyfriend and I were watching that bit on Saturday Night Live, he turned to me and said, “you think that’s funny?” I knew immediately the relationship was over.

My late-70s peers and I really were the first group of women who weren’t expected to find a husband and get married right out of college. So we put on wrap dresses and went dancing.

We were so glad when the guys cut their frizzy hair.

The book “Cheap Chic” became my bible, because it explained how to put together thrifted outfits, raid the men’s department for a menswear look, and use the army/navy store as a resource for retro/chic pieces like button-front navy pants.


What great news that Cheap Chic has been rereleased! I just saw it on Amazon.com.

It even included an interview with Yves St. Laurent, talking about how his designs were being shaped by late 60s anxiety in France, which he was feeling in his visits to New York:


We were sewing, too. During that time, you could buy really hot current patterns by DVF, John Kloss, Willi Smith, Halston, Clovis Ruffin, Kenzo and Betsey Johnson. Here I’m wearing one of her looks that I sewed at 18, and my roommate’s wearing a maxi-skirt I made:

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Back then, Betsey Johnson was a star of the kicky-youthful-vintage inspired look, and though her clothing wasn’t available in my northern Michigan hometown, her patterns were. So basically, we were creating a new generation of style out of thrifted clothes and Qiana fabric.

Here are some of those early vintage/boho Yves St. Laurent patterns released in the 70s, cut from his retail designs.


(Why yes, that is Yves St. Laurent himself holding those patterns, with the help of a beautiful 70s fashion model, who is also a “Halstonette.” Did I mention that the Jet Set Sewing Graphics Team, AKA the chipmunks that live in my kitchen, are back? I know they were fired via the fire escape, but my son let them in the window accidentally, and they said they could book YSL so I said what the hell.)

So how does Kenny Loggins fit into this whole thing? Somehow I got his hit “Heart To Heart” stuck in my head, which is from the early 80s, but is still part of this era. I must have heard it blasting in the grocery store, which completely galls me because I don’t want to listen to music I used to make out to while I’m buying yogurt.

Even though it’s embarrassing to admit that I like this song, it is a great example of “blue-eyed soul” record producing in my view, so when it got to that crescendo, right when he’s singing in his head voice: “this is our final chance to touch each other’s–” I did not appreciate having the store public address system suddenly break in with “SEAFOOD! YOU HAVE A CALL HOLDING! SEAFOOD!”

But it got me thinking about how important both going out dancing and “listening to records” were to us while the country was recuperating. This was before the internet and cell phones, so listening to records was how we hung out.

I tended to date record nerds, so a summer afternoon with one of them would usually start with a couple of hours of browsing through dusty bins of vinyl in a college town record store, housed in some damp basement. Most likely, I was dressed like Annie Hall, after Diane Keaton, one of the original thrifters.


Then we’d probably stop for a bagel, and the day would end with me hugging my knees on his apartment floor, next to the stereo that was perched on an orange crate. He’d light the candle that was stuck in one of those orb-like Mateus wine bottles (which we’d probably drunk), and then he’d put on a song like this:

“Heart To Heart”

(Just click it, and you’ll go right back to the days before manscaping, when there was plenty of man hair to run your fingers through. Though it is missing the nervous running commentary from the guy you’re with, explaining about who wrote it, who’s playing on it, who’s singing backup, who wrote the liner notes…and the whole time you’re thinking, “aw, shut up and kiss me.”)

Seriously, this is what we did back then. You 20-somethings outta put down your phones and try it. You’d probably have more sex.

So the country got back on its feet, and in the late 80s, I married a guy with a true appreciation for vintage style and a great big record collection.


As for the UltraSuede yardage, I’ll be back with more about the Halston section of the exhibit, which is the better part I think, and photos of some classic Halston designs turned inside out, found digging around in my sister’s closet.

Hope your sewing’s going well.

Burda Vintage, Simon Doonan, and Winter Get the Hell out of Here!


I’ll admit I’ve been cheating on winter by visiting warmer climes, and now that I’m back, I’m hoping a quick wrap-up post will get l’hiver to leave here. (By making it run from multi-lingual puns, apparently.)


While I was away from home and my dear Karl (once again he was really ticked not to come along), I did some quality beach reading, as you can see.

I’d been contacted by BurdaStyle about reviewing their new (to the U.S.) Vintage Burda Patterns Kit, with 11 downloadable patterns for vintage styles from their archives.

vintage kit

Some great designs, n’est pas? I decided to go for it, because when this collection was released in magazine form in Europe last fall, there was a great deal of on-line hubbub about it among my European sewing peeps. So much so, that I ended up ordering the English-language version of the Euro mag from GLP News.

The magazine is a fun read, giving background on the designers and fashion icons who inspired the collection:


Since the articles were written for a German audience, I have to say that reading an article about a 1950s German family driving through the mountains to go to Italy on holiday was a cultural eye-opener as an American. Basically we think we own the 50s, and we tend to picture post-war Europe as this sad, depressed place with old dresses and no rock ‘n’ roll.


As some of my pals in Europe started making up the patterns this winter, I could see what a great collection it was. Here’s Carmen, of the CarmencitaB blog, and winner of the French sewing bee show Cousu Main, with three of the makes from this series:

The “Fiore” Prom Dress, with skinnier straps and without what she called the “mother-of-the-bride” frou frou on the shoulders:

Carmen's dress frontBurda Fiore

(Here’s Carmen’s blog post about making the dress, which is a super rockabilly girl design, don’t you think?)

Here’s her hack of the “Kim” coat, which she turned into a hoodie for her Breton climate:

Burda_Kim_CapucheBurda Kim

And finally her version of the “Rosa” balloon jacket, inspired by Balenciaga.

Carmen's jacket backBurda Rosa

Here’s a completely different version of the Rosa jacket, by Claudine of the Rolling in Cloth blog. She’s always pushing the envelope with her beautiful makes, and she really scored with this one:

Claudine's jacket frontClaudine's jacket back

Unfortunately, the downloadable version of the collection available here in the States doesn’t include the fun and funky articles from the magazine. But it does includes a lot of great designs. As to the $29 price tag, for a collection that was available in Europe for less than $10, I’ll leave that math up to you. $29 is still a pretty good price for 11 patterns of this quality.

The downloadable version includes a photo, instructions, and pattern for each design. You can check it out here: Burda Vintage Collection. Here are some more looks from the collection:

Burda SweaterBurda SofiaBurda LolaBurda LBDBurda Beach Collection

My thanks to BurdaStyle for giving me access to this online collection so I could share this info with you.

My other beach reading was the hilarious book The Asylum: True Tales of Madness from a Life in Fashion by fashion maven Simon Doonan, another writer of which I’m completely jealous.

In a series of essays, Doonan explains why models start dumb and stay dumb, talks about how he got cult Japanese designer Rei Kawakubo to spend time at Fredericks of Hollywood, and illuminates why the Queen of England is always frumpy, because it’s impossible to be both “kind” and “chic.”

That concept is borne out in the new Disney movie “Cinderella,” which everyone must go to immediately, whether or not you have a child to go with, because the costumes are a tour-de-force of color and design. Costume designer Sandy Powell is a genius. I want to go sew on snaps for her.

Here’s Cinderella. Though she’s beautiful and “kind,” I’d argue that she’s not chic:


(There’s enough tulle in that dress to crinoline the entire rockabilly Hall of Fame.)

Cate Blanchett as the stepmother is most definitely “chic,” wicked, wicked chic:



Soft and kind/taut and chic.

There are a few exceptions to the chic/kind tradeoff, for example, Audrey Hepburn was both chic and kind. But there aren’t many.

Audrey Hepburn UNICEF

And speaking of chic, Karl Lagerfeld says that his pampered, social media savvy cat Choupette made THREE MILLION EUROS last year!


For that kind of money, I’d sit on Lagerfeld’s lap and purr, too. (Not that he’d be into it…)

Lastly, I wanted to say hello and welcome to the new readers who have joined Jet Set Sewing in the past several months. I get such a huge kick out of everyone’s visits and comments, so thanks to all of you for dropping by!

And I did finally get a chance to attend two exhibits featuring designs by Halston…the YSL/Halston exhibit at the Fashion Institute of Technology, and the surprising “museum of Halstons” in the back of my sister’s closet! More on that later!

How’s your sewing going?