Vogue 8552, Sack-ness, and Cute-ness.

Affectionately known as The Sack.

I think it could be super cute, on someone with lesser hips than mine. I was in love with the pockets, and overall sack-ness of it, but, turns out when I wear a sack – not SPECTACUAR. My mom would say that it's good for selling potatoes at Moscow's Central Market.  The cartoon chick on the envelope pattern does it better. Certainly not because she’s drawn on a scale of 5’11’’ height and a 10” waist.

The other problem is that inevitably, I am drawn to colours, and sparkles, and big bunches of pink. It’s like I think I might expire out of boredom, if I used a sensible, solid fabric. But, I think this dress would do well in a solid fabric, may be with some contrast topstitching, to bring out the pockets. That way they might not look like a flowery extension of my butt.

However, I made it, so I LOVE it.

Not to mention, it was my birthday, and for the Most Thoughtful, Cute Gift EVER, Mr Snork got me these:

Tell me you didn’t just fall over, overwhelmed by the adorableness. I feel overwhelmed just typing about it.  My very own labels.  I feel very Gaultier-like. 

Some other developments for this dress:

I figured out how to use an ancient “Buttonholer”.

I'm not even sure how it works, it all happens so fast.  I think it just maniacally rattles the machine, which in turn sews a buttonhole out of sheer terror.  That's what it seems like, anyway.  Although it’s entirely a crapshoot on whether it’ll make a buttonhole or chew up and spit out your fabric mangled – I bravely made a buttonhole (attempt 2). Complete with tiny, cute, glass rose buttons courtesy of JoAnn’s. I also spent a half hour with my seam ripper on ButtonHOLE Attempt 1, but I don’t like to talk about it. I will say, that is a LOT of stitches in a small area. A bit of an FML moment. But, it can’t be blamed – It came with the sewing machine I got at a garage with a receipt from the 60’s.  It’s a wonder it didn’t just crackle and fall apart. 

I decided to forgo the zipper, mostly because I wanted to use a buttonholer, and I put in two small darts in the front, under the bust. The ruffles on top translated into a ‘belly pouch” area that I found unattractive and in need of being eliminated.   It's a little evident in photo below, but its after I put in on, having eaten a loaf of bread with olive oil that it really thrives and stands out.. It would make a fantastic Maternity Sack.

The best part came in after I washed it, for the first time ever, because I forgot to preshrink.  It’s now a much shorter sack. Luckily, I kept shaving off the armholes, until I had taken off nearly an inch, because it seemed I either have behemoth arms, (I don’t) or they were cut for wrists. I worried that an inch made them too ‘gapey’. Not to worry though, the shrink job took them right back up. Speaking of armholes, I thought those sleeves would look stupid and flappy, but they’re flappy and CUTE!

Friday Goodies.

First, my coworkers' parents came from Germany, and "Omi" brought me a teacup she's had in her cupboard in Germany for a while. It's Japanese and super dainty and see through. I've had my thermos tea today from it, and I'm pretty pleased. That's the second time I've sat around at work and had a tea cup dropped onto me. A trans atlantic teacup, even.

Then at lunch I kidnapped Mr Snork and dragged him to an estate sale, conveniently on the way.  Everything was really pretty but expensive.  I fell in love a little with an iron, the kind you put coals into, and it irons..  But everything was priced a la antique shop in Orange County, CA, so I let that dream go.  For $65 that iron needs to be fully functional and I can't expect Jesse to make with BBQ coals every morning before work..

But, I did find and dig through a cup of silver tea spoons - an obsession relation to teacups, but a lot less space consuming, so, yay?  I found two I really liked, and had to talk the hostess into getting them - they were being sold as a 12 piece lot for $68, and she was reluctant to sell separately, but eventually, I got 2 for $10.

I deciphered one hallmark to be Wallace and Sons,  

the spoon with the pretty pine cones.

The other seems to be "IS" in some wings, or feathers, or may be just an "S"?

a "Pat .88", 

and a "sterling" on it.

It looks pretty old, or "haunted" as my little brother says, so naturally, it appeals to me even more.  As does this kind of research, on some obsessive compulsive level.  There is an International Silver Co, but it seems that all their hallmarks spell out the name. 

 ~

PS, after I typed up this blog, I went back searched just the "S" letter, and came up with George Shiebler & Co.  They were dissolved in 1910, which explains the rubbed out hallmark and its general 'haunted-ness'. 

~

PPS, after some more nosing around, I found the pattern.  Discontinued in 1888!  Extra haunted.   I might take it up to NorCal with me next time, to drink tea with and freak out the small anti-antique siblings.   

I think I'll go back tomorrow and check out the other spoons I left behind.  Shhh.  Don't tell the Mr.   It's the most haunted thing I have, after the Russian imperial silver spoons my dad brought me for my birthday.  Monogrammed with "K", conveniently, for my Russian nickname - 'Kuzya'.  Kuzya is a small, very dirty unbehaved housekeeping troll in a popular Soviet time cartoon, but never mind the details.  The spoons are pretty rad. 

Piles of Stuff and the Sewing Pile

I have recently been motivated (by reading the appropriate blogs, of course) to declutter my closet and bathroom.  How can I shop for MORE clothes when I can't make sense of what I've got, right?   I was doing fine with the bathroom until I came across a 5 year old botle of Chanel 'glitter' foundation, remembered how it was $90, and it halted my progress.  On one hand, I can't be putting 5 year old glitter bits on my face (I'm sacred to even try in on a wrist), on the other, how DO you toss it away? 

With bathroom decluttering at a stall, I went to adress the closet.  I keep meaning to do this, and always get just little spurts done.  Ever since I moved in with Jesse, and he kindly relinquished the master bedroom closet, I just dumped all my stuff there.  I pluck at it to find certain items that I wear regularly, but the rest is a mess.  Sweater stacked on top of capris, skirts hanging under thsirts.  It's horrible. 

It's not that I have too much clothing.  It's the fact that I keep ALL of it, from what I packed in suitcase to come here from Ukraine, to now and everything in between.  That skirt I wore in Paris the summer of '97?  Here.   The jeans I wore to Ukraine?  Here.  Ugly shirt that is probably fashionable by Russian - IN Russia standards, but that my grandmother gave me?  Here.  My first ever (and ugly) Juicy Couture skirt?  Checking in.  The dress that I *really* liked, but didn't fit into, but bought anyway, hoping to lose 10 more pounds? Here. Except, now, I'd have to lose 45 lbs. It's like a penalty for procrastination.

Am I *really* ever going to be 95lbs?  Probably not.  It's probably not even safe to try given my 5'6" height and sugar addiction.  Plus, size 2 of the 90's is a size 0 of today.  What they both have in common is that they don't fit a size 6, (8 during "lady times").  There is also a lot of in-between clothes - ones that were too big in college, so I kept them in case I found myself pregnant or just 'fat', that are now too small.   Those 'fat clothes' *really* displease me, along with the fact that I considered size 4 to be fat.  HAA.  ha.  Humph. 

I have 4 piles going: 

-Rag pile.  These are the hopeless clothes, that have seen too many campfires and climbed too many fences/rocks.  These are also clothes I can not identify or assign ownership to.  Or that belonged to an ex.  Don't leave your stuff at my house, is the moral of this story.  If I don't find it nice enough to wear (BTW, thanks for that shirt you accidentally left at my place, Heather!), these will be cut into rags.  Which is awesome, it's about time I washed me a floor.  Spot cleaning with paper towel is just not leaving a desired effect.  My grandmother would be uimpressed. 

- Goodwill pile.  This a nice assortment to give back to Goodwill (I DO wish they accepted trades).  A lady this weekend's Redlands Goodwill told me that in Phoenix they give you a 20% coupon when you donate.  That would be nice.  But I'll deal.  They give me a lot of neat stuff, they get stuff back.  It's like 10 years old, but you can bet I only ever wore it once-twice.  Then I had a sandwhich and it no longer fit. 

- Ebay pile.  Or 'trade' pile.  I have an unfortunate amount of 7 Jeans that are in ridiculous sizes.  I think I bought them, thinking, the smaller they are, the better they will make my butt look, and have an overall "Spanx" effect.  Not true then (couldn't breathe or sit), and definately not true 45 lbs later (won't go past my knees).   There's shop called Trade Post on Harbor St that buys, sells, and trades a very limited selection of clothing.  Limited in the brands, anyway.  I am hoping to go turn in my size 26's for some 29's (31's for lady times).   Some other things will get thrown up on Ebay for .99c.  A yard sale of sorts, if you will. 

-Sewing pile.  This is my favorite.  It is a solution for the skirt I wore to Paris, and can't quite give up.  The Disney sweater that I thought would be cute for camping.  But turned out I looked like a hobo wearing mens size L.  The million pants I can't wear until hemmed, or dresses that would look cute if they were shorter, or clothing that various people 'donate' to me, ever since I got my awesome sewing machine.  I enjoy tearing stuff apart and making it either fit me, or converting to something else entirely.  Every once in a while, it might end up a candidate for the Rag Pile, so I can't be BUYING clothes for this purpose, the rejects will do.  I also imagine myself making a quilt at some point down the road, incorporating all the "Paris skirt"  and "grandmother given shirt" bits.  And those awesome sparkly jean pockets. 

All these pieces of clothing were randomly strewn about my closet and dresser, contaminating the environment, posing as clothes I could readily wear, but no longer!  I freed my closet, and to celebrate I ran out and bought an Express skirt and pants in fabulous vivid green and teal colours at the Huntington Beach Goodwill.  Sizes 0 and 2 out, sizes 9 and 10 in.  Ha. 

The Ebay/trade pile is awaiting a chunk of time I need.  Jesse already carted a bag over to Goodwill.  Or Salvation Army, we like to mix it up in our 'reverse dumpstering'.  And the sewing pile is in a plastic bin on a top shelf of my closet.  It is now a sewing BOX.  I can dive in there on nights I'm bored for a quick project.

Monday night, for example, I took on the skinny jeans (that I HAD to have during a Bebe clearance in Chicago, that looked horrible as jeans, because that's what happens when you cram a giant butt and tiny ankles into some spandex and call it jeans, Bebe or not.  Lesson learned.) and hemmed them into some capri leggings.

The above mentioned Disney sweater also got tackled.  It got the sleeves cut off at the seams, two inches taken out of each side, sides sewn back together, and sleeves back on.  If I was feeling really creative, I could have also made the sleeves narrower.  It would make me look like a hobo even LESS.  Another day, another project..

The one side looks better already, see?

Mid Century Modern

I saw these amazing ..ok, these ratty with amazing potential chairs at an estate sale in Corona Del Mar for a $100 a pair. And after looking them up online (Danish modern..what? They're OLD!) Jesse graciously agreed to go make an offer on them while I was at work. He called me and said that there IS a guy who would buy them and put in his furniture gallery (of old and haunted things, no doubt) but, unfortunately for the guy, and fortunately for me, $75 and a truck right there proved more lucrative than $100 and delivering the chairs to his gallery.

Really, most everything about these chairs was objectionable until you sat in them. They are as comfortable as the orange upholstery was itchy (and ugly). They reminded me of wood armchairs my grandma has in Ukraine, and of the fact that I have no wood armchairs, and, lastly, as usual, "we can always Craigslist/Ebay them". Jesse fell for it again.

So we dragged them home. The underside has "Conant Ball Co" burned/stamped on bottom, which I tried to research, and came up with not much else but that their other ugly for my taste furniture is relatively expensive. Win for my "we can always resell them" argument. They appear to be from the 40's - 50's. A fancy designer named Russel Wright designed a modern line of furniture for CB starting 1935, but my research indicates his fancy name is stamped on his fancy designs, which mine do not have. Then I got bored and gave up on trying to trace the royal lineage; I did, however, come across a guy trying to sell a really ratty one, sans cushions, on CL for $125, so my resale argument is as strong as ever.

They match nothing in the apartment. I'd have to find a place for them. The upholstery HAD to go.

The work in progress - you can see the original hideousness on the other chair. I think I was in such a hurry to strip them off the ugly, that I didn't take a picture of the two in all their burnt orange scratchy glory.



I went to JoAnn's and bought some obscene amount of $2/yd brown cotton fabric. I thought I needed 8 yards. I got 9. I used may be 6. The foam and batting wrap looked pretty good. I fabreezed the cushions, and sewed the covers.

The covers are basically rectangles, I cut up one of the orange hideousnesses and used it as a template. They look better. Or, at least, they try to blend in.

Jesse spotted some brilliant bright purple upholstery fabric at a San Francisco fabric outlet for $6/yd, and it is my plan to eventually make the chairs purple. And put them next to the green curtains (soon to be in progress) and a bright yellow painted wall (as soon as I talk Jesse into it).

Close up of the Purple Fabric lazily draped over chair. The brown set of covers, simple as they were, took me 5 incompetence filled days, so I'm waiting for the second wind.

I may, in the future, also replace the foam; that and a wood soap bath later they'll be like brand new. I love old stuff, but I also have an acute other-people-dead-skin-cell obsession that goes wild when untreated. I usually treat it by asking Jesse to refinish stuff (a good bath in Liquid Sandpaper leaves very little behind. Including your own live skin, if you're not careful), but he's backed up on projects, so I soaped it as well I could, and they're waiting in queue.

Update!! I was right, and the purple looks a m a z i n g against the Yellow Wall!

Treadle On

A star feature in my Random Things I Could Have Probably Done Without collection.

A lady at work had this Singer treadle machine. Did I even know what a treadle is that morning? Nope. But anyway, she said it was a sewing machine, and a cast iron base, and a table all in one. Cast iron appealed to me, probably because I have the 300 lbs of it in the kitchen, and it seemed unfair that other rooms have none.

I went to see it, and even though, in retrospect, I have walked past 80-140 of them in my thrift shop/antique mall strolls, I fell in love. It had minimal rust, medium dust, and maximum cuteness factor. (It is tiny). I could picture sewing outfits on it, then flipping it closed and having tea on top. I'd make the cast iron black and shiny. What a win. I looked up the serial number, and it was made in 1920. The needle moved. I was in love.

Later Jesse confessed he didn't think I'd get the thing working, but there is no talking to me when I see shiny things I like. Or dusty, dirty things, that I can picture nursing to shiny. So we loaded it up, and brought it upstairs, at the (imagined, but probably very real) dismay of neighbors who see a never ending string of "pieces" entering the dwelling, and very seldom (never) one leaving.

My reasoning was that :

1. My grandma was soon bringing curtains that would show up in a one giant piece of fabric to be sewn and I needed the sewing machine.

2. I've always wanted a sewing machine

3. Simple sewing machine with a googled, almost never fail mechanism was my best bet.

4. I could always Craigslist/Ebay it if it doesn't work/we have no space for it.

This last point is my most convincing argument when it comes to finding and insisting on dragging "pieces" home, and somehow, Jesse keeps falling for it. It's genius, really.

I have yet to clean the cast iron, or paint the "Singer" wording gold, or to completely revamp the wood top. (Jesse took pity and glued down the offensively sticking out veneer bits). I polished some shiny bits, and the wheel, took it apart as far as I felt I competently could.
(There was a really ugly - putting bobbin case back in episode that I'm not proud of, and that inspired me, in the future, to have a strict protocol of taking "before" picture in any projects that involve disassembly). Then I got impatient, and just wanted to sew. Which, it did! After threading, rethreading, cleaning out the bobbin case, and ruining a perfectly innocent queen size ratty old bed sheet of Jesse's. WIN!

On a technical side, it's a Red Eye Model 66, that has only a straight stitch forward (All I need, it turns out). It needed a new belt, which I found in a local sewing/vacuum shop, and a bobbin winding wheel. I haven't had great luck in finding this wheel, but Jesse uses a special DIY duct tape attachment on my drill, that allows me to wind a bobbin faster than my feet can treadle the treadle. The little side drawers came with heaps of bobbins, needles, thread, attachment feet (these look scary, if I ever try to make use of them, I'll post) and a whole bunch of packed bias tape. All straight from 1970's. (Does bias tape expire? Will it disintegrade on contact? We'll see)

I think we found a permanent spot for it in our living room, where, if I ever clean off heaps of fabric, thread, and pins off it and close it, it can very well be a functional little table.