Every once in a while, I get the urge to sew something from a commercial pattern. This is kind of like the urge to go swimsuit or jean shopping, in which I think that I need an item (in some cases, I do actually need the item) and then I remember why I decided that I can live without it.
I do not have a fashionable figure. That is, my proportions do not match those of any label, designer, or house that I know of, which makes finding off the rack clothing that fits nearly impossible (ladies, you know what I’m talking about. *None* of us actually meets the fit standards of any company, do we?). The thing I tend to forget, however, is that trying to fit me into an off the rack sewing pattern is even worse.
And when that pattern is 30+ years old, handmade and with a minimum of directions or fit guidelines….well, it turns out like this:
This was supposed to be a top for my historical society costume. Instead, it is two yards of wasted fabric and time. It is a blouse that, despite following the rudimentary sizing chart, fits approximately no part of my body in any way, and is even further from being a period-correct fit for the 1860s (I would have ended up with something skin tight, where it should be very lose). Even if I manage to salvage the fabric, I can’t salvage it for this costume–any changes I make to adjust the fit would ruin the historical accuracy. I might set it aside and turn it into a more modern top (I do like the color) but that won’t be happening anytime soon. I’m still angry with it, and it hasn’t had enough time to think about what it’s done.
This is the kind of thing that drives crafters to drink. As it is, I think I hear a chocolate sundae calling my name.