Showing posts with label home-sewn. Show all posts

sew lovely: a personal history of sewing

A few friends have expressed lately an interest in learning to sew and have asked how I learned. As I've become more involved in the sewing community on Instagram, I love a lot of the conversations that happen more broadly across that platform, in the name of transparency, ethics, and equity. To that end, I wanted to share more about my background with sewing—definitely not as a deterrent of any kind, but just to illustrate that like many things, practice and time have been major factors in getting me where I am today. Instagram often doesn't paint a full picture—in my case, there isn't always an elegant way to demonstrate that many of my inclinations toward textile creativity began as a kid and thus have been woven into the fabric of my life for decades now (p.s. I sewed the shirt and pants I'm wearing in the photo above. Project details can be found here).

As a preface, I want to say: I think that anyone can learn how to sew. You don't have to have a sewing machine to sew—you can sew by hand, or you can borrow a friend's or family member's machine. You can sign up for a sewing class at the local community college or possibly even the library. You may be able to gain exposure and experience in a church community or setting (my local church community has EIGHT sewing machines in the church library! A little known secret! We have used them for hosting service projects but they are just sitting there unused much of the time). You can check the local thrift store for old machines. For many years, I used my mom's sewing machine when I lived at home. I also have several friends who were very gracious and allowed me use of their machine. My friend Christian gave me his garage code so I could come over and use his sewing machine when he wasn't using it. I am indebted to these friends because this was instrumental in my resuming this craft which I had put off to the side for a while.

One of the easiest way to begin your journey in learning to sew is to start by noticing the textile fabrications around you. All of us wear clothes and sleep in a bed with blankets. Start looking at the tags which list the fiber content. Usually these can be found on the interior of a garment—on a top, typically in one of the side seams toward the lower hem. In pants, it may be on a tag sewn into the side seam on the interior near the pockets. It becomes a sort of muscle memory and I have probably garnered more than a few odd looks when I am shopping and stop to look at an article of clothing, as I immediately reach for an unexpected section and flip it inside out to check.

Besides the simple fact of fiber content, begin pay attention to the laundering instructions. Often the laundering instructions belie the effects of various physical or chemical properties of fabric. Have you ever noticed the warning labels indicating that cotton pj sets should not actually be used as children's pajamas?—it's because cotton ignites when exposed to flame. Most children's pajamas that are legally permitted to be marketed as such are made from synthetic fibers. Synthetic fibers do not ignite, but given hot enough temperatures, they may very likely melt. The risk of chemical burns doesn't seem like much of a hopeful alternative, does it?  Wool, on the other hand, has self-extinguishing properties. Wool also has an uncanny ability to absorb water without feeling wet, which is why pea coats are often fashioned from wool. You will note, however, that the laundering instructions accompanying most wool garments advise against machine laundering—this is because heat and friction can cause wool to felt and also because machine laundering may change the structure of wool fibers resulting in shrinkage.

I learned much of the above because my major in college afforded me the option of classes on these subjects. But in this day and age of Google and digital libraries and YouTube, natural inquisitiveness can take you a long way. The mere element of observation will be a huge aid to learning to sew. Start by looking at your clothing and how it is constructed. Inspect the seams and the different weights of fabric and how the different pieces are joined together. Looking from the inside out will help you visualize how a two-dimensional piece of fabric was made into what it has become.

 . . . . 


I started sewing when I was a kid—I would frequently make my own scrunchies and Barbie clothes. My mom helped me execute my first self-directed apparel project when I was about 9 or 10—a knit tee with a cumulus cloud patterned fabric, French seams (pretty sure my mom did those:), and decorative stitching on the hems (can you imagine?! A photoshopped approximation follows below). My Barbies also got cloud clothes made from the remnants. My mom would set me up on her sewing machine and thread everything, then turn me loose to experiment.

In college, I took beginning clothing construction. I attribute much of my technical knowledge and skill to this class, as our professor had very exacting standards; it forced me to become more precise with my finishing skills and I am a better seamstress today because of it. The pajama pants I am wearing in the photo above were my first project in the class—this is a perfect beginning sewing project, because it involves primarily straight lines and leaves you with having learned and practiced some good foundational skills (threading a drawstring or elastic, measuring inseams, etc.).


My love of textiles did not begin and end with sewing, however—a child of the 90s, I also loved ALL things Lisa Frank and the Lisa Frank loom kit above was a beloved set of tools and equipment. I made lots of potholders and also learned to use a crochet hook for finishing, as well as using several sizes of small circular looms. I also loved macrame and making friendship bracelets (one of my favorite styles was learned from the PBS show Zoom). Through some googling found an image of the exact latchhook kit/design that I made at some point in elementary school—this puppy and kitten on a pink background. Looking at these pieces now is very funny and endearing; I am grateful that my parents always gave me room to experiment and try new things.
All this to say—I think anyone can learn to sew; it is never too late! I think that the foundational qualities of inquisitiveness, experimentation, and embracing/learning from mistakes will serve one well. My seam ripper is still my sewing B.F.F. When I do something wrong or mess something up, undoing it teaches me a lot about how to then re-do it. The adage of "measure twice, cut once" is also valuable guidance. There is so much one could say, but I think starting small with a project like a pillow (even just a pillowcase for your bed—no zippers required!) or pajama pants is the perfect segue to beginning to sew—you can focus on the 'how' since the mechanics of construction are fairly straightforward. But even without the tools or the know-how (yet), taking note of the objects around you will help your sewing knowledge start to take shape, way before you have ever even picked up a needle.

pattern drafting and linen tunics

This is my latest finished project—a linen tunic sewn from a self-drafted pattern. Over the last few years, I have really been trying hard to divest myself from the fast fashion industry. Overall, I am in a much more sustainable place (rather than a consumptive one), and I buy many of my clothes secondhand/thrifted/vintage. Others I make myself, or I have tried to find brands with ethical and sustainable practices to support. I'm not perfect in my attempts but it becomes easier to stick to my carefully formed habits as I exercise self control and add things to my closet that will be versatile, long-lasting, and coincide well with my personal style.

One of my favorite articles of clothing is a tunic by Free People that I found at the Springville Deseret Industries. It fits perfectly and is a rare perfect piece of clothing. I've long loved the construction details of the tunic and a little while ago I decided to try and reverse-engineer a pattern for it, so that I could recreate it. I remade it in a minty-sage-colored linen blend from Harmony in downtown Provo.


One of my few regrets from my college days is that I did not have more credits-bandwidth during undergrad to take the second 'clothing construction' course for intermediate level students. My beginning clothing construction class at BYU was so fantastic. I credit that class with forcing me to become a much more proficient and exacting seamstress—our professors required perfection, I kid not. We learned professional techniques and turned in sample pieces of different treatments (darts, zippers, certain types of seams, etc.). I found a binder of my samples last Christmas when I was home and it reminded me of how many hours I spent in the sewing lab, ripping out stitches over and over until I got things absolutely perfect. We also delved deep into the chemical and physical properties of different fibers and fabrics, to the degree that I know many fibers by touch (a huge aid to my thrifting abilities!) and understand how clothing constructed of a certain fiber works or moves. This was all part of the introductory course, along with the sewing of several pieces of apparel: pajama pants, a skirt, and a shirt. While I've since donated all those clothing items, they were important learning steps in the process of becoming better at sewing. This class also ingrained in me the importance of having a good iron and using it meticulously.

The intermediate clothing construction course focused on more exacting types of apparel, like menswear, suiting, and trickier fibers/fabrics to work with. In that class, students also learned how to create their own patterns. While I didn't get to take that class, I hope that this first exploration of pattern-making isn't my last.

To create this particular pattern, I pulled out my large roll of tracing paper. I folded the original tunic in half and traced around it. I marked where different seams hit on the pattern and filled in the princess seams as accurately as I could. After tracing the initial pieces, I cut them out and retraced them, adding about a half-inch seam allowance on all but the bottom edge, where I left a full inch. I flipped the tunic inside out to familiarize myself with how the inside seams were constructed and connected, particularly the pockets. It's hard to tell in this photo, but it is a really smart-looking piece with top-stitching on most of the seams, and pockets that open at the top but don't have any outer markings—all the seam work happens on the inside. Until I someday have space and wherewithal for a serger, I try to finish my seams with a zigzag stitch, which I did on all the inside seams here. The top-stitching lends further structure to the tunic by keeping the insides of the seams flat. The neck is finished with bias tape—I made some myself with a remnant of Rifle Paper Co. blueberries fabric, leftover from another project. I plan to put my pattern pieces in an envelope with a photo for future reference and future use—now that I have it, it's easy enough to repeat this article of clothing many times over.


This project happened to coincide perfectly with "Me-Made May" (some background on "Me Made May" here). The ethos of the slow fashion movement continues to be really compelling to me, and to make a piece of clothing that I immediately love is nothing less than gratifying. I suspect this linen tunic will be in high rotation during these spring and summer months. Sewing is something I have loved doing since I was a little girl, begging my mom to let me use her sewing machine to make scrunchies and Barbie clothes. To anyone who is starting out, don't be discouraged! Start with something easy until you learn and perfect the necessary skills to move onto something more complex. YouTube is an amazing resource (indeed, I've relied on YouTube videos to learn techniques like piping and installing invisible zippers!) and the internet is chock-full of blogs and how-tos for everything under the (sewn) sun.
Subscribe to: Posts ( Atom )