17th century skirt

At first, I bought the piece of linen that I used for this skirt thinking that I would make a surcoat, a cotehardie or something in the like. Then, I decided that I really missed my green linen 18th century petticoat. I was tempted to recreate it, then I thought: "No! Foolish you, Audrey, you don't need another 18th century petticoat! Make something else, expand your knowledge!" And thus, listening to the loud voice in my head, I decided to recreate a mid-17th century skirt.

First step in the endeavour: gathering relevant information.

For example, this outfit. When looking at the ensemble closely, you can tell that the front of the skirt is left straight, while the sides and back are gathered into cartridge pleats. The very top of the pleats are bound by a strip of fabric that is also used to tie the skirt at the back.

Since I have plain black linen, and that the only interesting details are the pleat at the waist, it is very straightforward to make. I measured from my waist to the floor for the length, and added 2 1/2 inches. 1/2 inch at the bottom for the hem, and 2 inches at the top to be folded over at the waist and offer support to help the pleats stand up. 

Now that we know what the skirt needs to look like, and how long the fabric needs to be, it's quite easy to proceed. I used the full width of my fabric, and cut two rectangles of the required length. I joined the selvedges together, and since I kept them intact, no need to finish those edges! Hurray.

Then I did a double fold at the bottom, and hemmed my skirt. It took me a few days, because I was sewing at a very leisurely pace, and because this is done entirely by hand, for a lack of a sewing machine.

Next step, fold the top edge down by 2 inches. Remember the extra that we added at the beginning? Yes, that's where it goes. The skirt should now be the exact length that we wanted, in this case, waist to floor. Perfect.

I cut a slit in the center back, about 20 cm long, and bound it with a 1 inch wide placket.

Now to the pleats! From looking at the image above, I would say that the pleats are probably 2-3 inches long. I decided to make mine 2 1/4 inches, just a little longuer than the extra fabric on the inside. I left 5 inches at centre front free and flat, and marked it with pins. There are going to be three rows of stitches holding the pleats in place, the first one 1/4 inch from the top, and the subsequent will be an inch apart from one another.

I started poking my needle through the fabric, 1/4 inch from the folded edge, at 1 cm intervals. (Okay, okay, I know, I keep switching between inches and cm... Sorry. I'll blame it on my Canadian-ness, where we use the metric system in school, and the imperial system at home...) I got bored quickly of this method, it was slow, and holding my measuring tape up to the fabric was starting to get annoying. Had I brought some smart marking device, like my tailor's pen, I would have used that. Unfortunately, my bare-minimum-survival-sewing kit only has a small chunk or rather non-too-sharp wax chalk. I had a brilliant idea though! I created a paper template. And used it. It was glorious.

It's a very simple thing indeed! I took a piece of paper, marked a line 1/4 inch from the edge, and another an inch lower, and cut the paper 1/4 inch after that second line. Result, a piece of paper that is 1 1/2 inch wide. Then I marked the edges at a 1 cm interval, and cut little channels based on those marks. All I had to do after? Paper to the folded edge of fabric and one over, one under, one over, one under. Then do the same on the bottom row. Remove paper from first line, fold over second time, repeat the over-under sequence to create third row of stitches. Rinse and repeat until the top edge is pleated completely on both sides.

This is the picture of the first side pleated. It's incredible how much fabric can be gathered up in these pleats. But this is definitely not the finish width... I had to release the pleats on a few inches. Then I tied the threads in the back.

After the correct waist measurement was attained, it was time to bind the top of the pleats. I took a long-ish strip of linen, folded one edge over, attached it to the front of the pleats and along the flat edge at centre front. Then folded the other edge under, and whip-stitched it to the inside of the skirt. I finished the ties, and now my skirt is ready to wear!!

Some pictures of the finished skirt, on my very professional looking red background... Namely the carpet.

   

And on me. It fits. It's real. I like it. :)

Family and Friends' update, Halloween 2014

Keeping in touch might not be my forte, and I can't promise about anything in the future, but here is my first vlog! I'm sure it could have been about a thousand times better, unfortunately, it isn't... Because I didn't really prepare anything, and the last time I used movie maker was for an art project in highschool, in 2009... So it's been a while. Nevertheless, here it is, my first proud video.

ps. I don't actually think the content is that great, my thoughts are scattered all over the place, and I'm not even telling you about the actual experience of teaching in Germany! What a fail of an update! *Self-critical, sarcastic laugh*
Also, I'd like to mention that despite this video seemingly showing my lack of able-ness to give a presentation, I assure you that I can give you a mighty power point presentation about Canada. :)

Okay, let’s be uncomfortable now

Now, before you read this, I will say a few words. They are very important, hence the bold font. If you get easily anxious about finances, don't read this. If thinking about money stresses you out, don't read this. In this post, I am getting completely financially naked about my student loan debt. It's uncomfortable, and brutally honest. I haven't made up any numbers, this is all the absolute truth. This is an account of my experience with financing my post-secondary education.

This is a touchy subject for many newly graduated students. Student loans. I’m not writing to complain about my specific situation, though I am going to complain about the system and the environment that created the problem in the first place. I’m not one to talk much about money. Frankly, I try not too care too much about it, I rarely discuss figures, and then, they’re never mine. I’ll mention that I’m broke, once in a while, to explain why I can’t go out, or why I always cook at home, and why I go to thrift stores instead of getting a new piece of clothing. The people that are dear to me know that I have debt, and that I don’t have much money, and the conversation usually stops there. Not even my parents know the actual amount of my debt. Why is that? Because I’m ashamed. I’m so ashamed of the fact that I decided to pursue higher education, and that I didn’t know how to manage my finances. It took a brutal wake-up call between my second and third year of university to understand what a dangerous road I was on. And an even more brutal blow came about a year ago when everything I believed to be stable fell to pieces and I couldn’t even afford my rent. I had to bite through my stubbornness and ask my parents for financial help. I’ve tried desperately to be financially independent for the past few years, and I can’t. I can’t, it’s too much pressure. I can’t handle it. I can’t even understand it. I try to put it in perspective, but it simply doesn’t work. The system is broken, and I’m one out of hundreds of thousands of students trying to crawl back to safety.

I’m in debt. In fact, I have so much debt that when spread out over 15 years, or 180 months, I would need to pay 393.50 per month to get rid of it. Oh wait, that’s not including interest. What? In plain numbers, it means that this very day, my debt stands at $70 829.53. How did this monstrous figure ever creep up so high? I bet you’re feeling very uncomfortable now.

I read about students whose debt is around $30 000, and I want to cry. I hear about those who have less than $20 000, and I’m deadly jealous. I empathise with those who are in the same boat as me. A quick google search reveals that the average student loan in Canada is about $27 000. How did mine ever get so high?

Let’s break it down, shall we. Tuition comes first, at Dalhousie, it runs around $3000 a term. My very first term, I was looking at $8445 for tuition, my room in a residence, and the meal plan offered by the university. That term, I received $4589 in loans. Not enough. I had to take out a private bank loan. Since I was going to face more or less the same situation for the duration of my studies, I took a $10 000 pro annum loan, good for four years. It took me five years to get my degree, and let me tell you, I bit and scratched hard during that final year. $44 424.08, that’s what I paid for five years of full-time education, two classes at NSCAD, and a summer course that took place in the Czech Republic.

Then comes the cost of living. I’m not living in my bedroom in my parents’ house. I moved 700 km away, because nothing at the Université de Moncton, campus d’Edmundston, was able to attract my attention for more than a half second. Result, I need an apartment, electricity, heating, internet, and phone. Aside from that first year when room and board was calculated with my student fees, I had to pay for all of that on top of my already soaring high tuition. Apartments don’t come cheap in Halifax. Landlords like to take advantage of students, and charge them absolutely ridiculous amounts of money for the convenience of having a roof above their heads. Over four years, my rent fell between $500 a month, to $764 a month. The average comes to about $587 a month, so over the remaining four years of my education, it looks like $28 176, give or take a few thousand. And then there’s groceries, and bills, and bus tickets to visit my parents, and school supplies, and unexpected spending, and douchebaggery from people I thought were friends, and break ups, and moving, and so on, and so on. Life is expensive. Stating the obvious.

I started attending university with no money. Of course, I had a part-time job for a couple of years before that. But what are 10 hours a week at $8 an hour going to do, other than cover clothes and meals out for a teenage girl? I was so proud when I bought my mini-fridge just before I moved to Halifax, it was $129, it was almost all I had in my bank account, a few weeks before starting university. I had no concept of money.

Of course I worked during the summers. My first summer, I moved back to New-Brunswick, and worked in a library, in the kids section. It was a fun job, 12 weeks of employment at 36 hours a week at minimum wage. It was a student job created by the government of New-Brunswick. Unfortunately, the apartment market is fierce in Halifax, and we had signed a May-lease for our flat. And as it was our first apartment, and no one was physically in Halifax that summer, we didn’t sublet it. Not that we could have either, everyone sublets during the summer, and the more expensive places don’t meet a great success rate at being rented out. So that summer all my government-subsidized income actually went into a greedy landlord’s pockets. The next summer I stayed in Halifax, and worked in a call centre. It was simply horrible. I made it through until the end of July before walking in one day, dropping my headset, tears streaming down my face, and quitting. The same day, I was starting a new job in the retail industry, working in one of the biggest chains in North America. I had about 20 hours a week at minimum wage during the summer, which barely covered my needs. I kept that job for a little over a year, working 20-25 hours a week while being a full time student. That was my third year. I had been denied student loans because my father retired that year, and received bonuses. That catapulted my case in the: “oh, her parents can pay for her” category. It was tough; I always worked Thursdays through Sundays, with 8 hours shifts on Saturdays and Sundays. I was always grumpy. While my roommates started drinking and partying and blasting music early on Friday nights, all I could think about was that I had be at work by 8 am on Saturdays. I couldn’t blame them either. I wanted to party with them, but I couldn’t afford to miss work because of a hangover.

That following summer, I took up a second part-time job, effectively juggling two schedules for an average of 50 hours a week, and a summer class. I worked seven days a week. I had no life. I dropped one job at the end of the summer, the one that had the least hours. I still worked close to 30 hours a week during my fourth year of university. I did receive loans that year, but as ever, they only barely covered my tuition. I kept the same job over the summer, even though I was away for one month, taking a most wonderful class about baroque culture that elated my mind and made me aware of all the things sublime that I had been oblivious to up until that point. That was one month of lost wages, and it was darn expensive to. I managed to max out my credit card with airfare and accommodations there, and returned to Canada with my last $30 in Czech Korunas. I was glad to be back at work, but business was slow during the summer, and I didn’t work as much as I had before, and so I scraped by. I eventually let go of that job too, because it was a lot of commuting, and I knew I would be overwhelmed with my last, and most intense yet, year at school. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t work. I had three part-time jobs on campus, that somehow I managed to fit into my ridiculous schedule. All in all, I would work about 12 hours a week on average, and it would jump to twice that when there were shows at the theatre, and I was required to spend my evenings dressed in black, politely asking guests for their tickets, and then sitting in the back of the theatre. It was the easiest job I’ve ever had, and I was very grateful for it too. Though ushering was sporadic, it kept me afloat. As I mentioned earlier, my bank loan was only good for four years, and by the time I started fifth year, it was all gone. My student loan was a bit more substantial that year, as a “mature” student, they no longer looked at my parents income when deciding how much lunch money they would grant me for the year. Though it’s a double-edged sword. I had to work to make ends meet, and because I worked, they decided I didn’t need help to afford life’s basic necessities that much…

Of course, I applied to bursaries. And received them steadily at a rate of one per term, starting in second year. It was only ever a few hundred dollars, but they always made me feel a little better about my situation. In November of last year, I received a bursary unexpectedly, to reward my outstanding work in costume studies. It was a life saver. I received the news during the most stressful weeks I’ve ever experienced in my life, when I had about $40 in my name, had recently moved into an overly-expensive one-bedroom apartment, to escape a very complicated situation with another even more expensive apartment… and had the course load of the overachiever that I am, with all the deadlines coming up in the same week, one after the other, like some evil mastermind had decided to make our lives a living hell.

I was also extremely mad when I found out that students who achieved a certain GPA were automatically awarded other bursaries when they had a full course load. I had a full course load, I was working extremely hard and getting stellar grades and praises from my profs. Why wasn’t I receiving one? Because of the NSCAD classes that I was required to take as part of my programme. As “courses from another institution”, they voided my eligibility to those bursaries. It made me sick with rage. I was fuming on the inside.

I made it through. In May my extremely expensive parchment from Dalhousie was mailed to my parents’ house in New-Brunswick. I decided not to attend convocation for two reasons: firstly, I didn’t want to go, I didn’t feel like the ceremony would change my feelings toward the university, which are sour at best, and secondly, I was at work when the ceremony took place. After all that, I still worked three jobs during the summer. I worked like a mad woman. I worked a full-time job, a part-time job, and an opera contract on top of that. I paid off my credit card, and built a little cushion to be able to move to Germany in September. I had many, many breakdowns during the summer. Graduating from university was anti-climactic, and left me with a sense of void.

It’s been almost six months since I finished university. I’ve been living in Germany for about six weeks now. My financial cushion is mostly gone, I have enough to cover my living expenses until the end of November, although I’m trying to convince myself that the 50€ in my wallet is all that I have until I get paid. Which I hope is soon. Student loan payments are supposed to start in a couple of weeks. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I received a fixed salary here, which is enough for me to live on and travel a bit, though I need to tighten my budget a little, and monitor my expenses more closely. But it’s definitely not enough to afford $400 in payments every month. Before I left, I called the national student loan service of Canada, and explained my situation. Normally, I would be eligible for loan repayment help, because I have a very limited income, though there’s one small detail that disqualifies me from such help. I’m not currently living in Canada. Great. Because obviously I would give up the opportunity to live and work in Germany. I also applied for a programme that shaves back a few thousand dollars from student debt when post-secondary education is completed in a timely fashion. I heard of other people taking five years to obtain their bachelor’s, and qualifying for that help, and so I thought I would qualify too. Too optimistic? Of course. I was denied.

Which is what sparked this essay about my student loan debt story. I’m not writing to complain. I’m writing to expose the fact that I busted my ass off, I worked like a crazy person. I got a degree with straight A’s, even though I worked through my studies for the past three years. I’ve always had a roof over my head, always had heat to keep me warm, and food in my belly, and I can’t start expressing how grateful I am for those things. But God damn it, I’m still not out of that hell hole, and I won’t be for the next 15 years.

What happens to those poor fellows who have big dreams of university, and can’t afford to go? The government of Canada told me that my parents had to contribute $10 000 per year to my studies. Uhm, excuse me, my parents don’t have that money to just give me as they please. I have other siblings, there’s the house to fix, cars to pay for, insurance and bills. The last thing I want to be is another burden on my parents’ shoulders.

If it hadn’t been for that bank loan, I wouldn’t have been able to attend university at all. What can someone do without a degree nowadays? When will the people in charge of this great country that is Canada realize that post-secondary education should not be reserved to the elite. Post-secondary education is a right, and it is not okay to let universities spike their tuition and burden their students with more financial stress than ever. Why can’t Canada follow in the steps of some of the European countries such as France, Germany, and Sweden. Or closer to home, make a step in the same direction as Newfoundland, and eliminate student debt by converting loans into grants. If we pride ourselves in being such a great nation, maybe, just maybe we should start investing in our future. How are we supposed to fix the economy if students are crippled with debt as soon as they emerge, fresh-faced and dreamy from university? This situation is a great social injustice, and I am mad, and afraid, and unsure about the future. I am flustered as I type these words. How are we supposed to build a country in our image if we postpone our dreams and hopes in order to repay our loans? Post-secondary education is there to open our minds to the possibilities, to fine-tune our senses, to make us dream of a better future, to outfit us with the tools to build that future. But as soon as we graduate, we are faced with that wall, and we are chained to it, and there’s no escape.

This is my story, and I don’t doubt that there are thousands of similar stories out there. Of students outraged, and anxious. If we all wrote our stories, and sent them to Ottawa, do you think they would listen? Do you think they would realize what hardships we go through? Do you think they would try and rectify the situation? Do you think they would do anything?

Introversion vs. Extroversion

This topic seems very current, or at least to me it is.
I don't know what it is about it, but I've been drawn to this topic lately. What with all the random posts, the quizzes, the lists, the advice being given. How do you know you are an introvert, how do you know you are an extrovert? I admit, I've done the quizzes, I've scanned the lists, I've tried to pin-point myself down to one or the other. I give up.
Those labels just don't work. They could be compared to another topic that is very current, gender identity, though I'm using this only for the comparison, to give a reference when I say that it should be treated as a spectrum.

Up until last year, I never felt the need to try to identify with one or the other. Then suddenly my life upended itself last year and I was left with reconsidering every single aspect of myself. Well, maybe it wasn't quite so dramatic, and maybe this shares more common points with a rant than anything else. I will claim no fine penmanship, nor will I say that this is a finite statement. It is simply my complete refusal of the up-until-now given definitions of the terms. If one was to believe what information is readily available, one would classify itself in one or the other. They are effectively diametrically opposites. I hate it. Maybe that's a bit harsh. I strongly dislike it. Better.

It seems to be agreed upon that it relates to where an individual draws its energy. An introvert would find social interaction draining and would need down-time to recover, whereas an extrovert would find it exhilarating. I call bullshit. It makes no sense. This is a completely subjective piece of writing, but I find that both can be equally draining or invigorating. Why? It's tricky, but I suppose it really depends on who/what/where/how. Who you are with, what you're doing, where it's taking place, how you're feeling, and so on. Let's use an example that I'm making up right now as I type. Say that you're in a bad mood, going to do an activity that you feel lukewarm about, it's going to put a damper no matter if you're by yourself or with other people. On the other hand, if you're really excited about visiting a new place, say you found some ruins a short bike ride away from town, or visiting a museum you've never been to, the experience is bound to be elating (at best) or at least inspiring, whether or not you're alone.

Obviously, sometimes you might want to explore completely by yourself, say if you want to go at your own pace, or you think that someone else wouldn't enjoy it as much, or want to wander around as long. Absolutely fair. Personally, if I'm finding that social interaction is straining, it means I'm not spending time with the right people. If I find that being alone is straining, it's because I'm not using my time in a way that is stimulating, and that pushes me forward. Maybe it's because I haven't had the leisure of free time for the past three years, and now I find that any time is sacred and should be put to good use. Maybe it's just growing up and figuring out what you find important, and investing time and energy in only a few things and people, rather than squandering your time on mediocre activities. It sounds really harsh, but this makes more sense to me than anything else I've read.

Another example, more concrete this time, and again subjective. One evening I was feeling particularly bored, and I decided to go out. I don't really know many people in Weimar, and I'm usually perfectly contempt staying in reading a book or working on my German, and so I was a little hesitant. Going out alone is definitely not something I do often, as I know that whoever I meet probably won't leave an impression beyond those few hours. At that point, I was still mildly associating with being an introvert. Anyhow, I went out to one of the bars, and lo and behold, I had a great time. With complete strangers. Actually, complete strangers with absolutely no common interests, as there happened to be a large number of PHD chemistry students in the bar... If you look at the this scenario from the intro/extro point of view, I should have found the experience draining. Which I did not. Not that I would invest any further time in any of them, but it's an interesting thought.

I think that this whole introvert/extrovert categorisation is just to give people excuses to stay in or go out. Because really, in the end, it's what you make of each individual experience that decides if you drew energy from it, or if drew energy from you. Everyone has had to go through unpleasant social situations or conversations that left them exhausted, and everyone has gone through days they spent alone, feeling even more tired than when they woke up. I really think that it is redundant to try and say that everyone falls in one category or the other. Sorry, not sorry, but it's silly to try and categorise people this way. This has been excessively annoying me, and I hope that I'm not the only weirdo out here who thinks this way.

I have been mulling over this for a while, and maybe I'm completely wrong. Actually, I'm not even entirely sure that my argument makes total sense. Maybe this is a very poorly constructed argument, or maybe I'm missing the point completely. I'm always open to different points of view and discussion. I hope this shed some light for some people, or that it sparked a few ideas, or that at least it was a well-spent five minutes.

The estranged dressmaker

Another option for the title would be the alienated dressmaker, both are more or less equivalent. And here in Germany, strangers are blatantly referred to as "aliens" (no, I kid you not). The official translation of the Ausländerbehörde, a.k.a. the place where I go to get my visa, is the aliens department...

Anyhow. I'm far away from home, and I have extremely limited supplies when it comes to creating costumes. Which is, you know, that thing that I reaaaaally enjoy doing. With this in mind, I decided to attempt my first ever completely by-hand garment (no sewing machine yet), and what more perfect time period to pick than the 14th century? With some tips from my friend Peryn (her deviant account here: http://arasiyris.deviantart.com/) I started gathering materials for this new project.

14th century kirtle

First, some reference pictures. The kirtles are the under-dresses, seen in pink, black and yellow in the second picture.

I bought some fabric when I was in Paris (insert here the high-pitched noise that girls make when they see puppies or babies). I have black linen, gold block printed silk, and purple cotton (which, it turns out, has a little bit of spandex in it, so it's not as stiff and offers some stretch). Although I'm aiming at somewhat of an historically accurate garment, I have to make some compromises. I decided to use the cotton for this kirtle. Already there, we find three blatant inaccuracies: cotton was not common, spandex didn't exist, and purple was a colour reserved for royalty since it was extremely expensive and difficult to acquire. But for a first project that I'll probably only where in my room, I think they can be forgiven.

I had absolutely no drafting equipment here, and I decided to make do. I bought the cheapest-largest sketchpad I could find, fashioned a ruler/straight edge with a piece of paper. Materials I already had: a pencil, an eraser, a measuring tape, a pair of paper scissors, and my knowledge.

In this image, as can be seen, I have already drafter the bodice of the kirtle. It has no darts, the shaping is found at the sides, centre back, and at the top of centre front. Now, this is actually just a tentative draft, I have no certainty that this will actually fit me. Self-measurements and self-fitting is a little tricky. It resulted in a lot of awkard poses in front of the mirror, holding a stiff piece of paper and trying to make marks on it. Something like that:

I think the bodice will fit, so I went ahead and drafted a medieval sleeve to fit the arm opening.

Next challenge in this process, laying out the pattern on the fabric. That took some planning, as I only have 3 metres of fabric.

And some re-planning during the process, as I had to alter the sleeves and remembered that seam allowances are important to take into account.

I had previously washed the fabric, and left it to air dry in my room, artfully draped between the cupboard and the ladder.

 Fabric which then required to be released from it's crinkles. To the makeshift ironing board!

 Laying down the bodices pieces and tracing the outline of the skirt in chalk. I have no proper cutting table, but the thick carpet is perfect, really. The fabric doesn't slide around like it would on a hardwood floor, and I can pin into it without any problems.

 Drawing the the four gores that will give more volume to the skirt.

 And tah-dah! Two front pieces, two backs, two sleeves, four gores, even some extra fabric left over. I can use that extra fabric to make the buttons that will go on the sleeves. And I already have some purple thread as well as a leather-ish string that I'll use to lace up the front of the kirtle.

The ridiculously small sewing kit that I brought with me should be sufficient to get me through this project. It contains the basics. Good fabric scissors, snips, thimble, seam-ripper, pins and needles.

I'll need to baste the pieces together and check the fit before I commit to anything permanent. It should take a while to sew up together, but it's not a bad thing. I have lot's of free time, and I'm really broke. It's a win-win situation: an efficient way of keeping me both occupied and entertained.

Finally a new project!

I know, I know. I have neglected to update this since last February. My bad, I'll blame it on being too busy for anything outside of school and work, and work, and work.

Buuuuut, now I'm in Germany. I just started a new job, which affords me loads of free time, so I'll be able to finally do some creative work. Oh creative work, how I have missed you these past months. I can't wait until I find a sewing machine here (hopefully), otherwise I'll have to sew everything by hand. Which is fine, but I can't say that my handsewing skills are quite as good as some other people I know... *cough* *Peryn* *cough*. :)

Soooo! New country, new projects. Let's start from the beginning. I arrived in Weimar two days ago, and a few hours later, the lady who has been in touch with me all summer came over to my apartment to give me some goodies, namely: a blanket, a pillow, a towel, chocolate, and a handy little book called "Wie man deutscher wird." Or, how to be German. Exciting!

The absolute first point in the book is about wearing slippers. Or house shoes. Oh German, I love you. Great, I didn't bring any slippers. Let's fix that.

Now, I can't just go out and buy a pair of slippers. That would just be too easy/logical/straightforward.

Naahhh, I like a challenge. Seeing that aside from two giant scarves, all I've ever really knit were a mitten and a half, half a sock, and some funky shaped dishcloths. This is going to be fun. Or will it?

Also, while I'm at it, might as well go all out. Not just slippers, oh no, ELF SLIPPERS!!

                                           

Something like this. I found the pattern online here:

http://web.archive.org/web/20101121072753/http://caron.com/projects/ss_chunky/ssc_elf_slippers.html

I couldn't have picked something easier, eh? Oh well, let's see how it goes.

So, having brought only the most minimal of sewing kit with me, I needed to gather the raw materials to be used for this future creation of mine.

I found a bastelladen (craft store) in town and went in. Bought three skeins of wool yarn (they didn't have any acrylic, it's a really nice store). In hindsight, I see that I chose green and yellow like my hair. I swear it wasn't on purpose, it just happened. There were so many pretty colours to choose from: navy, dark red, a nice pink, they were out of purple though. I hope those three skeins are enough, I don't really want to buy more. Pure wool like this isn't exaclty cheap. Also needed to get knitting needles and yarn needles. I want to get the pack of five straight knitting needles, but I wasn't sure they were going to be quite long enough for the width of the work in the first stage. So I got a circular one.

Note to self: next time I travel, I should bring my knitting needles and stitch markers with me. They take virtually no space, and I wouldn't have had to buy new needles, and now I have to get creative with the stitch markers, because the store didn't have any. Also, I would have saved about 10€.

Well, now I know. And now I have even more knitting needle. Almost all of them in this exact size. 

I'll start these right now! In progress pictures will be posted as the slippers come to life, if all goes according to plan.

Update 21. September, 2014

There, my houseshoes are done!

Just in time for me to get a huge cold. Now I can wear my slippers, drink all of the tea, and be ultra lasy while my cold wanes away, hopefully soon.

 

First picture is the basic knitted shape, done in mosaic pattern. See how it's knitted flat, rather than in the round. I thought it was strange at first, until I realized that in order to get the toe to curl, you have to sew it together while pulling
tightly on the yarn.

Second picture is one slipper just sewed up, next to an already finished slipper with the cuff done in ribbed stitching. The cuff is also extra long so that it can be folded over.












This one shows the cuff being knit in the round.

And the finished pictures, with the cuff folded over. SO COMFY!

Also, according to my German book, tip #50 tells me that I need to do an exaggerated bye.

Tssssssssssssschüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüü-hhhüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüüsssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

Look at these pretties

As I mentioned in my last post, last week I improvised a pair of 18th-century-looking shoes.
Why would I do that?
Two reasons spring to mind: I need some sort of footwear for the end of the year show that we'll be having, showcasing our awesome 18th century clothing (can you feel the sarcasm in there? I'm half super excited, and half annoyed by this), and secondly, I wanted to try my hand at modifying shoes.

Materials needed:
-Pair of shoes for sacrificial purposes
-Paper to make the upper's pattern
-Canvas or 2 layers of cotton fabric glued together
-Decorative fabric, such as upholstery fabric
-Spray Adhesive
-Glue Gun
-Scissors
-Heat resistant fingers (or a high tolerance to hot glue burns)

I started out with a pair of pale pink shoes with a small Louis heel and a slightly elongated but rounded toe. Of course, I didn't start taking pictures until after I had started hacking and cutting off different part of the shoes... I removed the heel strap, to be left with something that looked like a mule, and also removed the hideous little bow at the front of the shoes.

I started taking pictures around this moment now. I made the paper pattern by draping a piece of cotton on top of my foot inside the shoe. I put my piece on the bias to get a little stretch out of it. Since I was going for an 18th century look, I extended the upper to a point over my foot.

Once I had the paper pattern, I cut out three layers of fabric. Two of factory cotton that I glued together, and a third of my upholstery fabric. On the third layer, I added an extra half inch of fabric to be able to fold it over the raw edge of the layer underneath, and have the semblance of a finished edge. I clipped the extra seam allowance and glued it down on the inside with spray adhesive. I also put some fray-check on weaker areas, as upholstery fabric frays like crazy! I also added a line of sewing at the very top, just as a precaution.

Then, I sprayed the heel of the shoe with adhesive and draped a piece of bias fabric on it to cover it completely. You can't really tell, but there's a shoe under there.

Here's a look at the heel after I stretched fabric over it. Then I let it dry, and once it was dry I removed the excess fabric, taking care to leave about 1/2 inch all around to tuck down and glue in place. I clipped into this extra allowance to allow it to lie flat against the inside of the heel and the insole of the shoe.

Once that was done, and glued, and dried, I took the uppers that I prepared earlier, and did something similar. Applied hot glue to the top of the shoe and around the sides, and carefully applied the stiff fabric layer in place.

Here's what it looks like from the top and bottom, after all the excess has been clipped into and secured to the bottom of the sole.

I know there would have been the possibility of removing the sole of the shoe, tucking all the ends under, and sandwiching them between the shoe and the bottom sole afterwards, but I lacked the physical strength to drive a screwdriver in between the two layers of the shoes. So I had to make-do.

Once that was all done, I put a piece of factory cotton under the part of the heel that shows (but not under the grippy part) and another piece of cotton on the inside. The goal of these extra pieces is to hide any fraying that happened/is-happening/will-probably-happen-in-a-near-future to the outer layer of fabric. It also looks nicer and neater.

I then put the shoes on! And realized that there was a rather large pull right across the front. I guess I shouldn't become a cobbler. But no worries! What's the eighteenth century without a few well-place bows? Ta-dah! With bows on, you can hardly tell it even puckered in the first place. (So clever of me.) And I rather enjoy the way they look with the bows too.

Yes, these are shameless mirror selfies... I'm also wearing spiderweb tights underneath my stockings. Crazy crazy! Also, these are my hand-made, short-gored stockings, which are silk jersey, and embroidered with locally sourced green silk floss. The stockings are tied with ribbons above my knees. (The ribbons are tied fairly tightly, otherwise they just fall down.) My eighteenth century legwear are now finished! It's too bad my skirt will cover up all of that work.

I also only got two blisters from fooling around with hot glue. I burned my fingers several times, but always in the same two spots... These shoes aren't perfect, far from it. I wouldn't ever claim so. They do look adorable though, and they're only intended to be worn on a stage for a few hours in April. As long as no one looks too closely, they make a fairly good impression. 

Why are you so goddamned productive?

Why are you so goddamned productive? is a rhetorical question I encountered just a few times this week.

I have to say, I took advantage of my week off to create a massive to-do list, and frankly, it was a great decision. I got so many things done this week, I'm really proud of myself. And I feel much better than if I had sluggishly camped on my couch watching stupid shows all week.

I alternated working on school projects and working on my personal projects, so that I would feel like I was getting the important stuff done, and rewarding myself by working on something I really wanted to do.

For example, for school I: made and fitted a mock-up for 14th century hose (they finally fit), finished a cloak, started my 19th century waistcoat, wrote down many pages of research for my honours project, altered a linen shirt, and worked on my 18th century skirt and jacket.

For myself I: altered a skirt for a friend, altered some of my own clothes, made a whole new skirt, finished my stockings, transformed a pair of shoes to look 18th century-ish, started muddling my way through a bralette made from a lace tank top, painted a few images for the first time in weeks, and documented a week-long lipstick experiment.

Would I have been able to do all that if I didn't have a week off? Absolutely not. I totally abused my sleep schedule so that I work my heart out!

On Tuesday, I was in the studio, and one of my profs came in an said: Audrey, what the f*** are you doing in here. Go home, take time off! 

I guess in some regards, I really do work too much, but I'm not unhappy. I actually enjoy it. And I usually multitask, so I'll watch a movie AND work at the same time, so it totally counts as leisure time. If I'm not working, I tend to just take really long naps in the afternoon, which are nice once in a while, but they're really an indulgence.

What does it matter if I'm a work horse? If I feel over-worked, I'll take a few steps back. If I don't feel like that, I'll just keep going. I'm in my prime years, this is the time for me to work like crazy, develop my character and prove myself to the world. Ten years from now, I won't have the same energy levels and won't be able to power through everything in the same way.

Yes, I'm an enthusiast, a keener, I'm always the one in the back corner who springs up and says: YEA I'LL DO IT! And I mean it. If I want to carve a place for myself in this unforgiving crazy world, I have to be able to prove what I'm capable of. Green hair and everything. I want to be the best in absolutely everything I do. Perfection is my goal, and I'm aiming directly at the moon and the stars.

I do wish I had another week off now, since I've done almost all I wanted to do, and this time I would actually lazily walk along the waterfront and enjoy the peaceful quietness of mornings while sipping my coffee and listening to French classics by Édith Piaf. I guess I'll just have to wait until April.

I'll post pictures and tutorials to some of my projects in the coming week. In the meantime, I'll leave you to think about the things you'd like to accomplish but keep pushing back, on the pretext that you have no time.

Also, do you know anyone who can rock a Christian Dior jacket, green hair and mini-black lips like I do? ;)

3 months until I graduate

I've been in university for a while. At 22, I'm in my fifth year at Dalhousie University. They call it a victory lap, and I refer to it by that name too, though it feels more like the last struggling jerks of a fish that has been out of the water for too long and is on the verge of dying... Okay, maybe a little too morbid. But sometimes it does feel that way.

I pride myself in being an excellent student. My work is always on time or early, and I put all of my heart into it. Maybe it makes me a loser without a life, but eh, I don't care and neither should anyone else.

I'm going through all of my mental lists of things I need to do before the end of the term, and it doesn't seem like that much. Then I come back to the reality of the day-to-day routine and realize how busy I really am. I'm taking my four final classes, all of which are more or less a giant sewing lab in different areas. In three of them, I get to make clothes for someone else, and luck and a bit of magic made it so that it's all for the same person. I asked one of my friends to be my model for my 19th century tailoring class, and he also happens to be in the 4th year acting class. Now it gets weird. In my fourth year Show class, I'm the cutter for one of the actors, who happens to be my friend who's also my model for tailoring. And since I'm combining my fourth and third year classes, I also get to work on the show in my third year class, where I am my own first-hand, or basically my own minion. It's a confusing and interesting time when I'm trying to sort out what goes where for those two classes. I also refer to myself as cutter Audrey and first-hand Audrey in turn, depending on the day.

Then, my fourth class is aesthetics of historical dress, or Lynn-dom. We are basically reproducing garments from the 1700's in Louisbourg after its foundation in 1713 until the English took over in 1745. I am my ow model in that class, and though it is sometimes (incredibly) painful to sit through, I'm making an effort to change my attitude toward it to enjoy the class. I do love historical reproduction, and I'm doing myself a dis-favour if I'm always in a foul mood going to that class.

I also realized that I always refer to what I'm doing in terms of century. !9th century tailoring, 18th century Lousibourg, and 14th century garments (that's show class, the department is putting on the Decameron).

Throughout all of this class-related excitement, I make it a point to work on my own projects, to bump up my portfolio. To date, I've made my first bodysuit in black burned-out velvet for circus class. Yes, circus class. I needed some sort of physical activity, and circus is just perfect. The hoop is certainly my favourite, since I seem to get lost in the silks. The rope is growing on me, and trapeze is also really fun. No upper body strength makes it an unending challenge, so until I can hold my body up using only my arms, I'll be stuck doing basic stuff.
The bodysuit is basic, a front, a back and two arms. It was my first time dabbling with stretch, and though this isn't the best fabric choice, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out.

This weekend, we had the day off on Friday, and I decided to travel to the north of the province to Cape-Breton and to visit the Louisbourg fortress with one of the student societies. I figured that it would be the cheapest way to visit it, and it would be a fun weekend. I've now learned that it doesn't always go according to plan, and instead of a weekend visiting landmarks of Cape-Breton, we spent the entire weekend eating too much food in a chalet. Good job guys. On the bright side, I went snowshoeing for the first time ever, and I had brought two projects to work on during the drive and throughout the weekend.

I'm making some 18th century stockings in silk jersey to go with my 18th century outfit. I decided to handstitch them for fun (I'll embroider them too once I get silk floss) and I got a good chunk of work done on them. It's a very funny-looking pattern, but I'm really happy with the way they look. The next thing I'll be doing after I finish them is making a little pair of shoes look like 18th century mules. The stocking reach up about half-way up my thigh, and they'll be held in place by a peach-coloured ribbon. I left it at school, and that's why I'm using a measuring tape on the picture... You get the idea. It's really nice to work with silk jersey, it's so soft. Did I mention that I looooove silk?

 Another little project I brought with me on the trip is my first pair of mitten. I finished the first one on the drive to Cape-Breton on Friday, and started the 2nd one on Saturday. It's the easiest pattern I could find, and the next logical step after mastering the giant scarf.

Future projects include the 18th century shoes I mentioned, a pair of 18th century pockets, a skirt for a friend of mine, and possibly some new miniature paintings. I only have six full days of class this week, and two days with only one class, thanks to reading break that kicks in next week. Around doing assignments and plucking away at my honours thesis, I think it leaves ample time to work on a number of these. As long as I skip on sleep, but that shouldn't be a problem.