la + la = sew

Awhiles back, saro commented:

Have you ever done a post of how you got started sewing? You're so fearless, I love it..  

Well, lassie, I'll tell ya, it had a little bit to do with boredom, a little bit to do with impatience, and a LOT to do with keeping my sanity.

Peeps who have trolled through the recesses of le blog may recall its beginnings in lalaland. Los angeles, for the uninitiated. And bless those who haven't had the chance to experience it. It's a hot mess. You get in your car, you drive an hour (at the least) to get to wherever you're going, you get back in your car, you drive, you get home, where you have the choice of staying in or braving the cesspool of schmoozing that is LA nightlife. To survive said cesspool, everyone drinks. And then gets back in their cars. 

Now, at the risk of losing another follower (I lost one today! It could be the cursing. And/or excessive drinking) let me add: if you grew up in LA, I'm sure it's a different story. But the nature of the main business of the town, the business of show, makes it hard to find much that's real there. Ruggy & I counted ourselves extremely lucky to have each other, we kept each other cemented to the earth. I can't tell you how many times I was calmly and quite seriously told I needed a boob job. Or how often Ruggy was propositioned a night of booze and sex, from both sides.

But I digress. Upon hearing Kalkatoona would be inhabiting the land of LA for a spell, a good friend advised me to get a hobby. I have plenty of hobbies, I thought, I'm a CRAFTER! I draw and knit and make cards and jewelry. I'll be fine. NOT SO. None of these kept me near enough occupied in downtime. 

I'd been idly chirping about wanting a dress form for years, ever since my first (very short) visit to LA. The lovely ladies I subletted from had a vintage form in their apartment, for show, and while I worked on handmade wedding invites for a friend, I imagined draping gowns on it. The christmas we made our big move, Parental Balloonas shocked me with a Singer Featherweight sewing machine, and Mama Ruggy surprised me with a pair of gingher shears and a dress form-- she even roped her sister into getting me pinking shears. I just about fell over.

We hauled the booty to LA and I dove into my first pattern, new look 6557. I had picked out some horrible synthetic stuff from Hancocks, turquoise and red and orange and yellow phoenix motif on brown (shit brown, to be exact), and I just knew that I'd have the perfect summer dress by five o'clock that evening. I didn't bother reading much about anything. Reading instructions makes me feel I am being told what to do. Ask Ruggy how that goes.

So I just placed the pattern pieces where ever they'd fit and got cutting. You can imagine how that worked out.

Disgusted with myself, but sure it was solely the pattern's fault, I punished the sewing accessories by putting them away for several months. We then enjoyed the coldest winter OF OUR LIVES. The beautiful worn down french doors and sprawling patios we fell in love with on craigslist let an arctic chill in at night that was unbearable. Heating our Laurel Canyon find came to about $700 a month. Seriously. We layered ourselves up like mountain climbers and wore down coats to bed.

Spring arrived, and with the warm breezes rolling in, I thought it would be nice to have a few new dresses. With no cash in my pocket (all of it having gone to Con Ed), I turned to the internet for help. Free help, to be exact. The exact search term was free funky patterns. And found Burdastyle. At the time, they had only been running a year or so, and everything-- I mean EVERYTHING. Was FREE. The first pattern I downloaded and made was the danielle dress:

(Back then, I didn't have a head. LA had absconded with it. The uneven waistline is equally proportional to the amount of teeny 'tinis Ruggy would make for us every evening. Because they were teeny-sized martinis, you could have seven.)  

Taping the pattern together was terrifying. I left a freak-out comment on the forum, worried that I'd ruined the dress before I even began because my test square was off by 1cm.

This time, I decided to take a different route than that New Look failure: I read through the instructions carefully, and followed them as best I could. The instructions were most definitely ESL. I think this was the reason I was able to force myself into patiently reading and following directions; in my head, I would chuckle softly, and gently correct their english. Made me feel like I was the boss. I like to feel that I am the boss.

And it went on from there. I freed the New Look bodice and married it to the Danielle skirt.  

Both of these were done up in quilter's cotton. That section of Joann's is a veritable candy store, it's not surprising that burgeoning garment sewists head there first, and without shame.  

Had my first try at making something for someone else; pajamas for Valentine's day (forgetting that, ahem, boys have extra junk in le crotch. The beginnings of the No Sewing For Others rule). Went nuts on Burdastyle. Tried the celestina. The sabrina. Oooooh, the sabrina, I love that one. I need to make that one again, this time in something other than an Urban Outfitter's curtain panel.  The desira. Also from a curtain panel.

This one still survives in my closet! The same cannot be said for the RTW jeans, they ripped right up the ass in public. At a job interview, to be exact.

I went through the prerequisite making of the Butterick walkaway dress, from vintage bedsheets (total failure). Ruggy and Parental Balloonas fed the flames with a subscription to Burda magazine. I ventured into apparel fabrics. And LA is just fantastic for estate sales. Lotsa folks kicking it daily, many of them possessed of vintage sewing accoutrement and mad men esque decor. Ready to go for pennies! Such a predicament, balancing respect for the dead and sheer joy for the find! At one point, I had three machines for a grand total of 70 bucks. And sewing books, oh, sewing books. Two Claire Shaeffer bibles and countless vintage sewing handbooks. Whenever I was stumped, I looked into one of these. But mostly, I just grinned, and cut, and hoped for the best. Every success felt awesome, and I learned with each failure.

My obsession survived the move back to NY. The dress form, sadly, is still in a storage unit in LA. It waits patiently for me, ready to keep me from a killing spree, should we ever venture back...

So, to sum up, saro, (do you have a link, lassie?) lack of funds + lack of society + lack of patience = fearless sewing.

What's your equation?