First, the good news:  This really is a fun bag, in the sense that it’s got a lot of style and dash.  I love it, and, although it’s not really appropriate for everyday use, it’s just perfect for certain circumstances.  More on that later.

The bad news:  The instructions are, well,  really terrible.  More on that later, too.  In the meantime, here’s how mine turned out.  I reduced the size — see below — and this shot gives you an idea of how it fits on me — or rather, on the me-sized Miss Bedelia:

The shape of the main pattern pieces is pretty cool.  See the “wings” off to the sides?  You can see that the hidden part of the bag is as large as what you see when it’s assembled.  You can really see the “wings” when you lay the pattern out.  I thought of this as my “sting ray” bag:

Other reviewers have commented that this bag is HUGE — and it is.  I took the pattern to my local copy shop, and had them reduce it to 80% of it’s original size.  (Cost:  $4.00 US — bringing the price of the pattern to close to $20.00.)  It’s still a big bag, but now it’s day bag, not suitcase-size.  Here’s the finished bag, lying open, with a 24-inch-plus ruler next to it:

If you decide to reduce the size, keep a couple of things in mind.  First, you can’t use 5/8th of an inch seam allowances, because they’ve been down-scaled, too. The new allowance works out to something a little over 1 cm; I settled for 1 cm, which worked fine, EXCEPT for the facing pieces, which meet at an angle.  Too late I realized that I should have re-drafted those pieces, so I have four neat little pleats in the facings to take up the (relatively minor) slack.  If I make it again, I’ll fix that.

I used a quarter-inch seam on the handles.  That gave me straps just about the size of the originals.  The narrow seam was a huge plus, as it simplified turning and minimized trimming.

Secondly, you’ll need a 22 inch zipper instead of a 26 inch zipper.  Do yourself a favor and get a separating zipper.  Do yourself an even greater favor, and get one that opens from both ends.  (I didn’t, and I’m sorry.  With a bag this formless, it’s a pain having to open the whole zipper to get to the far side.)

Thirdly, if you shrink the pattern, you’ll have to enlarge the handle pieces.  At 80%, they wouldn’t go over my shoulder, and the width of the handles where they attach to the bag was too narrow.

I added 3 1/2 inches to the lower panel, and added 2 1/2 inches to the length of the straps.  (Next time I’ll add more; the straps  overlap at the top, and the slight extra padding is a nice feature.  Mine don’t have enough of that.)

I customized my bag in a number of ways.

• Because I like to clip things into bags, especially deep ones, I added a couple of lightweight hooks and some D-rings inside the bag.
• I thought the Hot Patterns “small pockets” were wrong for every piece of equipment I own, so I re-configured them, and I suspect most people will get more use out of them if they design their own.
• There’s an inside zipper pocket, which I enlarged to fit my Sony e-reader.
• There’s a cargo pocket on both sides of the bag (HP calls it a “bellows” pocket), but I left out the bellows and the closing flap on the back side.  I like to have an open pocket for a notebook, the mail, whatever:

• There’s a small tab on the cargo pocket flap, which I left off.
• HP has you use hook and loop fasteners to close the flap; I used purse magnets instead, one on each side, and I’m really happy with the way they work.
• Inside this front cargo pocket, I made a hidden phone pocket with a hook and loop strap, and added a key hook:

• I gently gathered the bottom of the phone pocket, instead of pleating it
• I interfaced and lined all the pockets; the extra support makes them easier to use, and I hate having raw edges inside my pockets

I used a square of plastic mesh to give shape to the bottom; the bag was too formless and flat without it, and having the extra stabilization helps when wrangling it. (HP recommends heavy-duty interfacing.) Because the “pyramid”  is formed by the sides of the bag, which fold in between the front and the back, the shape shifts around.  Stabilizing the base helps the bag to look a bit more symmetrical.

The stabilization was important for a critical reason:  This isn’t a bag you can just reach into.  In order to keep it shut, you have to keep the straps together; slipping one strap off your shoulder leaves you with a massive amount of fabric falling off your body. In addition, the bag is open on both ends (each end of the zipper), so, at all times, you have to be aware of the possibility of small things falling out.

Because the zipper runs crosswise from front to back, the bag needs support when you open it; because it’s so big, arms as short as mine have trouble providing that support.  If I’m going to open this bag, it has to be on my lap or a table.  It’s kind of a gaping cavern when the zipper is open:

Even reduced to 80%, it’s still big enough to hold a six-month-old baby, should you decide you need an extra baby nest.  (I don’t know what’s up with the color.  I should learn how to take proper photos — but it’s not happening this month.)

So what’s not to love?  The instructions (and too much of the pattern) are kind of an inexcusable mess.  Here’s the list:

• The sloppy drafting.  What’s up with this?

Yeah, those are the (narrow) straps.  No, I didn’t cut this; this is how the pattern piece is printed.  Which line am I supposed to follow?  Which line matches the other side of the (symmetrical) pattern piece?  Who knows?  Plan to re-draw this.  Call me crazy, but this is something a proof-reader should  have caught, even on a bad day.

• Know how to make a “bellows” pocket?  I hope so, because you’re not going to get any help here
• Several people wondered why they had so much trouble putting the zipper in.  Here’s a clue:  there is virtually no information explaining how to do it, and what’s there is confusing as all get-out.  Did HP even test this pattern with anyone who didn’t already understand how to make it up?
• Illustrations in the instructions are inadequate or misleading
• The top strip for the zipper pocket is larger than the pocket itself, which means they don’t match, and also, not coincidentally, that the notches on both pieces don’t match up.  Huh?  This is basic stuff, guys.
• HP says to cut “one pair” of the zipper opening pattern piece.  This is wrong; you  need two pair, one pair for each side of the zipper.
• Speaking of notches, would it kill HP to use them?  Would it kill HP to identify grainlines so that they’re actually noticeable?  Would it kill HP to name the edges of the pattern pieces for a bag like this, which has an odd geometry?  I think not.

The pattern’s labeled “advanced beginner” but I think anyone could make this bag if the instructions were, well, instructive.  That’s too bad, because the Nouveau Pyramid really is a pretty cool bag; it’s too bad that the pain factor is higher than necessary.

If I make it again (and I might), I’ll seriously consider adding some way to fasten the handles together at the bag top.  Oversized button(s) maybe?  This bag would be easier to manage if the top edges connected.

Because it’s so ungainly, I’ll only be using it as a city bag — I’ll take it with me in fair weather when I need to carry a light sweater or wrap, which can easily hide in the cavernous mid-section.  That means going to museums, etc., where I won’t be shopping or running errands and won’t need frequent access to the bag.  It’s just too unwieldy to take anywhere I’d actually have to dip into it frequently.  In the end, this bag is kind of high maintenance –  rather like the instructions you follow to make it.

This particular pattern (I made view C, lower right) is a really simple one: it’s just bag, lining, and (purchased) handles. I must have thought it was a bit too simple, because I ended up changing quite a lot. Here’s a quick run-down on the changes I made:

1. Added a second internal pocket.
2. Re-configured the internal pockets.
3. Interfaced the lining to support the internal pockets.
4. Created two large pockets between the fashion fabric and the lining.
5. Changed the closure to two magnetic snaps, instead of tab-and-snap.
6. Made self-fabric handles.
7. Added small D-rings to the handle connections for the shoulder strap.

The right-sized handles were impossible to find (not even M&J Trimmings, in the city, had them!), so I decided I’d make my own. My view, C, called for 10 1/2 inch wood handles. No way I was going to use bamboo (can you say “ouch”?), but I couldn’t find any handles that size in any material.

Here are the ingredients I assembled. First, the fabrics:

The outside of the bag is the background fabric: black linen. Boring, yes? But there are a slew of would-be summer dresses in my stash, and black is what they have in common. To compensate, I chose the floral print (leftovers from a bathroom curtain) for the lining, and the red and black calligraphy for the internal pockets.

Next, the notions:

Upper left, small D-rings; then sew-in magnetic snaps; four sets of plastic rings (to attach the handle); and fat upholstery cord for the self-fabric straps. All this stuff is lying on plastic mesh, which I had planned to use support the bottom of the bag.

Of this collection, only a single magnetic snap is on Vogue’s notions list, so I’ll explain the rest as I go.

First step was the lining. It’s cut with a fashion facing along the open edge of the handbag, with the lining fabric over the remaining two-thirds of the inside. The single, small, internal pocket strip in the design just wasn’t going to work for me, so I made two changes: I cut two small pocket strips, instead of one, from the lining material, and changed the lining construction by inserting an invisible zipper in each seam between the fashion facing and the lining fabric. These zippers are the access for large pockets I made between the lining and the outside of the bag.

Then I made my own version of the small strip pockets, using a thin interfacing to give them some substance. (I hate trying to pull stuff out of wilting pockets.) After fitting them to the items I’d be using them for, I stitched the strips to the lining, and then stitched vertically to form the individual pockets:

This doesn’t look at all symmetrical, but it really is! (I was standing on a footstool and contorted to keep the overhead light from making a shadow. (Note to self: bad photo technique.) This was really it, as far as assembling the lining more or less according to Vogue’s plan. Very straightforward.

But there was all that potential space between the lining and the outside of the bag and I just couldn’t let it go to waste. So, to made pockets along each broad side of the bag, I cut interlining pieces from some ultra-lightweight microfiber, and basted it in place behind the assembled lining pieces. Then I turned and tacked the long raw edges to the underside of the invisible zippers. This forms one side of the huge internal pockets I added to the bag. I could have left this step out, but I’d have known it every time I reached inside the bag, and it would have bothered me, so I took the extra steps.

Here’s how one of the internal side pockets looks, opened so you can see the interlining:

After the lining was in place, I invisibly hand-stitched all around the center seams from the handles, down the sides and across the bottom of the bag. This made a barrier to keep something in one of the huge side pockets from shifting across to the other one. I didn’t end up using the mesh to support the bottom; not only was my interfacing enough to retain some shaping, but this step, so necessary to making my added pockets work, would have been very difficult if I’d had to stitch through the mesh, too.

Here’s what the lining looks like, fully assembled and inside the bag, with the pockets filled:

Each of the pockets I added to the sides of the bag is large enough to hold my Asus eeePC, which is the white thing peering out of the pocket. Actually, it’s large enough to hold the notebook and its accessories, too. I could carry two!

See the “noile dot net” label? Those were a present from Mr. Noile:

The two little stitched squares to the right and left of the label are where I put the magnetic closures for the bag. I didn’t want to see them, and I discovered that they worked perfectly well if stitched into the bag, instead of onto it. I hated the tab Vogue offered for the closure, and didn’t much like the idea of having just a single tab closing such a wide bag, either.

The Vogue bag has purchased handles, in a size I couldn’t find anywhere, so I made my own using upholstery cording and self-fabric. I sewed a tube, turned it, and then fed the cord through using a small, plastic-headed diaper pin.

I used the pattern piece for the handle loops that came with the pattern, but used them to attach plastic rings to the bag, instead of attaching the handles directly. There are two rings through each loop; I’ve never used anything like this for a strap before, and am a little skeptical about how they’ll take the inevitable abuse, so I doubled them up for strength.

Hidden inside, I put the small D-rings. Originally, I thought I’d make the shoulder strap that Vogue included in this view, but changed my mind, since the straps are long enough so that I don’t think I’d ever need an additional one. I added the D-rings anyway, though, because, well, I just think there’s no such thing as too many places to clip stuff inside a bag!

The D-rings don’t show at all from the outside, of course, but now I’ll always be able to find my keys. Many sets of keys.

The straps then just got sewn to the plastic rings. Not fancy, but effective. Finally, here’s how the bag looks, all together:

Seriously boring, right? But that’s OK — the lining’s vibrant, and the somber black should be a great counterpoint to my wild and crazy summer dress fabrics (or maybe just a great relief!). I love the size of this bag — big, but not overwhelming — and the shape has a certain style that I like quite a bit now that it’s made up. Not to mention that my modifications have made it really practical for a whole day of either play or work. Now, on to the dresses!

On a whim, I signed up (pre-appendix!) for Pattern Review’s Handbag Contest. Today’s the last day, and this is almost the last minute, so I’ll be making a mad dash to get this posted there. Last time I looked, there were some wonderful handbags entered — go take a look. You’ll be inspired!

Trilby snuck back later and bought a piece for me. The rich burgundy, gold and rust colors aren’t my usual ones, but I’m planning to make some neutral linens this summer, and this should be a gorgeous accent for them.

Trilby and I share a love of bags, and she had a tote in mind when she gave me the fabric, but somehow it was Vogue 7862 that I thought of when I was deciding what to do with it:

The bag’s design is a bit odd, and I thought it looked a little more like apparel than like a purse. I figured the brocade would enhance that feeling (and it did!). I hadn’t looked at any reviews, so I was surprised when I discovered that the pattern has only three pockets: one in each of the shoulder straps (like the ones in my Keen bag and knock-off: love those!), and a large one in the main body of the bag.

I had assumed that the large front pocket was actually two; there’s a vertical zipper that I’d figured somehow divided the main pocket. I’d also assumed that there was another full-sized pocket across the body of the bag. (Obviously, research wasn’t a big part of this project.)

Standing in an interminable line at JoAnn’s gave me a chance to read the pattern and realize how wrong I was. On the plus side, the wait was long enough that I was also able to figure out how out how I’d alter the pattern to better suit my needs.

Sandra Betzina claims that this is “the perfect travel purse”, but that’s only true if you don’t mind having everything you own fall out when you open the main zipper. Not my idea of good travel gear.

On the other hand, I really liked the look of that vertical line. To solve this vexing problem, I assembled the front pocket using Betzina’s design, but attached lining pieces to the backside of the front pocket along the zipper edges:

Then I added an extra lining piece behind the combined pieces:

Before I assembled the body of the bag, I added an invisible zipper across the back of the bag. When the front and back were sewn together, this gave me two pockets in the main body: One, with the vertical zipper in front, and one in back, with a horizontal zipper. I made a simple lining for the rear pocket, and attached it by hand to the zipper tape inside the bag.

This hidden rear pocket is a lot more practical, and much easier to use than the designer pocket in front.

If you wanted to add an internal zipper pocket for a wallet, this alteration would let you do that pretty easily — just add it to the back lining before stitching it in place. Getting into an internal, hidden zip pocket from that vertical front zipper would be a bit grueling, but would be easy through this wide opening in the back of the bag.

Invisible zippers and I have a tortured history, but I think I’m finally beginning to get the knack of installing them. I finally figured out that placing the zipper perfectly into the invisible zipper foot right at the start makes all the difference; the foot then automatically rolls the zipper teeth into the correct position for close stitching. (Yeah, I know — I’m a little slow.)

The “seam” appearance made by the invisible zippers really is perfect for this bag, and it doesn’t hurt that a print like this one hides a multitude of invisible zipper sins. I especially liked the one I used in the extra main pocket — at a quick glance, you’d never know the pocket is there at all.

Betzina has you interface the straps only to a point just into the hidden pockets. After I constructed the straps, I realized that the fragile threads on the wrong side of my brocade would disintegrate a little bit every time I took my phone or keys out of the unlined pockets. That meant that lining them was essential.

I cut two strap pocket lining pieces with one folded edge, stitched up the open side, and inserted them. Take my advice, and do this before you make the straps. Doing it afterward is something of a challenge. (At least I hadn’t edge-stitched before I added the lining — taking that out would have been a nightmare.)

Because my fabric was a fairly soft and fluid one, I used a heavier-than-usual interfacing. My thinking was that this would make the strap a bit more comfortable to wear by providing some unseen padding, and that worked out well. It did make turning the straps challenging, though, so I used a giant kilt pin (carefully pinned into a seam allowance) to pull the end through. Worked like a charm!

I decided that I didn’t want to take the time to design custom internal pockets for this bag, which is for special occasions rather than everyday use, but that left the problem of how to handle gear that I might want for a day trip into the city, for example. I solved this by attaching small snap hooks inside the main pocket:

And then by adding tiny d-rings to my transferable pockets:

This worked out really well, and now I plan to use this trick with all my future “fashion” bags. I’m thinking that I’ll be able to make so many more if the internal pockets travel from one to another so easily — a girl just can’t make too many bags, don’t you think?

Here’s how the transferable pockets look clipped inside the bag (it’s turned inside out so that you can see it better):

I made the petite version, which has a shorter strap and a slightly smaller body than the regular version, and really appreciated having this option. It fits my body well, and, as I suspected it would, this bag feels more like clothing than like a purse — a quality I’m really enjoying. To give you an idea of size, here it is on my un-draped, petite-dummy-torso:

This is quite a fun pattern, however, I’ve got to say that there is something particularly nervy about claiming a retail price of $16.95 USD for a pattern that involves only four pieces (three of them perfectly ordinary rectangles), and one small instruction sheet. There’s no real value add here, either, for, although Betzina mentions embellishing the bag (a fun idea), she doesn’t offer any suggestions for how to do it.

The envelope calls for a yard of 60 inch fabric, but I had almost exactly 3/4 of a yard of 56 inch fabric, and was able to fit all the pieces for the petite bag with no problem (but without an inch to spare). This won’t work if you’re cutting a fabric with nap, though; then you’ll need the full yard for the petite size.

Isn’t this the best kind of gift? It’s a present, and an adventure! Thanks, Trilby (and — forgive me — dear Mr. Trilby, too)!

There are two small buttonholes on each side of the top opening. with a single drawstring through the front of the bag, and another drawstring across the back of the bag. It’s much easier to open and close the bag with the two strings, instead of using a single one. There’s a cord-lock toggle on either side of the opening to keep the strings from disappearing into the casing, and to keep the bag shut neatly.

I like a defined bottom on all my bags, since it makes them easier to load gear into, and also easier to store, as they tend to stand upright a bit better. (And they look so much nicer!) It took only a minute to stitch across the corners at the bottom and give the bag some shape.

Seriously bad photo, I’m afraid. I should resolve to do something about my photography skills this year, but I’m hoping to have too much fun sewing instead.

So one of my avocations is the never-ending search for perfect travel bags, and I’ve been interested in ’secure’ travel bags for a long time. I buy them, I make them, I search them out wherever I go, always eager to discover the next cool or useful feature.

This CitySafe bag has been on my acquisition list for over a year, but I wasn’t able to find the version I wanted in black. For my last trip, I made my Diva bag, and used it, but eventually decided that I really wanted the CitySafe, too, and I ordered it from REI.

Well, not precisely the bag you see above; that’s what I theoretically ordered. I bought mine in nondescript black, but it also comes in an attractive dark brown, tan, and the red above, which is actually more wine colored than bright red. But REI didn’t send me this exact bag — they sent the newer type, which doesn’t have that zipper you see on the left. The difference matters, as you’ll see below.

This CitySafe 200 comes with a slash-proof “exomesh” lining, and slash-proof straps. There are also clever ways to secure your main zipper, and to secure your bag around a bench, train seat (if you have bars underneath), chair, etc. Not so much an issue in this country, maybe, but pretty handy in quite a few other areas of the world, as noted above.

It’s almost perfect. But there are some issues, not relating to security, but to practicality. First of all, as mentioned, the new version doesn’t have that zipper you see above on the side of the water bottle pocket. The zipper pocket was barely adequate when it came to carrying a slim water bottle, but at least you could stuff one in if you had to.

It’s been replaced in the new version of the bag with a gusset — hidden elastic and netting (on the left in the photo above). The new pocket is completely useless — NONE of my vast collection of water bottles or super-slim, compact thermos units fit easily (or at all) into this travesty of a pocket.

So I modified it. I reached inside of the outer fabric flap (next to the front of the bag) and carefully cut the elastic and mesh along the seam line. (I put a safety pin at the end of the elastic first; if it had been in a casing, I didn’t want to have to re-thread it.) Here’s how it looked once I cut it open (the light color is the lining, folded over):

Then I whip-stitched the edges of the mesh and the elastic, and encased them in grosgrain ribbon, making sure to stitch the mesh in place at least three times. Hiding my stitches as carefully as possible, I stitched the grosgrain edge into the flap, hiding the edge inside. The result? A pocket large enough for a standard slim Nalgene:

Unfortunately, it’s not as deep as it should be (that’s a child’s Nalgene above). The last inch and a half of the pocket is useless because, instead of taking the gusset all the way to the bottom, PacSafe just pleated it closed. None the less, with my modification, at least the pocket’s now usable.

When I carry a tall Nalgene, I also clip a carabiner through the cap, just to make sure that I don’t lose the bottle if it pops out of the too-shallow pocket:

I also added a flat button and elastic loop to keep the gusset neatly closed when not carrying a water bottle:

(Great button, isn’t it? It’s exactly the size and shape of an M & M candy. I used it for the feet on my Diva bag, too, and I wish I could find more of them.)

Next up were the two flat pockets on the back side of the bag, closed with zippers. Very flat pockets — in fact, very flat, small, useless pockets. (I was alerted to these by reviewers on REI.com, as well as to the solution to the problem.)

Carefully removing the stitching that divides these pockets reveals one long, large pocket — perfect for maps, tickets, smaller guidebooks, etc.. Keeping any of those in your new pocket won’t require opening the main section of the bag, which is exactly what you’d have to do if you left these pockets small.

Happily the ‘two’ zippers aren’t two at all — once the midline stitching is gone, you’ve got two zipper heads on one long zipper — perfect! And you can even use a small padlock or cable to ‘lock’ them closed, if you wish.

Inside, this bag has lots of (mostly) well-designed interior pockets. A small pocket on one end is perfect for my chopsticks, and two sleeves on the other end hold pens. Along the side, though, is a whole section for credit cards. Really? Credit cards? Out in the open like that? Who even thinks of doing that anymore? I wanted (and needed) another pocket for my gear, so I sewed one up, and hand-tacked it in place:

That’s it on the left. On the outside, I put a smaller pocket for lip balm and my mini-flashlight. Can’t live without either. Looking at it now, I wish I’d made a box pocket, just like the ones PacSafe provided. (Maybe I’ll get ambitious and replace it one of these days.) That’s another really nice thing about this bag — it’s really beautifully made, inside and out. So many things are sewn sloppily these days — but not this bag!

There’s a smaller zipped interior pocket (inside out, above) that’s perfect for a wallet (that thing you actually use for your cards and small ID), a passport, and even a small notebook. A large, almost hidden, pocket lies behind the interior pockets, also with a zipper closure.

What else might I want to change? This bag doesn’t make into a backpack. However, the strap is highly adjustable, and the bag is flat and easy to wear — and worry-free, even in a large crowd, or mashed up against hundreds of humans in a subway. The strap adjusts small enough that I can carry it on my shoulder like a purse; it’s long enough so that the bag can be slung, quite low, across my body, too.

So I’m sold, but hey, PacSafe, people have been complaining about these things I had to mod for quite a while — how about addressing them? You’ve got a great bag here — I made mine fabulous! How about you doing the same?? I might even buy another one, next time in dark taupe (or what I’d call brown).

Note: REI shows the zipper bag on their website, but will send you the gusset version, which is also what’s now stocked in their stores. At least in their stores in the three states that I personally checked. Harrumph.

By the way, this bag also comes in a smaller, purse-sized, version — the CitySafe100. If you travel lighter than I do, it’s pretty neat. Of course, you’ll lose about 1/3 of the space of the 200, and as for the water bottle? No way!

The first modification was putting slash-proof wire into the straps. I bought vinyl coated galvanized wire at Home Depot, and had it cut to length at the store. Then I stitched the wire onto the interfacing for the strap interfacing, zigzagged carefully over the cable. Very carefully — if the needle hit the cable, it would break, and likely go flying, which could be nasty.

Once this was done, I assembled the straps according to the instructions, which have you fold the outer edges of the fabric toward the middle. If you’re cutting your straps from patterned fabric, you’ll want to make sure that you’ll get the results you want by checking the way you’ll be folding your material before you cut! With a solid color, this wasn’t an issue, of course.

Then it was on to the pockets. The larger front pocket has a hidden phone pocket inside, so that’s done first. It’s actually sewn to the front of the bag, and later hidden by the front pocket:

I added the strap and buckle. No way my phone’s hanging out without some kind of restraint. My pleat is the reverse of the one shown in the pattern directions; it doesn’t make any difference — I just prefer this one.

Once you’ve completed the phone pocket, you place the large exterior pocket over it, baste the edges together, and add the straps down each side:

The other side of the bag is done the same way, only the pocket is smaller. Once the straps are attached to the front and back of the bag, it gets assembled just like the lining, except that there aren’t any pockets on the outer sides of the bag. Because I didn’t iron-on my interfacing (I’m sewing with nylon, and just thinking about melting interfacing to nylon gives me a coronary), I quilted the sides of my bag to hold the interfacing in place:

These side pieces fold up accordion-style, so fan-shaped quilting seemed like the right thing. It’s pretty obvious that I’ve never machine-quilted before, isn’t it? Mr. Noile liked that herringbone effect very much, though, and pointed out that it was perfect with the design. I’m going with that thought.

Once the main part of the exterior is assembled, you put a piece of mesh screening in the bottom of the bag. In keeping with my “slash-proof” theme, I sewed two layers of aluminum screening to the underside of the mesh, zigzagging (carefully) around the rough edges.

I tacked four small, M&M shaped buttons to each corner of the base of the bag, through the outer layer of the bag, and through the screen and mesh, to hold the mesh in place. The instructions imply that you’ll be able to tack the mesh to the seams of the bag, but it’s too small to allow that.

The screening won’t prevent my bag from being slashed on the sides, but the sides aren’t likely to cause spillage the way slashing the bottom does. And they’re much harder to get to than the bottom, if you’re looking for a dramatic way into someone else’s purse.

Mr. Noile suggested that, next time, I cut the mesh in half crosswise, and zigzag the pieces together so that it will bend in the middle when the bag is carried. I think that’s smart — the mesh would still provide a base, but the bag wouldn’t be as bulky when carried (unless you really stuff it).

Once the front and back are attached, and the sides are sewn up, and your mesh is in place, the main part of the exterior of the bag is finished:

At this point, you tuck your lining inside, and prepare the “zipper sandwich” that will close the main section of your bag. The zipper excess just gets cut off, and the raw edges on each side are finished with extension flaps that you use to close the bag for carrying. Here’s how the sandwich looks assembled and attached to the bag, before the zipper is trimmed:

The flaps use pattern piece D, as well as an interfacing piece. For some reason, though, the curve on the interfacing piece doesn’t match the curve on pattern piece D. I drew my own, and recommend you, do, too.

Here’s how they looked once they were sewn to the bag:

These flaps are assembled off the bag, but next time, I think I’ll get a better result if I first sew one flap to the bag along the bottom edge, and then stitch the second flap piece to the one already on the bag. Assembling them separately and then fitting them over the raw edge of the bag was a bit of a pain.

(That strap that shows above is the one that secures my phone in the hidden phone pocket.) I didn’t much like the look of this flap — if you use a patterned fabric, it will probably look great, but ugh, this looks so . . . utilitarian?

So I scrounged around and found this trim:

Hook and loop tape is used to close these flaps. I’m already concerned that this skinny strip won’t be able to take the heat over time — when the bag’s full, there’s a fair amount of stress on it. One solution might be to use extra wide, extra strong hook and loop here — covering most of the flap. Or maybe some other kind of fastener is indicated; I haven’t really made up my mind.

Matching the flaps up perfectly when closing them is a bit of a pain for we OCD types, too. Next time I might just cut these in a rectangular, shorter height, shape. Though I admit that the flap curves do work well with the shape of the rest of the bag.

Closed, the bag is about 8 inches by 12 inches at its base — that includes the sides, which stick out past the front a bit:

The strap length is perfect on me — easy to wear, and also easy to carry. Made in my nylon, it’s also incredibly light, but strong. Here’s the interior, stuffed for a trip:

What’s there? Starting at the left and clockwise, a phone, a folding toothbrush, a mini-tripod, a Moleskine City Notebook (don’t leave home without it!), small pocket with stevia packets, the “hidden” pocket with my wallet, etc., a mini-flashlight, extra mini-pens, my Moleskine planner, and a small pocket with a spork, soap leaves and lip balm. Attached to the D rings are my Nintendo DS (sudoku and brain games to go) on one side, and a small zip bag for personal items (comb, towelette packets for restrooms without tissue, etc.). On the bottom of the bag are a silicone cup stuffed with a bandanna and a small packet of nuts, and my clip-on sunglasses.

There’s a lot of room, but you can’t quite use it all, since folding the bag to close it reduces the volume significantly. My small notebooks interfere with the folding a bit — I just push them toward the center, though, and it works out fine. Those of you who travel lighter won’t have an issue with this.

In the outer pockets are a fold-out pocket city map and a packet of tissues; I’ll have a 12 ounce thermal drink container in the larger outside pocket on most days.

As the pattern promises, you can wear the Diva as a backpack — very handy when you need both hands for a few minutes (or even longer):

Though it admittedly looks a little odd from the side:

I had a wonderful time making this bag, and loved the very clear, step-by-step directions. There aren’t any steps here that are difficult, and, as long as you label your pieces, assembly should go very smoothly, even for a novice. The Diva is a cleverly designed bag, and I’m expecting it to be very useful for everyday as well as for trips when I want everything but the kitchen sink with me while I’m out all day exploring.

Follow-up: After a week in Washington, DC, I can report that this is a wonderful light bag that mostly fulfilled my requirements very well. However, when I travel, I tend to carry a whole lot of stuff, and most of it would do better in a flatter bag. I’m seriously considering making this bag again, and making these changes:

* reducing the width by three to four inches, and widening the length by about four inches to make a much flatter bag

* taking the deep pleats out of the phone pockets — they’re way too big for my phone

* making the closure flaps rectangular, and using a different method to stiffen and close them. As I’d suspected, when the bag is really packed, the hook and loop can’t quite keep things together.

* switching the inside pockets so that the larger ones go behind the front and back panels, instead of along the folding edges. This would put one of these pockets against the “secret” pocket, which might require a more substantial closure on the “secret” pocket.

* placing the inner phone pocket, and possibly several other smaller ones (maybe one specifically designed for pens, and another for my spork and chopsticks) along the folding sides

* adding an umbrella pocket on the underside of the bag (with a closure) (Another Mr. Noile suggestion!)

* adding a webbing strap under the bag to give my hand a natural place to hold my overstuffed bag when it’s on my shoulder

* putting hook fastener on the top of one strap, and loop fastener on the top of the other so that they hook and loop together on my shoulder

As a final note, I wish that Lynndi Enright had been a little more careful with her branding. When I post this to Pattern Review, how do I post it? Under “Expressions in Design” “Thumbuddy Special” or “Lynndi Enright”? Every one of these appears on the pattern envelope, but none of these are listed on Pattern Review’s drop-down company listing. Unfortunately, Pattern Review’s search system isn’t sophisticated enough to overcome a challenge that doesn’t involve exact names.

“Thumbuddy Special” is particularly bad, not only because you have to remember that it’s said as if it were a lisp, but then you have to wonder whether it’s got two letters “b” or not. Not to mention that, bizarrely, it’s not a unique name.

Searching on Google for “Diva Essential Designer Bag” is complicated, too — try it, or just imagine how many hits you get with the words “diva designer bag”. All of this makes finding the patterns somewhat difficult.

Designers, beware! A unique, specific, descriptive name is a really good idea if you’re trying to sell a product people will want to find on the internet.

Previously:

Diva Essential Designer Bag

Diva Bag: The Lining

The one above with rickrack is for a cell phone, and the one you can’t really see (on the left here) is a “secret” pocket to stash your wallet or cash in. It normally won’t be very visible, although the many layers of my chrome yellow fabric got very, very dark once they were stacked on top of each other. Anybody who gets this far into my bag is going to know that there’s something funny about that end of the bag. That’s not likely to happen, though, since the zipper opens from the other end.

Then you make the pockets that are attached to the sides of the interior lining. There are two medium-sized pockets on each side, each of them with a small pocket sewn onto it. One of the small pockets is cut in contrast (or, if you prefer, you could do both that way. Here’s how these pockets look sewn in to the lining:

I added D rings to the sides of each pocket, ’cause I just can’t live without my D rings. They’re attached to short pieces of one-inch black webbing, and tucked into the side seams.

Here’s the lining with the front and back pieces attached:

Once that’s done, you sew up the sides, and the interior of your bag is virtually finished:

For the most part, each pattern piece is sensibly named, but there’s one piece called “zipper remnant pocket”. The name drove me nuts. There is a zipper remnant — part of the zipper that you cut off after you sew the zipper in place. But it doesn’t have a pocket.

Eventually, I realized that two small pockets that get sewn onto the medium-sized lining pockets were cut from a strip of fabric that was also used to make the strips the zipper is sewn to: hence, the small pockets are “zipper remnant pockets”. This is possibly the world’s dumbest name for a pattern piece. Do yourself a favor and cross out the phrase everywhere you see it, and write “small inner pockets”. You’ll be happy you did.

That’s an odd mistake, though, because the directions for this bag are otherwise really beautifully written. Each step is broken down into a tidy, bite-sized piece, and there are helpful photos for places that might give you a little trouble. The order of assembly is well-thought-out, too — I loved doing the lining first because the outside of the bag is actually less complicated, and went much faster. As soon as it was done, it was pop in the lining, and viola!

The potential capacity is huge, but as we’ll see, that’s not quite how it works in practice. Next: the exterior.

I’m afraid the main bag featured here doesn’t do anything at all for me. However, the bag has a whole bunch of pockets on the inside, a huge wide (hidden) mouth to stuff things into, pockets on the outside, and straps that allow it to be worn as a back pack if you like. Not to mention that it offers the opportunity to combine different fabric combinations for a fun, kooky or just really individual look.

Not that I’m taking advantage of the latter. My first version of the Diva is going to be boring: I need a lightweight travel bag with serious capacity in basic black. To compensate a little, I chose a chrome yellow nylon for the lining, and jumbo black rickrack to spiff up the pockets.

Renee sells the correct zipper size for the Diva in a set along with color-coordinated velcro — meaning that Trilby’s velcro and zip coordinate really well with her fabric.

The envelope includes only four pattern pieces, printed on durable, heavy paper. The designer, Lynndi Enright, has you measure and cut all of the remaining pieces directly on the fabric. She’s done a clever job of making the instructions clear, and even includes cutting layouts for all three sections: the main fabric, the lining, and the batting. Watch your math when you cut or draw — I somehow ended up with an extra 2 1/2 inches on my strap batting. (Caught in time, thank goodness.)

Since I plan to make a less-dull version of this bag later, I decided to make paper pattern pieces instead of cutting directly from the fabric. Using freezer paper, I drew every single piece on the roll, labeled each carefully, and then cut them out:

Although I half-dreaded doing this, it went surprisingly quickly. All the pieces are either rectangular or square, and using a clear, three inch wide quilting ruler made the job go quickly. You end up with quite a pile of paper, and, eventually, fabric. There are sixteen pieces to cut for the lining alone.

Enright says you should take a pile of stickies and label every piece as you cut it, and she’s absolutely right about that. I went one better and also marked “top” on each piece — she’s very clear about where you need to do this — and also pinned the stickies in place in the narrow seam allowance (1/4 inch).

Because my fabric is nylon ripstop, I needed to seal every edge. To do this, I light a candle in a well-ventilated area, and, holding each fabric edge taut, I run it quickly near (not touching) the base of the candle flame. This melts the nylon edge just a little bit, and prevents it from disintegrating over time. Nothing, but nothing, unravels like the unprotected edge of cut nylon.

The lining gets assembled first, and that will be the subject of my next post. In the meantime, to inspire you, here are a couple of other views of the Diva. This first one’s from Heart to Hand:

And so is this one, in a completely different flavor, showing the interior:

Batiks by Design has this one, in browns and burgundy:

And, finally, a black and white version (and a deep blue companion) from Fabric-Etc’s Blog (where they offer a Diva-making class in Bellingham, Washington):

Lots of possibilities, wouldn’t you say?

Next –  Diva Bag:  The Lining

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