Then, a lot of us saw this photo, and took a second look:

Much better, isn’t it?  When I looked at the actual pattern, I loved the sleeve shaping, which follows the shoulder curve.  The side seams also provide some extra, flattering, shaping.  I saw this as my chance to make a jacket that offered some of the geometric edginess of a Marcy Tilton pattern, but without the boxy, unfriendly-to-humans shape that Tilton’s jacket patterns almost always feature.

Did I get my wish?  Well, kind of:

I originally made view B, the long version, with pockets.  Vogue says I’m a size 14, so I cut a size 10, which fit perfectly, except that view B was way, way too long for my 5′2.5″ height.  I was drowning in this thing!  (Vogue’s sizing chart is a joke, but that’s another post.)  I ended up cutting about 3 inches off the length — not quite enough to make it as short as view A, which looks awfully boxy in the line drawings.  My sleeves are also 4 cm shorter than Vogue’s.

My pockets are larger than Vogue’s — that might not have been the best choice, but since they’re hardly visible in this print, it’s not much of an issue.  I don’t know why anyone uses a 5/8ths inch seam on patch pockets, but that’s because I always line (and usually interface) mine.  Then I use a much smaller seam and turn the pocket.  This gives me better control on a curved edge, and a neater result.

I used a completely unnecessary Hong Kong seam finish because I just love it, and, since this jacket is unlined, I wanted to see more than a raw edge every time I wore it.

Because I was seduced by the photo of the coat closed with a pin, I added a jumbo button with an extra-large snap underneath, to give the effect of a pin without the fuss.

This was a “wearable muslin”, so I used a stable knit that I had around.  (The pattern calls for a lightweight woven.)  I knew that if I didn’t make another one, I’d still probably like using this on a plane, where I often want a blanket, but need to bring wear my own.  This could be a perfect “carry-on” coat/sweater.  Wearable on a trip, but cozy like a blanket on planes.

The knit actually worked very well, except that mitering the two angled corners at the hem was a bit iffy.  I think using a lighter woven would give a better drape, too, although this fabric actually falls nicely on my body.  The knit fronts cling a bit to each other, which turned out to be an asset when the jacket is closed; the under layer of a tighter woven would likely need some kind of anchor (a tie or snap or something of the sort) to keep it in place if the jacket were fastened closed.

Because I didn’t want to do any hand-stitching on this project, I used this accessory foot to “stitch in the ditch” to attach the neck facing to the shoulder dart:

This is the first time I’ve used this foot, and it worked amazingly well.  The blade separates the sides of the seam just enough to hide the stitching perfectly.

Vogue’s directions were simple and clear; the pattern pieces look wonky, but go together perfectly.  Was it a success?  Well, I think so — I do get some of the geometric flair from the angled hem, and the cut of the jacket is much more flattering to a real human shape than that of most unfitted jackets.  But it’s probably time for me to face the fact that over-sized garments, however well-cut, are just not flattering on someone of my size and height.  This jacket is perfect for tall, willowy Auntie Allyn.  It’s merely OK on short, petite Noile.  Sigh.

I’ve wanted to make this parka for decades. Two years ago, I found a lightweight upholstery tapestry fabric that seemed just right for it. The primary colors are a muted olive green, a dark gold, and a muted rust. I wanted a serious winter pullover, so I also bought rust microfleece for the lining.

Last year, I finally put it together. The essential design is very simple; it’s really just a batch of geometric lines. For my version, I eliminated the yoke seams closest to the center line, partly because my fabric was relatively thick, and partly because of the complications of matching the pattern. I also combined the two pattern pieces for each sleeve, eliminating the lower seam, for the same reasons.

I made a size small. It was the right choice, since I added an almost-bulky lining. If I make a single-layer version in the future, I’ll make an extra-small. Other reviews I’ve read pointed out that the sizing tends toward the huge; I agree!

For cutting I had to lay the fabric flat. Matching the fabric motifs was time-consuming, and adding the lining contributed to making this project much bigger than necessary. There’s nothing complicated about the essential construction, though, and this coat could probably be made up in a couple of hours with a different fabric choice and no lining. Above is the back view, showing the hood, and, below, a detail view of the front where the hood is attached to the yoke.

The pockets are the only real challenge; it’s critical to mark them carefully on the front before you stitch. The instructions call for only one line of stitching, which doesn’t offer much security if you plan to use them vigorously. I didn’t like the look of a double row of stitches, so I took advantage of the slight pile of my material and just sewed over my original line of stitches a second time.

I added small hooks and D rings on thin webbing straps inside the pockets; I don’t carry a bag or purse when wearing this parka, and like to secure my belongings when using large pockets.

The lines of the hood were a fabulous surprise — the curve around the face is beautiful, and the neckline looks great whether the hood is up or down. (Sorry, no face shot to show that curve, but take a look at the pattern; you’ll see how nicely it works.)

Here’s the back view with the hood up:

My photos make my coat look a little limp; with me inside, it’s got a lot more flair (literally) — much like the Folkwear photo below. This is one of my all-time favorite coats, and I’m really eager to make it again (and again and again!). It’s amazingly easy to wear while running around town, and there’s nothing better for riding the subway in deep

It’s not exactly easy to remove, and, made of my heavy-duty fabric and lining, it can be very warm if you’re spending more than a few minutes indoors.

I could see this in melton wool, polarfleece, a corduroy or even a sweatshirt fleece. Folkwear shows it in this plaid; very sophisticated!

Folkwear Patterns can be difficult to find. I own several boxes of them, bought many years ago, but ordered this one from Ursula’s Alcove, and was very pleased with the pleasant help and fast shipping. It’s worth shopping around; some sites charge ridiculously high prices for Folkwear; comparing prices can save you lots.

When the fabric arrived, I was surprised to discover that it was coated on the wrong side (hence, I suppose, the “rainwear” designation). (I was happy with Denver Fabrics’ service, but do wish their descriptions were a little more complete.) The urethane-like coating was a bit ’sticky’ and wasn’t going to be nice to wear, so I was going to have to line the coat.

The whole point of using silk was to keep the coat as filmy and light as possible. When my mother-in-law and I went on an excursion to Field’s Fabrics, I found a delicate, light polyester called (I think) “crepe de silk”. I took it back to my in-laws, and encamped in my mother-in-law’s sewing room for nearly a week, during which I produced this:

The pattern was easy to cut, and the directions were very clear. I made life much more complicated by lining the coat, and it took at least twice as long to make because of it, but the result was excellent just the same. I love, love, love the lines of this coat, and that fabulous hem. It looks wonderful on, and feels marvelous to wear. On my body, it looks exactly like the sketch on the pattern envelope.

These photos don’t do it justice, but I’m not ready to appear in person, so we’ll just have to make do with these. Here’s the back:

The hood is cut all-in-one with the body (fun construction!), and forms that wonderful collar in the front. It lies nice and flat in the back (at least when it’s not wrinkled from a recent trip to the city), looking great when you’re walking away, too.

Naturally, I goofed up a couple of things. I altered the length above and below the belt, and in the process got the pockets slightly misplaced. There’s nothing particularly wrong with that; they just don’t look exactly as they do on the pattern envelope. In the end, I think I placed the belt a little low. When I make it again (and I will!), I’ll raise it a little.

Because I could, I added two pockets inside the coat, in the lining, and gave them zipper closures. (I do like me a couple of security pockets!)

The lining fabric turned out to be exactly what I needed (thank you, great Field’s consultants!). It’s so lightweight that the ’silk-ness’ of the coat doesn’t seem much compromised. Lined, my coat is reversible, unless you mind seeing my ‘mark’ on the outside (that yellow tag).

The silk is interesting; when it gets wet, huge, terrible blotches break out all over, as if I’ve spilled my lunch everywhere. Then they dry almost instantly. A peculiar effect, but not at all bothersome once you’re used to it. And, oh, yes, it wrinkles like crazy where I sit on the skirt (or lean on the hood). This doesn’t bother me a bit; I rather like the wrinkly mess natural fabrics become. They look real!