It also has zippers all over the place:  under that snap placket; at the center front (the fit’s so trim that you’d need to unzip to run); under each arm; and up one side.

The problem was that much of the hem had pulled out, and the nylon lining, naturally, had begun to disintegrate.  Not so badly that it couldn’t be fixed, though.  I was pretty sure that, among the very few non-sparkly woven trims at JoAnn, I remembered one with jewel tones not unlike those in this jacket:

Not only were the colors compatible, but the pattern seemed just about perfect, too.  Here it is sewn in  place on the coat:

In the few spots where the lining had unraveled especially badly, the trim was just wide enough to bridge the gap.  I sewed it in place with tiny, nearly invisible stitches, since I didn’t want stitching lines on the front.

The new trim not only solved the problem, but made the inside just as full of crisp, sporty pizazz as the exterior:

You’d never know that the frazzled lining had almost turned this jacket into a discard.  Now it’s my favorite early fall, late spring coat.

]]> http://www.noile.net/2010/04/thrift-store-rescue-jacket-repair/feed/ 0 http://www.noile.net/2010/04/tsa-friendly-belt/ http://www.noile.net/2010/04/tsa-friendly-belt/#comments Tue, 27 Apr 2010 12:56:52 +0000 Noile http://www.noile.net/?p=1081 Ah, TSA.  How you’ve changed our lives.  How difficult you’ve made it to travel in normal, human, clothing.  For an upcoming trip, I am wearing a t-shirt tunic and leggings on the plane because that will get me through screening more expeditiously than anything else, and because, after surviving the horror that is the modern airport, I want to feel comfortable once I’m in that tin tube.

I’d rather be wearing pjs, but, hey, this is the closest I can get.  In a concession to not looking as if I’d just dressed for breakfast, I’ll be wearing a belt.  Not an interesting belt, and, heaven knows, not a belt with any metal — enemy of TSA — in it.  I’ll be wearing this belt:

It’s elastic, 1 1/2 inches wide, with what is called a “ladder buckle” connecting the ends.  Here are the components:

I sewed heavy-duty hook-and-loop tape, as wide as the elastic, to each end of the belt, making sure to leave a lot of room for adjustment.  Once actually on board I don’t want to end up bifurcated by a too-tight elastic band around my waist, so being able to readjust the size without depending on the elastic alone was a must.

It doesn’t bother me to wear the flat buckle in the back, so I can wear the belt as it is above on Miss Bedelia, or turned around so that it looks like a contrast waistband, or a plain elastic cincher.

You can buy ladder buckles at most (if not all) EMS stores (they’re behind the counter, ask to see the delrin or nylon buckles), at REI, and at  sporting goods/adventure stores that sell webbing.  They’re often on a rack by luggage or camping gear.

That’s a great feature, but on me, these legs are waaaaay too wide.  I needed some way to rein in that yardage!

There was no way to find fabric that was exactly like the one used for the pants,  so I bought a half-dozen buttons and sewed two small loops made of 1/8th-of-an-inch elastic.  I sewed two buttons just close enough to hold the elastic loop next to the pant leg.  Then I sewed a third button on each leg far enough away so that stretching the elastic to reach it made the pant leg as small as I wanted.

Then I sewed each elastic loop permanently around the far left button.  The free loop slips over the button to the near right when the pants are being worn with the legs wide, keeping the elastic from flopping.  The far button is used to hold the loop in place when the pant legs are cinched:

A pleat is automatically formed under the buttons, and voilà, no more balloon-legs.  Or ticks crawling above your socks.  Much better.

She’s chewing happily on the thread running along the back of my machine. She doesn’t eat it, or even chew through it. She just gnaws on it. This went a long way toward explaining the strange weakness I was periodically encountering as I stitched merrily along. Needless to say, I now deploy the sewing machine cover with far greater frequency than I used to.

(Yes, Emma is a GIANT cat — she’s part Maine Coon, and that’s the part that shows.  See those huge paws?  Very clever, those paws.  Very useful for water play in the bathroom, too.  Very useful for string — or thread — play anywhere.)

They originally came with a wool footlbed that was lofty and warm, just like the wool lining that fills the rest of the shoe. Over time the wool in the insole got crushed and flattened, and the shoes weren’t a slipper-like joy to wear any longer. Though the liners are theoretically replaceable, I couldn’t find them in stores, and trying to get them online seemed like too much of a pain, so I made my own.

Using super-thick felted wool, I made new liners. For the pattern, I traced the original insoles, and cut three pieces for each foot out of the felt. The original ones had a waterproof barrier to keep sweat from permeating the shoe itself, so I also cut a piece of thin, transparent vinyl to use as a similar barrier. The vinyl layer is second from the left in the photo below:

I used two layers of felt for the top of the liner, and put one beneath the vinyl. The idea was twofold: one, to make sure that the insole wouldn’t slip while I was wearing it, and two, so that the stitching keeping the vinyl in place wouldn’t be stressed too much while in use.

To make sure that I used them right side up (with that cushy double layer next to my foot), I stitched an “L” on the left liner, putting it where it would be least likely to irritate my foot. (Oddly, I couldn’t find matching thread for this dark raspberry material, so I used one of Gütermann’s rainbow threads.) I used a large zigzag just to hold the layers together; I didn’t want to use smaller stitches, because that’s a good way to perforate vinyl, and encouraging it to separate.

Here are my refurbished mocs (yes, I hate that orange and gray “M”!):

The wool isn’t lofty like sheepskin slippers (or the original liner), but it is toasty and very comfortable. Incidentally, I found this extra-thick felted wool in a bin at Michael’s; two pieces did the trick. (The choice of colors was really good, too — including a whole range of teals/greens. The wool was was pricey, though, I think about $3.50 a piece — smaller than 8.5 by 11 inches — so the by-the-yard price was ludicrous. Not bad for a pair of new innersoles, though.)

Putting this one together couldn’t be simpler (or faster!). It’s got princess seams front and back, sleeves, and that’s about it. And a nice, trim look when you’re done:

My hem doesn’t look all that great though. I used an adhesive, iron-on tape to support it and keep it from stretching, but the results aren’t exactly what I want (though the look did improve with washing — after this photo was taken — for unknown reasons).

Love those lines! This is one of those maligned, widely-available cotton knits (I’ve got a lot in my stash for some reason), but they sew up beautifully — except for that hem problem. I need to do more work on this.

I’m getting very fond of this particular utility stitch on my Pfaff. I love the way it finishes the seams, and keeps them smooth — much nicer than the little ridge trimming the seam leaves:

Vogue has you finish the neck using bias tape, trimming the seam allowance, and turning the tape to the inside. Instead, I finished the neckline using a self-fabric band, turning it once over the seam allowance, and then “stitching in the ditch”. It worked really well, and gave a clean, neat look to the neckline:

That made my neckline 5/8ths of an inch higher than Vogue’s, of course, but it’s just right on me.

This top is a great alternative to the sloppy tee we’re all tempted to wear around the house. It’s super comfortable, easy to wear and care for, and so good looking! Even better, it whips up in no time at all. I’m sure I’ll be making more of these.

This is a JHB button, so I went to the JHB site, and typed in the style number on the back of the card. That gave me the name of the button — Hanauma (which turns out to be a beach in Hawaii). Searching on Google using the style number was hopeless, but using the name turned up DanaMarie.com. Dana Marie didn’t have the larger size button, but she did have my size.

She also has an absolutely fantastic collection of buttons for sale — everything you’ll never see at your local Joann’s. Better yet, if my experience is any example, her customer service is amazing: She must have mailed my buttons the minute I got off the phone. West coast to east coast = three days!

The website offers a huge assortment of independent patterns (Dana Marie was formerly Purrfection) from several designers, and lots and lots of craft/artist ideas and products.

Using Dana Marie’s search box is frustrating. Instead, try this neat trick: in your Google search box, type “danamarie.com: your button name here”. (Make sure there’s a space after the “.com” colon.) That will take you right where you want to go. (This trick works for any website, so you don’t ever have to be at the mercy of a poor search program again.)

. . . than the space where my much-loved Pfaff used to be? Thursday night, as I attempted to sew the last eight inches of the hem on a Kwik Sew top, the tension went all wonky. Irretrievably, unfixably wonky.

I’ve owned my Synchrotronic 1229 for 25 years, having acquired it new shortly after it was manufactured in April of 1983. (Shown here as the disaster multiplied. How about that tangle of thread on the left, eh?) I bought it because it did four things beautifully: the needle stops the minute instant power is cut; the walking foot feeds tricky fabric beautifully; it has a hands-free reverse stitching feature; and the machine edge-stitches with a precision that is amazing. For all these years, it’s done these things, and more, perfectly. Predictably. Wonderfully. I love this baby! So Thursday night was a bit devastating. A quick Internet search revealed a Pfaff dealer only 45 minutes away, which helped. After I called Friday morning, I felt even better — the technician was trained by Pfaff 22 years ago, and periodically since. That’s my era! My baby won’t leave the shop, and I should have it back in two weeks.

Not that it’s going to be a good two weeks. On the plus side, I do have a couple of options, at least for sewing wovens. The Singer Fashion Mate 237 that I picked up in California a few years ago will pinch hit, and, if I want, my 60-year-old Singer Featherweight is available, too. But nothing is quite as versatile as my trusty Pfaff; I’ll be feeling a bit of pain, even though I’ll still be able to sew. My spouse was sympathetic, but not really dismayed. He pointed out that I’ve been wanting to re-make my duct tape dummy, and that this could be the right moment. That’s a pretty good idea, especially since I keep putting it off in favor of actual sewing. We’ll see. Two weeks? I can probably survive two weeks, right?

Update:  It’s fixed!

This is my ’signature,’ an easy, quick way to identify the clothing I’ve made, without using an expensive custom label. My choice wasn’t very imaginative, but you could do just about anything; check out the ribbon selections at different times of the year and see what you can turn up to reflect your personality.

This little tag is also very helpful when pulling on simple shirts or pants — it’s the quickest way to be sure I’m wearing the front at the front.