Vogue uses elastic to gather the sides of both the shirt body and the collar, but I eliminated that step.  I wanted to be able to bunch up or stretch the body length according to my mood, and using elastic in the cowl sides would have prevented me from using my modifications as I planned to.  Here’s my finished shirt, in a cotton/lycra blend, with my (modified) collar arranged a little differently from Vogue’s illustration:

Along with eliminating the elastic, I made a few other modificationa.  To recap a bit from my previous post, what I wanted was a top similar to this one (below), made by Coutourwear (more information about it on that earlier post):

I altered the Vogue collar, making it 16 inches longer than the one in the pattern, which lets me wear it in a bunch of different ways, including as a hoodie.  Here are a couple of neckline variations:

With the cowl crumpled, up almost like a wide, scrunchy turtleneck:

And the hoodie version (it’s a little surreal; my duct tape dummy doesn’t have a head, so I improvised):

My version can also be worn completely off the shoulder, just like the Vogue pattern, but apparently I failed to photograph it that way.  (There’s a good picture of how it looks on that earlier post, though, in sage green.  Link below and in the text above.)  I may add a photo of it arranged later, but wrestling this skinny, stretchy top onto my dummy is no small job.

The biggest change I made to the pattern, other than the collar?  I added straps:

I love the bare-shoulder look, but I’m not a slight adorable 22-year-old ingénue, and no way I am suffering through wearing a strapless bra under a soft, comfy shirt.  The visible bra straps had to go.

I also added thumb openings to the extra-long sleeves.  These little “catches” are featured on a lot of contemporary sports/hiking/travel wear.  The thumb openings keep the sleeves in place over my hands in cool weather:

I don’t know if the Contourwear top has these; there’s no detail about it at all on the site.    (I’ve got a microfleece zip hoodie from another company that has them.)  I thought they were silly when I bought the fleece — wouldn’t I just use gloves?  But, to my surprise, I often pull the sleeves down over my hands in weather that’s a little too warm for gloves, but too cold for bare hands. They’re perfect for a top that can go from bare-shouldered to fully covered in ten seconds.

The sleeves on my version can be scrunched up to 3/4ths length, or they can cover my hands.   (The Vogue sleeves are already extra-long on me; if you want the thumb-catch feature, you  may  need to lengthen the pattern piece.)

End of pattern review.  Less-relevant rant follows:

Countourwear in general is well worth a look.  If you have the budget, check out their AnyWear travel wardrobe; you’ll be amazed at how much you could get into a small suitcase.  This is not your grandma’s travel wardrobe!  Be prepared to suffer, though.  The website is pretty to look at, however it  has minimal information, and is a pain to navigate.  There are absolutely no detailed descriptions for any of their garments, for example.  (As if I’m going to buy ANYTHING for these prices, sight unseen, without knowing a lot more than how it looks in a single commercial photo!)

There’s nowhere you can view their whole product line — you have to pick by fiber category.   What’s up with that???  Just to make things worse, there’s no search function (!).   Good luck finding their hoodie — or anything else.  It took me forever because, for some strange reason, I couldn’t remember what it was made of.  (Why would I???)  I had to scroll through each garment, under each fiber menu, until I found it.  And no, I still don’t remember what it’s made of.

Previously:  Vogue 7997:  “Muslin” Version

This one turned out to be a genuine muslin.  I’m never going to finish it!  Even so, I’m very, very happy with it:

Yeah, my collar’s completely different.  That’s because the Vogue collar isn’t wide enough to gather at the sides as shown in the pattern.  Or at least it didn’t work at all in my rayon/spandex knit.  It just lay there, limpishly, looking kind of cheap.  If you really want the look of the collar on the pattern envelope, I’d recommend cutting it at least 50% deeper so that there’s something to gather, and some substance to the thing.

However, I said I’m happy!  Here’s why:  Ever since I first saw Countourwear’s hoodie, I’ve wanted it.  Making this pattern was the first step toward recreating this:

The point of the exaggerated hood is versatility.  It can be a hood; it can be a cowl worn backwards or forwards; it can be an over-sized, off-the-shoulder “cuff”; it can rest around the neck like a loopy, over-sized turtleneck.  All things to all women!

But I wanted it to fit me just the way I preferred, and that meant making it myself.  (Not to mention that it’s no longer available at Countourwear.) Wrong!  A new version is available; it’s just impossible to find anything on their website.  Not to mention that you don’t get even the slightest hint of how versatile this top is from anything on the current website.  Here’s the hoodie available now (I can’t link directly to their current page, thanks to their really dumb web design):

The princess seams are a really, really nice touch that the original didn’t have.  Mine doesn’t have them either, but that’s OK; it’s exactly what I wanted.  I made my “muslin” version with three-quarters length sleeves:

When the Vogue collar on my muslin flopped, I drafted the collar I really wanted — it’s just an extended version of the old one. Really extended — it’s 16 inches longer.  I just grafted on the extension for this practice run; that’s the ugly serged seam you can see in each picture.  When I added the new cowl, I sewed it onto the shirt opposite to Vogue’s instructions.  Attaching the collar right side to right side means that the finished seams show when I’m wearing this as a hoodie.  Here’s the hood, in the draped configuration, in back:

The collar piecing is ugly — that’s why I’ll never finish it — but later in the week I’ll be making the real top.  Size-wise, I cut a 10 everywhere but the bust, where I enlarged it to a 12.  This quasi-FBA works well for me with the right knit.  I did use thin twill tape to stabilize the back of the neck from shoulder seam to shoulder seam to keep it from stretching; the fit there was nice, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Vogue calls for elastic in the side seams as well as the collar, to make the top look gathered, but I wanted to control the look each time I wear it, and liked the top extra long, so I skipped that step.

Related –  Vogue 7997: The Real Thing

In my mind’s eye I’m 6 feet tall and slender as a willow, and I’ll go through life like that.

She is five feet, one and three-quarters inches tall  (156.8 cm).  I am five two and a half (158.8 cm).   Not unlike Judi Dench, in my mind’s eye I am six feet tall (182.9 cm) and a Swedish Amazon.  This is possibly why I am drawn to patterns like Vogue 8657:

See those proportions?  I’m not sure any  human possesses them, but I can tell you, definitively, that no person of approximately five feet, two inches does.  But if I were six feet tall  .  .  .

And then there’s the question of my bust.  It is not the bust of my youth; without going into too much detail, it is not even the bust of my early 30s.  I am still essentially proportionate — for a person five-two, not for an Amazon — but my bust has become round.  And bigger.  Substantially bigger.

Don’t get me wrong. I like my body.  It’s the only one I have, and, really, I’m fine with it.  But I’m a little confused about how to clothe it if I’m not wearing t-shirts and jeans.

One recent pattern works pretty well, and I think I know why.  It has a long skirt with a lot of character, and what you see are proportions created by the dress.  It’s an illusion; it’s not me.  (But I like it!)  Vogue 8657 achieves no such sleight.

So here it is:

It turned out fine, in the sense that it fits.  I cut a 10 everywhere but the bust, but it’s borderline too large, and if I keep losing weight, I’ll have to move down to an 8.  I cut a 12 in the bust, and moved the darts down a little less than an inch because   .  .    well, you know why.

You probably noticed right away that the proportions of this top have nothing to do with the elongated version in the illustration.  My top — the real one — is squarish, not an attractive rectangle.  Not the attractive rectangle that would lengthen the appearance of the body, for example.

And there’s another problem:  When you put a largish, roundish bust into a squarish, boxy-ish blouse, you get  .  .  .  formidable.  In this case, not formidable as in “awesome”, but as in “bust like the superstructure of a battleship”.  On a dinghy-sized rowboat.

So the envelope fails to illustrate the top accurately in terms of aspect ratio.  And that lovely drape sketched so nicely by Vogue?  Well, the back of the envelope fails to mention that this top is entirely self-lined.  I used an extremely light — almost handkerchief light — rayon blend.  Doubled, it folds; it does not drape.  If you want flow, you’ll need to use the thinnest silk you can find, or chiffon.  Or change the construction completely by not lining it.

Other issues:  There’s a long buttonhole, through which the sash threads.  For some reason, it’s placed above the waist.  Which means, in my case, that my waist would get completely lost, and my bust would have a tie more-or-less right under it.  Not good.  I lowered it.

Also, if you use the spot Vogue appear to have marked for placing the single snap, you won’t be able to use the sash, because the snap is right smack in the way.  What’s up with that?

The buttonhole foot on my main machine won’t make a buttonhole as long as this one needs to be.  (I could do it with the machine, guiding it manually, but I’m not that brave reckless.)  This blouse wasn’t “bound-buttonhole-worthy”, so I just faced the two buttonholes (one in the main fabric, one in the lining), basted them together once the blouse was done, and then edgestitched all around.

I might wear it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be resigned to how I look in it.  It’s back to the drawing board for me, style-wise.  Grrr.

I made view D (the vee-neck), with the 3/4ths sleeve length from view B. In theory, this shirt is almost exactly what I’d choose for everyday wear. But alas, it was not to be. It’s mostly my fault, too, though, although I really, really do not like the neck band.

It’s too narrow, and makes me think of neck trim on cheap clothing. (And it doesn’t help that I muffed my stitching slightly in front, either!)

The sides end in slits, which I thought I’d like, but seem sort of bleah to me now that I’ve made the top. If I try this again, I’ll just sew the seams all the way to the hem.

Although the shoulders seemed to be fine on my dummy, they’re not right on me at all. (I know I’m overdue for replacing my dummy; those duct tape shells don’t last forever, and mine is definitely showing signs of disfigurement, not to mention that I’m a bit re-configured myself!) I need to take the shoulders in by a full half inch on each side to get the fit I want.

On the plus side, the body is cut nicely, and I love the extra ease at the side bust, which don’t show, but acknowledge that a little more accommodation is needed in that area. I think may be what Betzina calls “today’s fit”. I’m guessing that “today” means “you don’t have the bust you did when you were 20!”)

Which brings us to my nemesis: hemming knits. After considerable experimentation, including using iron-ons for support, varying stitch lengths, fiddling with basting methods, etc., I tried two other methods for this top. They worked great on my sample pieces; on my top, not so much.

For the sleeve hems, I used twill tape under the cut edge of the fabric, basting it in place to keep the knit from stretching. (How desperate can you get??) Then I used a 6.0 double needle for the stitching. That worked pretty well, but not perfectly. I ended up with a slight tunneling effect that I wasn’t able to get rid of while still keeping enough tension in the thread.

It looks a little like trapunto, and I kind of like it. After experimenting some more, I did the hem without the twill tape, but with careful basting. All looked well under the machine foot, but I noticed that I was getting a few skipped stitches. My new needle wasn’t the cause, so, on a whim, I slowed the speed of my machine down to nothing, and that solved that problem.

Stretched out on my dummy, the hem doesn’t look awful (if you don’t mind that trapunto effect), but lying flat, the hem bubbles. It’s just not right. Mr. Noile suggested that I get a very long strip of knit remnant and then keep trying until I solve this vexing problem; I’m going to do it. Next try: bias iron interfacing with single rows of topstitching. What have I got to lose?

Good thing this was a muslin. Grrrr.

Cutting it out couldn’t have been simpler: This tunic is made from two, differently-sized rectangles. To sew it up, the side of one rectangle is offset on the other, creating a flange that drapes along the side of the finished top. (Barbara, by the way, removed this flange, and lengthened the tunic into a dress, giving it a somewhat different look.)

Although I’d marked stitching lines carefully, this simple step (attaching the two rectangles to each other) stumped me, and I had a lot of trouble visualizing exactly what I was supposed to do. (Maybe I haven’t been sewing enough lately?) The design is a little counter-intuitive, but, of course, that’s part of what I liked about it. Putting sticky notes on the right and wrong sides of my fabric (they were identical) would have been a really good move, and would have helped with the next step, which involves inverting the tunic and essentially sewing a tube.

The instructions call for a narrow turned hem which is stitched, turned and stitched again. This didn’t work for me, largely because I’d forgotten that I have two damaged fingers on my left hand, and just can’t manage such detailed work consistently any more. (That sounds ridiculous, but I prefer to think that it just means that I’ve adapted to an old injury so well that I’d forgotten all about it.)

The result was that I started off doing a narrow hem, and then realized that wasn’t going to be sustainable, and then switched to a different method — except that I didn’t think I could tear out the right seam (fabric too loosely woven and fragile; seam allowance too narrow). This meant that I ended up with a collar that has a narrow hem on the right side, and the edging I finally used everywhere else. Strangely, it doesn’t look nearly as odd as this sounds, so this won’t keep me from wearing it.

I ended up finishing the edges with a light buttonhole stitch, which, even though it sounds a little odd itself, worked out well. The collar and flange still drape, and it the top still shouldn’t disintegrate every time it’s washed.

In my lightweight cotton-linen, the collar stands up dramatically, which is kind of cool, but also definitely gives me the shoulder of a linebacker, at least on the left side. The drama value ranks with Aretha Franklin’s fantastic inaugural hat, which makes it fun, but also an attention-grabbing Statement. When the event calls for it, perfect! Otherwise, it’s a bit overpowering. And I think I’m with Barbara on the flange; it’s part of what defines the tunic, but it also just looks kind of irrelevant once the top’s made. It just sort of hangs there, lacking all of the caché of the pattern sketch. Theirs:

Mine:

The collar rests a bit awkwardly, too, probably because it’s just folded back above the horizontal shoulder stitching. The topstitching and the shoulder line are sort of battling it out, and neither one is winning. Here’s the back:

All wrinkly; I know. The sewing room’s being rearranged, and I’m not willing to haul out the iron. Besides, this is how it will look after I’ve had it on for five minutes anyway. It doesn’t bother me; I love the look of wrinkled linen!

The pattern itself is fine; the markings are clear and accurate. Will I make it again? Well, probably not. I love the clever engineering, but somehow the results didn’t seem worth the all the bother trying to figure out if I was assembling it the way I was supposed to.

On the other hand, I learned something important about the way I chose patterns. I’m drawn to boxy, rectangular, “artsy”-type clothing. That’s seems to be because, somehow, I actually believe that I’m a blonde, lean, six-foot tall Swede, with a formidable presence and long, long legs.

If you met me in the flesh, those of you with a closer grip on reality would realize that I’m blonde all right (and always have been), but I’m also 5′2″, with who-knows-what-kind-of-presence, short legs and curvy little body even when I’m very thin. Ouch!

Really, I do much better with clothes that fit my shape, rather than depending on height and long legs for style. Now I just need to remember this moment of insight the next time I’m cruising for new duds!

Verdict: This pattern really didn’t work for me, but it’s probably (mostly!) not the fault of Shapes. (Do you think Barbara is a tall, elegant Swede? Her tunic looked great!)

Ann made an interesting variation by cutting the hem asymmetrically, which you can see on her blog. I think it works really well.

For an absolutely great Sewing Workshop pattern, see their Soho Coat. I love that coat!

For the first time ever, I attempted a full bust adjustment, using these instructions. I’m borderline in that department, and usually don’t need one. But it looked like a good idea here. Too late, I realized that this mock-wrap calls for an adjustment on both sides, since (ahem) that’s where my breasts are. I should have checked out The Sewing Divas’ advice, but apparently I was feeling geometrically challenged today, and didn’t quite get there.

Nonetheless, I did get a pretty good result:

Except. Except for that hem — what’s the deal with that hem? In order to ensure that I didn’t mess it up, I followed Sandra Betzina’s instructions and used Steam A Seam 2 to ensure (ha!) an unstretched hem. I even hedged my bet by cutting the SAS2 to size based on the pattern, not the garment. No dice:

Am I just terminally hem challenged, or what?

The bust part looks just fine, in spite of the fact that I really did do it all wrong:

And isn’t it cool, the way the stitching disguises the center back seam? And also keeps the untrimmed seam allowances flat?

OK, so this was a muslin. I’ll wear it around the house. But what on earth do I do to get those hems to work? Google, here I come. Again.

Update: After I posted my review of a previous top on PR, sewing for fun added a helpful suggestion there. She suggested using Design Plus Ultra-Soft Double sided fusible web from LJ Designs. I’m going to try it for the next shirt, but I’d already made this one.

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.

Last night I dragged myself out of bed after 40 hours of vertigo-induced nausea and managed to put it together. Things didn’t start out well — my first move was to sew the two fronts together at the shoulders, but once I’d straightened that out my brain picked up speed and things went well.

Pictures tomorrow — that way I can take them in natural light. Print side:

And of the solid side:

OK, seriously bad pictures here — and what’s with the solid top?  Wrong undergarment, I think.  And I took the print picture before I’d pressed the hem.  But you get the idea.  (It’s less than two hours to the end of the Mini-Wardrobe Contest, so I won’t be taking new pictures tonight.

As with the muslin, I made a few changes to the pattern: first, making it reversible; second, removing the side vents; third, eliminating the button at the top of the neck. I also dropped the darts to accommodate my bust. This is a “1 hour easy” pattern; it took two hours (after cutting it out, which I did two days ago) including serging all the seams and making the two tanks so it reversed.

The “puffy” side is a heat-treated poly print; the solid side (which looks vaguely bamboo-ish) is a poly/rayon, if I remember correctly.

This is the third of four pieces for the PR Mini-Wardrobe Contest, which terminates tomorrow night. Tomorrow I’m making the fourth piece — Marcy Tilton’s skirt from Vogue 8499. Wish me luck!

The previous tank wasn’t reversible (or lined), and I’d made some changes to the original pattern. I’d removed the center back seam and added a retro-style side zipper. For this new version, I reinstated the center back seam and eliminated both the zipper and the small vents at the hem. The zipper wasn’t needed (and might have weighed down such a filmy fabric), and the vents would have just been lost in all the puffiness of the latest fabric. And, of course, I eliminated the facings, since I was essentially making a fully lined tank.

Though this is not a stretch fabric, there was more than enough give to allow me to get in and out of the tank without any additional opening. This time, I used directions from a Sew News tutorial called On The Double as my guide. They were quite helpful, though you do have to think ahead a little bit — the tutorial really only covers the reversible stuff; it’s important that you remember details like darts, and that you sew them up before getting on with the reversing bits.

I used a crushed poly fabric for both sides — it’s quite expensive at JoAnn stores (bizarrely, about $15 a yard) , but I picked up these pieces at a discount store for under three dollars a yard. The thermal crushing process makes the fabric quite springy, so there’s a lot more give in it than there was in the tightly woven cotton I’d used for the first tank.

In order to make this garment reversible, you make two separate tanks. Instead of interfacing only one tank (or, rather, only one side of the garment), I used the lightest sew-in interfacing I could find, and interfaced both tanks. This seemed especially important because serious pressing wasn’t really an option — unless I wanted flattened sections of fabric wherever I’d used my iron.

After trimming the interfacing at the neckline and armholes, I serged those seam allowances to 1/4 inch. I finished the back and side seams by serging the outer edges, but did not trim them, as I wanted them to lie flat without a telltale serge ‘rim’. To keep everything in place, I tacked the back and side seam allowances together inside the garment. This only took a few minutes, but the extra effort paid off in terms of keeping the layers from shifting.

I edge-stitched the neckline and the armholes for the same reason. As much as possible, I wanted to avoid any hint of the contrasting color when wearing the tank. I’m not sure I succeeded perfectly; the puffy texture is a bit obvious around the curved edges.

Reversible garments like this one tend to work best if the colors are similar on both sides; a great way to fake this is to use prints with consonant hues. Then, if you must use two different colors for main thread and bobbin, it’s not so obvious if the tension isn’t absolutely perfect — the differing colors won’t show though so much on a print. Because the colors I chose here are so different, I used transparent thread for both the main thread and in the bobbin; it picks up the background color very nicely.

In the past, I’d tried sewing with poorer quality transparent thread; this time I used Gutterman, and it made all the difference. I hadn’t been able to use the cheap stuff in a bobbin at all, but the Gutterman worked perfectly — though I had to take special care when winding the bobbin on my Fashion Mate machine.

The Sew News directions have you sew the bottoms of the tanks to each other. I decided to let mine hang freely instead, and opted for hand-sewn hems. I think the garment sits more naturally as a result, but this does mean that I had to make the lengths identical to prevent the lining color from showing on the front. Fortunately, when worn, the ‘inside’ color seems to naturally pull up a little, which helps to keep it from showing.

This fabric is not my favorite. The turquoise side looked alarmingly like snake skin once I’d sewn it up. The rose side isn’t quite that bad, but it’s still a bit much. My spouse — he of the bad, bad Hawaiian shirt collection — raised his eyebrows when he saw it, and almost guffawed. “You’re definitely getting your technical skills back” he said. “Now you just need to work on taste.” I hissed, of course, using my best cobra imitation. But even I am hoping that the real thing will look a bit better.

When I decided that I wanted a simple, flattering summer top in a common RTW style, this Kwik Sew design seemed the way to go. Pattern pieces are few and the instructions simple; even better, once it was fitted, it should be a sewing staple for years.

I was thinking “one hour top”, but I was pretty much wrong, at least initially. First mistake: I cut View A in a medium, based on the measurements on the back of the envelope. There’s no doubt that the cut looked great on me; but this first muslin was just hugely too big in the back, shoulders, and bust. (That last was a first for a medium-sized anything.)

I pinned and fitted like mad, and ended up with a set of alterations that are completely different from anything I’ve done before. For the second attempt, I cut the top half in a size small, grading to a medium from below the bust to the hemline. With other patterns, I’d typically be doing exactly the opposite, so this seemed a little strange.

I didn’t actually complete the second muslin, either, which was made of a particularly awful shiny orange spandex bought just to fit and toss. Instead, I sewed up the third one in this black and gold poly/spandex. It fit beautifully, but, in the end, I decided to make two more changes. For my final version, I’ll add 3/8ths of an inch to the top 2/3rds of each armhole, so that the straps are a little wider. I think the width of the KS version is just a little too underwear-like. And I’ll be lengthening the tank by one more inch.

Due to my machine catastrophe, this version was never quite finished, either — though it’s close enough for modeling on my dummy, as you can see. Once it’s fitted, this pattern definitely lives up to the “Kwik” name: There are no facings, and everything just as simple as it could possibly be. You use clear elastic to finish the underside of the neckline, and simply turn under the hem allowance to finish the armholes. Serging makes it all go even faster. I may have spent hours and hours on the several muslins, but every future top will be incredibly fast!

I’m expecting this one to be easy and comfortable to wear, and perfect for travel, as it should dress up or down on a moment’s notice. It’s very flattering, too, and, made up in a light knit, takes up no space at all in a drawer or suitcase.