Son of Maltop: IT'S ALIVE!

Here's the completed ring-print top modeled after the highly successful Maltop.

When we left off, only the top half of the bodice was completed. The next step was the lower portion of the bodice. It's simply a trapezoid of fabric (an isosceles trapezoid, in fact -- wow, check out that math degree at work!) that's been gathered along the top edge. It's lined in unbleached cotton muslin as well.


On-and-off comes courtesy of a zipper. Everyone loves an invisible zipper! I'm not showing you the completed inside for a reason. The lining of the original Maltop also served as the muslin trial-run of the pattern I made, so it was painstakingly made and fully finished. I was a lazy bastard when it came to this one, so the lining is bare-bones.

Also, you would be liable to discover all my ancient sewing secrets passed down through generations of women with unusual amounts of affection for spray-starch.


Here's a closeup of the ribbon detail at the shoulder. Again, it was a simple matter of creating the gathers using a basting stitch, then holding it in place with a normal stitch. Like the waistband, the ribbon here has been reinforced with heavy-duty iron-on interfacing for more body. The ribbon is just tacked to the lining fabric.

pssst... here's a sneak-preview of my next project:

It's vintage. It's gingham. I can't wait!

African wax print Maltop... with rings, part 2

A progress update on the second iteration of Maltop:

As you can see, the upper portion is mostly done, and I've sewn on the ribbon waistband. In case you're wondering, the top is lined in unbleached cotton muslin. Here's a peek at the inside.

I put heavy-duty iron-on interfacing on the reverse of the ribbon waistband to give it more body. (Otherwise, ribbon is pretty wimpy.) This close-up lets you see what the sewn-on ribbon waistband looks like from the outside as well. The gathered front was made by drawing up a long basting stitch (since removed) -- the stitches attaching the ribbon also hold the gathers in place.

Remaining steps:

• make bottom portion of the top (this bit is gathered on both the front and back and flares out, sort of like a peplum)
• add zipper
• make gathers at shoulder and cover with ribbon that matches the waistband
  

Sidenkleid Mit Rosenprint: The Conclusion

In part 1, I ripped out a photo from a German magazine and ripped off the Prada dress pictured therein (but as a skirt). When we left off, I was just getting ready to make the gathered waistband. To do this, I stitched a length of grosgrain ribbon to the reverse side of the skirt. Using clear thread in the bobbin makes the stitching virtually invisible on the outside.



Threading the elastic through the sewn-on ribbon, the gathers emerge.



This view of the bottom edge, hemmed inside-out to show the blue reverse of the fabric, also gives a glimpse of the French seam running down the side. (A normal seam wouldn't have worked with the inside-out hem.)

Et voila!

Altogether, a very easy project.

The power of paisley

I was approached in the T the other day by a woman who liked my dress - not one of my creations, unfortunately, but a green, Pucci-esque paisley number I picked up in a vintage shop in New Zealand. So we got to talking and it turns out she runs a blog devoted to documenting Boston fashion, the really quite awesome Beyond Boston Chic, and she asked to snap my picture to put up on her website.

Pretty sweet, right? (And who knew there were actually so many stylish Bostonians? Where are you guys hiding and why aren't we having the most stylish pajama party ever? I'll host!)

A couple days later I'm poking around on Boston.com and lo and behold, there's an article about Beyond Boston Chic, and guess whose picture was chosen to illustrate it? Wow. I know it's a pretty notice-me dress, but I wasn't expecting this much!

SON of MALTOP: African wax prints

I was so happy with how the Maltop turned out that I've been inspired to make another shirt using the same pattern. But instead of the Roman Holiday feel of the first version, I'll be making use of one of my favorite African wax print fabrics. Here's the upper part of the front for a taste of the print:

Wax print fabrics are one of my favorite souvenirs of Africa. They're worn almost universally from Senegal to Angola: men in collared shirts, women in fabulously tailored outfits with the pattern from head to toe. (A great example is this photo of the First Lady of Benin: note how the red ribbons from the fabric have been cut out and arranged around the neck, no small sewing feat.) I love that it's one of the few regions in the world that still holds on to its own apparel tradition, with minimal encroachment from jeans and sneakers and logo t-shirts.

The history goes something like this: Europeans learned how to make batik in Indonesia and brought the technique home to their own factories. Soon they were exporting the fabric back to Indonesia, calling at ports along the African coast on the way. The Indonesian market dried up, but the fabric had quite inadvertently become popular in Africa.

European wax prints are still considered the finest, though increasingly large quantities are produced locally or in Asia. You can find them for sale in just about any market. They're universally sold in 6 meter lengths - no more, no less - which is a pity. It works out to be pretty cheap by the yard, but not such a bargain when you have to buy so much. The colors are bright, often garish; the patterns range from simple geometrics to psychedelic abstracts. But by far my favorite are the delightful whimsical prints incorporating everyday items: batteries, light bulbs, irons, teapots, lipstick, umbrellas, spigots, pills, fruit, scissors, chickens... you name it. Around election times, you're liable to see fabrics printed with candidates' faces and campaign slogans.

But I have to say that the best one I ever saw was on a girl in Bamako:
Turkeys.
Thanksgiving turkeys.
On platters.
Just like this, even down to the little paper frills on the drumsticks:

I spent the rest of my trip searching high and low for that fabric. I finally found a knock-off in a market stall in Accra, but the colors were poor and the turkeys had been enlarged to comic proportions - unfortunately, I think life-sized turkeys are a little outside the realm of what this scrawny white girl can pull off.

I thought I might have slightly better luck with this ruler-and-protractor fabric - how could a math major say no?

Later, I'll post more wax print fabrics from my collection (and the garments they've become), as well as documenting the rise of Maltop's sibling.