Garment 6: Time Traveller, 1965

This cheerful sweater started off as a donation to OSF of a long-ago abandoned sewing project - a barely-begun, pre-Lycra stretchy cardigan. My first reaction upon pulling it out of the green garbage/donation bag was to put it directly in the Free Box: youthfully yellow, yet oddly frumpy; droopy rib-knit fabric; darts in a knit??! Rust stains from a pin stuck in it over the course of decades. A little musty, in a bag that had gone the way old plastic bags can go. There didn't seem any hope.

But something about its hopelessness encouraged me to live with it a bit first, to see if it would suggest a way to make it useful and wanted. Within a day or two it started a conversation with a bright, rich pink, deliciously soft, damaged, cashmere cardigan I had plucked from a friend's bag of cast-offs destined for the Sally Ann. They've been together ever since.

The donation came from an elderly lady who can no longer sew, and whose son is systematically taking control of her fabric hoarding. When she is lucid she tells him which fabric can go; when she's not she accuses him of stealing. He shows up at OSF sales bearing bags or boxes of his mother's stash, and a sad, but satisfied smile. It's the usual personal donation: two or three yards each of many types of fabric, just enough for one outfit, plus a few bags of scraps. The last box usually contains the notions, patterns, maybe tools: pinking sheers, or a chalk-filled hem marker, half-empty bobbins with five different colours of thread on each, a tin heavy with buttons, dome fasteners and useful bits removed from garments long gone. I often develop a fondness toward the original owner of the personal donations. We would recognize each other if only we had met.

I've been enjoying sorting this donation more than most. As ever, each fabric has something to say about the person who saved it, but this time it's a person living and sewing in the '60s, the decade that never ceases to inspire me, and into the 70s, when polyester double-knit really got crazy. Finding the usefulness and beauty in butt-ugly polyester double-knit is a special interest of mine.

Only the scraps, Ma'am

I haven't claimed any of the lengths of fabric for my own. They're all too nice, and too useful. But I did score big-time on a large variety of small, irregularly-shaped scraps, which any but the most stalwart Waste-Not would declare to be totally useless. Rapture! Several types of hideous, slack-suit-weight polyester double-knit, candy or psychedelic-coloured. One or two snippets of bark cloth. Red, white and blue Mary Tyler Moore-esque extra-stretchy double-knit: droopy-when-wet, underarm-abrading textured polyester swimsuit, anyone? Barely a natural fibre to be seen. I left the projects she didn't start, and took the remains of the projects she finished, and some she gave up on. A tasty challenge.

They just wanted to be together

The main pieces of the cardigan were already cut, neatly marked with inconspicuous blue dots at all the important places, and sewn with a straight stitch at the side seams and shoulder - there was even perfectly matched seam tape to stop the shoulder from stretching. This lady could sew! But that's as far as she went; the project was abandoned, everything folded neatly and placed in a clear plastic bag, with one or two pins for good measure. My guess is it was abandoned for lack of a serger. After all, a person who bothers to tape shoulders won't be satisfied trying to sew stretch fabric on a straight stitch machine. But why save it all these 40-some years? Was she optimistically awaiting the day she might own a serger? Did she stubbornly refuse to admit defeat? Did she forget she even had it -- every single time she came across it? Intriguing.

A clue to its age: it has bust darts, suggesting it was cut from a non-stretch pattern, likely bought prior to 1967, when Stretch & Sew patterns first became available. The colour speaks to the era of psychedelia, but the style is modest, more Please Please Me than Sgt. Pepper; I wonder how old she was at the time. I wonder where it was kept all that time, and I wonder if she groaned every time she came across it, like I would. Or maybe it didn't bother her at all...

The side seams and shoulders were re-cut to be less matronly-y, and the edges finished with the ribbing, cuffs and button placket from the pink sweater. The pink is attached to the yellow with simple back stitches picked by hand. It looks like a running stitch on the front, but is actually a little stretchy. I used a spool of pink ribbony floss that has been sitting in my embroidery box since taking a VSB night class in couture beading with Blossom Jenab, about 15 years ago. I've been wanting to use that floss ever since, and working with it has been smooothly satisfying.

I'm happy with the result, and I like to think the lady who so carefully began it would be pleased to know her project is finally finished.

Useful sewing tip

Most people do as little hand sewing as possible, thinking it is not fun, or it's hard. I can't help with the fun part (though I do enjoy it, myself, in moderation), but there is a simple fact that, if understood, makes it so much easier.

All sewing is all about the grain. Thread has grain. When hand-sewing, the direction the thread is sewn should be the same as it came off the spool. Some folks recommend immediately knotting the thread at the cut end, even before threading the needle, just to be sure to get the direction right. Ignoring the grain results in thread that will knot easily, making hand sewing seem much harder than it needs to be. And not fun.

If you want to use a double strand, do not simply put one strand on the needle and knot the two ends of it together. The difference in the grains will make the threads fight with each other, and it will be a tangly bugger to sew with. Instead, cut two strands, lay them together in the same direction, thread them both through the same needle (tricky, but can be done), knot them together at the end, and sew away.

Speaking of hand sewing, I have read many places that the only proper way to do it is to wax the thread beforehand. I asked Blossom about this, since I've never seen her wax her thread, and she replied that thread these days is strong enough without waxing. Followed by that little "tsk" she sometimes does. So there it is. Couture sewing might be considered by some to be synonymous with doing everything the hard way, but not harder than necessary. I suspect those articles are written by folk who don't wax their thread, either, even if they do sew with the grain.

Size S, but not very small. For sale by appointment. Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com

Photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com

Garment 5: Connect

This undemanding, raspberry-coloured vest started life as furniture. The little square of soft, unevenly faded, slightly floppy, discarded bit of used upholstery came to OSF in a personal donation. I imagine the donor hesitating: Keep. Throw. Donate! Surely someone can find some use for this!

It spent days in the Free Box, until I couldn't ignore it any more. I love the way the fading suggests its original use: I guess an ottoman, or the seat of a chair. It was very dirty, and crusty with glue, so I serged the edges, chucked it in the washer and dryer and crossed my fingers. It came out beautifully: soft-soft, and as lovely on the one side as the other. I knew I had found just the right fabric for the plastic tortoise shell/metal elephant buttons I had loved as a child, sorting through my mother's button tin. I drafted this little vest to use up as much of the fabric as possible. There was barely enough left after cutting to test the sewing machine tension.

Sadly, my mother's buttons had become too brittle, and one of them broke after it was sewn on. They were replaced with lonely, mismatched, fabric-covered buttons I've also been saving for the right garment. I hope these buttons originally belonged to lady-like, little jacket-and-skirt sets with 3/4-length sleeves. Worn with gloves. Maybe an imitation leopard-skin pillbox hat...

Size S. For sale by appointment. Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com

Photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com

Garment 4: Exploration #2: Sie Liebt Dich

Sie Leibt Dich, yeah, yeah, yeah

The "Sie Liebt Dich" top is the second of two metallic blue+brown, over-sized, sleeveless tunics born out of a beautiful relationship with the first garment I ever draped for myself.

The background

Blossom's blossoms. Sigh.

The pink linen top with safety-pin daisies that preceded "Sie Liebt Dich" was inspired by one of Blossom's exquisite embroidery samples, and draped as homework for a collar class. Comfortable and easy to wear, I lived in it all last summer. The only thing is, a draped collar is not meant to go into battle, as Blossom would say. The kiss of death is creasing the gently folded neck edge: no washing, no drying, and certainly no ironing. I ignored this fact completely when choosing the linen fabric and utilitarian design for such a delicate feature as a couture-technique collar. Figured I would deal with it later.

Before: perky

But as I said, I wore it a lot, and eventually it needed to be washed! I went to all kinds of lengths to preserve the collar: I washed it by hand, holding the precious collar out of the water. When it got wet anyway I hung it dry, taking pains to separate the collar layers, thereby keeping the fold uncreased - kind of. I steamed it, wearing an oven-mitt-like protective ironing .....mitt. Eventually, I gave in and chucked the thing in with all the other wash. 

After: flacid - in a good way

It was a sad moment, knowing my beautiful collar was most sincerely dead. After a brief period of mourning I took a look to see if there was anything to be salvaged. Well... the whole thing, actually! It looks terrific! It has gone from crisp, precise, hovering, elegant, full of hope and promise to soft, droopy, relaxed, comfortable, enveloping, wrinkled, creased, experienced and full of character. I loved it before, but I love it after, too! It's like trying to decide which version of my daughter I love best: the smiley, snugly baby who smells like butterscotch; the wobbly toddler with the black eye, splashing in the toilet when I'm not looking; the almost-8-year-old who rubs my back when I vomit "because we're connected, you know". I love them all, and I love the transformation.

The garment, itself

I love it so much I made two copies so someone else and someone else might enjoy it, too. Cotton or linen or a blend, the fabric was handed down to me by a friend. It's a bit heavy, and I expect the colours will crack eventually. Hope so, anyway; it will be good consolation for killing that poor draped collar.

Sie Liebt Dich

"Sie Liebt Dich" is one of only two songs The Beatles ever recorded in another language, the other being "Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand". The German branch of their record label suggested it, convinced their records wouldn't sell in Europe, otherwise. Though they didn't feel it was necessary to their growing popularity, the Beatles all reluctantly agreed, being a little sweet on Germany, having practically grown up there, after all, to misquote John Lennon. The general consensus is that the pronunciation is done well, but they refused to ever translate their songs again. Just as well; they had other, more important, things to do!

Interesting tidbit half-remembered from a memoir by John Lennon's personal assistant during his time in New York: John Lennon did speak some German, but it was phrases like, "How much for the hour?" or some-such. And there exists a wonderful snip of George Harrison being interviewed in German and singing as much as he can remember of a German folk song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uj5tmhdcUAA

"She Loves You" is important for these reasons:

• it is considered a landmark in the evolution of song-writing by John and Paul. A seemingly insignificant detail - the story is told in the third person - is the zero point of their radical departure from the typical way of writing songs of the time (e.g. "Hello Little Girl"). One small step for the Beatles, one large step for mankind. You can trace the trajectory directly from "She Loves You" to the perfection that is the 2nd side of Abbey Road, through all the other moments of sublime brilliance, intuition, inspiration and world-changing innovation in between. They channelled the muse, man.
• it captures the essence of the screaming, fainting and unprecedented bizarre fan behaviour that was Beatlemania, before it had a name, and while it was still a novelty. On the day of the recording session, a swollen gaggle of fans broke through the meagre security in the building, resulting in running and chasing and chaos all through the studio. From this point on, the Beatles increasingly became prisoners of their popularity. But on the day of the recording they had no idea of what craziness was to come. The adrenaline boost caused by the hysteria is evident in the recording: it's pure excitement, itself. 
• The choice of the word, "yeah", rather than "yes", ignited social upheaval, and shows how plugged in to the zeitgeist of the time the Beatles really were. The phrase will be forever associated with everything to do with the '60s.

On the decoration

The writing on the garment is made of the threads and dregs that come off when a fabric is serged before pre-shrinking (i.e. what normally goes into the garbage) - in this case a c. 1970 green and white polka-dot polyester double-knit, and a pink nylon tricot, of uncertain age, but likely intended for a slip or negligee. These have been stitched over with freehand machine embroidery - a very pleasant way to spend an hour or two.

On the spelling of the decoration

I struggled with the spelling of "yeah" in German. Ja? That didn't sit right. The top waited, unfinished, for weeks, while I dwelled and asked around. Happened to meet the principal of a Vancouver German school, who seems to have a particular interest in how words become appropriated from other languages. I put the question to her, and after thinking out loud for a bit, she emphatically proclaimed the correct spelling to be y-e-a- h. Just as the Beatles refused strong advice to change "yeah" into "yes", they also refused to translate it into "ja" - of course it should be "yeah"! I admire the Beatles for staying true to their instincts way back then. I aspire to be even half as fearless.

Size M. For sale by appointment
Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com

Good photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com

Garment 2: Logan Lake, 1973

Skirt Front, Upholstery Samples

On the hill over-looking our house, c. 1970. That's me in pink

Fuzzy Felts- hours of fun

This skirt makes me think of crock pots, kitchen wallpaper, Fuzzy Felts, a little copper mining town in the interior of British Columbia...

My sister had Fuzzy Felts, and I babysat for a family that did not have a huge Elvis Presley record collection, but did have a crock pot and two boxes of Fuzzy Felts, which kept me occupied until the mom and dad got back from whatever it was they did in a town that, at the time, had no secondary school, restaurants, or doctor.

The only store sold day-old bread, canned goods, paper products, the kind of soap you need when carving a fake soapstone sculpture in grade 5, cinnamon or mint flavoured toothpicks, and two sizes of chocolate bars - 5 cents or 10 cents. Also, candles and other birthday party paraphernalia, including the Beatles cake-top tableau that adorned the angel-food money-cake with marshmallow icing made by my mother for my eighth sleepover birthday party. Pam Kaus and I wore matching shorty pyjamas purchased at the Fields in Merritt - the nearest town with dentists. The very birthday I received Donny Osmond Superstar, the double album I really, really wanted. But only one of the records. And not the good one.

Donny Osmond Superstar. Sigh

It was 1973; I was in grade 3 - best year of my life - the year I broke my arm, sliding with my sister on the hill behind our house while my parents were away at a curling bonspiel.

When we arrived back at the Keurver's, pulling the toboggan in shock and pain behind me, they took me first to Kelly Courtney's dad - the Lornex first aid attendant. My arm splinted, he sent us on to Kamloops, to the hospital, an hour away. Nothing so exciting had ever happened to me, nor would for many years.

As did every girl in my class, I had a crush on Donny Osmond. Pam and I - dressed in matching leotards, snap-crotch bodysuits, and plush-lined, zippered, Naugahyde winter boots - made up creative dances to "Pretty Blue Eyes" and "Puppy Love" in her parents' wood-panelled rumpus-room. I drew him pictures to hang on the wall of his bedroom - the side view of a girl in prayer, done in yellow marker... I had heard he was religious. I wondered about his bed - rumoured to be suspended from the ceiling! - and his drawer-full of purple socks. 

Birthday cake decoration. Ringo's drum is broken. Where's Paul?

I hadn't heard of the Beatles, yet - had no inkling there could be anything bigger than Elvis. I wanted this particular cake decoration because there was no Elvis one to be had.

Rediscovered when I was forty-something in a yellowed, plastic produce bag at my parents', along with every half-burnt candle from every childhood birthday cake my mother ever made for us, and all the fancy ballerinas that usually held our candles, I shrieked when I pulled it out of the box.

Paul is - ironically -missing.

Beautiful cyclops fire-dancing ballerinas - most elegant birthday candle holders

Souvenir from Lornex company picnic

Mother's Day gift, from Sears, now hangs in my kitchen

This skirt reminds me of our house: peering through the kitchen window, orange and brown diamond-patterned curtains, the boom of the blasting in the open pit mine, a 20-minute drive away; wet-look, vinyl swivel chairs - also orange -  the smiling daisy wall plaque that now hangs in my kitchen. 

My sister and I chose it at the Kamloops Sears during a routine trip to buy the necessities not available in our village: freshly baked bread, Kentucky Fried chicken, birthday presents.

Dad would let us loose with two dollars in an incense-scented shop that sold novelty printed toilet paper, Herbal Essences shampoo and witty plastic statuary. A carefully selected, slightly squishy, white, plastic figurine of a baby in diapers - "Life is one damp thing after the other" - sat atop our TV, between school pictures: me and my sister in wood-printed, cardboard frames. When she hated me, mine would face the wall.

My sister, napping, green shag rug

There was a wood-burning fireplace and wall-to-wall shag carpet in shades of medium green, which required regular raking - a 1973 zen garden embedded with crumbs, cat hair, dead skin, Grape Nuts cereal, the odd Barbie shoe and Orange Tang crystals.

Dry Tang from the package, orange fingers, the Flintstones - cuddled up with Shayne Morgan in the big chair after school. Freckles and a big smile.

This skirt makes me think of all that.

The first of my own designs I ever showed Blossom, she proclaimed the Logan Lake skirt to be "perfect" and I have no cause to doubt her. It's cut from her own instructions for transforming the perfect basic block into the perfect A-line skirt pattern - one of the first variations she teaches in her flat pattern drafting classes. So no wonder.

Skirt Back, defective reflective piping, bias waistband, hem and zipper facing

When wallpaper was wallpaper, hung c. 1975

I believe the fabric to be linen, c.1970, sister to the wallpaper in our Kamloops kitchen, where we lived next. It was 1977; the eve of New Wave. I cried silently the first time I saw it.

The linen, from a fabric sample card, came from the estate donation of Addie, a prolific creative force who lovingly rescued - judging from the attached tickets - every stray piece of fabric she ever encountered. Samples, seconds, bolt ends, yardage: six minivans-full of fabrics and notions plus a mannequin and extensive supplies for all her other hobbies: fabric dying, painting on fabric or glass, glass painting, knitting - by hand or machine - pottery. She was a gardener, too. In the months it took for us to sort, we felt we got to know her.

Hook and eye; raw edges of fold-over waistband will not fray

Since there was so little of the fabric, the bias waistband, hem and fly facing are pieced together from small scraps left from cutting the back panel of mis-matched green linen. There was just enough fabric.

The metal zipper, hook and eye came from my stash, removed from a worn-out, discarded garment by an ancestor of mine a generation or more ago - possibly my mom's mom. The reflective piping is defective, and came from a local sportswear manufacturer who must remain nameless. It will crack and flake off a little with each cleaning.

Like my memories of the mining town that inspired it, I anticipate this skirt will soften and improve with age.

All that's left

Purchase enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com

Good Photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com

OSF 7: OSF Nominated for Small Business Award

You love us!  You really love us!

Eternal gratitude to the anonymous OSF fan who nominated us for a Small Business BC award in the category of "Best Concept"! Thank you for loving us!

Being involved with OSF is the most exciting, fulfilling, inspiring experience I've ever had. The members of the board; our faithful volunteers; our less frequent, but equally appreciated volunteers; our wonderful donors who are so happy it's going to someone who can use it: our customers who take the pains to find out when our next sale will be, send us real estate listings, hang out on the sidewalk waiting for the door to open, cheerfully drag out the free boxes, and help spread the word to anyone who creates: we are all a part of this wonderful movement, and together we make it happen. Yay to us!  Let's get OSF the exposure we deserve by voting for us and winning us this award!

How being part of OSF makes me feel

The nominations close November 30.  That's tomorrow! I hope everyone who reads this clicks right away on http://sbbcawards.ca/award/concept/our-social-fabric/ and votes for us.  No checking the rest of your email first! Do it right away! (Thanks!)

Also, see the article where I don't quite answer the question: "What does being a small business in Vancouver mean to you?" You can see where I was going with it...  200 characters!  That's not a whole lot!
http://www.vancitybuzz.com/2014/11/small-business-vancouver-mean/