Garment 11: Opportunity

http://www.zoetrope.me/afterword/iammia-seamlessness-pilgrimage

First off, I will disclose that I had no part in the design or making of this lovely, so-light-it-could-almost-float-away raglan-sleeved top. That credit is all due to a talented friend, Zoe Welch: "slow fashion" creator, writer, photographer, movie-maker - amongst other gifts - and first-rate source of encouragement, whom I met through OSF.

It doesn't belong to me, either, though it's adorable and I think I could totally rock it. It is owned by another friend and fellow OSF board member, Kat Siddle, who bought it from Zoe one night when we were picking up a donation of fabric from her home.

So why are you looking at pictures of it, you're wondering? Enter Kat's teal winter coat. It's a really cute coat, with a really badly-behaved zipper. One evening Kat's beautiful Zoe top became so completely stuck in the zipper of her coat, that after a 2-hour struggle, she had to have her fiance finally cut her out of it. Aw man. Was it ruined forever? Hmm. That might require a little side-ways thinking. That's where I came in.

I love a good side-ways think, especially when it involves giving purpose to useless, potentially ruined stuff. The hole itself was nicely placed, and nicely shaped - kind of heart-like, I thought. I happened to have, sitting on my sewing table, the left-overs from a recently finished piece - scraps from a twice-abandoned cashmere sweater, pink and deliciously soft, which I had originally lifted from Zoe's Sally Ann donations bag. What's not to love about cashmere? Or pink. It seemed a fitting material for a heart-shaped patch.

The running stitches were done with yarns from those hopeful little packets that hang on better-quality new clothes and may contain one or more of the following: a spare button that will almost certainly never know a buttonhole, a neatly-coiled length of yarn with even less hope of ever darning a hole, a symbolic sprinkling of loose beads or sequins. In rare cases - and a sure sign of the purchaser's elevated taste level - one might find two metal or plastic collar stays: remedy for the even less likely event of that uncommon, though annoying, affliction: Unequal Collar Point Orientation.

I've been saving the packets since I can remember, and most "estate" donations at OSF contain an assortment of them. I expect most of us hang on to them out of obligation, at least until their original garment has passed from our lives, when we are finally released from the responsibility of keeping them around. But by then, they've found a semi-permanent - though never entirely satisfactory - home in the junk drawer, or, more likely, the button box, mixed in with a thimble or two, a couple of dome fasteners, a corroded penny, and a few random nuts or screws, quietly living out their tasteful, but pointless existence. It was very, very satisfying to put some of them to use.

I usually bring along with me a bag of hand sewing (or un-sewing, more often than not!) whenever I have to ride the bus, wait for the doctor, sit through the kids' extra-curricular activities, or spend more than 20 minutes in a passenger seat. Two neuroplasticity sessions later, and voila! Survey says, definitely not ruined!

Considering the higher quality of garments that generally merit spare parts hang tags, I suspect the yarns used for the stitching are likely mostly real wool. I'm hoping the patch might felt up a little with washing, in a jaunty smocking-esque sort of way. We shall see.

Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com

Photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com

Garment 10: Love

Love letter, or recycling gone too far?

Shortly after our son was born my husband declared, "I love him so much I would suck the snot out of his nose. If I had to." With our daughter it was, "Even her poop is not offensive." Now that's love.

Are those pockets, or are you just happy 
to see me?

When the elastic of 4 pairs of my husband's underwear finally, simultaneously, bit the dust, I joked he should save them - maybe I could make something out of them! It was a joke. Really. It was. But, before the end of the day, I had draped the front of this t-shirt, telling myself it was an excuse to play around with the neat, variegated thread I had acquired at Our Social Fabric . I mean, seriously! Who would want to wear something made out of my husband's ancient, discarded gonch? Well... I would! Yep. I love him that much.

Wearing my heart
as a sleeve?

The back is made from a piece of mesh cut three years ago for a rain pants project begun when our daughter started skating lessons. If she loved the ice half as much as I had done, she'd be spending an awful lot of time with wet legs and bottom. Some times my tights would be so wet that when I fell, my legs would freeze to the ice and would need to be hacked free with mittened karate chops.

I cut the rain pants size 7, plenty of time to grow in to them. She's now 8. For a long time the bundle of lavender Gore-tex and white mesh lining sat on my sewing table, ready to go. Then it was moved to a box of things to be sewn soon, but not quite yet. Later it found a spot in a closet of useful, but not currently needed, sewing gear. No matter where I moved it, I could hear it whispering to me between projects, haranguing, becoming progressively louder as it was ignored over time. It got a little aggressive near the end, which is how it comes to be the back of this top, even though not directly related to my husband's underwear.

And will I wear it? Guess that depends on if we can find a sitter on Valentine's Day.

Co-incidentally - and I hope this may redeem me - shortly after I made this little number, we received at OSF a personal donation that included 4 pairs of someone else's husband's used underwear! (We never know just what we'll find in those boxes and bags! That's part of the fun.) I admit I was tempted ever-so-briefly (get it?), but NO! Ultimately I could not do it! Guess I'm just a one-man woman.

Size S-M. Taken. By me, of course! Who else would want to wear my husband's old, discarded gonch? Gross.

Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com 

Photography by Jeff Minuk  www.lostinkits.com

Garment 9: Fancy

This fabulous skirt is made of a pillow I happened to come across for free* on Boxing Day, 2014, at the Prophouse, a now defunct restaurant on Venables, near Commercial. The keys had to be turned in at 6, and everything was being given away. At noon the place was still swimming in partly-broken pole lamps, mostly-broken chairs, dirty dishes, a whole roomful of records, and, inexplicably, piles of clothing from the late '60s/early '70s, including several pairs of polyester trousers with the hems hacked off too short. There were lidless cookie tins and boxes filled randomly with odd stuff: pins, casino paraphernalia, pennies, junk and more junk, dirty, crammed together, jumbled-up bits of old and not-old stuff, interesting and not. Also, several bolts of fabric, a few pairs of god-awful harvest gold '70s curtains, broken glass, prescription bottles... and treasure hunters. It was a lot to take in.

*You didn't imagine I'd pay for one, right?

Re-enactment
Couldn't wait long enough to take a picture before gutting

Way in the back, and up some steep stairs to a make-shift loft, I spied the hideous, bulbous, somewhat matted, hand-crocheted, acrylic pillow - brown and yellow and orange, with a big green, yarn-covered button on each side holding it together. Visions of the Brady Bunch, rumpus rooms and cheap wood panelling, it sat upon an honest-to-goodness original, filthy shag carpet, strewn with dirty t-shirts, men's shoes - size huge - and antiquated video game system parts. Hideous. I almost couldn't believe I was taking it home with me... along with 5 or 6 boxes of treasures, including an incomplete set of cafe dishes said to have come from Astorino's when it closed, and an orange, flowered, sleeve board that cleaned up very nicely. And the too-short polyester pants.

The pillow put me in mind of those crazy toilet roll holders crocheters churned out in the early '70s. They were intended for selling at church bazaars, but that seems overly optimistic. My suspicion is they were secretly fun to make.

My sister and I had dogs like this. Yep.

I have childhood memories of them associated with my paternal grandmother. If she didn't have one on her toilet, I'm sure her neighbours did. I was a little confused by them as a kid, and spent a fair bit of time transfixed in strange bathrooms. They were dolls, yet not for playing with. Some had baby faces. All were a little scary looking, and their eyelids clacked when they closed. And there's toilet paper under there! Does that seem reasonable? In my teens I recall silently scoffing at more than a few. But really, I was more than a little drawn to them. I mean, haven't you always wanted an outfit like that: a crocheted hoop skirt and matching bonnet? I sure did.

Took the pillow apart and chucked the disgusting, 40 year-old, yellowed, foam pillow form.  Couldn't get that thing out of the house fast enough. Threw the pillow cover in the washer with some Nature's Ultimate, and lo! Out came a skirt! And look! It's ripple patterned, just like this toilet girl's skirt! Dreams do come true. 

The tie that forms the waist band showed up shortly after the pillow, in a donation to OSF. It's a little worn along the edge, as though having passed many times through a snug belt-carrier. I imagine it once hung out with a pink, floor-length, quilted, nylon housecoat. It's been useless since they parted - until now. Haven't found a reason for the buttons yet, but that may come.

Put on my x-ray eyes (took off my glasses!) and trimmed away the pills, fluff and long fibres. I love this skirt! Hideous hand-crocheted afghan pillows are now on my list of things to look out for at yard sales and in "free" boxes in alleys, along with metal bread boxes, old Phentex yarn, and cashmere shawls with moth holes. We all need love.

Now, just think what kind of useful, new purpose a toilet roll doll could serve! Actually, nothing's coming to mind, but maybe one day I'll get my hands on one and see what happens...

Size S-M. For sale by appointment. Enquiries at enoughstuffblog@gmail.com
Photography by Jeff Minuk www.lostinkits.com