The Day I Forgot My Phone, (And Sewing A Bucket Hat).

As I write to you, dawn is breaking in an ever changing sky.

Hello, Gentlefolk,

As I sit at my writing desk, the sun is rising into a soft blue sky that holds a single cloud hazy with lavenders and roses. I can hear wood pigeons in the hedge, and there are a couple of Robins hopping around the daisies finding an early breakfast.  As I stood in the garden watching the world wake up around me, I have to admit that I took a deep breath in as I became overwhelmed at the beauty of it all. It’s a magical place to call home, and I am so pleased that I am able to share it with you. Today, I thought I would tell you the story of the day I forgot my phone, (and sewing a bucket hat).

It’s been quite the whirlwind here at The Knitted Wardrobe over the past couple of weeks as we have been enjoying one of the most beautiful months of May. Beaches and rivers have been calling, and being able to find time to play on the waters has been the focus of my days. Grebe has become a beautiful evening retreat spot after a day spent writing in the library, and Gylly is turning out to be a fantastic mid-week after work hang-out with friends. But the Helford River was calling for our attention on Sunday, and one place in particular; Frenchman’s Creek. 

There is one fact about pottering around in a canoe with a good friend on a sunny Sunday, and that is the fact that you will get sunburn very quickly if you don’t take care (believe me, I

have learned the hard way!). I am now quite good with the old sunscreen application, however the top of my head often feels like it’s taken a hit. As I was thinking about it on Saturday morning over a cup of tea, I realised that I needed a classic bucket hat to help make my head feel comfortable and also keep the sun off my face. However, spending money on a hat wasn't something I really wanted to do, and it wasn’t until I was in the shower that I remembered that Merchant and Mills offer a free to download bucket hat pattern, and I had enough fabric in stash to rustle something up. 

The result was my first ever hat, and I have to say that I am quite pleased with it! It’s in a soft 8oz cotton pink twill, and the lining is in the Indian block print that I ordered about three years ago; 3.5m of it arrived before I decided that I didn’t like it for a dressing gown, so it’s been implemented in almost every project since. The pink twill was the off cuts of a pair of trousers I made last summer, and I had just enough to piece it all together. The crown top on the hat was made by sewing two strips together so that the seam became the centre, which I then top stitched to match the stitching detail on the crown sides. In the end they didn’t match up perfectly, there’s a couple of millimeters discrepancy on each join, but to be honest, it’s just a bucket hat. 

I wanted to try the wide brim option as I felt that it would come down my forehead far enough to keep the sun from hitting me from the water’s reflection, and I am so pleased I did as I think it worked really well; it’s functional and looks cute. The stitching process for the classic circles around the brim was great fun as I was not only using scrap material out of stash, but I also ended up finishing three reels of thread in different tones of pink and pinky-brown. As I had to keep changing the threads, I confess that the uniformity of the concentric circles is a bit like a roller coaster, rather than a helter-skelter, but hey, it’s a hat. 

My Bucket Hat.

As Sunday rolled around and I packed a picnic for the trip, I popped everything I needed into my dry bag, sunscreen included, and off we went to canoe up the river to Frenchman’s Creek, which is a place I have wanted to visit since the winter when I read Daphne Du Maurier’s book, and consequently fell in love with a Pirate. My friend had never read it but is always up for a good adventure, so off we went. 

As we got to Durgan to off-loaded the boat into the river, I was very pleased that I had not only remembered the hat and cream, but also that I had chosen to wear a shortie wetsuit. As it turned out, I was going to be the entertainment for all the tourists sitting on the beach for as soon as I lifted a foot out of the water to get in, I slipped and went under the foot of water, with my hat in hand. Spluttering and laughing I got up, caught my breath, and giggled as I saw my friend try not to laugh at the funniest and most idiotic thing I could have done! My new hat was drenched before I had even got in the canoe, and so it remained by my feet as we meandered up the lazy river. 

As we paddled past the boats moored up we said hello to people sitting on them enjoying the view and a glass of wine with their lunch. Egrets flew close to the banks as fish jumped and splashed about hunting for insect snacks. Oak trees flowed down the banks of the river into the water, creating tiny eco systems where life could thrive. The sound of water lapping against our little wooden hull reminded me of times as a kid when we would visit the lakes and enjoy BBQs with my family in the States; those halcyon times of the late 80’s when anything seemed possible and making sure there was enough corn on the cob and watermelon to eat was the most important thing to do. 

We gently floated along with the current and found Frenchman’s Creek. It was smaller than I had imagined and I couldn’t quite picture how a Piraite’s ship that was as big as the one I had imagined could be hidden there, but there was an old wreck hanging out on a small patch of mud surrounded by a gentle silence that evoked the beauty of Du Maurier’s writing. It was a special moment, and will be forever a picture that I carry in my mind; one filled with peace and stillness. 

Heading back to Durgan, we crept into an inlet by The Ferryboat Inn, and as we stopped to watch a heron I felt my shoulders drop and my breath slow right down. “This” I thought to myself, “This is peace”. I hadn’t felt it in me that deeply for decades. The last time was when I was in a canoe, on a lake, in Wisconsin back in 1999 when we were celebrating July 4th. The joy of both moments is that I didn’t have a phone near me. As I sat there on Sunday, with my hat by my feet, I realised that I had left my phone, and therefore my camera, in my kitchen. This moment of peace was one for the memory bank; a very personal time for me to sink into and enjoy, and for some reason I cannot name, it means more to me because of it. 

Sewing and knitting my own clothes slows me down a lot, but there is also something about being still and letting the nature around us calm our souls in a way that we can’t do on our own. Being there in companionable silence with a friend who can remember the time with me is magical, and there is a privacy about not having it logged on a phone and backed up to a server. The plop of fish near us, and the splash of our oars, are sounds that can soothe my mind when I am beginning to feel overwhelmed with the plans of the working week. These memories are what enable life to move forward. 

My hat made it home to the washing machine safe and well, and didn’t seem the worse off for its inaugural dunking in Cornish salt water; I doubt it will be the last time it sees the sand at the bottom of the shallows. It will also be my reminder of a perfect Spring Sunday on the river, and for that, I am very grateful. 

Now, the sun has changed to a brighter light and there are a couple of people starting to move around their boats as I look out the window. The Fal River is flat this morning with a low tide so I can  see the patch of sand in Flushing across the other side. My neighbour has just jogged down the path for her morning run, and there are a couple of dog walkers that have walked past. The day is starting, and I need to refill my tea pot. 

I hope that you have a wonderful day today, and that you have the opportunity to forget your phone and breathe a little deeper in nature soon. 

May your frogging be rare, and your needles always bring you joy. 

Love, 

Jenny xx

Ice-cream on a cloudless Sunday.

The Edie Top - Balloon Sleeves And Summer Breezes

This year's Edie Top is perfect for summer.

Summer has come early to Cornwall. Days start with mist rising off the river revealing clear blue skies by the time my tea has brewed. The sun has brought all my freckles out, and I have learned that the sunblock I have isn’t resistant to sea swimming. My wardrobe has had to come out of its comforting woollen cocoon to embrace the linens and cottons that are now looking at me from the ironing pile. It's the season of balloon sleeves and summer breezes, which means it is time for me to revisit The Edie Top, by Merchant and Mills.

Last summer, my Edie was the one project that was cut out and then sadly left it to linger. The reason it was popped in the to-do basket rather than under my sewing machine was simply due to the fact that the weather was so bloody awful last year; we had nine months of rain, and by the time the end of August rolled around, the idea of wearing the cotton broderie anglaise left me with goosebumps. Last week, as I flicked through the BBC weather pages to see that the sun was about to bless us with glorious days of back to back warmth, I remembered that it was there waiting for me, and decided it was about time to just sew it up and pop it on my body! 

The Edie is a top that I have now sewn three times, and each one gets a little better. The first was done to the pattern, with ties at the back where the slit on the collar was placed (which ended up irritating me), and the sleeves were far too long, and the balloon detail was overly voluminous. (To be totally frank, the black and gold check made me feel as if I had remade Rupert The Bear’s trousers, and I didn’t like the weight of the cotton.)  

The second was where I lengthened the top by two inches to avoid it being too cropped, and took the sleeves up, as well as in. To take away a lot of the volume of the sleeve, whilst still giving it a generous puff, I simply took the grain line and marked 2.5inches either side near the cuff, then taking my meter rule I drew a line from the bicep point of the grain line to the mark by the cuff on each side. This basically made a huge dart, and I just moved the marked lines I had drawn together to the grain line. Is this how it is ‘supposed’ to be done? I have no idea, but it worked, and the cream linen version I made with it was hardly off my body before someone decided it needed a red wine stain all the way through the front. 

My Second Edie.

Hand sewing the bias tape

The second Eddie also taught me that I can hack the heck out of a pattern to make it fit my style, as bows at the back are not my vibe, and the ones on the sleeve cuffs end up in my coffee. My hack was to move the slit in the collar to the front and ditch the ties, as well as use elastic in the sleeve cuff in order to save both my laundry, and my coffee. Both decisions were perfect, and I kept them. 

This third version is the best yet! I purchased the fabric knowing that I would have to piece it together along some hidden lines as I couldn’t afford enough to pattern match the whole thing without some jiggery pokery. I chose to do the piecing for the sleeves, as the puff would hide any edges that were not 100% pattern matched, whereas the front and back would be too obvious. It was my first time doing pieced work, and I was delighted with the results - the edges are well hidden, and they look great on the back of the sleeve, right near the seam.

My pieced sleeve fabric

Pattern matching eyelet fabric

Marking out the perfect pattern match

This version also has a lining for the front and back, and although I know that there is a very pretty flower detail to the fabric, no one else will know, and I quite like that. It’s a bit like my pocket linings; they are always pretty and colourful, but they are just for me to enjoy.

I decided that I wanted to practice my French Seams for the project as I know that I reach for my overlocker too often. I was glad that I did, as my skills definitely needed to have the rust knocked off them. At the beginning they were a bit too chonky for my liking, and the first ones I did for the shoulder seams ended up having a top stitch put through them to ensure that they lay flat. However, by the time I got to the sleeves, they were looking a lot neater, and I am pleased that I stuck with the process. The only overlocked seams are around the armholes, as the three layers needed stabilising, and I wasn’t about to do a Hong Kong seam with bias tape… the sun is out now and probably won’t wait for me to stop procrastinating over that option. 

Stitching to keep all the layers of fabric together whilst I work

My pin cushion on the ironing board, with my thimble

I am delighted with the results from this project, and not just because I was wearing it out as soon as it had been through a much needed laundry cycle (it had been in storage for nearly a year!). I know that I need to spend more time sewing to keep my techniques in tip-top order, so it was a good project to start the rhythm of it again. I haven’t sewn much since my move down here, but I now feel as if I know my space better and can get into a flow in the evenings after work. I have moved stuff around in my living room to make this easier, and it’s a much more inviting space to create in. I think that coming to this version of The Edie allowed me to realise that I could still just do little bits each evening and not worry about doing it all in one go, and I am very thankful for that.

I absolutely love my version of the Merchant and Mills pattern. I have altered everything about it - even the back dart placements and the shoulder drops, but it has taught me how to do all those things; it is the perfect basic pattern to learn how to hack, and there is even an option to make it longer so that you can make a dress, which is on the list as I need a good beach cover-up.

I hope that you are encouraged to give it a go, as you can make it out of any flow-y material and end up with a winning staple in your wardrobe. If it is your first time with balloon sleeves, I would just urge you to make a mock-up first, as they are quite full and they may be a little overwhelming if you are, like me, a Hobbit. 

Until next time, may your needles always bring you joy, and may your frogging be rare. 

Love, Jenny xx

The back is my ideal length.

Cloning My Clothes.

This is the (very worn-in) linen jacket that I wanted to remake!

As the summer roles in, my attention is drawn to my sewing projects, so when the idea of cloning my clothes came up my sewing machine gave me a nudge! Today, I wanted to share a joyful Saturday that allowed me to learn so much that will bless my wardrobe, as well as enjoy a lot of fun with friends.

I remember getting my first sewing machine when I was 8 years old at Christmas; a small singer that could go forward and backwards, as well as a wonderful zigzag stitch. Christmas day was spent going up and down lines that mum had drawn onto cotton, but by boxing day she had me perfecting circles, which I would appreciate later in life. My dolls wore scrappy patch clothes, and I learned how to do darts around my teddy, so that by the time I hit my teenage years I was happy to faff about and make my own clothes with a preference towards cotton and linen. 

Patterns do not frighten me, and I have drafted my own blocks, but I have never cloned a piece of clothing from a store to create a pattern from it so that I could make more versions. So when Helen from Dot.N.Cross mentioned she was popping a Saturday workshop on to teach the cloning technique, I jumped at it; the idea of being able to create the project I had been thinking of for about a year was in danger of actually happening! 

Check Out Helen's Website!

One of the last gifts mum had given me was a blue linen shirt jacket from Seasalt, and I have been wanting to re-make it and hack it into a shower-proof jacket. Naively, I had thought that cloning my clothes would mean that I had to unpick the original, meaning that I would be unable to wear it again. This was the main reason why I had steered clear of the practice, as I didn’t want to lose mum’s gift. When I mentioned this mental road block, the reaction was a giggle and a reassurance, making me feel a lot easier about embarking on the workshop. 

Jess had such a giggle with her gathered shirt

Last Saturday morning found myself, Laura (from Thread Pegs), and Jess (from Beyond Making) beetling down to Cast in Helston to meet two other makers for Helen’s class. It was fun to be with friends as we caught up and chatted about our ideas about our current sewing (and knitting) projects in the car before we got there. The clothes we had brought to clone were very different! Laura had brought along a swimsuit that had shorts attached to the waistline (with pockets!), and Jess had arrived with a hand made shirt from the 80’s; a cotton lawn with pale pink roses, balloon sleeves and a gathered back.

Helen has been a pattern cutter for the big London fashion designers, and has done her fair share of fashion weeks and seasons. Now she teaches classes and one-to-one tutorials, bringing an attention to detail and professionalism that is second to none, (as well as the best chocolate chip cookies). With five very different clothes being hauled out of bags around the workshop and being laid on the big cutting tables, Helen became very excited with how each item could teach us different skills about pattern cutting and dressmaking.

Pins, a pattern master, pins, a tracing wheel, and more pins!

The real trick with cloning patterns is pinning, pinning, and pinning some more, as well as finding your grainline. It surprised me how long it took to make sure my jacket was pinned on to the pattern paper in a way that I could trust before I marked it all out. For parts of the pattern that I couldn’t halve accurately down the centre, I had to find the grainline and pin that to a line of dots on the paper, from that point I could anchor the rest of the pattern down so that I could use the tracing wheel. This was especially needed for my saddle shoulder pieces, as well as my collar.

Pinning my saddle shoulder down after finding a grainline and anchoring the piece.

With each part of the patterns being drawn up, Helen would occasionally stop us to show how to make measurements for parts we couldn't unpick, which was great for the gathers at the back of Jess’s shirt. When it came to the overly stretched elastic on Laura’s swimsuit, a little bit of negative ease was popped into the equation. When it came to my split cuffs, we decided to trace the pattern as one sleeve piece, and then add the option for a split sleeve on the paper, so I could do either. 

After we had marked it all out, Helen taught us how to true-up our patterns to make sure that they all worked together. Personally, I love the ‘walking’ technique, where I could walk through my pattern piece by piece as I got a feel for the 3-D shapes and how I was going to end up constructing it. All I have to do is remember to add the seam allowance! 

Laura had a great time drafting her new swimsuit

I found the whole day eye opening, and although I have very few shop-made clothes now, I can see how my wardrobe will benefit in the future. Finding old dresses in the thrift shop that I like the style of, but don’t like the fabric, can now be taken home and cloned before being gifted or re-donated. Is that wasteful? I don’t think so in the grand scheme of things, as the amount of times it would happen is small. 

Apart from anything, it was a day of laughter, friendship, and memories, which is the best combination for any day! The lunch at Cast was absolutely delicious, and to spend time chatting to the other two makers who joined us was great; I learned a lot about reenactment costume making, which I have always admired, but have never known anyone to chat about it. I am so thankful to Helen for inviting us along, making space for us to learn more about the hobby we love which enables us to clothe our bodies, and for teaching us so well. I am very tempted to join her autumn course so that I can make my own Dress Block, as the one I have no longer works for my post 40 body. 

No doubt I shall be updating you with plans for my sewing wardrobe soon as we head into summer, and my jacket will be sure to get a lot of my attention!

Until then, may your needles always bring you joy, and your frogging be rare, 

Jenny and Finchley xx

Mr Finchley is enjoying the Cornish sun this month.