a little Rorschach for the doctor

 A reminder to rummage through your closet and enter our refashioning giveaway!

Last year, my husband moved from being a student of psychology (his standing for upwards of 9 years) to being a "doctor" of the same. The past few months filled with late nights preparing job applications were worth it just to receive rejection letters addressed to Dr. so and so. (No worries, he has landed a great job in a beautiful place.)

Maybe my inspiration for this project was spawned of his new standing as a doctor of psychology, or maybe just because it was the most practical thing I could think of to do with a good pair of pants, marred only by a very noticeable, large dark spot on the knee. Remember his biking accident? We discovered (too late) that when you slather neosporin on a massive scrape, even if you put a bandage over top, it still manages to leak through an oily residue that my sorry excuses for laundering skills could never hope to remove.

So I decided to cover it with an inkblot. We've all heard of the Rorschach inkblot tests, right?

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Where if you see a bat hanging upside down instead of a butterfly you have some serious psychological issues? I didn't try to copy one of the actual Rorschach inkblots, but rather dabbed some screenprinting ink on the fabric, folded it in half, and went with that.

The other day on a walk, we got our first interpretation of it from a passerby: a bear cub crawling up a tree. Analysis, anyone?

darned patches

I wouldn't generally classify myself as a follower of trends. I've chuckled lately at the contrived patches I've seen cropping up. These ones are painted on.

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And these ones are felted on. A pretty cool idea, actually - adding things to an old sweater via felting? I'm filing that idea away for future use.

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They are striking, yes, but also a bit amusing to someone who patches clothing out of necessity.

But when my daughter's favorite tights proved to be in need of major reconstructive surgery, it was too easy to choose a fun yarn and tweak the shape of the darned holes slightly.

patches of topography

I decided to try another approach to patching jeans. This time, inspired by this beautiful topographical art.

 

 

 

giveaway winner

Beyond Unraveling - a repurposed sweater

I can see that next time I will need to resort to randomly choosing a winner. Only three responses to the Wear it Out giveaway, but almost painful to have to choose between them. But choose I did. This will be my new clothing redemption project:

"I have some (ugly) brown velvet overalls that belonged to my aunt who died when I was only 15. I have kept them all these years, not ever really wanting to wear them but not wanting them to be thrown out either."

I'm eager to begin!

wear it out! (a giveaway)

Allyson and I have been tossing around the idea of a giveaway. But this isn't your typical giveaway.

Giveaways seem to be all the rage these days. Ten years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to win a giveaway - any giveaway. Pre kids (and pre the ensuing clutter and cramped apartment), if something was free, I was on board. Was it something I really had a use for? Perhaps not. But it was free! Career fairs at my university with all the accompanying free pens and stress reliever balls? Count me in! A free t-shirt I would probably never wear for applying for a credit card? Sign me up!

But now the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction. I feel almost panicky when someone offers me something free. Where would I put it? What if I ended up not using it? Then I'd have to find someone to give it to or else feel incredibly guilty just disposing of it. I'd certainly hate to provoke a similar state of anxiety in someone else by offering them something they might not want.

But here is what we would like to give away: the opportunity to make use of something that might otherwise end up in the trash.

Some of my own favorite art (in clothing form) has come about because I was trying to make the fullest use possible out of something. Some of my favorite results have been:

 

 My husband's pants, destroyed during a biking accident, now a tribute to his uncomplaining recovery and a favorite of my daughter.

A great Christmas gift from my husband: alas too small for me, but, with a few modifications, perfect for the 5-year-old.

Second-hand leggings, in good condition when acquired by my daughter, but soon stained and with a few holes in the knees - now just as comfortable, but also a one of a kind canvas for reminiscences of our sojourn in Santa Cruz.

 Unflattering second-hand overalls from a good friend, now the coolest maternity overalls ever.

 

A nondescript shirt my mom picked up on clearance and passed on to me, now bearing a flock of geese for my bird-obsessed daughter.

Kind of ugly corduroys, now an ode to spring and gardening.

It's a bit of a New Year's resolution for me to not buy new clothes until I'm sure I've used up what I already have to its full extent. I'm even trying to curb my trips to Goodwill and the resulting purchases of things that go into my "to be repurposed" pile. More clutter, you see. Even though I'm potentially saving something from the landfill, I'm still adding to my own pile of STUFF. So instead I'm trying to look at my own things and find some way to make them useable for a bit longer. In light of my inattentiveness to past New Year's resolutions, I'm going the extra mile with this one and helping others fully wear out their things as well.

This isn't a random giveaway. To enter, leave a comment describing the item you'd like to extend the life of, as well as why it may have some sort of special significance to you. We'll then choose the one that sounds like the project with the most potential. The winner will send the item to us, Allyson or I will work our magic on it and then send it back.

Is this giveaway even viable? Will anyone be interested? Am I the only one obsessed with the old-fashioned idea of "use it up, wear it out"? I guess we'll see.

This giveaway will close on Monday, January 30th. We'd like to make this a continuing project and so plan to do a similar giveaway once a month during 2012. Here's to wearing it out!

wear it out

 I've been thinking a lot about this old adage lately:

"Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without!"

A pair of comfortable leggings, well-worn by my daughter, as evidenced by a few stains and a small hole on the knee. Clothing these days is so easily gotten. With some patience in the clearance section, you can easily score shirts and whatnot for a few dollars. Heaven knows these leggings could easily be tossed in the trash and replaced with hardly any effect on my pocketbook.

But just because I can throw them away, does that mean I should?

I get such satisfaction from squeezing every last ounce of use from an item. Sometimes through repurposing, but also just by old fashioned mending. It's kind of a game I play: how long can I make something last? And not just last, but last in a fashionable way?

I mended the hole in the knee, then used freezer paper to create an seabird motif that covered the stains.

 

 

darned if I don't

My mom has a great vintage bag. Inside are socks, yarn, a gigantic needle, and a light bulb. Growing up, this bag would sometimes come out in the evening after (most of) the chaos of the day had been tucked into bed. This was the darning bag.

Did any of your mothers darn? My mom would place the lightbulb into a sock in need of mending and position it where a hole had worked its way through a sock. Using the needle, she would patiently weave yarn back and forth over the hole. And suddenly the socks were wearable again. No more heels or toes poking out.

I have to admit that I wasn't a big fan of darned socks growing up. The mended spot was a bit thicker than the rest of the sock, and irritated me all day as I walked around on it. Yet I attempted to keep up with the tradition after I got married. I had a bag. I had a light bulb, a gigantic needle and some yarn. I definitely had a lot of socks with holes in them. Oh, but I couldn't bring myself to darn them. It just took too darn long. When the few I actually mended ended up back in the darning bag where new holes had formed, I figured I was fighting a losing battle. It felt almost criminal to throw holey socks away, but I decided my time was better spent elsewhere.

I still mended clothing - first only when a seam had popped open and it took two seconds at the sewing machine to stitch it back together. Then (after watching my mom expertly fix a hole in my husband's pants with an extra layer of denim and the mending stitch on her machine) I began mending holes that weren't along seams - also a quick fix with a sewing machine.

What do you do when you have snatches of time when your kids don't require your assistance? At home, the internet is perfect ...ahem... for sucking these moments right up. But when we're out and about, I tend to just zone out. I can't bear to waste these rare moments, so I always bring a book along with me when I take the kids to the park. But, really, who am I kidding? I can't read at the park. I am usually bombarded with "watch me! watch me!" as the children show off their playground playing skills. Or unable to read more than one page in an hour as I glance up every 30 seconds or so to make sure the children aren't about to wander off or kill themselves (or each other). And so I thought, darned if I don't need a darning bag!

Still no socks for me. But, surprisingly, I really enjoy mending clothing by hand. I am actually creating new cloth as I set up a row of parallel threads across a hole and then weave over and under them. And in 15 minutes or so, my shirt is perfectly wearable once more - and with only an inconspicuous spot of regenerated fabric. I don't have the space, money or time right now for weaving cloth on a loom (wouldn't that be amazing?). This is the next best thing.

repurposing: more shredded knees

After nearly forty years on this hurtling planet, I am finally coming to accept that there are holes-in-knees that can be salvaged, and holes-in-knees that cannot. Sometimes it's hard for me to let go; sometimes I just keep wearing my gaping pants for years, assuring myself that no one is noticing the pasty knees sticking out. But I'm am trying to learn to move on, to fix what can be fixed, and turn everything else into . . . something else.

I've been turning the kids' ripped pants into shorts for years, and am heartily grateful that their school dress code includes that option. In the fall we have new pants, over the winter we have thinned out pants with a pair of tights underneath (which also have holes in knees, more often than not), and in the spring the pants go to shorts.

The circle of sartorial life, rotating with the seasons.

For a few years I chopped off those lower legs and tossed them. Then one day my all-time favorite pants for the girls, those dark green cords with a gazillion pockets and ties, hit the end of their long-legged road. I pulled them out of circulation, cut off the legs at the rips, and turned to toss the extra ends into the trash, when suddenly I realized that the extra ends were actually cooler than the shorts. A big zippered pocket, an already hemmed opening -- can you get a better set-up for a quick purse/satchel/explorer's pouch? Two seams and an attached ribbon later, the new bag was hanging on my girl who was sporting the matching shorts, as she headed outside at a gallop.

So for today, shorts and a pair of purses.

I generally cut the legs off just above the hole in the knee. That way I can make the shorts as long or short as needed, with as deep a cuff as I'd like.

Shorts:

1. With wrong-side out, fold and press the raw edge of the leg 3/4 inch (or as desired), then fold over again and press 1 inch.

2. Stitch along the top of the fold.

3. And there you have it -- shorts.

Not too painful, right?

Purse/Satchel/Pouch/Bag: (names are very important to the girls around here -- "Mom, you don't take a 'bag' to the mall, you know.")

1. Right sides together, stitch the raw edge of the leg 1/4 inch.

2. Turn inside-out and press the seamed edge. Stitch 1/2 inch -3/4 inch from the edge (making sure to enclose the entire raw edge on the inside of your seam).

3. On what used to be the cuff of the pant leg, attach a strap (or a ribbon, or bias tape --whatever you would like). For this one I used leftover bias tape from another project. Turn the raw edge of the ribbon or tape under and stitch over the top. This will both secure the strap and give it a finished edge.

4. And, well, there you have it. At this point, you're welcome to spice up as desired. My girls like a little applique -- the five year-old prefers felt flowers, the ten year-old wants her initials. And for today's birthday girl? always a horse.

Happy birthday my girl. Eight is just so grown-up.

dismantling

I am a dreamer. I dream up projects. Sometimes they become reality. Often they just stay tucked away in my brain. The jump from clearly doable in my head to actually done is, more often than not, one of those inexplicably unbridgeable gaps. The fear of my most recent pet project-in-utero ending in defeat is often enough to keep me from even attempting to move an idea into reality.

One such idea that has been kicking around in my head for months now is that of making shoes. My disenchantment with available shoes for my kids lately has made me think I ought to be able to just make them some shoes. Simple as that. Or at least it's as simple as that if it stays tucked safely away in my idea drawer.

But I have this incredibly talented friend who doesn't have as hard a time making the jump from idea to finished product. (Probably because she's not afraid to go through several incarnations before she ends up with the result she's looking for.) My friend, also fascinated by the idea of making shoes, is trying to help me not flake out on this idea. She has encouraged me to start by taking apart some shoes in order to see how they are constructed. And so I did.

These were the results of an evening of hacking away at the shoes with scissors and a butter knife. Not too pretty. But I have high hopes for what I'll learn in the process.

 

patchwork patch

My third baby has been the hardest on my body, both during pregnancy and postpartum. Granted the delivery was incredibly fast, but recovering my pre-pregnancy body has been disappointingly slow. At almost six weeks postpartum, I am still wearing maternity jeans. Although I don't own a scale, the doctor does, and so I found out yesterday that I still have 15 pregnancy pounds that aren't quite willing to let go yet.This is the first time I've had to wear maternity jeans after having a baby, and I've discovered that they look a lot more flattering if you are actually pregnant when you wear them.

A week before my baby came, my favorite pair of maternity jeans were on the brink of getting a hole in the knee. Instead of patching them at the time, I simply stopped wearing them (assuming I would no longer need them). Since then I've been biding my time and sporting some pretty unflattering maternity jeans. But with yesterday's unfortunate revelation, I decided to bite the bullet and patch them.

I've never had much luck coming up with a patching method that looks decent. But Allyson's post inspired me to give it another try. Drawing on the design of the lattice insert I put in my overalls, I decided to go the route of a patchwork look. I'm actually pretty pleased with the result this time.

But not so pleased that I won't be ecstatic when I can retire these jeans permanently.

patching

Our seven year-old takes after me in many ways. We share a love of dirt, horses, and mountains, and a mouthful of lousy teeth. We also both blow through the knees of our pants at an astonishing rate. The right knee of our pants, to be specific. I like to attribute the fact that I'm always flashing one knee to a savvy sense of fashion, or to all of the intensive work I do around here (dishes really wreck havoc on the knees, you know). But I don't actually know why one knee wears out on every single pair of pants I have ever owned, or why some of our kids always go through the knees of their pants, and some of our kids never do. It's one of the mysteries of the universe.

What I do know is that I've always got a pile of pants in a box in the laundry room that I am either patching, turning into shorts, or cutting up for other projects.

Last week these pants (the superb jeans in the picture below -- and don't you just love that Pippi-esque hair?) landed in the box a little bit early. They're special pants from grandma, you see, and only a few months old. So the day that a dime-sized fray appeared, they were pulled out of circulation while I figured out a patch.

The good thing about these particular pants is that they came with accessories in the first place -- little felt flowers around the cuffs -- which made the patch an easy choice. Felt flowers it would be.

I've actually patched with felt before, but I don't remember where I picked it up and have since decided that felt was pretty lousy quality. This time I opted for wool felt. I found the greatest little fabric store, which had a whole vintage suitcase full of beautiful wool felt square (they had me at suitcase -- would that I could present anything so well). As far as stores go, I don't really do large. Or mall. Or mega, in any sense. The crowds and options tend to overwhelm me. So this store was heaven sent. It's a small shop in the middle of the old downtown, and I still spent an hour wandering less than halfway through. A good good hour. I wanted to touch everything. As far as I'm concerned, any fabric store that can get me to say "oooohhhhhhhh" at every single bolt is a golden find. I restricted myself to the felt (and one little tiny chunk of cotton for pants for the baby, but that's another post).

Back to the felt.

This particular trip to the fabric store was something of a whim, so I didn't have the pants with me and had to guess on colors. In the end I left with a handful of squares (about $2 total), and only used about a quarter of that. The colors aren't an exact match (which I prefer anyhow), but close enough not to look aftermarket, if you know what I mean.

I freehanded a few flowers and leaves, and sewed them on with an easy straight stitch (up the middle for the leaves, side-to-side between the petals on the flowers). The big red flower covers the hole, and I did a bunch of wide stitches in a square under the pink middle to reinforce the frayed section. Then the flower middles went on with a quick circle of straight stitching.

Twenty minutes total.

Not a bad matched patch, if I do say so myself.

So far the felt is holding up very well. It's been slid on, muddied up, banged into, scraped, washed, and even dried.

Wait a minute. Maybe I do have an idea why this girl and I go through the knees of our pants after all . . .