Last week I told how I rubbed off a pattern from a vintage rayon dress I found at Red Fox Vintage store in Woodstock, Portland.  The rub-off is a collection of muslin pieces, which doesn't include seam allowances but does show all the seamlines and the places where they intersect.  It's the start of a pattern! 

Today I'll show you some more of the process.  I picked two fabrics to test the garment, and used the rub-off pieces as pattern pieces, adding seam allowances as I cut. 

My friend Eryn (remember her?) learns in much the same way I do: starting with a vision beyond her ability to achieve, then jumping in way over her head, learning along the way, and achieving something she's proud of even if it's not the vision she started with.  And, like me, she is a woman who speaks with her clothes, so it's no surprise if the dress options at the store failed to impress her this year when she wanted a gown for a Christmas charity event.

Today, I'm gonna try a new format for my project diary... I think it'll be useful for people learning to sew to have a clearer idea of how long something takes and how much it costs, so I'll start including those details as accurately as I can.  I also know that a lot of people stop reading when they see a block of text (not sure why, since I like blocks of text, but the world is diverse!), so I'll try to put vital stats in bullet points to make them easier to read. 

A year or so back, a woman late of Hawai'i asked me to make her puletasi, a two piece Samoan ensemble of fitted blouse and wrap skirt.  She was unhappy with the work of her current seamstress, who didn't finish seam allowances in any way.

We had a brief email exchange, in which it quickly became clear that we had very different ideas about a fair price for the labor, and it ended amicably with us agreeing not to work together.  But it was such an interesting exchange, especially in light of my previous ruminations on money, that I want to examine it. 

I will not be betraying any personal or identifiable details here, just the bare bones of our disagreement, and the broader question of pricing and the value of time/work. 

When I was sorting my clothes using the KonMari method, I held each garment in my hands and asked myself "Do I love this?  Does it spark joy in me?"  Quite a lot of things went west, but the ones that stayed taught me a little about what my style actually is*, and made me determined not to settle for clothes that were "almost" right but not quite, when I could have things that are perfect for me. 

Today I'm going to show you one of the few things I kept even though it had a ton of little problems with it, and what I did to make it perfect for me.