The next part of the leather costume was the leather jacket.  I suggested starting with an existing jacket and modifying it, so we went to Goodwill and picked up a black leather jacket.  Being a motorcycle jacket, it had the following features:

• leather, to protect against road rash in case of fall
• tight snaps at wrists and elastic at the waist to prevent wind from getting in and ballooning the coat
• double closures: a CF zipper to close the coat, and a double-breasted snapped closure to keep wind from getting in at the zipper.

It was very 1980s style, with raglan sleeves.  Since my client is big boned, the cuffs were too tight to snap shut on him, but the rest fit. 

My favorite kind of project is when someone gives me an idea or assignment, and then lets me make it how I want.  If the idea is unusual enough, I am stretched by trying to make it, and I learn new techniques.  One repeat customer of mine always gives me such projects*.  In October 2017, he approached me with a new idea, for album cover art, and as always, it was my favorite kind of project. 

Today, a brief needlelace tutorial!  This is a simple edging stitch, meaning you can use it to decorate your hems and other edges, even if you're not hard-core into lace-making! 

The stitch is called "shell stitch" in the Reader's Digest Complete Guide to Needlework, as well as in other sources.  However, several Victorian resources I've found online name it the "point de Venise", and Thérèse de Dillmont simply numbers her stitches (which is not memorable at all)!  As you may recall from my post about French Needlelaces, the nomenclature for lace is not consistent.  So "point de Venise" could mean Venetian needlelace in general as well as being a name for this particular stitch.  I'll stick with "shell stitch" for this tutorial, since the finished nubs look like wee shells. 

The next UFO checked off my list!  A friend whom I described this project to waxed poetic about it, trying to decide if it was a "melusine dress" or "ondine gown".  "Mermaid rag, haddock frock," I quipped back.  Though it's watery, fishy, and beautiful, there are no sprites or fairies on this garment, so "fish dress" is fine by me.  My poetry is in the dress, not the name. 

In 2003 I visited Scotland, and I wanted to buy some tartan souvenir, since the plaids are so beautiful.  Since I have no affiliation with any Scottish clan, I didn't feel right buying a clan tartan; luckily, there are non-clan tartans.  So I browsed through a very touristy shop, and one particular color combo caught my eye: almost equal parts blue and green, with thin orange and black stripes, and subtle gray easing from one stripe to another.  I looked at the tag, and read "New York City". 

Happy Easter!  Flowers are blooming all over Portland after a gray winter, and Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and our new life in Him! 

But here on my sewing blog, let's talk about skirts.  Last Easter, a friend said something scathing about Easter services at church, about women wearing skirts that don't hang right, with their slips slipping out the bottom.  I then went to church and saw exactly that!  See, most modern women grew up in jeans, and don't wear skirts often enough to know how to manage them.  This ignorance shows at weddings, when bridesmaids sit with their legs open, or at Easter services where nylon slips fall below the hem of the skirt, or in historical dramas when the actress fights with her costume.  (Keira Knightly, though otherwise a wonderful actress, is guilty of this.  She never alters her body mechanics to suit the costume; she's always stalking about, long-legged, whipping her skirts around her legs ungracefully.)