Upskilly & Stuff 2: The Apron

Rectangle, rectangle, string, string, string.

One big rectangle for the bottom part; one smaller rectangle (optional) for the upper part; and three ties: one to go round your neck (unless you opted out of the upper part or wish to pin the bib on in the old-school manner) and two to fasten the whole shebang around your waist.  1-2 rectangles + 2-3 strings = apron.

Tablier pour hommes sans poche bavette bretonne de chef

I actually cheated a bit: I cut the top part and the bottom part (bib and, er, skirt?) in one – a bit wasteful of fabric, but it worked for the piece I had.  Piece of fabric, bias binding for ties, and I was good to go – or was I?

The bias binding was, frankly, the colour of empty sausage casings; the fabric was bright white. Two problems there: one, they don’t go; and two, white is not a good colour for an apron unless you like to spend a lot of time soaking things in stain remover.

Solution: the left-over packet of dye from the triangle dress. Since the uncut fabric was too heavy (i.e. would have resulted in a lighter colour) I cut out the apron shape first, and then stay-stitched the raw edges (a line of stitches close to the edge, to control fraying & distortion), before flinging it, along with the bias binding, into the dye bath.

Observe the line of white stay-stitching.

Learning moment: bias binding, be it never so starchy, will lose its shape the minute you get it wet, and become little more than a tragic draggle. Incidentally, I was unsure to begin with whether the bias binding was natural fibre or something which wouldn’t take the dye. So I snipped a little bit off and set it on fire. General rule of thumb: if it burns, it’s dyeable. If it melts, you’re wasting your time, because a) it won’t dye and b) it’ll make a rotten apron. (Please observe due caution and common sense when setting things on fire.)

Once the dyeing was completed and the materials had dried (hanging on the line for a night, which tells you how hot it’s been here lately) I ironed them. Then I pinned one end of the bias binding (folded double) to one end of the top, and figured out how much I’d need for the neck band. (Never forget to add seam allowances.)

I cut the remaining piece in half for the ties, pinned the right sides of each piece together, sewed them into tubes and turned them right side out again. (I could have whipped the two edges together if it had stayed in the classic bias binding shape, but alas, it was not to be. Perhaps I should have staystitched that as well.) A bodkin can be useful for turning the tube (I used the safety-pin approach) but make sure that this is a sewing bodkin, and not a dagger, please!

Fairbanks Robin Hood giving Marian a dagger
Maid Marian wonders how to tell Robin he got the wrong kind of bodkin.
Then – you guessed it! – press ’em flat. Then back to the pinning: pinning a ‘hem’ like the one I used on the kerchief around the raw edges of the apron piece (thus concealing the stay-stitching, which failed to dye), and attaching the tapes in the right places. My piece of fabric was already hemmed top and bottom, so I had to figure out a way to attach the neck tape which wasn’t built into the hem. (I basically just gave the hem another fold with the neck tape tucked into it.)

Then the sewing! This went pretty well until I got to a corner where two sets of double-fold hem and a tape met. The fabric I’m using is something like a heavy canvas or denim, and it makes for some chunky folds. Had I thought of this earlier, I could have taken the sewing advice I saw once: put it on a piece of wood and flatten it with a hammer. But I managed to pass through the edge, and went back to sew the rest firmly in place afterward by hand. Also by hand (because I forgot at the make-a-tube stage): sewing the free ends of the waist tapes closed.

The exoskeleton models the apron, having just enough neck for it to work.

Ta da! It is done, finished, complete. As far as I can see, it has only two issues: the front gapes a bit (still, it’s an apron, not a bib) and it’s kind of… pink. It remains to be seen whether I find it too pink to wear or not.

But, whether I keep it or not, I’ve practiced measuring, cutting, hemming, messing about with bias binding and attaching tapes.

Next month: a simple skirt or slip!

 

Sproing Cleaning

No, that is not a typo. Well, it is, but it’s an intentional one. (This time.) The first time I typed it I was aiming for Spring Cleaning, but my right hand decided that Sproing Cleaning was much more accurate, and I must say I agree with it (not least because it is presently spring nowhere on earth).


There’s a sort of a fizz in my blood at the moment, a wild and reckless fizz which suggests the committing of wild and desperate acts of pruning. (Of stuff, not plants. Mostly.)

This is hardly surprising, coming as it does on the heels of the completion of a years-long project. And it’s encouraging. According to Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way, “One of the clearest signals that something healthy is afoot is the impulse to weed out, sort through, and discard old clothes, papers, and belongings.”

So here I am, poised on the brink of the Sproing Cleaning, little pebbles falling over the edge at my feet (a game here, a book there…) and wondering – how far do I go?

Caspar David Friedrich - Wanderer above the sea of fog
This question is of course affected by many factors. How much stuff I actually have, how much of it is not ‘mine’ but ‘ours’ and therefore not mine to fling at will, how much energy I have to expend (always bearing in mind that it’s more economical of energy to do the job thoroughly once than fribble away at the edges of it for years).

[Digression: I thought I had invented the word ‘fribble’ but according to the SOD it can mean “to falter, stammer; to totter in walking… to act aimlessly or feebly; to fiddle;” or “to behave frivolously” – said to be the more modern meaning, around since the 1640s. And that’s just the verb…]

But at the heart of it, I think all these questions come down to one factor: regret. Would I regret getting rid of things? Would I regret not getting rid of more? Where, in fact, does the true sproing lie in all of this?According to Marie Kondo, “The question of what you want to own is actually the question of how you want to live your life.”

How do I want to live my life? What does that entail getting rid of? And even if I do regret the occasional discarded item, is it still worth it for the resulting sproinginess?

I guess the reason I’m asking all these questions in a public forum is because I’m not sure I yet have the cavalier attitude necessary to plunge over the edge at which I stand, and, well, we’ve all heard the story about penguins, haven’t we?

(Penguins don’t actually do this, it turns out, but bear with me; it’s a useful metaphor.) The penguins allegedly jostle together at the edge of the ice until one is shoved right over the edge – thus providing valuable research data on the presence of predators in the waters below.

Adélie penguins in Antarctica, Antarctic Peninsula
Test subject #1 is in the water!
So, has anyone here been over the edge? (Are there sharks? Sea lions? Oceans of tasty krill?) And if no one here has yet taken the plunge, who’s up for a bit of encouraging jostling?