and i shall christen the bernina in the bathroom.

oonaballoona bernina christmas

okay okay OKAY.   i'm so excited i whisper scream to myself every thirty seconds or so, and i'm not even drunk.   (a constant state of holiday tipsy does not equal drunk. them's the rules.)   SANTA BEEN BERY BERY GOOD TO ME.  and on top of that, santa had the great wisdom to let me in on the decision.   i unwrapped a vintage ornament this christmas to find it nestled in a wad of cash...and i am under strict orders to use that cash for a new bernina.

for once, i am following orders.  mark this date well.

the rugster explained the family's intentions.  babe, we wanted to have one under the tree, but i thought you'd want to pick the model.  you'll probably want mechanical over digital.  you can get one like gertie's, she did a two year review of hers--


okay.   i'm telling you, pint sized freak outs every thirty seconds.  i would go balls out every time, but i feel i should keep them under a certain girth, i don't wanna blow my bernina wad just yet.  after all, there's still the homecoming, which may set off the richter scale.  here's where i need your help.   of course i've been trolling my girls lladybird, heather lou & gertie, all proud owners of variations of the sexy bernina beasties... anyone out there wanna add some advice?  mechanical?  digital?  feet? vodkas?  i'm all ears!



a happy, and a merry, and a lovely, but most importantly a boozy to you. and you and you and you.
love, oona


ghosts of christmas past

this post, originally entitled "evil dead christmas," first showed its ghastly face in december of 2011.  it's one of my favorites, and if you're new to these parts i thought you might enjoy this shameless regurgitation.  merry scary, ya'll.
our holidays started december first, when we visited our much missed hollow legged amigos in their new abode. full of unstoppable christmas cheer, we decided to try a seasonal lights hayride.  we brought The Child.  at the very beginning, one excited patron stood up to take a picture.  SIT DOWN NOW, the head farmhand blared.  Hot Mama and i muttered merry friggin christmas to each other, and we were off.

the first stop was santa's workshop, where elves who obviously pulled double duty for halloween hayrides stuck sharp objects into mysterious boxes.

this one needed no weapon.  just rocked gleefully up and down, hands poised for choking.  

they parked us in santa's lair for a good five minutes.  i think their goal was to scare us into submission.  it worked: even though head farmhand disappeared some time during the workshop layover, no one dared to get up again.  

the ride continued.

that unoccupied swing by the obviously haunted mansion swung slowly back and forth of its own volition.  listen, ruggy breathed, you can hear it creaking.  indeed you could, loud and clear over the christmas tunes blaring on the cart we were all prisoners on.

killer clown racing across the steaming fields.


nothing says christmas like the holiday classic "proud to be an american".  complete with lighted flag.  the withered hands appeared somewhere around the last verse. 

on the left: unsuspecting fools.  on the right: freedom.

we left scarred for life.  The Child left asleep.


sewist does not equal crafter

sweet marguerite, how i love her smile. we met through the sew weekly, where her infectious grin never failed to light up the screen. though i'm pretty abysmal at sew alongs, her "sew tiny" grabbed me. something christmasy! something portable! something tiny!
cue the reminder that I AM NO GOOD AT CRAFTS.
seriously i suck at them. this is a constant source of shock to me. i suppose i think craftiness should come as an instant bonus prize to sewiness. they should go hand in hand, like gin and vermouth. but the two disciplines are not happily married in kalkatroona. i envisioned hand embroidered gift tags that would transform into ornaments aftre the prize was unwrapped.... how very green of me! instead i got something that is so obviously handmade it's likely the recipients will think i've been hiding offspiring from them. small offspring who are very bored and have been playing with my stash.
but! i did accomplish the "portable" part. sewing one (ONE) tag ornament up occupied me for the entire holiday flight. i won't tell you how long the flight was because it's embarrasing. i WILL tell you that there was no alcohol, which is also embarrasing.
gorgeous tiny works are beginning to pop up over marguerite's--behold this sneak peek and this bunny brooch...this fantastic fox stole isn't tiny but I LOVES IT SO MUCH...you still have time to join in! come on, it'll keep me going on these damn fugly tag-aments!


it's evolution baby

lately i've been looking at my "finished" stuff, and realizing it's not finished.  usually after i've taken pictures of it. this has happened before, and will happen again...

now i totally have to watch BSG for the third time through.

but now it's less about fixing things, and more about adding things.  the cylons, they have evolved from worker robots to intelligent beings!  (i don't know if that analogy fits.  cylons were humans first? or maybe the robots made the humans?  or some of them were ghosts.  yeah.  okay battle star.)  take for example my last MSN make: i need to fix the wrinkly back, but more than that, i want those aforementioned petals!  and my current offering, pictured above: yes, it is made of pleather and faux fur, but as i was editing the pictures i wanted MORE.  cuffs! rhinestone buttons!  black patent leather pumps!

(no carolyn, i have not acquired black shoes.  this cylon photoshopped her pumps.*)

so once again i say to you, if you'd like to see this dress in its current state of evolution, hop on over to mood.  i'll bring it round these parts once i have my way with it again.  i wonder, this repetitive behavior, does it have something to do specifically with MSN creations?  am i not thinking them through?  am i overthinking them? does dean stockwell have me in a regeneration tub?  am i just out of st germain?

i am out of st germain.  it's a problem.

*no fabric was harmed in the photoshopping of this post.


i feel a song comin on

There's a rhythm that New Yorkers fall easily into, on subways and on sidewalks and in buses and good lord yes, in crowded supermarkets, but the rhythm in-transit is especially interesting. Where you're detained until your destination. No one to push past, once the initial entrance-- no groceries to distract you; can't snarl at a rude being like you might, oh, say in line at the post office-- you keep your eyes down but aware, cause the crazy next to you is itching for a captive audience, and you could have four or forty stops to go.

I have this daydream that I'll get a whole subway car to burst into song together, like a musical, only with awesome music (look, some musicals suck). Maybe after a Yankees game, or an election, or, you know, during the holidays. This time of year seems exactly right, everyone has an air of anticipation in these early days of December: there's still plenty of time to get everything done! And who remembers that the January-February-March post holiday blinding rage that goes ON AND ON AND ON is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER? NOT ME, SIR!!! I think I could get that first-week-of-December-car to belt it out as deeply as I believe I have super secret mutant powers of invisibility, flight and telekinesis just waiting to blossom.

Yesterday on the A train (a bit on the nose for this musical musing, but true) a toddler quietly lalalaaaaaaa'd something extremely reminiscent of Barney's tune. YOU KNOW THE ONE. The train stopped between stations, indefinitely. Or rather, as the operator put it, indefffly. Toddler began to lala louder. After forty seconds or so of this, a stranger seated next to her looked down, smiled, and, almost embarrassed, barreled through iloveyouyoulovemewe'reahappyfamily (awkward pause)...that's whatcher singin, right? 

It's hard not to miss, I grinned from across the aisle. Stranger agreed: who c' forget it? Mother hung her head. Yeeeeeah.  

Only's it's way cuter coming out of her than a purple dinosaur, I offered.

We all smiled at each other as the train pulled forward, and with an air of nonchalance returned our gazes to the fascinating (yet obviously boring) things all around us. Three women: Latina, possibly Jewish, and whatever I am, staring at Art Of Shaving ads and the contents of people's pushcarts. When that train began to move again, we immediately adopted the proper amount of that was a nice exchange but don't worry I'm not crazy, you have no idea what stop is mine and I don't want you to freak about holding up a conversation with me till maybe the Bronx.

So far I've only reached the "support level" of singing in trains (although I do recall several occasions where Rob and I found it extremely necessary to figure out the harmonies to Sam Cooke + Lou Rawls' tune "Bring it On Home to Me," in what was probably not our inside voices).

If you did it, if you chose to burst into song like some 1940s musical star without a care in the world, someone who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there would be an instantaneous, resounding and raucous chorus creating a cacophony within seconds, what song would you choose? Whaddaya think would make them sing?


if a tree is yarn bombed in the forest

Soooo, whatchadid this turkeyday? Me? Oh nothing much just me and Brilliant Chica YARN BOMBED MY CHRISTMAS TREE.


And it went a little somethin' like this:

Boys in the kitchen, cooking. As they do. Girls in the living room, plotting and drinking. As we do. All is right with the world. Chica!!! Ruggy says he doesn't even mind if the Christmas tree is up for Thanksgiving! He even put a holiday station on for me while we were cleaning for y'all!!!

Really?  Brilliant Chica gulped. Wow. He IS guilty about that bathroom.

Laughter ensued, as it is wont to do upon mention of le bain. We lamented, as we have done for 2 thanksgivings now, the lack of a gold metal tree. We googled, as we have done for 2 thanksgivings now, for a speedy cheap option. I like the squiggly one, Chica declared. No can do, too seussical for me, I replied with a sense of ‪déjà vu‬. We get into a lively discussion, as we have done for 2 thanksgivings now, about the possible connection of Dr Seuss's palm trees and my hate/love relationship with the (clearly mental) state of California.

This wee tree is interesting.... we click the image, and rear back at the price tag. Oh, Urban Outfitters. You so crazy. Fifty dollas for a yarn wrapped twig. Defeated, we pulled ourselves out of the treematrix, resigned to the white branchy duct taped job that has held court for 3 years. Plus, it was time for Ruggy & Mad Chef's homemade pizza. Oh I'm sorry, let me correct that, IT WAS TIME FOR THE FOOD OF THE GODS. Shrimp! Caramelized onions! Capers! BBQ sauce! Pears! Cheese! Italian sausage! NOT NECESSARILY SEPARATE!

The melding of ingredients caused another fusion: what if we wrap branchy tree in some sort of metal....Chica breathed in ponderous tones. I slapped the couch. YES. HELL YES. YOU GOT YOUR CHOCOLATE IN MY PEANUT BUTTER. THAT IS BRILLIANT WE ARE DOING THAT.

(I didn't say the chocolate part but that was the intention.)

The next day, boys continued to do their kitchen thing, and girls marched off, in the rain, to nine different stores in four hours. The metal was elusive, to say the least.  Chica lost her mind in Papyrus. Why don't we wrap it in ribbon that would totally work you don't even KNOW-- I raised my eyebrows, visions of a bandaged tree limping in my head, and escorted her to a cappuccino.

Our prize was found, of course, at the last store we went to, aaallll the way up on 100th street at Michaels: a gold toned ombre lace yarn. The look of metal with the wrappiness of yarn?! We had hit the jackpot! Oooh while we're here, lemme just grab some pine cones for the windowboxes, it'll be ever so festive. As we turned the corner from the no-mans-land of Frames into Holiday Decor, a stench of 90 proof cinnamon smacked us in the face, like the malevolent fog in the Hunger Games. Oh god, put them down! The smell is coming from the pinecones! THE SMELL IS COMING FROM THE PINECONES!!! DON'T TOUCH YOUR EYES!!!

We dropped sacks of burning cinnamon, fled towards the checkout, were briefly detained by the lure of dollar bin toys, and finally emerged from the hellmouth victorious.

The tree was wrapped to the soundtrack of 80s pop and 90s emo. The boys, occasionally glancing from the kitchen, were excited by our progress.  Hey gals, Mad Chef chirped, you know what you're making?!

NOooooooooOOOh! we eagerly sang, expecting the proper response: A work of art! Beauty like nothing we've ever seen before! SPUN GOLD!  

BARK,  both boys cried in unison.

As I opened my mouth to utter the phrase we've all come to know and love, Ruggy quickly amended: you know, like a birch tree.

And it's Ruggy for the save!  What bathroom?!

The tree, however, will need some armed guards to keep it protected. Chica has already decided we're hanging it from the ceiling next year.  

Our first thanksgiving avec tree! There's no hope for Ruggy now, the rule has been broken, it's tradition. Oh yeah, and I found a use for the rest of that off grain bandana print.


cross examination

by now you know the ravishing rachel, of house of pinheiro, is releasing a new (free!) pattern come christmas day.  i was thrilled to test this beauty's debut beaut of a pattern, the brasilia dress, which i can now see, after taking pictures, is in wearable muslin form.  cue sad face.  no, scratch that, cue rachel face:


you can't test a rachel pattern without giving a rachel pose.

hooray!  crazy face print pulling to-the-left on off-grain stretch cotton!!!  AWESOME!

okay, so this has been knocked down to wearable muslin status because of the fabric, not the pattern. lemme put it in bold red letters for speedreaders: THE PATTERN IS TERRIFIC.  the fabric, not so much.  after adjusting the pattern for a shorter waist (yay for included lengthen/shorten lines!) & one inch swayback, i eyeballed my print placement.  no bandana targets directly on my ass, please. unfortunately, the fabric had gone so off grain in the wash, all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't yadayadaYADA.  

par example, behold the center seam, from far away, ok:

from close up, non baby non:

it's pulling in the front as well, and generally causing me pain.

i also think i might not be a fan of stretch cotton.  i like the stretch factor.  but it's sort of stiff... maybe i'm using it for the wrong thing, as i've only tried it with dresses.  this bandana print is from mood, if you absolutely must have it.  and if you must, lemme know what it's good for, m'kay?

but call me a fangirl and give me some pom poms for the brasilia dress.  yes, you have to hope your measurements are close to rachel's, or get out your grading cap, but did i mention it's free?   

i'll be making up the real thing soon...mayhaps in a stretch wool.  mmmmmm wool.  thank you rachel, you knocked it out of the park, i hope to do you justice on my next try!


little black up n' at em

have you been wondering what my recently mentioned, but never-caught-on-kalkatroonaan-camera, Little Black Dress looks like?  I KNOW YOU HAVE!   IT HAS CONSUMED YOUR EVERY WAKING THOUGHT!    I MIGHT EVEN BE IN YOUR DREAMS!!!!

well, dream no more, it is live over on the mood sewing network, and you might want to catch it in its current incarnation of caterpillar, as i'm planning on adding some wings to it.   behold the black bouclé here!


WOW: would you like some wiggle with that hem?

Since asking if y'all test out in the wild, it has occurred to me that most of the things I make aren't everyday wear. Therefore the query probably seemed a little um yeah, DUH. You make clothes in order to wear them, oona.  

But, especially when the weather gets colder, all I want to make is party wear. NEED MORE SHINDIGS. That said, I had occasion for another Worn-Out-in-the-Wild trial (WOW, if you will forgive the sweeping under the rug of prepositions and articles). My Denim & Velvet wiggle dress had its first outing last night at the 2013 Steinberg Playwright Awards. The beautiful and dreamy eyed Rajiv Joseph was honored, along with the amazing Annie Baker and dazzling David Henry Hwang, and I was eager to get all dolled up with Ruggy. Fair warning, this is not a fast walking dress, I breathed in my most classy voice as we began our stroll down our tree lined, holiday lit street. No worries, my gentleman offered, taking my arm, his wrapped in cashmere. We can mosey.

A ten block walk took us twenty minutes.

and I'm looking at the hem culprit. more evidence here.

After cocktails in Lincoln Center's Mitzi Newhouse lobby, we descended the staircase into the theater. It was then that I realized my wiggle dress might have a bit too much wiggle. The hem, specifically, which was not allowing for much vertical movement. Getting back up these stairs might take some doing...I thought, with only a sprinkling of gimlet infused concern.

Scenes from the honoree's plays were performed, and I had the privilege of reading the stage direction for a gorgeous scene by Rajiv, full of night sky and poetry, involving the Taj Mahal and beauty and terror and pretty much awe-someness. And in order to reach my spot on the stage, I had to climb a stair. Just one little stair. Which, at this distinguished event, I literally hopped over, LIKE A MINI HURDLE. Apparently there's a reason for a back vent, I shrugged later. Ruggy raised his eyebrows. Yes, I don't know why you continually decide that pattern companies know less than you do.


Luckily the front row was filled with our cohorts, so the hop was doubly enjoyable, and perhaps I was not meant to be completely classy that night--the stage directions involved my hollering out crazed bird calls. And as long as there weren't stairs involved, the dress worked. Meaning, I could still sit, stand, and breathe after three cocktails and a plateful of every hors d'oeuvre I could get my mitts on. 

But I'll be adding a vent. Or re-adding, rather, since I was the one who tooketh away in the first (appropriately) bird brained place.


out in the wild

oonaballoona | a sewing blog | out in the wild

I find that as much as I may love a project, I don't really know if it works until I've worn it in real life. You know, for more than blog pictures. For stomping around and eating in and ‪bien sûr‬, drinking in. That's the mark of a keeper or a clunker. Apparently this test run should also be applied to projects I've hastily labeled clunkers.  

I threw this doomed shinariffic polytastic blazer on for a girls' night out with the absolute Good God Perfection that is Sarah Deming (who snapped this shot), and suddenly it's my favorite piece in my closet. Partly because it's now soaked in amazing memories, but also because...it worked. We ate six tons of pork and cheese, we drank korean vodka, we marched up to strangers and demanded to learn their dance moves (happening above). 

This jacket was in my giveaway section five days ago. Never worn, even for blog photos. I guess I threw it on that night because I was already going out of my comfort zone. Party. With complete strangers. WITH NO SEWING IN COMMON. Why not go whole hog and wear a completely uncomfortable, completely untested garment?

By the end of the night I wanted to hug that club full of strangers. We did hug about half of them, before happily stomping off down the street, wondering why New York was so deserted on a Wednesday night at 2 am...

Do you test in the wild?


seductive sleeves

ooooh aren't i pretty.  i think soooo much of myself.  i am the most beeyootiful girl in the whole wide world!  you love me!  you want to marry me!  YOU KNOW IT!

just look at my cute little sleeves, they are so coy, so flirtatious, they tempt you with their unexpected pleats, you didn't even see them coming and now you can think of nothing else!!!

never mind the fact that i probably put them in backwards which resulted in an armsyce (that's armhole for you laypeople) that's lower than the dead sea.  just never you mind that, lovey!

wooooeeeee and wider than the grand canyon.  avert your burning hot gaze!  look, instead, upon the pleats!  the delicious pleats!  THEY ARE EXQUISITE!  aaaaaah, le sigh, you are too entranced by the sight of unintended flesh: is that an arm bulge?  is that her back?  armpit cleavage?  that is SO hot.


now, i made this about two weeks ago, and i do wish i could remember if the extreme dip is the fault of the pattern or the fault of the gin...so maybe y'all can tell me.  anyone out there tried this diddy?  don't get me wrong, i lurve it, i'm keeping it, i've rocked it not once, but twice in public now, leaving people lying in my stunning wake because I AM AWESOME I THOUGHT WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT, but maybe i'll just raise that curve a li'l bit next time we dance.

(although it is a little snug. i may have dried it on hot while i was on vacation.  i guess i could wear it soaking wet and try to stretch it out again--)


notes of notish notiness:

pattern: simplicity 2337, of the project runway line
fabric: medium weight sweaterey jerseyish knit from the ever janky, ever closing It's A Material World
notions: twin needle, jersey needle
tips: don't dry sweater knit on hot. 


a blast in black

draping contest, in anything but black

after madly blindstitching the hem on my little black dress, i raced out the door at 5:55 to pick up my date for the evening.  carolyn looked scrumptious in black, green and pearls.  as she changed from work to party shoes, i lamented my motorcycle boots. no black pumps in my closet, but whaddayagonnado.  the fact that i made a black dress was earth shattering enough.

our absolute gentleman of a host

we headed to elliott berman textiles to celebrate pattern review day, and were immediately and warmly greeted with wine, goodies, and a STUNNING view of some of the most gorgeous fabric i've ever seen. although we were encouraged to roam the aisles with glass in hand, i did not trust myself (dropsies, much?).  

to wit: the only runway shot i got of clio.  approximately three glasses in.

although i'm a member of pattern review, i wouldn't call myself active.  no, i think i fall more into the leech category.  there's no other way to describe it, i suck all the information i can out of countless reviews and give zilch back.  that needs fixing, though to be honest, i'm not sure what information i can provide that will actually be helpful.  really, it would just make me feel better about the balance of things.  no matter, i was all too thrilled to escort my girl carolyn!

draping winners nabbed beautiful 2014 yardage...  and YES THAT IS YOU KNOW WHO, THE MYTHICAL SHARON!!!!

in honor of PR, i thoroughly combed reviews for a cynthia rowley pattern, and made a mashup LBD with by hand london's elisalex bodice.  do i have any pictures to show you?  no.  will i be taking it apart this weekend?  YES. dress: check. black: check. I TOOK THE WORD LITTLE WAY TOO SERIOUSLY.  good god, after three glasses of vino, burgers, fries, and a salted carmel milkshake, i felt like a twinkie with too much cream filling.

hostess eugenia, mistress of the fabric guessing game: HOW CUTE ARE THESE CUTIES

my bandage of a dress was not a winner, but i did manage to snag one of the extremely generous and exceedingly beautiful prizes in the Fashion Intelligence Game portion of the evening, courtesy of elliott berman: a huge cut (maybe 6 yards?  it's morning, i'm on the floor with coffee, and the tape measure is oh so far away) of jersey that feels like magic water.  i know because it's draped over my lap.  another reason to not get up.

thanks for the help melanie! GO PR!!!

like the leech i am, i did not snag this bag legitimately.  i simply repeated (BARKED, WITHOUT SHAME) the right answer upon learning that a prizewinner could not win twice.  this did not work the first time; i earned a raised eyebrow from our game hostess, and intelligentsia melanie earned an extra bag.  the second time around, however, there was no refusing my brattiness.  i could only hear does anyone else know the right answer? for so long.  one second, to be exact.  y'all i don't even remember what the question was, let alone the right answer 

hopefully, i sufficiently embarrassed my date, since SHE DIDN'T VOTE FOR ME IN THE LBD RUNWAY SHOW.

no, the winner of the little back dress contest wore purple.  oh, you know who she is. THAT CATHY. 
winners circle, style me mary in gold almost didn't even walk...

i just... i don't... i can't.  that collar.  those notches.  i believe i greeted her with you bitch.  the delicious michael, however, was met with glee, i'm not sure how peter lets him out of the house alone with a dame like cathy. WHO, BY THE WAY, WAS MY "DATE'S" CANDIDATE .

she treats me badly, she wins missoni fabric...but i just can't quit her...

what a raucous, awesome evening.  thank you deepika (pictured throughout in knockout red dress) and elliott berman for a wonderful time (i'll be back at a more sober hour of the day...y'all, it is ever so pretty up there), and please do holler if you were at the shindig last night, i'd love to know where to find such lovely company online as well!


in another life

i am often amazed at myself, and not always for the right reasons.

it would not be quite so stupefying if oona circa 2012 hadn't repeated the same instruction to futureoona on back bodice as well.

(you do see that i corrected 8/8ths to 9/8ths, right?  riiiiiiiiiight.)

when i dug this cynthia rowley pattern out and found what horror i had wreaked upon it (lopped shoulder seams diagonally, took an inch tuck out of the pattern at bust level, made new darts that pointed anywhere but said bust) i thought, wow, i must've done this craziness, like, WAY early in my sewing career.  silly young oona, how far i've come!  but nope, i made this shining example of pattern adjusting up just over a year ago.

you can see more of it here on kollabora.  in real life, who knows where you can see it.  it went out to goodwill in The Second Great Escape From LA, during my purge of Things That Did Not Fit And/Or Looked CrazyFace On Me.  

looking at the shots, i do tend to don my rose colored glasses.  it wasn't that bad.  but no.  this pink lady hung unworn that summer, which is truth enough. 

do you hang onto such creatures?   have you abused patterns?


we call this muppet buckles

there are many perfect weekends to be had, of many varieties, and this past weekend was one of them. myriad marvelous ladies, mimosas and mood on saturday, followed by a firefly marathon.  sazeracs and steelers on sunday (TROY POLAMALU STRAIGHT UP THE MIDDLE I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT HE DIDN'T BLOCK THE KICK) and a snuggly sweater dress by sunday eve.

as you know i've been stuck in the bayou with old blue, and i was one hundred percent certain i would NOT have her finished (and oh, i do mean finished) in time for my scheduled mood sewing network post.  inspiration struck when i strolled the second floor with homies devra and clio.  we were there just for a minute, having shown fine restraint when saying goodbye to wanett's crew at the door on the first pass, but a second driveby was too much.  presumably we entered to get ideas for clio...as usual i found booty for myself.  devra left empty handed, as she "wasn't looking."  i asked her how do you not look when your eyes are open.  it is impossible not to see.

whoah!  one too many weekend libation?  non, photographeur extraordinaire ruggy simply insists on taking these shots at an angle.  it is apparently more artistic.  it takes a correction of 2 degrees clockwise, to be exact, EVERY TIME.  cropping hacks off half my hair n' footsies.  i can't complain. he accomplishes in four minutes what takes me forty.  artists.

returning to the point.  holy humped up hell, there is so much to see right now on the second floor.  i never know what i’m going to find up there, but i always walk away hugging something fiercely.  like i’ve just won a prize that must be guarded with my life.  this poly sweater knit came in many eye searing colors in an aisle full of sweater knit, and it is sooooo soft, which only added to the hugging factor.  i believe the tag said it was from italy.  is that the secret to poly of quality?   italian birth?

having a bit of the italian in me myself, i’d say it’s a good theory. 

for real, i have had my share of meatballs.

i’ve always wanted to work with sweater knit, but have been too afeared.  besides getting chartreuse muppet fluff everywhere, this was way simpler than i thought it would be!  and muppet fluff is fun, let’s face it.  it was an amusement park for our 23-pound beast of a cat.

of course i did plenty to make it hard for myself anyways, like cut the all-in-one front piece out whilst leaving myself with no room for the back, necessitating an eyeball surgery of sleeves, which was already an eyeballed hack on a burdastyle magazine pattern traced back in 2008 and then abandoned, really i screwed with this so much there's no point in mentioning the pattern.

what really made it easy was testing everything i wanted to do on the many bits of muppet parts left lying around after cutting out the pattern.  meg extolled the virtues of test runs over at mood sewciety last week.  although she rightly suggests testing before cutting out the whole shebang, there is a bonus to cut-now-test-later: it makes you feel better about all those post-cutting scraps that would otherwise go straight to the garbage, unused, in a fit of MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING DONE WITH THAT DRESS BEGONE REMNANTS NEW FABRIC NEW FABRIC NEW FABRIC

what, you don’t get that part?  you save all your scraps?  scraps make me want to pick a fight.

notey notes
pattern: hacked beyond recognition
fabric: italian poly knit, 14/yd from mood fabrics (an MSN project)
notions: pellon seam binding, leather buckles from pacific trimming, twin needle, jersey needle
tips: i used the seam binding at neck edges to keep the neck from growing to barbarella proportions, and after sewing other seams, fused the same binding to one side, and overlocked the seam. kept the seams nice and flat and safe from unraveling!  though i need to find something better than the pellon, it seemed pretty cheap.  the neck and hem are folded under a good inch and twin needled down.

this poly poof was made using my monthly fabric "allowance" as part of the Mood Sewing Network.