Balloona Does Birkin

Yes, my friends. YESSSSSSSSSS. Do not adjust your monitors. It is I, your Kalkatroonaan proprietess, and I am in that most normal item of clothing: JEANS.

Seriously, what would drive me to this? I'm a party-frock-glam-rock girl when it comes to sewing. I am cake AND frosting, with a side order of ice cream and donuts. 

(Because cake is sweet. Jeans are bread. Jeans are, like, delicious sourdough bread, yo.)

Actually, I wear jeans a lot. You don't see them here, because I don't make them. I have five pairs of skinny H&M jeans. One bootcut. Zero flares. In the Great Closet Cull Of '08, I finally came to my senses and kicked all RTW flares in my closet to the curb. The sadness! I've always adored flares! YET THEY HAVE ALWAYS SPURNED ME! HAUGHTY THINGS! Waist too low, flare too baggy, back too gapey. They made me look less like a bohemian sunwashed Cali girl, and more like a hobbit.  

When I saw Erica B's jeans at the end of 2015, my love jones came back, hard. I needed those flares.

Baste and Gather's Birkin flares, to be exact. WHICH I FOUGHT KICKING AND SCREAMING ALL THE DING DONG WAY. 

Let me back up a minute. This past holiday season, we headed home with a sewing machine in tow, as per Mama Ruggy's request. She mentioned how much she liked it when I set up shop in the living room on holidays past. Specifically, she said: I LIKE THE CHAOS. 

Hey, who am I to deny her that pleasure?

I had no clue what I'd make during those ten days. The traveling Singer Featherweight meant straight stitching only, so: something simple. A TNT pattern. A muslin, perhaps. Sensible.

I guess the desire for "chaos" got stuck in my subconscious, because I lost all sense in the airport. Machine nestled between my feet, boarding calls pushed ever back, I pored over the bevy of testing beauties on Lauren's blog and impulsively announced to Ruggy: I AM GOING TO MAKE A PAIR OF JEANS. AND THEY WILL BE FLARED.

Y'all, Out-Loud-Announcements are No-Take-Backsies. However, my bad flare affairs of the past had left an indelible mark, because I did EVERY DAMN THING I COULD TO END THIS RELATIONSHIP BEFORE IT STARTED. Put the pattern in the cart and then waited too long for the $2 off coupon? Check. Bought a heavy weight denim with .00002 % stretch? Check. Fooled around on the computer with the PDF pattern, whiting out markings I "didn't need" in order to save printer ink, thereby forgetting that I was supposed to leave the fly extension off one side, creating THREE extra hours of zipper installation, seam ripping, and head scratching? SO MUCH CHECK. Took four inches of length out of the pattern and then completely lost all sewing sense, adding width back to the pattern between the lengthen/shorten lines? YEP! CHECKITY CHECK CHECK!!! IT'S NOT LIKE I'VE BEEN SEWING FOR EIGHT YEARS OR ANYTHING.

I soldiered on. On the final day of our holiday, sure that these were a total loss, and had served only to create a sense of Fun Holiday Chaos for Mama Ruggy, I put the basted jeans on... and ran full speed into the living room. 

I think I made jeans, I scream breathed.

Chaos Ensued.

Now, let's be real, these are too tight. I made a 28, based on Lauren's instructions (and excellent frigging instructions they are). They fit like a glove. If I'd used the proper denim, I do believe I'd be golden. This, however, is a fairly heavy weight denim with only the teeniest bit of stretch, scored at the local Hancock's on the remnant table. Two-fifty a yard, yo. No stretch? No care. Sold. 

Of course I did not spring for proper pocket lining (see "attempts to thwart my own self" above). Nope, I used the heavyweight demin for that. So, yeah, there's three layers of this hardworking stuff around my abdomen. RIGHT WHERE YOU WANT IT. Arriving home, I lopped off a curve out of the front pocket facing and overlocked it shut. It's a TV trick, costumers will often remove pocket bags from pants, and topstitch the pocket curve shut-- the look of a pocket, with no lines. I got so used to it, I never use my front pockets even when I have them. 

It's pretty genius, actually-- I should get in there and go all the way with it, as there's still plenty of denim lining to lop off. I will forsake front pockets for a smidge more room.

Other things I have forsaken, other than sense: Belt loops. Rivets. Post button. Back pockets. Yeah, I'm going to see if embroidery inspiration strikes for my bum. And belt loops? Who needs belt loops? These are staying up all on their own, baby!

Take it from me, if you're firmly sitting in the never-gonna-make-jeans wagon, jump on off and jump in these. I feel like a rock star in these! This shot was taken when a family of four shouted their love for my look. Ruggy was quite proud of himself for capturing my "thank you" (It's good to capture those real moments, he said. SMELL YOU, SCORSESE). 

I'm sold, hook line and sinker. I have proper fabric on the way for a second pair: same size, adding back length...and using ALL OF MY SENSE.