It is, believe it or not, the Donna dress from the Burda Vintage ’70s special issue. Yes, this one: the dress I planned to sew for “Sewing the Seventies” but it was not to be.
So without making it up as drafted, I played with the pattern to turn it into a bit of a Tessuti Lois dress lookalike*… I added kimono sleeves with cuffs, added a bit to the sides to give it pull-on capabilities, and added some waist ties.
Oh, and I added a facing because I didn’t want to line it.
The fabric is a linen woven out of blue and black threads (anyone know the name of that kind of weave?).
I’ve really loved wearing this dress. Its one shortcoming is lack of pockets, but I don’t really see a good way to add them to this design. And it’s helped me keep my feelings about this year’s weight gain in check. It’s a comfort dress.
What’s your favorite garment this summer or winter?
*Yeah, I didn’t feel like messing with turning those gathers into a dart.
PS: This was also my Burda Challenge item for July, and the only thing I made in July, at the same time.
Forgive the unimaginative title of this post. It’s hot and I’m finding myself creatively challenged. I have a few projects planned but am stalling on them: reluctant to fit, and baste, and sweat in the easily overheating room where my sewing machine is.
So this post comes to you thanks to Emma of the blog Emma’s Atelier. Emma asked me if I had more photos of the blouse on and I realized I’d been really sitting on this one too long… Thanks, Emma. I needed a push!
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the pattern caught my eye immediately. It’s a petite pattern, which I did notice immediately. I did toy with the idea of making a muslin but reluctance prevailed — in no small part thanks to a fabric remnant I was willing to take a chance on.
Here are the two magazine versions from the Burda site: version A and version B (it was B that made me want to give it a try).
So this is blouse no. 1 in said remnant, of which I only know that it’s a cotton fabric in an easily fraying weave of black and white. I picked it up at B&J Fabrics in NYC when I was there in March.
I did make some changes to the design. The only true fit adjustment I made was a forward shoulder adjustment (my usual in Burda patterns). Apart from that, other changes were to simplify the design and reduce fabric volume.
I removed the box pleats from the sleeves and the back. Then I combined the back and back yoke pattern pieces. And that was it.
I’m fairly short-waisted, I’ve discovered, so I wasn’t too concerned about the pattern being petite. But if you know you don’t want the waist seam hitting you too high, muslin first (or risk lengthening the pattern pieces somewhat cavalierly — honestly, I think there will be more of that kind of experimentation in my sewing future).
My second version is in a lightweight cotton print (voile?) I got from Mood Fabrics.
You can see on both, that the peplum isn’t very voluminous. The gathering on the frontand back pieces contrasts with the relatively straight peplum.
I really like this pattern — and it was a bit of a risk. I didn’t know how to think of it stylewise, and it made me realize I desperately need to get some jeans in my wardrobe. I think that’s the perfect bottom piece to go with it.
I am planning a third one, though not for me, for a friend who will be a mom soon. The sew-on snap closures might make this a pretty good nursing top, I think.
This is my Burda Challenge pattern for both May and June, though I do have one unblogged Burda garment waiting in the wings…
Thumbs up for the pattern, and thumbs up for taking sewing risks (especially at times when it’s difficult to get up the energy and curiosity to sew).
April was a month of sewing doubts, of a creativity slump, of body image issues, you name it. And yet somehow I managed to sew two shirts.
It was less epic than it may sound. I used the same pattern for both shirts and the fitting was pretty minimal because I relied on my previous experiences with Burda to figure out what I needed to tweak. And that might well be the reason why Burda and I might have a pretty lasting and almost exclusive relationship.
I continue to be pretty burned out when it comes to muslining and fitting new patterns. I’m also noticing more and more the need for fairly simple go-to pieces. In terms of what I like to wear to work, I think I’m pretty set on my reliable uniform being pants + buttoned blouse/shirt + cardigan or blazer.
Without further ado, here are the shirts.
Pattern: Shirt #103 from Burda 6/2017
Version #1: in scissor-patterned lightweight poly crepe that really needed to finally get out of the stash.
Vesna’s version got me off the fence about the pattern, though she does detail doubts I can relate to in her post (read it and admire the shirt here).
While I can appreciate the use of piping in the pattern photos, I really wasn’t into the idea of trying that out myself. Definitely not in a lightweight fabric…
I “drafted” my own pockets, fretted over the pattern placement, and managed to mess it up in an inconsipucous way, so all turned out well.
After wearing the penguin shirt a few times, I decided the sleeve length could use shortening, so I took out 2 cm from this pattern and it’s pretty spot on this way.
Version #2: the return of Cotton and Steel rayon.
Some changes from the previous version, not all voluntary.
I messed up pattern matching across the front in that — in pattern-matching fervor — I cut out two right fronts. Incredibly dumb mistake…
I could only cut another front piece if I shortened the sleeves, hence the 3/4 sleeves. Frankly, I do love the impressive look of “proper” full length sleeves with plackets, cuffs, etc., but my love of effortless watch and bracelet wearing, and doing things with my hands freely, overall, might outweigh it.
Voluntary change: I wanted a bigger collar. So I embiggened it slightly, a la Henna’s tutorial but not as bold.
I also did add piping to the shoulder seams on this one. It’s almost invisible in this crazy print.
In the photo of the back you might notice a hint of back darts. I stole these from another Burda pattern (Burda 7136).
Buttons from the stash of lucky thrift shopping finds, picked out after a day of vacillating on Instagram.
I like Vesna’s curved hem alteration, but I kept the straight hem from the pattern because I tend to wear these tucked in anyway. But here they are, untucked:
Would I sew this pattern again? Absolutely. But perhaps not soon because the automatic buttonhole feature on my Brother machine seems to be on its last legs. The final two buttonholes on the second shirt were faked by a combination of outlining with straight stitch and dense zigzag on top. Pretty tedious.
It might be a signal to move on to sewing other things (or getting the other machine serviced, finally!).
Do you have a go-to shirt pattern? (I should probably add, and is it the Archer from Grainline Studio?) Tell me your shirt-making secrets and complaints. I’m all ears.
#burdachallenge2018 catch-up! These penguins are coming to you from early March.
The fabric is a polyester (alas, but what can you do) crepe (yay) from Fabric.com. There’s also a gray version of this print available, but the blue makes the majestic penguins more visible. All in all, the fabric was pretty easy to work with and is on the nicer end of polyesters, so there’s that.
The pattern is Burda (runs to get the envelope) 6840. I have complicated feelings about it. I both love the pleats at the front yoke and worry that they’ve time-traveled from the 1980s straight into my wardrobe. And I’m too old to wear this ironically: I remember the 1980s!…
Not much to say about the construction other than that I reversed the pleat (is the one I did the inverted pleat or the one the pattern calls for???) and simplified the button band — I didn’t want a hidden one, so I simplified it. I think the covered buttons look better than a seemingly buttonless band would.
Is it just me or do Burda shirts seem incredibly long in the body? I’m not really petite, just definitely not tall, and I always end up shortening the hem from the suggested length by at least an inch.
Do I recommend the pattern? Oh yes: easy to fit, pretty fun to sew (if you’re not leaning on the instructions too hard because, you know, it’s still Burda even if it comes in an envelope).
Do I have lingering worries about the ’80s vibes? Oh yeah.
Diving in today: I need to make more pants because posts about pants get the best comments!
Thanks to everybody who joined in the conversation on my last post. I do have a tendency to ramble on about the challenges of fitting pants, and after every pair that I make I need to take a breather. It’s always the conversation after I post about it that makes me want to take on another pants project. The support and the practical advice I get from fellow sewists is a much stronger motivator, to be honest, than needing more pants in my wardrobe. (And I need more pairs badly.)
So that brings me to wardrobe gaps — or black holes, you know the category you desperately need, you try to tackle, but end up feeling that there’s an insatiable need for MORE of it in your wardrobe.
I keep returning to The Curated Closet (if you’re curious about the book, I have a book review post about it) and wishing for more time and patience to take on some of the practical exercises from the book.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the pie-chart breakdown of lifestyle/occasions compared to your actual wardrobe composition. Henna’s post made me think about my personal pie chart, how it’s changed and what I’ve done with it in the time that’s passed since I first read the book.
The unique challenges of the past year notwithstanding, I think I can pat myself on the back a bit for aligning my sewing more closely with my wardrobe needs.
This has basically meant two things:
my photos are pretty boring even when bad lighting isn’t the main culprit.
The “interestingness” of dresses was definitely brought home to me by the many, many, many comments and “hearts” that my most recent dress garnered on Instagram.
Don’t get me wrong: I love this dress and had a fantastic time making it, too.
However, I feel that closing my ears to the siren song of dresses like I’m Ulysses of the Sewing Machine helps me make things that get less sighs and pats when I open the closet and more wear.
Case in point: I type these words wearing the first of several to come Basic InstincT-shirts. Many of my posts have been typed while wearing one of the many versions of the Plantain tee I’ve made since I discovered that pattern.
So:I always need more knit tops (especially t-shirts)
BasicInstinctT (left) and Plantain with some mods (right). Definitely not a great picture of the Plantain! But, hey, now you know I used cotton jersey.
My one problem is that I don’t love sewing with knits. Something about the springy stretchiness of the fabrics annoys me when I’m sewing — and both on the sewing machine and the serger. With wovens, I definitely enjoy the process more. With knits, I just keep my eye on the finish line and the valuable wardrobe addition.
I am, at this point, out of things to add about the Plantain tee. But Sasha’s BasicInstincT is a new pattern for me. It bumped the Seamwork Jane out of my queue as the classic casual tee to try.
The PDF is more economical than Seamwork (which isn’t hard, their PDFs are notoriously long). Better yet: it’s layered, so you can choose to print only select sizes.
Notches matched up nicely. The neckline band had, I would say, the perfect length. I didn’t need to make a rounded shoulder adjustment (!).
The one change I will make next time is to raise the armhole by 1 cm and take some width out of sleeves.
Pretty close to perfect, this one!
One of my favorite versions of Plantain didn’t return from the wash, which either means that an envious neighbor went raiding the washing machine in the laundry room before I made it there. Or (more likely) it landed with my partner’s-in-crime tees never to be found in the bottomless collection.
Doesn’t matter. I need to make more.
More pants, obviously.
It’s more than about time to face jeans-making. Alas, with the sturdier machine out of commission for now I get to continue to shamelessly procrastinate on this.
Anything that could fall into the category of clothes to wear at home.
Here the neglect has reached criminal proportions. That’s where my old and worn out RTW items go to work beyond their retirement age. Ouch.
One saving grace is that I did make myself an item that adds some glamour to that otherwise sorry band of garments.
Remember the Camas cardigan I squeezed out of various leftover knits?
In my last bout of t-shirt making, I spontaneously decided to upgrade it by a simple addition:
Obviously, when you add ties as an afterthought, it’s not a perfect wrap. But sometimes perfect is not what you need.
This post is getting long. Is there more?
Things are improving in that department, so I get to wrap up on a happy note.
Over to you:
Do you have any significant gaps or even black holes in your wardrobe? Do you prefer to tackle them or leave it to RTW while you sew what you really desire to sew?
Managed to make (and wear!) my planned Burda project.
Pictures didn’t come out great (color me surprised). But here goes.
The pattern comes from the Burda Style: Wardrobe Essentials book — a gift that keeps on giving. All the patterns in the book have been also published in the Burda magazine. This one is from 2013 (I think). One drawback of the book is that it doesn’t tell you that, so it takes some investigating on the Burda Style website among patterns from 2010-2013 to match them to specific issues (and find more photos).
What did I do?
Lots of things. Mostly basting and fitting, and ripping, and basting again, and fitting. Then looking up alterations from Pants for Real People and making them, and then narrowing the legs some more…
Quite a lot of the fitting, to be honest, was more experiential and experimental than methodical. While the book was pretty indispensable for fitting my flat derriere, the side seam alterations to fit my particular hip and leg shape were mostly about trying it out.
Scary. Sometimes slightly disheartening. But I wanted to wear these, so I decided to trust the process and get to the finish line.
I wanted to get a decent shot of the back but failed. I complain about my photography skills (and opportunities) far too much here. And these photos were rushed, in bad lighting.
I think the pants look better in real life, but I’ll be the first one to admit they’re not perfect. Next alteration to be added to the menu is the poetically dubbed “low-butt adjustment.”
We’ll see how it goes from there…
I made some additional changes to the pattern, too:
I wasn’t on board with the front-fly construction (two parts! seam allowances to be added in some places but not everywhere! what?!), so I drafted in what I think of a regular fly, extending its “flaps” beyond the line of the also poetically dubbed crotch seam.
I wish I had stabilized the pocket openings because the main fabric is pretty stretchy.
Speaking of fabric: you can find some good stuff in the “Suitings” section at Joann Fabrics. I like this one, even if I can’t remember the fiber composition for the life of me.
…And I squeezed in an extra garment this month, also from Burda. This top did not initially catch my eye. Because of the sleeves. I’m really not a fan of “the year of the sleeve” or what seems to be “two years of the sleeve and counting.” Crazy sleeves are at odds with my everyday life, so we’re not going there.
As you can guess, I simplified it. I find it really hard to find fabrics that hit the sweet spot of having both decent drape and some body. And not being transparent…
The crinkle rayon crepe I used here definitely wasn’t it. So I lined it with another rayon fabric from my stash that was too thin and filmy for my liking.
Oh, the joys of photographing black: on the left is the blouse as it is worn, with the crinkle crepe on the outside, and on the right you get a view of the inside.
The lining is attached at the neckline (which I first stabilized the hell out of with lightweight knit interfacing) and finally incorporated into the French seams at the armholes. It’s hemmed a little shorter than the shell. If I were to make it again, I wouldn’t go with a narrow hem because it’s pretty stiff. Not constricting, really, but it feels too different from the other hem.
I didn’t French seam the sleeves. I overlocked them on my sewing machine with a narrow overlocking stitch. I tried to be slow and accurate, so as not to destroy or distort the very fragile fabric. I left a slit at the bottom of the sleeves — I guess that’s my take on the “year of the sleeve.”
And that’s how I challenged myself in February with Burda. I’m left with the lingering sense that the clothes look better than in these photos but maybe the gray days of winter have me fooled?
I’m that person who posted about not really joining sewing/knitting/photo challenges, right? Just confirming. I am indeed that person. But I’m also currently participating in the Burda Challenge and now… I want to Sew the Seventies. I guess, eventually, the challenges find you 😉
I discovered Sewing the Seventies last year — too late to join, but not too late to enjoy the Steely Seamstress’ posts (scroll through for last year’s posts). Seventies’ fashion reminds of my dad’s craziest clothes, which I only know from photos and his stories. It was also the time my dad learned to sew — taught by his friend’s dad. For him this new skill set meant inventions such as secret pockets for ciggies on a pant leg and refashioning regular pants to make them flared when flares were hard to buy but everyone else seemed to have a pair…
For me, dad’s sewing meant awesome doll clothes during my — very intense — Barbie phase. Later, life got too busy and dad stopped sewing. Much later, I learned to sew myself, thanks to Craftsy and YouTube, and blogs, and books…
My aim with this challenge is to time-travel a little.
While I’ve scored a few authentic 1970’s patterns along the way, I find myself drawn to one particular dress that I found in a Burda Vintage special issue I got as a gift.
The more I looked at the dress, the more I realized how much it looked like a crazy dress my grandma (dad’s mom) owned when I was little. By that point, the dress had been retired to the depths of her closet and I would dig it up for dress-up parties with the neighbors’ kids. My grandma would have worn it to parties in the mid-70s.
The cut was, to tiny me, the height of sleek sophistication, paired with a fabric that today’s me would honestly call bonkers. When you’re about five, nothing beats a combination like that. The dress was green, printed with a pattern of majestic white storks with red beaks and red legs. It was everything. Even if it was — and it surely was — polyester.
If I could find a similar fabric, I’d sew a replica of that dress. (Maybe that’s a fabric designing and printing challenge for the future, come to think of it?)
For now, I think, I’ll make it in a more subdued navy poly print that’s been sitting in my stash for a while.
Without further ado, here’s the pattern:
What puzzles me about the dress is that the sample is sewn up in a sequined jersey but the recommended fabric is embroidered silk?… If I’m reading between the lines correctly, it’s more likely drafted for a woven than a knit fabric. There is a zipper in the back and neck darts.
I think the simplest answer right now is make a muslin.
Sometimes on this blog I feel like a kid who just can’t tell lie for fear of [insert some sort of punishment idea from an ’80s fantasy movie]. Typing this post, I realize how fitting it is for the Burda Challenge that this pattern is from a February issue… However, I most definitely didn’t just make it. The Burda Challenge project is still in the midst of fitting and all the head-scratching that entails. Since it’s another pair of pants, I thought that writing about these might be a way to think through a few things.
I finished these a couple of months ago and have been in two minds about them ever since.
It’s the pleats.
It seems that I can’t resist pleated pants. I see them on someone else and just want to make a pair for myself, and once they’re closer to being finished, the doubt sets in.
In this case, Jasika Nicole’s post about her pink pair got me obsessed with this pattern. One thing I didn’t ask myself till I was deep into making the pants was what differences between us (apart from the fact that I’ve seen her on TV and if she saw me on TV I’d worry about a candid camera scenario) might be significant in terms of the end result.
Three pairs of pleated pants later (this one being the third one), I think I’m beginning to get it.
I mostly see those gorgeous pleated pants on women with figures very different from mine, and so the proportions work out differently.
Now, I’m a strong believer in “wear what you want to wear, however you may describe and see your body type.” And I wear these. But I do accessorize them with second thoughts, and that’s not ideal.
It seems that pleats and round tummies may not be a combo for everyone. Pair that with a flat derriere, and you get even more questions.
I think I’d like to get away from the pleats for now in favor of more fitted silhouettes.
Some thoughts on making and fitting these:
I always baste pants together after cutting out the pattern pieces, and that always reveals a host of necessary changes. Out I take Pants for Real People and begin to move seamlines, pin out excess fabric, etc. I definitely can’t claim to be an expert in fitting myself at this point, but I think I’m at least on track despite not being able to ever get a fitting buddy to help with this process.
Actually, it’s such a downer to read advice such as “If you can’t get a fitting buddy, maybe don’t bother because it will be very hard to fit yourself.” Well, what if you can’t — should you just give up on sewing altogether because you can’t create this perfect situation?
It’s all experiment here, with multiple goes at basting. I find that reading the Palmer/Pletsch book and sewing blogs is helpful as long as you don’t limit yourself to the scenarios you see described. Mostly, I’ve encountered fit alterations to give more room in the hips and derriere, with fabric taken in to accommodate a smaller waist, which is the opposite of what I end up needing.
Matchstick legs paired with a flat bum and a round tummy give you some interesting shapes to play with. Long story short, I end up adding and cutting fabric in slightly different places than I usually see described, and, obviously, that leads to more head-scratching.
In a nutshell, figuring out fit by yourself can be extremely helpful for getting clothes that actually correspond to your figure… but it can also be crazy-making.
As for this pattern in particular, I didn’t follow instructions too closely — because it’s Burda, and I don’t speak Burda even when I can recognize the words from languages I know. Put together, the words rarely make perfect sense. Burda is a language of its own, and I’m not sure anyone but the pattern writers speaks it.
So I made these on the basis of earlier pants I’ve sewn and some arbitrary choices about, e.g. whether and how far to sew down the front pleats, whether to stabilize pockets, how to hem them, what closure to put in, etc.
My one discovery with this pattern is that the side-seam pockets really work well — I had some doubts and even thought of altering the pattern for slash pockets, but I might actually play with adding side-seam pockets like these to other pairs of pants.
Any pearls of wisdom to share from your own pant-fitting adventures? I’d love to hear from you.
I don’t usually participate in challenges. No fear of missing out can overcome my desire to be free to sew whatever I want whenever I want. Here, the stars have aligned: I know I’m in good company and I mostly want to sew Burda patterns anyway these days.
I had my eye on several patterns from this and last year’s January Burda magazine. I noticed that in past years, the challenge participants would aim to sew something from the current issue and, if they didn’t particularly like anything from that issue, went for past years’ issues from the same month. A neat way to keep things challenging but fun.
However, my Burda magazine collection isn’t that expansive, so I’d have just two issues to choose between, and then the patterns I liked from both were on the more involved side… complications from the get-go.
So I decided to sew a stand-alone pattern from Burda that would allow me to refashion an unworn dress into something I’d actually wear. You can’t get stars to align even more without causing a cosmic disaster.
The pattern is Burda 7198 and the fabric was harvested from this dress (a Burda pattern, by the way, and a poor pairing of pattern and fabric on my part).
Refashioning felt really good. I don’t know about you, but it really bugs me to see unworn clothes staring at me when I look into my closet. That dress looked much better in photos (blurry though they were) than in real life. And I only wore it for those photos.
I ripped into the seams cautiously, to minimize the damage to the fabric. Still, the fabric frayed with a vengeance. Luckily, I was able to rescue the zipper and hook-and-eye, and undo the hand-sewn hem without problems. The skirt became the front and back of the blouse, and sleeves I re-used without any changes. The benefits of a consistent drafting block: they went in beautifully, with minimal easing.
Since the sleeves had the navy detail — and cutting into the bodice of the dress would have only yielded minimal amounts of usable fabric — I reached for leftover fabric from thesetwo projects for the yoke and neckline binding.
My thoughts about this pattern… a mix of good and, hm, less good ideas.
I really didn’t like the suggestion to leave the bias binding just sticking out with a raw edge on the neckline. I don’t think that’s a good look. I wish I had cut the binding strip a bit wider, but I did manage to coax into compliance with an iron and patience. I applied it in a similar way I did the contrast cuffs on the sleeves: like a facing that has a folded edge and goes on the outside.
I also didn’t like the godets and left them out because the back and front pieces come together nicely, and with enough room on the hips. The triangle shape you can see in my last photo isn’t a godet — I had to piece the fabric on the back pattern pieces.
Any problems I had while sewing came up due to the poor quality of the black fabric. It’s a pretty fragile and thin poly crepe. Making up the button placket in it was flimsy and annoying. You may be able to notice that the bottom of the placket has something that looks like a tiny pleat. It’s not really a pleat, but I could neither snip into the corner far enough nor press out the placket aggressively enough to eliminate it without risking damage to the fabric.
I guess I’ll have to see how long this top lasts. Unlike the dress, it’s getting some wear already, luckily.
Verdict: Pretty good pattern, especially if you’re willing to tweak its less convincing details.
Hello, and let me clear the cobwebs off this old blog. Thanks to everyone who got in touch here and during my occasional returns to Instagram over the past months.
I have missed the conversations on blogs and over sewing-related content in other places; however, I really needed the time away and FOMO or any other tether of our interconnected world was not strong enough to keep me from what I knew I needed. Which was to be away and focus on what was necessary.
Usually, it’s the online sewing community that gives me a nice sense of temporary escape into a much-loved hobby, but there comes a time when things are not usual any more, and this was one of those times.
Over the years as a pretty avid blog reader I’ve definitely drawn inspiration and a sense of meaningful connection from writers who’ve written candidly, beautifully, and often with a sense of humor and insight, about their experiences of illness, hardship, and loss. Without naming specific people, I want to thank those of you who write about life in this way. You help others by allowing them to think and feel together with you. And, in their own trying times, to remember, and feel less lonely and more capable.
I’ve discovered that I’m not that kind of blogger. I really enjoy blogging as a means to get away from all the emotion-laden real-life challenges. While immersed in them, I try to be there as fully and honestly as I can, but I don’t share it in writing afterwards. Hence the blog silence.
So while I was away from the blog I was with my family as we faced the challenge of terminal illness and loss. My dad passed away after a long struggle against cancer.
We’re here, still supporting each other. Some days are really difficult, others are easier. I don’t have any wisdom to share other than let yourself feel your feelings fully, no matter how strong they are. And be there for the people in your life, in your own imperfect but true way (even if, like me, you can’t write about it).
While I usually enjoy the fact that sewing can take you much faster from idea to its realization than knitting can, in those months knitting helped me work on my patience, while sewing was mostly beyond the attention I had available. Knitting demanded less immersion while bringing a perspective of relief and time to think.
And so I completed one of the most involved knitting projects I had ever undertaken: a cabled cardigan modified from a pattern I had long admired. The pattern is Fleta, from Norah Gaughan’s pattern book #9 for Berroco. I changed the neckline to get a silhouette I find more wearable (as I usually wear cardigans unbuttoned) and I shortened the cardigan slightly.
I haven’t bought new yarn in a long time and this was part of my mission of stashbusting. As you can see, the bottom was knitted in a different type of yarn to use up a partial skein and get the necessary yardage.
Apart from the cardigan, my other important project was the dress I made for the funeral ceremony. I had not planned to sew initially, but searching for an appropriate dress online was really disheartening. There’s a rant in me that I really don’t have the time for right now but… why is there this pervasive idea that women wish to look sexy at all times?… Most of the dresses I was able to find online were too revealing, no matter how I limited the search.
Sewing was my best best, I realized, and reached for the October issue of Burda, in which dress #103 caught my attention.
My photos — taken hastily on a dark January day — don’t do this dress justice. It’s really nice, with clever shaping using double darts and a flattering neckline that doesn’t hit too low (what a relief!).
Bad lighting and posing, good dress.
I was also amazed how little adjusting I had to do in order to get a good fit. I needed my usual broad upper back front shoulder adjustments, but apart from those, initial basting showed I could continue as is, which meant quick work.
Iwould like to make this dress again later. When I do, however, I will finally commit to the one adjustment I keep meaning to incorporate into my Burda sewing but tend to skip — I’ll raise the armhole by 1cm to get a slightly closer fit (and better range of motion).
That’s it from me for now. I hope 2018 is off to a good start for you, not just in terms of sewing, knitting, and other projects 🙂