Flossie Teacakes

One more Laurel

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Tue, 21 May 2013 09:29:00 +0000

I actually started writing this post yesterday, but didn't get a chance to finish it and overnight I've discovered that one of my Laurels (below) that I entered into the Colette Patterns Laurel contest has won second prize in the 'Added Detail or Embellishment' category! I'm so flattered to see my top alongside such amazing dressmaking talent - do go and check out the other winners. If you quilt you'll especially love the dress which won first place in this category as it combines precision piecing with dressmaking.

So, topically, this post is about one last Laurel (no, I don't actually believe that either, but I feel the need to at least attempt to offer up the illusion of there being some diversity to my dressmaking). I actually made it a few weeks ago, but I've been crazily busy and I haven't had time to blog about it until now. This one is interlined, as the cotton was very sheer.

For those questioning the difference between lining and interlining: if you line something, essentially you create an identical garment and then sew the two garments so that seam allowances are sandwiched, unseen, in the middle of the two. If you interline something, at the outset you simply sew two pieces of fabric together and then treat them as one - this way doesn't hide any of the seam allowances, but that wasn't necessary here as I was using french seams.

I used an incredibly fine voile for the interlining that had the exact weight and drape of the large spotted dobby fabric (is it dobby when the tufted spots are this large?). Out of the three Laurels I've made, I attached one collar with a bias binding finish, another as a traditionally-installed Peter Pan collar covering the join with a strip of bias inside the blouse, and for this final Laurel, I went off piste entirely.

I didn't sew the interlining fabric to the outer fabric at the outset as you normally would, but instead sewed the interlining back and front pieces together at the shoulder seams and then did the same for the outer fabric. I was then able to temporarily treat the interlining fabric as a facing, and sew the Peter Pan collar inside this sandwich to give the simplest of installations from all the collar insertion techniques I've experimented with. I then sewed the interlining fabrics to the outer fabrics in the conventional way and from that point on treated the fabrics as one.

I left the sleeves unlined as I quite like being able to see the fabric as it really is here.

It's actually my least favourite of the three Laurels I've made, as no matter how fine the fabrics are, two layers of fabric won't replicate the flowing drape of silk. Silk tends to fall over your curves, and has a slight static that makes it follow the exact line of your figure, but without being clingy. An interlined cotton, no matter how light both the fabrics are, tends to fall over your curves, but then stands proud from the body. Everyone tends to have an issue that they are mindful of when dressmaking and mine is a big-bottom-in-relation-to-the-rest-of-me, which is exacerbated by having a very, very short body (because how much back can you realistically squeeze into 5ft1" without losing room for legs, neck and a head?). If the drape isn't just right it can make things look even more out of proportion; if the fabric doesn't fall back in at the the waist and stands proud of my body from bust to bottom (yes, I know they're on different sides of my body & that's what makes for a double-width tube!) it can make me look slightly shapeless. The photo you see below is the 'flattering photo'. I'm having to delete the 'unflattering truth' photo from my memory or I may not be able to actually wear this top. It's an interesting experiment to make so many versions of the same top and to observe how it can morph from flattering to unflattering purely because of the drape of the fabric. I like how it looks from the front though, so it may get some heavy with-cardigan usage.

Hence why I think I may make another Laurel as I'd still really like a practical cotton version, but perhaps in a cotton that isn't so sheer that it requires interlining, which would hopefully make the drape less of an issue.

I usually make my own bias binding in self fabric or a contrasting fabric, but for this top I used pre-made bias. I actually love working with the pre-made version - the bias strip is so heavily starched that it's easy to manipulate and the pre-formed creases are satisfyingly crisp. It seems to knock so many minutes off construction time!

The inspiration for this top and the fabric use actually comes from something I pinned on Pinterest over a year ago. My version seems rather demure next to the original foxy inspiration top, but I'm not sure I would wear something quite that see-through....or with such puffy sleeves. Interestingly, it's only since making up my book of croquis that I've been able to see why, despite my absolute love of puffed sleeves (who couldn't watch Anne of Green Gables as a child and not develop a life-long love of them?), they will never suit me. If you look at the photo above, you can see it's really only the top on the left that actually flatters my frame. The rest give a very curious effect indeed.

If you'd like more Laurel inspiration, you can find plenty in the Colette Patterns Flickr pool. My prize for coming second was £50 worth of Colette Patterns! I'm more than a little excited by that proposition - my quick trawl of the Flickr pool has made me think that a Hazel and a Peony dress pattern seem to give a good fit and look consistently lovely in the photos in the pool - do you have any recommendations of your own? I'm also pondering the Sencha blouse, but I'm not sure if there's too much going on around the waist that may overwhelm my petite frame. I don't actually dislike being small at all, but I do look at my super-tall mannequin and think that it must be so much easier to carry off any piece of clothing if you have more height. Although I'm sure that comes with challenges that wouldn't even have crossed my mind.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned the freakish thing that happened when I was pregnant for the first time - I grew! When I returned to wearing some of my old clothing, once my daughter was here, I realised that most of my clothes seemed a little shorter. At first I thought this might be because I was a tiny bit bigger and so perhaps I was wearing them in a different way, but eventually I got my husband to measure me and we were both alarmed to find that I'd gained a whole inch in height! That pregnancy had been hideously uncomfortable and it seems it stretched my vertebrae out somehow - who knew that could happen? And just in case you're wondering, my second pregnancy passed without any height adjustments, despite my husband anticipating that if we were to carry on having children I would eventually tower over his 6ft2" frame.

Florence x

Homemaker Magazine

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Fri, 17 May 2013 12:27:00 +0000

It seems like most of the people I know in England have been struck down with a cold. Very possibly because we've been kept in the fridge for too long with the absence of any summer weather. This is my current handkerchief, for indoor use only because it is absolutely enormous and could easily be restyled into a voluminous smock top or possibly even cover my entire head and face if a sudden gust of wind came along. I think I probably knew that it was an impractical size when I bought it, but I was completely taken in by the print (yes, it's Liberty). It is almost impossible to blow your nose in a dignified way with something that resembles a small table cloth though, so it may have been an error. I have many more thoughts on handkerchiefs, but they'll have to wait until next week, because that's the kind of cliffhanger that I like to leave you on when it's a Friday afternoon.

I'm rather delighted to find myself in Homemaker Magazine this month in their 'Voices from the Blogosphere' feature. It's factually incorrect in places, but it's very nice to find myself a year younger than I really am at least! I think this may be my own fault for not having updated my biography for some time!

I haven't bought Homemaker Magazine before, but goodness, it's lovely and I feel quite delighted to appear in its pages. It has a definite craft bent to it, but it's also got a very large dollop of homemaking and interiors-related talk to go with it - it's a combination that really works and which offers something different to the kind of content I come across freely with the blogs that I follow (I tend to follow pure craft blogs as if I began following design blogs too I think I'd begin to feel a little overwhelmed).

I always love baking-related pieces and there were quite a few.

As well as the more geeky bits where a double-page spread is dedicated to discussing different glues. This morning as I dried my hair I read a quick article in there about how to properly wind and take care of an old clock. I don't actually have a clock in our house that needs winding or taking care of*, but I love reading about the processes undertaken for maintaining something like so traditionally made if I did.

I hope you have a lovely weekend planned. My own will involve some baking and revelling in it being the first weekend I can remember for a long time when all four of us are home together all day on a Saturday (my husband normally coaches my son's football team, so they tend to be out until at least lunchtime).

Florence x

*Actually, I have a very small digital alarm clock which my father brought home for me from a business trip when I was 14. When I went to university I spray-painted it silver and it's spent the last 15 years shedding slivers of paint and generally looking increasingly disgusting. My husband often asks why we have to have this awful alarm clock next to his side of the bed (asks in a fairly rhetorical way, as I know he couldn't actually throw it out either) but I can't bring myself to get rid of it. The article offered no guidance for taking care of such a clock, but I think that may require a more specialist publication, such as 'Hoarders Weekly'.

Shed envy and dogs on chairs

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 15 May 2013 11:43:00 +0000

Today, I bring you some photos of Manjit Sidhu's glorious sewing shed, which I've kindly been given permission to share with you. I first saw this shed on Twitter when Manjit's friend, Catherine, asked me if I'd vote for it as it has been entered into a shed competition (you can vote too if you'd like to - it only takes a second).

I have totally fallen for its gothic windows and lovely green and pink colour scheme.

The shed comes from The Posh Shed Company and is quite possibly one of the loveliest sheds I've ever seen, although I feel chilly just imagining what sewing through the winter in it might be like (particularly as it's May and I currently have the heating pushed up to 24 because it feels like it might never be warm in England again. Having my heating use dictated by what month it is no longer seems a logical ground for deciding such a thing. And for ardent environmentalists who may disapprove of that statement, in my defence, I've made only three short-haul plane journeys in the last eleven years and I've been a vegetarian since I was four years old, which is apparently the single most effective change you can make for having a positive impact on the environment, so I indulge my love of a warm house without guilt).

I love that a shed is so detached from a house that you could go completely wild decorating it. I think my husband and Nell might like to be in one of these during the summer months...or maybe I'd just like them to be in one as Nell is now in the frustrating stage of puppyhood where she moves from one piece of badness to another and has been making her way through computer cables, skirting boards and parts of my kitchen. She is rarely let out of our sight for longer than thirty seconds, but it's amazing how much damage she can do in that short time and also how cleverly she places a toy as a decoy next to the illegal item she's chewing to lull us into believing that she's just innocently chomping away on a stuffed rhino.

When it comes to golden retrievers they grow so quickly that she no longer looks like the puppy in the photo above, but rather like a small, but very proper adult dog.

Which brings me on to dogs on furniture. I am uncompromising about not wanting her on sofas or upholstered chairs, especially as in six months time she'll be a malting, long-haired mass of gold, but does giving a dog a chair of their own stop them from being quite so persistent in their attempts to share human chairs? I found her on this old wicker chair this morning and thought that I'd actually be quite happy for this to be Nell's chair (will an adult golden retriever curl up to fit on such a chair though?) if it would mean she felt she had a place of her own that's higher than her bed, which seems to be what she covets.

These photos make her look really quite small still, but it's quite amazing how strong she is. The weekly photos my husband has been taking of her on the Florence height-chart (that's her size relative to a human Florence. Do you see how he tries to draw me in to be a part of his dog's life?) are soon to come to an end as I can barely lift her. Dogs are so very different from cats: she is a solid mass...a bit like a house brick...or a large boulder.

Florence x

The Great British Sewing Bee

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 08 May 2013 10:34:00 +0000

I've been mostly working on Squeebles-related things for the last week or so, but I did fit in a quick fabric-buying trip to London one day. I went to the shops on Goldhawk Road, where fabric is only a few pounds per metre, and then on to the Cloth House on Berwick Street, which is far more expensive, but does have an amazing selection. Some photos of my haul will punctuate this post.

The Great British Sewing Bee has somehow come and gone without my managing to blog about it in between, but wasn't it wonderful (I think you can still see it on iPlayer if you missed it)? I watched it with my children and we loved it just as much as we had the Bake-off series (although I loved it a little more, obviously), from the same production company.

I haven't heard of anyone who didn't enjoy the Sewing Bee* and I wonder if it's because it has the same successful formula as the bake-off: the fascination of reality-style television, but with the welcome twist of it containing genuinely nice, normal people being filmed in a way that isn't concentrated on stripping them of their dignity. Anne was an obvious winner right from the start, but that didn't stop it being hugely enjoyable to watch, perhaps because as with sewing, it's more about the process than the result. I felt slightly pained by some of the time constraints though: four hours to make a man's shirt! Even with the cuffs being omitted this seemed like an incredibly pressured task, so the results were fairly amazing.

I was fascinated by how the programme may be perceived by those who don't sew though. One friend said that it didn't inspire her to sew clothing as it looked so stressful, while others were baffled by the terminology. There are some things that, as a seamstress immersed in an online world where everyone sews, you assume are part of common language.

There has been much hilarity from my children over some of the terms learnt while watching the programme, as well as some teasing over what I only now see is my rather predictable solution for styling any garment when asked 'what would you do?'. One morning I was pinning a collar onto a Laurel blouse that I was making and my eight-year old son came in and asked if it was a 'Peter Pan collar' that I was creating. I was fairly stunned, but apparently he is familiar with this term because, in his words, 'you think it would be best to put a Peter Pan collar on everything, even trousers'. Warming to impressing me with his technical sewing knowledge, he then enquired if the collar would be attached 'above the bust' or 'below the bust', chortling to himself wildly as he asked this non-sensical question. He was an alarmingly good mimic of Patrick Grant (the judge from Savile Row) and swept his hands over the garment while commenting on whether my placement of the darts around 'the bust' was quite correct. Both children were fascinated as to why Patrick would never simply say that the fit wasn't right over a person's breasts and were disbelieving when I told them that 'the bust' was more polite and that in dressmaking you'd never refer to someones breasts. But I can still hear them impersonating Patrick and May while they brush their teeth before bed some evenings asking one other if they put their toothpaste onto the toothbrush while holding it above the bust or below the bust.

Anyway, Love Productions have asked if I'll share their request for entrants for the second series which will be made in the coming autumn and winter. If you're interested in applying, then do go and visit here. I'm so looking forward to watching the second series.

What did you think of the Sewing Bee? Did you love it? Could you sew under that kind of pressure? Are you considering entering?

Florence x

* Apart from sometimes in the online commenting section beneath newspaper articles about the Sewing Bee. I've noticed that these comment sections often seem to contain the thoughts of people seemingly angry at the entire world. They scare me slightly.

Ps. I've been shortlisted for a BritMums award. If you'd like to vote for me you can go here, where you'll find me in the craft section. x

My second Colette Laurel

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 13:16:00 +0000

Oh dear. I said in my last post that I had more Laurels planned, but even I'm surprised that I started on my next one almost immediately. I think there may be at least another three Laurels in my head. I'd quite like to make a few from light-weight cottons as, as much as I'd like my life to be one that accommodates wearing silk at all times, the reality is that cotton would be a more practical option much of the time.

This one has a completely look and feel as I've used a plain fabric and made the piping on the collar and binding at the sleeves the main feature. The other thing I've done differently is to raise the neckline a little to accommodate a proper Peter Pan collar, rather than one that's attached with bias binding (this is how I attached the collar for my last Laurel)

The silk has been sandblasted, which gives it a finish that has a semi-matt lustre, a manageable hand and a slightly faded look to the colour - I love it. It's the most wonderful fabric, but not without a few problems. Firstly, it will expose the slightest mark, so I'll probably wear it when we're going out for drinks, rather than dinner (which may cause images of Paddington with marmalade on his paws to spring to mind, but it would be precisely when wearing a top like this that a stray olive would choose to hurl itself at me and roll down my top). The sandblasted silk sews beautifully on the machine where its own weight is supported on the bed of the machine, but it's less forgiving when hand-sewing and when I hemmed it by hand I found I had to be incredibly careful not to cause tiny runs to form in the fabric by pulling on the thread with too much force.

It is so lovely to finally have a go-to pattern that I know is going to just work in every way and fit reliably well each time I make it. I have some Nani Iro that I've been so reticent to cut into, but I'm now pondering a Laurel dress.

It's Friday, the weekend is almost here and we have cake in the house to celebrate my father's retirement later today (his retirement has been on the verge of happening for several years but he has always agreed to stay on a little longer at the last minute. I feel quite disbelieving that he isn't just announcing a retirement to have a quick pitstop for cakes, before picking up his briefcase and heading back off to the City again). I will not be wearing either of my Laurels because of the Paddington/marmalade problem. Cake eating is just such a time when a Laurel in voile or cotton would be perfect.

Wishing you a lovely weekend,
Florence x

A Colette Patterns Laurel in Liberty print silk

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 12:37:00 +0000

Following my last post about the construction details and the adjustments I made to the pattern, here are some photos of my finished Laurel blouse.

It's already my favourite item of self-made clothing. It's rare for me to want to wear something I've made straight away. Often it will hang from my picture rail for a few days first so that it has time to settle in my mind and I can come back and look at it more objectively and try to gain some peace of mind that it doesn't look too overtly like I've made it myself (in a bad way, at least). Happily, I haven't felt that this top needs any settling time. The only thing currently stopping it from breaking out of my wardrobe is that I love it so much that I want to save it for when I'm going somewhere special - there's every chance this will be soon, for a weekend with my sister. (I've been tempted to make her one too, but the last time we worth matching outfits was when I was 6 and she was 9, after our mother bought us matching miniskirts and jumpers to wear on the plane journey as we emigrated to Australia for a few years. It may be a treat reserved for when one's leaving the country with the knowledge that you have no chance of future contact with anyone who has witnessed your matchiness. Or just for when you're 6 and 9).

The blouse is really quite loose-fitting, but the pattern's cleverly placed diamond-shaped double-point darts at the back mean that it follows the curve of your back, giving a fit that's loose, yet tailored. I used double-pointed darts to try and rectify a dress I was making that didn't look quite right last winter and while the dress never came to anything, I realised then that they're an amazing way of stopping something from being shapeless when viewed from the side. I may want to add them to everything now.

The silks I used while making this (a Liberty print crepe de chine and a sand-blasted silk that happened to be an identical colour to one of the flowers in the printed fabric) were slippery, but thankfully not too prone to fray, which meant that I could actually enjoy making the piping for the collar and the narrow binding for the sleeves.

Inside it's finished throughout with french seams. Grainline Studio has written a fantastic tutorial which will give anyone new to these all-enclosing seams the confidence to try one not only on a straight seam, but an armhole too, called 'French all your Seams' (I love that title!) which is well worth having a look at if you're working with a fine, light-weight fabric. I contemplated overlocking this blouse as it's so much quicker, but the idea seemed slightly obscene when I considered how much I adore this fabric.

What I love about tiny Liberty prints is that they morph into something different when viewed from a distance - what looks like quite intense colours and a busy pattern when viewed at close range, tone down to something easily wearable the moment you're a yard away from them, and a pattern repeat that wasn't previously observable suddenly emerges (I noticed the same thing with this top which I made a few years ago).

I'm entering this top into the Colette Patterns Laurel sewing contest. Have you made your own Laurel entry? I can't recommend trying this pattern highly enough - it's such a lovely blank canvas for showing off a special fabric or adding in your own details. Obviously, because I love this pattern so much, I have several more already planned in my head and hopefully soon to be made. I think this may be my summer of Laurel.

Florence x

Colette Laurel: Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 19:23:00 +0000

At the end of last week I found some time for some dressmaking, having suddenly been inspired by the warmer weather. While I've always loved Colette Patterns for skirts and trousers, I've been wary of using their patterns on my top half as their smallest bust measurement is nearly 2" bigger than my own. I've either tended to draft my own patterns or use those from Japanese pattern books where they're cut for a smaller frame. However, I've now realised that I've been depriving myself from a huge amount of fun as making a SBA (small bust adjustment) to the pattern was actually a very simple process. I referred to The Complete Photo Guide to Perfect Fitting and made my adjustment to the paper pattern out the outset. If you don't have this book (which, having now use it, I can say is brilliant), then I'm told by Kerry that this tutorial by Megan Nielsen is excellent too and it looks very similar to the one in my book.

My main concern in changing the pattern was that my small bust measurement comes from having a very small ribcage rather than a barely-there bust so I was unsure if an SBA would work in the way I hoped. But my worries were unfounded as the newly drafted darts give a perfect fit.

Nina commented that she was in the midst of making a Laurel herself and found that there was a lot of ease at the back of the sleeve head - I found exactly the same, although happily this was fairly easily rectified by shaving half an inch from the pattern in this area.

If this all sounds like a lot of changes and fitting issues, it's actually not at all and I'm so delighted with the finished top that spending twenty minutes altering the pattern seems irrelevant. It is a beautifully cut pattern and once I was happy with my toile, I knew that it was going to be worth risking cutting into two of my most treasured fabrics which I've had stashed away for a year now: a beautiful silk crepe de chine Liberty print and a plain, sand-washed steely blue silk.

I drafted a Peter Pan collar to go on my Laurel top and you can see it above before it's sewn into place.

I think that covers my construction issues, so tomorrow I'll hopefully show you the finished garment - I'm already planning my next Laurel as I love this pattern so much. I'm also contemplating a Violet blouse. Every time I use a Colette Pattern I'm reminded anew of just how good they are.

Have you been tempted into some dressmaking now that Spring has almost sprung from the gloomy dark box its been hiding itself in?

Florence x

A summer bag tutorial for the Liberty blog

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 17:24:00 +0000

Regular readers will know that I have something of a bias for using Liberty prints when sewing, so I'm delighted to have been asked to write a guest post tutorial for the Liberty Craft blog. I designed a summery bag for carrying groceries (or if the English summer arrives this year, supplies to and from the park) - it's cavernous, but isn't over-sized and the handles can be set to be just the right length to wear the bag both on your shoulder or to carry it in your hand.

I chose my fabrics from Liberty's new Stile collection of quilting-weight cottons - I am utterly in love with this elegant, deeply saturated blue print (and it's the same colour as my very favourite cardigan).

The upper portion of the bag lining is cut as a separate section so that you can use the same print as that of the outer fabric, so there's no visible peeky-over fabric bit from a contrasting lining.

And the outer pocket is piped with more Stile print goodness.

And there's a boxy bottom. Because that always seems like a good and practical thing.

I hope that if you're in the market for making a quickly-put-together spring-summer bag then you might enjoy making one yourself. I can't wait to use mine as it's been sitting patiently in my wardrobe for over a month now. As I write this it's still raining, but I'm hoping that the publication of my tutorial on Liberty's blog will serendipitously affect the weather systems and cause it to be usable as of tomorrow...

You can find a bit about me, as well as my bag tutorial, here. And if a summer bag doesn't appeal today, then do go and look through the archives as there's some wonderful tutorials from other bloggers to be found there.

Florence x

My daughter's sewing

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 14:26:00 +0000

I haven't been around quite as much recently due to the Easter break, but my sewing machine hasn't been entirely neglected. My daughter and I had a day to ourselves and she decided she'd like to sew. She chose some Liberty Tana lawn and I showed her how to insert a zip. She did everything from cutting the fabrics with the rotary cutter (eep!), ironing on the interfacing (double eep!) and sewing the zip in place...the only thing I refused to let her do was use a match to singe the end of the velvet ribbon zip pull. Not because of any incompetence on her part, but more because of my own inability to deal with a potential fire near her (if you follow me on Instagram then you'll know that I had 'an incident' recently where my handmade Liberty oven gloves caught fire and I suffered a total memory blank as to how useful water can be in such a situation).

She took such care over every detail. When I looked at her little zipper purse afterward I realised that there was no part of the machining that I thought I could have done better myself - such a lovely feeling.

She seemed to really enjoy the process: the aha! moment (not of the Morten Harket variety) when you discover that the counter-intuitive order that the lining and outer fabrics are placed in when you're inserting the zip really does work; seeing how the different sewing machine feet helped her to do the things she wanted; the satisfaction of seeing the lining sewn neatly in place so that it can never be caught in the zip. Her innate neatness and perfectionism seem so well-suited to sewing.

We also had a day to ourselves in London. I took her to Liberty - she fell in love with every part of it and wanted to stay so long that we had to briefly go and revive her aching back in Le Pain Quotidien with a pastry before she could return to complete her third tour of the stationary department.

We also went up The Monument which marks the Great Fire of London. The top was 311 steps up a spiral staircase. As everyone else (including toddlers and the elderly) happily raced up and down, I seemed paralysed by vertigo and was nearly violently ill. But at the top there were amazing views and even buildings that seemed to show quilt patterns within their walls.

During the holidays we were also sent a review copy of Ruby Loves, a craft magazine aimed at 8 - 12 year olds. It contains a mixture of baking, paper craft and sewing. It's the perfect thing for a rainy afternoon, especially if (unlike us) you don't have cupboards already bulging with craft supplies, as nearly everything you'll need is included, from pastry cutters to buttons and fabric.

Our verdict was that we both thought it was a really lovely magazine, but that it would appeal to a slightly younger girl (my daughter is 11) . However, when I was out with my son one afternoon I came back to find that she'd used some of the fabric and ribbons included with the magazine for her own purposes: hand sewing a toy mouse for Honey.

The holidays are now over and the slight rise in temperature has turned my thoughts to dressmaking. I've bought the Colette Laurel pattern from Backstitch and am looking forward to eventually wearing something that isn't woollen or made of heat-tech fabric. It may require a few more degrees of warmth to enable that though.

Florence x

Some book reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 13:22:00 +0000

I have a few book reviews for you today. When Cico Books offered me a review copy of 'Hand Quilted with Love ' I was delighted as I've loved all of Sarah Fielke's other books.

Contrary to what the title suggests, it's a book about quilts that happen to be hand quilted, rather than a book about hand quilting.

The book hops about all over the place to include a real mixture of quilting techniques - everything from hand appliqué and hand piecing to simple and more complex machine piecing. It means that there's likely to be something for everyone and inspires you to begin to stretch out into areas of quilting you might not have tried before (for me, that's hand appliqué).

What I really love about this book is that, while it does offer a guide as to how difficult a pattern may be, it doesn't prescribe a skill level for completing the quilt, but encourages new quilters to have a go in a way that's warm, friendly and encouraging. My own experience of learning to sew was that I wanted to jump in and try whatever appealed most, irrespective of how difficult that thing may be - if you're new to quilting then you will almost certainly find this an encouraging book, which makes trickier things feel within your reach.

To this end, the techniques section is excellent - it's concise, but covers all the things you may need to know as a beginner to a particular technique (and possibly offers some new tips even to an old-hand). The colours and photography are beautiful - it's a light, airy book that's cosy to look through.

I have quite sober taste when it comes to fabrics, perhaps because of the gloomy English light, so the fabrics in Willyne Hammerstein's 'Millefiori Quilts' are closer to those that I'd naturally be drawn to (Willyne is dutch, although the book is published by Quilt Mania, so it's written in French with an English translation on each page). I realised when I posted a photo of one of the quilts from this book on Instagram that it was a treasure that others may not have come across. I bought my copy at the Festival of Quilts last summer. It is a stunning book that has frequently turned my brain inside out while trying to comprehend the cleverness of the designs.

This blue and red beauty called 'Wild is the Wind' meanders around in a pattern that at first looks simple until you study it close up and realise that there is an unclear logic to the way the blue piecing flows around the quilt.

I love quilts that have a sense of symmetry, but Willyne really plays with this. She will often fussy cut fabrics to create an intensely kaleidoscopic feeling of symmetry within a small area, but then place those pieced designs with no symmetry at all within the bigger picture of the whole quilt. Study the photos below and you'll get a sense of what I mean by this.

I frequently study these designs and wonder at whether Willyne plans out the quilts in full before she begins or if they are pieced as she goes. I normally comfort myself, as I'm returning the book to the shelf, that it must be the latter as if it's the former then her skillfulness is entirely beyond the realms of my comprehension and imagination. Either way, I'm now tempted to give some more improvised piecing a go to see what the results are.

I adore the layout of this book too. It's another beauty from Quilt Mania. I hadn't heard of Willyne Hammerstein before buying this book, but she's quickly become one of my quilting heroines.

Doesn't this look like a wonderful sewing room? I love how many different projects there look to be going on in it. My own hand-piecing is coming on slowly as the Easter break unfolds and comes into its last few days. I'll hopefully show you my progress in my next post.

Florence x

Piecing with a running stitch

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 10:08:00 +0000

This week I picked up some hand-sewing again as it's a sociable activity while my children are on their Easter holidays. I've had this project in my head for nearly a year now, but after my English paper piecing marathon before Christmas I decided to rest my eyes and elbow (for some reason hand-sewing makes my elbow ache horribly) before embarking on a new project.

This time I haven't used the English paper piecing method to piece this together. Everyone finds what feels right to them with a density of stitches and, for me, the whip stitch I naturally settle in to using for EPP works out at around 22 stitches per inch, which makes it quite labour intensive. I've tried to lessen this, but I just gradually revert back to what instinctively feels right. To piece these I've abandoned papers and am simply piecing them using a running stitch of around 12 or 13 stitches per inch...which means that not only is it much quicker, but a running stitch is also easier on my weirdy painful elbow as I don't have to pull through the thread with each stitch, but can gather four or five stitches onto the needle at a time. It almost feels like cheating, it's so quick by comparison.

I have been the lucky recipient of helpful tricks and tips from Cathy via email and Lorena on Instagram and it's made my transition to hand-stitching with a running stitch almost completely painless.

Something (I can't actually remember what) sparked off the idea for this tiny - as yet, unfinished - piece when I went to the Quilting show at Birmingham NEC last summer. It will hopefully end up framed and hanging in our dining room and my focus is to fussy cut (even though I loathe that expression) specific patterns from the fabrics that ,once placed in a circle of diamonds, create new repeating patterns. The piecing gives a finished diamond size of 1".

I bought the fabrics right there and then, mostly from, I think, Petra Prins' stand. The fabrics have tiny prints and I enjoyed choosing some that incorporated a stripe, knowing that I'd enjoy matching the lines up, as you can see in the top left star in the photo below.

I worry that these prints may look a little old-fashioned and stuffy...that they may even appall you slightly, but I find myself strangely drawn to them and I love the new rings of flowers that dance amongst the stars.

One of my early mistakes was to use Frixion heat-erasable pens for marking out the sewing lines on the fabrics. It stopped me from being able to press the seams with an iron (which I normally do obsessively at every opportunity), until I eventually became so despairing that I decided to draw over them with a non-heat-erasable silver gel pen, as I couldn't bear the mass of wavy coral-like seams I was faced with on the underside. The silver gel pen works well and doesn't show through on even the palest of fabrics. Pressing each seam into the place I wanted it to lie at this point was more troublesome, but they are now all lying happily in their correct places and I'm ready to embark on the next round of piecing.

Florence x

A tutorial: lavender sachets with perfect corners & invisible closures

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 09:15:00 +0000

I should begin this tutorial by saying that it's one for the perfectionists. For those who like to fly by the seat of their pants and have a more carefree attitude to sewing, it's going to seem like a lot of irritating fiddling about for what is essentially sewing two rectangles of fabric together: you may wish to avert your eyes. However, for those who, like me, find their fun aspiring for perfection even when making the simplest of things, this tutorial is less about how to sew two rectangles together and more about how to do it such a way that corners will sit perfectly and the closing stitches be made invisibly. Being a perfectionist myself, I feel compelled to say that these lavender sachets are not actually perfect.

You'll need the following ingredients:

Some scraps of material
A ruler and scissors or a rotary cutter and cutting grid
Some dried lavender
A hand sewing needle for finishing
Thread

Now, let's begin.

Carefully cut two pieces of fabric measuring 4½" x 4" (accuracy is important here as if they're not perfect rectangles then the steps that follow won't turn out quite so well. Although I suspect that if you're following a tutorial for perfectionists, that probably doesn't need saying).

Place them face-to-face (that's right sides together). On one side, sew all the way from one end of the fabric to the other using a ¼" seam allowance. Remove from the sewing machine and cut any loose ends of thread away (you can just about see my line of stitching at the top edge of fabric in the photo above).

Now fold this seam inwards, so that the stitching sits perfectly on the folded edge. Press with an iron.

Now starting at the end with the folded fabric, sew along the next side. Again, remove from the sewing machine and clip away any loose threads.

Once more, fold over the fabric inwards along the line of stitching. Press and then sew a ¼" seam from the end that's newly folded, right to the other end of the fabric. Repeat.

You now have one final side to sew. This side is a little different as you'll want to leave a hole at the centre of the seam to turn the rectangle the right way out. So fold the fabric over as you have done before, and sew as usual, but stopping to leave a 1½" wide turning hole, before recommencing stitching and sewing up to the original folded edge.

Now fold this last edge over along the line of stitching (and the imagined line of stitching where you've left the turning hole!).

Turn right side out and poke the corners out gently with your fingers. You may suffer a moment of horror here. But she PROMISED me perfect corners and here I am with a strangely misshapen rag of crinkled material!

Calm yourself with some deep breathing and then take a pin and poke it gently into a corner and tease the fabric outwards.

There now - a perfect corner! How has this happened? The folded sides inside provide a structure, or frame, for the corner to form around, allowing it to sit perfectly.

You'll notice that where the seam allowance is folded in at the turning hole, one side of the fabric will be perfectly turned in while the other has a not-so-crisp crease in it from being folded to the wrong side. Simply correct this with an iron and all will be well. Press everything well.

If you are a little freaky like me, you will take great pleasure in placing a set square or a perspex grid over your corners and seeing that they are all perfectly true. I know that you're probably feeling cornerish about filling the bag with lavender now: why would you when it's this perfect? Surely it should be framed and put in a gallery as an example of perfect cornerage. But please attempt to overcome your inner sewing loopiness and fill it with lavender, as this way you'll also have the enjoyment of perfecting an invisible seam closure as well as a perfect corner.

Now, either construct a little funnel by rolling up a sheet of paper or if you have a funnel for just such a thing, place it into the hole in the seam allowance and fill with lavender. I fill until the sachet is just over ¾ full - it's easier to sew closed a gently plump lavender bag than one that is straining at the seams. Also, once they're being used, they may well be squashed in a drawer under clothes and it's best if the sachet's seams don't bulge perilously under the pressure of lavender trying to make its way out!

Now to the invisible seam closure. I LOVE this stitch. It's called a ladder stitch and you'll need some sewing thread and a hand-sewing needle.

Thread a needle and make a small knot in the end of the thread. In the seam opening, right at one side of the opening, work your needle through just the seam allowance of the fabric intended to be the back of the lavender sachet.

Now, come up the inside through the fold of this same seam allowance. Make one stitch in the fold, just as you can see in the photo below: into the fabric, run your needle parallel with the fold for a fraction of an inch and then come out of the fabric, still on the fold line.

Now, exactly opposite where you needle has reappeared, do the same in the fold line of the fabric that will be the front of the lavender sachet: enter the fabric through the crease line, run the needle parallel with the fold for a fraction of an inch and then come out of the fabric, still on the fold line. You will now have created one stitch bridging the two creased edges. Keep this stitch loose - do not pull it tight yet!

Return to the fabric that will be the back of the sachet and once more enter the fabric through the crease line, run the needle parallel with the fold for a fraction of an inch and then come out of the fabric, still on the fold line. Now go over to the fabric at the front of the sachet and repeat. Remember that although you will need to pull all the thread through each time you run your needle through the crease of the fabric, the stitch you create that bridges the two crease lines should be kept loose!

Once you have created about four or five of these little ladder stitches - always entering a new side exactly opposite to where the needle last reappeared - you are ready to see the magic happen!

Gently pull on the thread and watch the ladder disappear into the crease of the fabric. I never tire of watching this happen - it really does feel like something quite unbelievable has happened!

Continue creating a loose ladder of four stitches at a time, pulling the rungs of the ladder closed and then continuing in the same way until the turning hole is sealed. To finish I take a stitch and then feed the needle through the loop created (as above) and then snip the thread ends.

And there you are.

Pile up and give as a ribbon-tied gift...or keep them for yourself.

I hope you enjoy making any if you do give this a try. I'd love it if you wanted to put any photos of finished lavender sachets into my Flickr pool. You're really welcome to sell any lavender sachets you make using this tutorial, but please don't reproduce my tutorial elsewhere.

Florence x

A bed for Nell

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 09:59:00 +0000

Finally, here are some photos of Nell in her bed of Liberty Tana lawn, Oakshott and raspberry-ripple tweed. While I hope that I really have always been conscious that Nell is not a cat, her bed testing processes confirmed this to me in a way where there could be no doubt left in my mind. The initial stage of bed trialling is endearingly human: it involves enthusiastically leaping on to the bed and then repositioning one's self several times, pausing briefly with each turn to assess that it is in fact comfortable whether lying on one's side, back or front. I'm sure I saw her smiling at this stage as she lay and appreciated it for a moment, which did a lot to warm a dog-bed maker's heart.

The next stage was more surprising and the time at which she confirmed that not only was she was a dog, but a direct and discernible descendent of the wolf.

There was rabid clawing at the pillow; a successful attempt to remove the pillow from the bed; enthusiastic and rigorous testing of all the seams of the tweed border to the bed beneath the pillow; chewing, pulling and gnawing of all fabrics; frantic scrabbling at the base of the bed to check if it was possible to tunnel through to the floorboards beneath; and finally playing a hiding game beneath the pillow to see if my worried and confused face was still there when she emerged. The entire process took over two hours of solid and frenzied activity (I didn't watch for the whole of that time, but my husband assured me that the activity was unceasing). However, the bed is still in one piece and has passed all her structural engineering tests for durability and my nerves remain un-frayed because, despite my being slightly startled by just how comprehensive her testing was, I had made it with the attitude that once it was finished it was her bed to treat how she wished. There are so many things in the house that we try to control her behaviour around (books, sofas, cupboards, skirting boards, people's ankles) that I knew it wouldn't be fair to add her own bed to this list.

And now that the testing is over, mainly, she just happily lies on it in a normal - not human or cat, but a sweetly doggish - way and seems to be a calmer presence for being cocooned in Liberty prints as she rests. Although there are differing opinions on this matter, as my husband suggests it's more likely to be the result of having a larger bed to recline on.

The bed is far more girly than I'd intended for it to be. The prints were chosen almost entirely at random and the only criteria was that they were heavy and intense enough to work in our red room. However, when I got to the borders, the only scraps of Oakshott that I had in a large enough quantity and which worked with the existing colours, was this rather bright pink one. And then once that was in place, the only thing I could imagine putting around the edges was a doughnut of pink tweed, which amazingly, I found hidden amongst the bolts of fabric in my local fabric shop exactly as I'd imagined it.

Here you can see the full effect of the Scrappy Trip around the World patchwork - I love the design this creates, which isn't particularly evident close up.

Making a bed that I knew may last as little as a week or as long as a year made me think a lot about why we make things and quite how often creating something may be more about the process than the intended purpose. So many of us spend months working on something and then are happy to give it away almost the moment it's finished, even if we may never see it again. Often, this is because, as well as the enjoyment derived in the process of making it, we're left with the feeling that we have given a tangible piece of 'care' to someone. Other times, whatever I'm thinking about while I'm sewing, in the backdrop is always the recipient - in this case afterwards I wondered whether I'd subconsciously chosen to make something for Nell that would take days to complete so that I could try and slowly untangle my feelings about having this new little creature in our home. And then there are the times when the need to sew is just so overwhelming that I'm not sure whether anything other than pure obsession or a desire to work with particular fabric prints comes into it. What makes you sew? Does any of this ring true for you? I know when I first began sewing I would enjoy the process of making things so much that I would frequently make things in fabrics that looked out of place in their surroundings and that really served no purpose. I quickly changed my tack on this as having a drawer of finished, but ultimately unloved, pieces felt wasteful. William Morris' take of not giving house space to anything that isn't either useful or that I believe to be beautiful is a maxim which I tend to try and sew by.

While this was a rather self-indulgent project, it wasn't a hideously costly way of Nell having a new bed - my stash of Liberty fabrics has mostly been built up buying from places where it's not priced so very differently from a regular quilting cotton (Shaukats and Fabrics Galore price their Tana lawn at around £12 per metre in store) and making this from scraps made only a very small dent in that stash. The tweed and stuffing came to far less than a nice shop-bought bed from the pet shop. The only real expense and extravagance was my time.

Last week my husband and I went up to London for a meeting and before we dashed home he insisted that we pay a visit to the chocolate room in Liberty (this is something of a ritual for him and he does it every time he goes to a meeting in London, irrespective of whether I'm with him). After he'd made his selection I was permitted ten minutes up in the sewing department. We happened to spot some exquisitely beautiful dog beds up there. We stood staring at them in a way that put us in danger of wearing holes in their divine Harris tweed sides and used up at least 2 of my ten minutes. However, at £295, making Nell's dog bed from my beloved Liberty stash seems positively thrifty (although, I do think that these beds are so incredibly beautiful that if you have a life where you can afford to pay £295 for a dog's bed, then it would be worth every penny). I bought nothing from the sewing department as I'm too indecisive to purchase anything in eight minutes, however, my husband did buy me a Liberty print handkerchief (I'm allergic to tissues so I love these), which was my prize for accumulating the most points over the previous week in our tense and fast-paced household game of 'Who Can Spot that Nell Needs to be Taken Out to the Loo First'.

Finally, did you know that Google Reader is closing down? This is the reader that I've always used so I'm sad to see it go. However, after a bit of research I'm now using Bloglovin' as my new reader, which, although it takes a little getting used to, is actually far better (even though I don't warm to the name). If you'd like to follow my blog on Bloglovin' you can click on the link below:

And just in case you're not familiar with what a blog reader is, it's a central place where you can keep track of all the blogs you like to read. You simply follow them on the reader (in this case Bloglovin') and it will then update you as soon as there's a new post on one of your favourite blogs.

Florence x

New sewing tools & some links

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 11:46:00 +0000

Having prematurely wished you a good weekend yesterday, I've found myself back here sooner than I'd expected. I wanted to share a few new tools I used when making the patchwork for Nell's bed that I'd talked about in my last post. Even though none of these products are stocked by any of my sponsors, telling you about new supplies that I like always makes me feel as though I'm a door-to-door salesman setting out his wares, because if something is worth writing about then I tend to only have positive things to say about it, which can sound like I'm actually attempting to sell you something! (Perhaps a better comparison may be to a Jehovah Witness - a deviant one who only worships Sewing - where I appear compelled to convert people to see the wonder of something that I've fallen in love with myself and can be found evangelising about it in their feed readers. Oh dear.)

Indeed, I did once buy some bright yellow dusting cloths from a man who appeared on my doorstep selling his wares who was apparently attempting to reform himself after a spell in prison. It was raining, he was smiley and I felt bad for him. When I washed the dusters a few weeks later I found that they had got their vivid yellow colour from being dyed, but not set, with turmeric and the entire load of coloured washing was stained with a vile yellow tint that meant all of it had to go in the bin. That has very little to do with the sewing supplies mentioned below, as no turmeric seems to have been involved in their production, but the memory of it popped into my head with the mention of door-to-door salesmen... and really, these sewing products will make your housework so much easier, love!

The first is the June Tailor Shape Cut Plus - I bought this on a whim last November thinking it may be useful. It is one the best spontaneous purchases I've ever made. It's a cutting grid with a difference: as you can see it has grooves for your rotary cutter to travel down (note the tear drop slots at the bottom, which make it easy to cut and ensure your rotary cutter starts in the right place and doesn't cut the grid itself). I bought a grid that has cutting lines 1/2" apart, but I believe there are others available. Anyway, when you're bulk cutting strips, rather than repositioning a standard grid to make each new cut, you can simply place the Shape Cut Plus at the fabric edge and whizz along making your cuts without ever having to reposition the fabric or grid. I cut this pieced block into 1.5" strips in under 20 seconds. It almost certainly means cutting is quicker and more accurate (you can see some longer stacked strips I was cutting in the photo at the top of this post). You can see a video of the Shape Cut in action here.

Onwards to see what else I have in my duffle bag! The new sewing machine that my husband put beneath the tree as a Christmas gift came with a stitch-in-the-ditch foot, which I've been excited to try out. I have doubts over the logic of stitching-in-the-ditch (which is basically stitching in the dip where two seams meet), as to me it seems as though over time the new stitch may act like a saw over the original piecing stitch and weaken the seams, however, for an invisible quilting finish it seems like a good thing. Anyway, my priority with Nell's bed was that it sound be very strong (with aspirations to indestructibility), so I decided that every single patch should be quilted just a fraction in from the seam line. I was able to use my stitch-in-the-ditch foot by allowing the guide to travel in the ditch, but shifting my needle position over a little so that the stitches formed just to the edge of the ditch.

You can see the foot above and the guide, which runs in the ditch. It works wonderfully and made the quilting a relatively quick job.

To my mind, if something is this densely quilted (and I put a layer of soft iron-on interfacing behind the patchwork too) it's almost like creating a new solid fabric, rather than a fragile, pieced patchwork...I'd say almost dog-worthy.

I then reinforced the Oakshott around the sides with some straight-line quilting. And next week I will finally show you the finished bed...maybe even with Nell inside it! (this is just the cushion to go inside, it actually has a large donut around it as she seems to prefer this to the flat mattress style beds as she looks for a slightly raised chin rest (normally my husband's feet or shoes) wherever she lies.

While on the subject of new tools, I was given these beautiful extra fine Clover pins in my stocking at Christmas. I love Clover products - they always seem to be so well designed and such good quality. They come in a sweet box and have lovely translucent pin heads. I'd been told Clover pins were superior because they were finer...but actually I didn't notice any difference at all, even when pinning fine Tana lawn...they just look pretty to use.

Finally, I leave you with a few links: I'd like to introduce my lovely new sponsor, Minerva Crafts; to point you in the direction of Ali's Compound Word Project, where the game has now started (I was delighted to be one of her many photographers tasked with coming up with an image for the project - you can see the diptych my photo features in here); to share the page (above) on which I was featured in Sewing World magazine this month; and to alert you to the amazing competition Colette Patterns are running to celebrate the launch of their new shift dress pattern, Laurel. And finally, some eye candy for the weekend - don't you love this quilt made by Rita's (or Red Pepper Quilts) mother-in-law. I keep returning to look at it, so it feels worth sharing just in case you've missed it yourself.

Florence x

Scrappy Trip around the World

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 15:11:00 +0000

Last Friday, when it seemed like everyone else has returned from making their Scrappy Trip around the World quilts and were now staying at home to begin a Marcelle Medallion, I finally packed my rucksack and embarked on a solo, unfashionably-late trip around the world of my own. I can now see why so many people have made a bee-line for this pattern - it's totally addictive and the end result is stunning...and you really can put it together with scraps, without too much thought about a colour scheme.

There has been so little sewing going on in my house recently that by last Friday I felt there was an actual need to sew in order for me to be a normal person over the weekend. The moment I began to get my boxes of material out and had constructed a nest around me, that only a mess of fabric seems capable of creating in just the right way, I began to feel my equilibrium return.

The purpose of my sewing was a dog bed for Nell as she has nearly outgrown the one that Polly gave us for her. It may seem indulgent to give a dog your best Liberty fabric or to spend quite so many hours of your time piecing together something involving 1" squares (I reduced the scale of the pattern, as only fiddly would do that day), but this had very little to do with Nell or what the end product was to be, and everything to do with me having a need to sew with some Tana lawn and to work on something absorbing.

It was so gloomy outside that to be inside with the lights on was thoroughly cosy. I listened to The Lumineers on repeat (does anyone else love The Lumineers - can you recommend anything similar I might like so that I can alternate them with something else?), cut fabric, sewed strips, cut more fabric, laid strips out ready to be sewn, and then lined up seams in a repetitive whirl of happiness.

Until finally I had some finished blocks.

This pattern only comes to life once you start placing the blocks next to one another. The blocks can be put together in a myriad of different ways - below are just two of the combinations I played around with.

And here they are once they're sewn together.

The overall colour is insanely intense and I love it. Despite the fact that little Nell is currently like a small feral wolf who will not appreciate either, I decided that the possibility of combining the Tana lawn with some Oakshott was too irresistible to leave untried. Before you despair at this level of impracticality, I think I completely solved all of those issues with the way I quilted it, but that's for another post.

Mid-construction, here's a photo of our beautiful tabby appreciating Liberty and Oakshott in a quiet, reserved and respectful way. I finally finished the bed today and Nell's reaction was slightly less like a patron in a gallery and more like...well a wild dog in a dog bed. It was highly amusing and she never fails to shock me with quite how un-cat-like she is. But I'd been bracing myself for that - as I said earlier in my post, making this wasn't about the end result, it was all about enjoying the process.

Wishing you a lovely weekend,

Florence x

Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 10:59:00 +0000

Thank you so much for your lovely comments on my post about Nell. Yesterday it was my birthday. My sister sent me, along with some other gorgeous things, a bag of shiny Liberty coins to spend in store - isn't this the most amazing form of gift voucher. My son's eyes widened when he saw them as though I'd opened pirates' treasure and declared them too lovely to spend.

What did I do for my 36th birthday? We bathed Nell so that she'd be sweeter smelling; I bought brownies from our favourite cafe; I made gnocchi with a blue cheese sauce; and I played football with the dog and children in the garden as it was an unseasonably warm day. I also signed up to be a photographer for (Domestic) Ali's compound word project.

It was a low-key birthday as one of us had to be at home at all times with Nell, but my day was already made when I opened this bundle of cards from my daughter in the morning - when I looked inside one of them arms sprang open and I was greeted by a wonderfully designed top too - look at that gorgeous yoke! Her cards go down in my mental list of favourite presents ever (the lego sewing machine remains they made me for Christmas several years ago remains my most treasured).

My husband made his own wrapping paper and tied my presents with string from his greenhouse.

And the cat sat on the bed in her usual place looking gorgeous. Nell has nearly outgrown the Liberty print covered bed that Polly left at our house, so I think it may be necessary to make her something new soon...I am drawn toward using Liberty prints again, but first I must attempt to set it into my mind that I will need to sew with an awareness that my work may be eaten or gnawed upon. That is not the easiest of tasks.

Florence x

Nell

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 12:49:00 +0000

This is Nell, our 8 week old golden retriever puppy who came to live with us on Saturday. Her presence in our house is something of a surprise to all of us, as I've never liked dogs. When I was younger my grandparents ran a farm in the north of England where my father had grown up and, having bumped our way down the track to the farmhouse, our arrival into the muddy yard was invariably met by their excitable border collies. There were two fundamental problems with this: the first being that I have always had an overwhelming dislike of mud and the second was that one of the dogs had always been referred to as being 'nippy' and so I would attempt to be escorted into the farmhouse clinging to my father's leg in sheer terror, while my father seemed equally determined to loosen my limpet grip, no doubt slightly embarrassed by what his family may make of his rather wet town-dwelling daughters. I often implored him to park as near to the farmhouse as possible, but that rarely happened and running the gauntlet from car to front door (they were outdoor working dogs so once inside we were safe) was so traumatic that, once inside, my sister and I would settle down for the weekend in front of the fire in the sitting room and work our way through my grandmother's large stack of Bella magazines, the pages of which seemed to be filled solely with the sordid details of lives gone wrong (true life stories of murders, affairs and other awful things) that were both shocking and fascinating to young teenagers whose normal reading fodder didn't expand far beyond Judy Blume. We would rarely venture out of the confines of the farmhouse until it was time to dash back to the safety of the car two days later.

I have happily ignored the existence of dogs for most of my life, although, as our children have grown up, over the last five years an increasing number of family friends began getting dogs and I slowly became aware that my husband seemed to have a dog magnet in him and once in the company of a Labrador his whole face and demeanour seemed to change into that of a joyfully happy, grinning lunatic. My daughter was the same. My husband's campaign for a dog has been a long-running, but subtle one, run with low expectations as to the success of the outcome.

But more recently several things happened to change my stance on dog ownership. Firstly, since my husband has worked from home for the last 18 months I've become increasingly aware of how much a dog would benefit his life, both in terms of daytime company and a reason to get out at lunchtime - he is a naturally outdoorsy person and his life-long compromise to me is that we don't, and never will, live in a remote part of Scotland. Then at Christmas, we came home from an afternoon spent with his favourite chocolate Labrador and he mentioned in passing the feeling of having a dog-shaped hole in his heart...he is not normally prone to such sentimental comments and I was left privately mulling how comfortable I felt with being the wife who happily ignores this hole. Finally, some friends with a puppy asked us to look after it for the day. They deposited her in our house and at the start of the day I felt only a detached curiosity about her, but by the end, I could see a unique personality, rather than simply 'dog'. When they came to collect her at teatime, our clever (but devious) friend Polly noticed that I had fallen in love with her puppy's dog bed, which she'd recovered with a Liberty Tana lawn fabric, and insisted that she leave it with us in case we ever got a dog of our own as she claimed that her puppy had nearly outgrown it. Combining Liberty prints with dog paraphernalia is possibly the most underhand ploy I've ever come across and my husband owes a lot to Polly (Nell can be seen in the bed in the photo below).

Anyway, one evening I surprised my husband and myself by agreeing to the idea in principle if we could find a breed that suited all of us. A lot of a dog's nature will be down to the dog as an individual, but I felt if we picked the breed carefully we had a better chance of owning a dog that suited our family. We spent hours every evening researching. Our children just wanted something that was 'sooooo cute', which meant their needs could be relatively easily fulfilled. I wanted something that was not known for showing signs of aggression toward other animals and people and that had a calm nature once the puppy phase was over. I also wanted a dog that was small, didn't moult and wasn't prone to chewing furniture. My husband wanted a dog that was highly intelligent and trainable...and he wanted a dog that felt substantial, like a Labrador. Our research concluded that there is no breed that meets all those criteria, particularly as it would be hard for even the most eager-to-please dog to be both small and yet large at the same time.

Eventually, I compromised on the lack of smallness, the moulting issue and the possibility of having my house eaten, where a golden retriever fails miserably on every count, and my husband compromised on...erm, nothing, because a golden retriever fulfils all the other criteria perfectly and really if you're going to fulfil your dreams then you may as well do it with the dog you really want rather than compromising (initially he would have been equally happy with a Labrador, but that was ruled out by me on the grounds that they tend to be livelier than Golden Retrievers and I am a creature who craves calm). It helps that I had always liked the kind faces of the Golden Retrievers that I saw in the street even in my dog-fearing days.

We eventually found what sounded to be the perfect breeders after a week of phone calls. I happened to ring to enquire if they had any puppies on the morning they were born and I could hear their funny newborn yelping noises in the background and it seemed like serendipity. We met our puppy's mum and all fell in love with her and were able to visit the puppies several times over the next eight weeks until one would be old enough to come home with us. In those eight weeks I sent myself on a crash course intended to leave me understanding and liking dogs more than I ever had before. I watched dog programmes obsessively on iPlayer (The Secret Life of Dogs and the series, Extraordinary Dogs); I began reading my husband's puppy training manuals at bedtime; I spoke to my dog-loathing mother who assured me that it was absolutely the right decision and that she felt we would all fall in love with her; I ran nearly every worry I had in my head past Kate and my other dog-owning friends and to every worry I received reassuring answers; and I began trying to work out which breeds certain dogs might be when I saw them in the street and looking at their faces to try to see what it might be about them that their owners had fallen in love with. And it worked, because I actually began smiling at dogs, in the way that I've always smiled when I've passed a newborn baby in the street!

And now Nell is here and it doesn't feel anything like as foreign as I'd expected it to feel to have her in our home. She is sweet-natured, gentle and mostly (unexpectedly, as she is only 8 weeks old) calm. She runs in such a ridiculous, puppyish way that it's hard not to fall in love with her. Even her awful doggy breath does not deter me from cuddling her. My husband is thoroughly happy. She seems drawn to be by his feet and when he's not here she seeks out a pair of his shoes to lie on. And of course, our children adore her, because she is 'soooooo cute'.

And just in case you were wondering, our cat who lives on our daughter's bed still lives happily on our daughter's bed with little change to her life and our other cat who we had worried may either attempt to eat the puppy or leave home, has actually been nothing but curious, coming and sitting nearby to watch her while she plays and silently padding around her to get a closer look when she sleeps.

I think by nature I am still very much a cat person, but as Jacqui (a fellow cat person, who owns a dog) said to me recently, you don't need to be a dog person, you just need to be a person who loves your dog. It's a relief to find that, just as everyone said I would, I do feel rather smitten with Nell.

Florence x

A pure and supreme lard box

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 16:15:00 +0000

Before I get to the excitement of the lard box, I wanted to show you these tiles. When we took the carpets up recently to have our floors sanded, the original hearth tiles were too cracked to use and so I had to find an alternative. I loved these ones above as soon as I saw them and when I arranged them on the floor I realised that the hearts and feeling of symmetry mirrored that of the wall hanging above. A totally happiness inducing coincidence.

Last night I finally stripped back the footstool below which I'd bought a few years ago. The fabrics were horribly stained and frayed (I bought it at an antiques fair), but I loved them so much that it's taken me a long time to bring myself to strip the fabrics off and reupholster it.

When I finally got through the many layers of fabric down to the inner layer of wood I was stunned to find that this very sturdy little lidded foot stool was actually...a wooden crate for lard. Not only was it a curious and unexpected discovery, but I found it very amusing that this lard container had found its way by stealth into the home of vegetarians. The upholstered box has always felt so proper and well made that seeing it in its stripped back state reminded me of how easy it actually is to create loveliness out of what is essentially rubbish. In the last two years this stool has flitted between being a laundry bin, a foot stool and is soon to go by the front door for an interesting new purpose (more on that next week). I could happily have several of them around the house and now that I've realised how simply made it is, I'm intending to recreate it many times over. I can already foresee myself becoming whipped up into making what will be considered by everyone else in the house an overabundance of them...like a strange collection of china figurines...only larger, more utilitarian and harder to hide from onlookers as they eventually find their way through the front door barred by rows of footstools. I need more lard boxes. Does anyone know of a good source for such a thing?

I felt compelled to research the lard box and found that it appears that it may have come from around 1890 and found its way over to England from America. (And yes, I realised afterwards that it's best not to strip a very old box over a pale rug, but luckily the sawdust and lint did all come up. Avert your eyes, Mama).

Because this box has had uses in so many different rooms in the house and blended in well in all of them, I wanted to find a similar fabric. I chose a woven material that has a cross-stitched look to it and shares the pinky cream tones of the original.

And here it is in its last week as a foot stool.

Oddly, when I went to find a picture of the footstool as it had originally looked when I'd bought it in May 2011, I came across a photo of this room before the colour red had infiltrated it. I couldn't believe quite how different it has become without my really noticing. I think I am now officially a person whose whole house is not cream.

For the last few months the bowl in the alcove has been filled with satsumas and clementines and I've enjoyed the cheerful orange every time I've looked at it, but unfortunately my family have now turned their attention to other fruits and so the bowl sits empty again. I wish the bowl had some strippable layers as I've always wondered what might be inside that. My husband and I bought it from one of our favourite shops when we lived in Islington over a decade again. Every now and then it makes strange clicking and crackling noises as though the pottery is alive. After the lard box surprise I'm now waiting for it to reveal itself as a semi-dormant magic porridge pot. Or perhaps a beef stew.

Florence x

My other blog

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 08:35:00 +0000

It seems like such a long time since I've visited my own blog...and indeed it is nearly three weeks! It also feels like weeks since I've sewn anything, but in reality I spent several days turning one of the Squeebles (the characters in the educational apps my husband designs for children) into three-dimensional form. I'm not naturally drawn to making stuffed creatures, so somehow it doesn't satisfy my desire to sew in the same way that working on a quilt, a dress or a bag might, however, I did enjoy the challenge of doing this. And it was a challenge.

You would not believe quite how many versions of this character lie abandoned in various stages of construction on my desk, but finally I came up with something that met with my husband's approval and, more importantly, that my children finally declared did actually look like Whizz.

To get his nice rounded bottom, I was able to transfer some of my dress pattern drafting knowledge to drafting the pattern - there's something satisfying about finding an area where skills from different disciplines of sewing can cross over!

Anyway, Whizz is now the prize in a competition where we're asking children to create a picture of the house that they imagine their favourite Squeeble may live in. In case you're interested, as I know several readers whose children do use the Squeebles apps, the competition is here...which brings me neatly around to mentioning the other blog which I started writing several weeks ago. A Squeebles blog is an idea my husband and I have been talking about for the last year or so, and last month I finally sat down to write the first post in the voice of Whizz, the little red character you can see above. I have to admit that whenever my own children have asked me to tell them stories made up from my head, my heart always sank a little. My imagination seemed to instantly go into a state of paralysis and my inclination was to wrap things up with 'and they all lived happily ever after' three sentences into the story. So it has come as a complete surprise to me that when I'm writing the story down, rather than attempting to tell it directly from my head, it's actually something I love doing and ideas seem to pop into my head in a surprisingly free-flowing way!

Having two blogs shouldn't mean I'm here any less - I've increasingly been splitting my time between sewing and working for husband for several months now and the two seem to co-exist quite happily (not least because a lot of our work involves planning out game play and discussing ideas, which seems almost an invitation to sit hand-sewing). My absence recently has been more because a third element of having a stream of workmen in our house has thrown everything into chaos slightly and when they finally left, half-term began.

There will be more upheaval and change in exactly nine days time (we're counting...some of us more nervously than others, but it's currently like the countdown to Christmas day in our house, only possibly more exciting), but I'll tell you about that in my next post.

Florence x

On quilting wadding

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Mon, 04 Feb 2013 11:42:00 +0000

I think everyone eventually finds their favourite wadding that they automatically turn to buy when they're working on something special. Mine is Quilter's Dream Puff. I'd never realised until this weekend though, quite how much wadding choice can make or break a quilt, or how differently it can make the quilting stitches appear.

When it came to quilting my Rouenneries quilt my first thought was simply that I would use my favourite batting. Quilter's Dream Puff is light and warm but with an exceptionally high loft - giving a quilt the lightweight feel of an eiderdown but without quite so much bulk. It arrived speedily from here and I went to work creating a quilt sandwich.

Something about the quilt top is a little off and it isn't one of those well behaved tops that just lies flat. It seemed to take hours of smoothing and chasing a small wrinkle of surplus fabric around trying to smooth it out to the edges. When it was finally perfectly smooth I began hand quilting it. The medallions stood proud like large bulbous little mushroom tops, so satisfying to touch. I stayed up until 1am hand-quilting and eventually went to bed feeling that something wasn't quite right, even though I couldn't stop stroking those tactile mushrooms of fabric.

My overwhelming feeling was that although I normally aspire to puffiness, for this quilt it wasn't quite right. The very centre of this quilt is based on a pattern in Brigitte Giblin's beautiful book, Feathering the Nest and I kept returning to thought that she'd written that in her quilts she often used no batting at all. I hadn't actually liked this idea, as I tend to make quilts for comfort, but it started playing on my mind that perhaps her reasoning for this was because it suited the quilts better. The quilts in Brigitte's book are mostly based on very old quilts and I wonder now if the reason it didn't look right is because when one attempts to emulate an antique quilt with an obviously traditional style, one also needs to stay sympathetic to the batting that would have been available at the time to create a reproduction that feels entirely right to the eye. So I unpicked all my stitches and removed the batting. Painful.

I wanted to use flannel sheeting inside the quilt to give a lovely, soft drape, however, that wasn't available locally in the width I needed, so instead I went for Quilter's Dream Cotton batting in the 'request weight' which is their thinnest, lowest loft batting. It works well, although I still would have preferred it a little thinner. I think the stitching and lack of puff (in the photos below and the one above) are more the look I was hoping for.

I repeated the trauma of achieving a perfectly smooth quilt sandwich, but omitted to spray baste the top layer and stuck to pins to make it easier to reposition while I was smoothing out the wrinkles. This was a mistake...I've now done several hours of hand quilting fitted in here and there and am coming to the conclusion that I want to take all the stitches out as pin basting alone (I usually do both) just doesn't give quite the flat, smooth work surface I'm used to. I'm unsure if I'm fustulating over small things, but I wonder if you have a sense of the fabric not having been pulled quite smooth and taut enough in the photo above? Once washed this lack of smoothness would normally be absorbed by fabric shrinkage...but with that comes the antiqued wrinkly look...again, something I'm not sure suits this quilt. I'm wondering how those very old quilts didn't seem to have shrinkage wrinkles in them after washing. Perhaps they were never washed?

Previously I've always quilted things in the way that pleases me and which suits my own idea of what a quilt should be...with reproduction quilting it feels like the ground shifts a little and I have a feeling of wanting it to look 'right' that means I can't necessarily follow my usual paths.I'm feeling slightly irritated by my own fussiness over this - I think in part it's because I've really loved this quilt up until this point (pictured unquilted below) and now feel I could quite easily ruin all that work.

Anyway, lovelies, if you've made it through all that you may be feeling as tired by this quilt as I do. Or just tired by me...I actually still love the quilt, I think its myself that's infuriating me here.

Florence x

Ps. From Danielle's comment I don't think I'd been clear in my post, but if you have any to offer, then I would welcome advice or suggestions. x

A tutorial: pleated make-up bag with covered zip ends

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 12:16:00 +0000

I actually wrote this tutorial in 2009 for Sew Hip magazine. My contract allowed me to publish it elsewhere six months after publication and I'd intended to share it here as a free tutorial, but I somehow never got around to formatting it for my blog. So here we are three years later. I wrote this shortly after I wrote this tutorial for a simple, unpleated make up bag. It improves upon some of the things people had told me they were finding tricky as it has slightly different zip ends, which I think can give a neater finish for someone new to sewing or with a machine that doesn't handle multiple layers well. I hope you like it! Here it is, exactly as it appeared in the magazine.

This make-up case is small enough to fit easily in a handbag, yet big enough to carry all the essentials. The zip has covered ends for a neat finish, but due to the zipper being a little shorter than the actual case means that it doesn’t need to be sewn into the seams of the case – making it the perfect project for anyone who has ever struggled with installing a zip.

Ingredients list:

Fat quarter of outer fabric
Fat quarter of inner fabric for lining
Fat quarter of medium weight iron-on interfacing
Fat quarter of heavy weight soft sew-in interfacing
Zip end cover fabric (I use the same as the outer fabric)
10” zip
Ribbon/cord for zip pull
Zipper foot for your sewing machine
Marker pen with disappearing ink
Iron

All seam allowances are 0.6cm / ¼” (this allows those who have them to use a ¼” seam guide).

1. Begin by applying iron-on interfacing to your fabrics where it's required and then cutting the following:

In outer fabric with iron-on interfacing applied cut two pieces - 28cm x 10cm
In lining fabric with iron-on interfacing applied cut two pieces – 22cm x 10cm
In outer fabric cut two pieces - 2.5cm x 4cm
In sew-in interfacing cut two pieces – 28cm x 10cm

2. Sew your sew-in interfacing to your two outer fabric pieces. You can do this by using a very small zigzag stitch around the perimeter of each rectangle. Be sure to stitch very close to the edge, so that you don’t risk this stitching being seen on the finished item.

3. Place your two outer fabrics wrong-side to wrong-side, as you want them to appear on your finished make-up case, making sure any directional pattern print is the same way up. Now peel back the corners at the left-hand end and use your marker pen to make a star on the back of each piece. This will act as a guide for which ends your pleats should be placed at.

4. Now place both these pieces face down on your work surface and mark out the following measurements on each piece of fabric at the end where the star is.
From the edge, very precisely, make a vertical line along the top of your fabric at 2cm (mark this as A), 4cm (mark this as A), 5cm (mark this as B), 7cm (mark this as B), 8cm (mark this as C), 10cm (mark this as C). Now do exactly the same at the along the bottom edge of your fabric.

5. The lines you’ve created are a guide for creating the pleats. Starting at the top edge, match up the lines that you marked as ‘A’. On the outer fabric side fold the pleat toward the centre of the fabric and pin in place. Now match the B lines together, fold the pleat toward the centre and pin in place. Do the same for the lines marked C, always being careful to fold the pleats in the same direction toward the centre. Repeat this process on both pieces of fabric top and bottom.

6. Now sew across your pleats just a fraction from the edge to secure them in place, carefully removing each pin just before you get to it (the pleats look better left loose, but if you wish for them to sit perfectly at all times, you can put a tiny hand stitch at the vertical centre of each pleat. You will need to sew carefully by hand, avoiding going through the fibres of the upper layer where your stitch would be visible. Or you can machine sew through all the layers, top stitching the folds perfectly in place. I didn't do either of these as the bag is so short that the pleats hold in place fairly well by themselves, however, if you've altered the dimensions to make a bigger or taller bag then you'd certainly probably want to secure the pleats in one of these ways).

7. You can check that both sets of pleats are even by laying them on top of one another. They should look something like this. Once you’re happy, press with an iron to give a crisp finish. Set to one side.

8. Take your zip and pull the zipper to the centre, so that you don’t cut off the zipper pull. Now cut your zip down so that it is 20cm long by taking a little off each end (don’t take it all off one end as your zip covers won’t fit).

9. Now take the small pieces of fabric that you cut for your zip covers. Fold the long side in half. Now fold each end in so that it rests on the fold line that you just made. With these tucked in, fold once again so that the folded edges meet. This should give you a neat casing to tuck your zip end into. Repeat for the other zip end cover. Press both with an iron.

10. Butt the end of your zip inside right up against the back of the little case that you just made and sew in place. Take care to do this neatly as this stitching will show.

11. Now take your lining, outer fabric pieces and zip. Fold each in half across the long edge and mark with disappearing ink top and bottom where the exact centre of the fabric is. It’s really important to be accurate here.

12. Take a lining piece, outer fabric piece and the zip (with the zip pull half open) and, laying your materials on a flat work surface, create the following fabric sandwich from bottom to top:
Outer fabric facing upwards
Zipper facing with the teeth downwards
Lining fabric facing downwards
Line up the top edges perfectly and place a pin going through all three layers at the point where all the centre marks that you made line up. At both ends there should be an equal distance between the end of the zipper and the end of your fabrics (nb. the zipper should be a little shorter than the other fabrics). If it all looks good, then pin along the whole of this top edge.

13. Using your zipper foot sew this seam from end to end. Feel for the zip teeth as you sew and butt the side of your zipper foot up against them. Just before you reach the zip pull, lift your presser foot, pivot the material a little to allow you to pull the zip pull backwards so that it sits where you’ve just been sewing, pivot the material back into place and then let down the presser foot and continue sewing up to the end of the fabric.

14. Flip the fabrics over so that they lay wrong side to wrong side and then press with an iron.

15. Now take the remaining fabrics and create another fabric sandwich:

Outer fabric facing upwards

Zipper facing with the teeth downwards

Lining fabric facing downwards

16. Again, check that your centre points all line up, but even more importantly this time, you want to check that your pleats line up perfectly too. Once you’ve established that everything looks lovely, then you can repeat steps 13 & 14.

17. Now you’re going to top stitch your fabrics in place, this will stop your lining from ever getting caught in the zipper and will also trap down any bulk that your pleats might be causing at the top. Change your bobbin thread to match your lining fabric. Continue using your zipper foot and be sure to begin your top stitching at the end with the pleats each time, as your zipper foot will glide over the pleats smoothly in this direction, without the risk of it catching in them.

18. Now check that the top-stitching looks neat on the lining side too.

19. Pull your zipper so that it is about ¾ open...this is important or you won’t be able to turn it right side out afterwards!

20. Now take the (nearly finished!) make up case and flip the outer fabrics so that they are laying face-to-face and your lining fabrics are laying face-to-face. Peep inside and nudge your zip cover so that it sits in the lining sandwich. Pin around the perimeter. The important thing to bear in mind here is that you don’t want to trap the ends of your zip covers in your stitching, but equally you want to sew near enough to them that there is barely a gap between the zip covers and the side seams on the finished item. Your ¼” seam will allow this to come together perfectly, but do pay attention to this in case you need to accommodate for any inaccuracies that may have cropped up during cutting or pleat-making.

21. Sew around the perimeter, leaving a 14cm turning hole in the bottom of the lining, making sure that your pleats are nicely lined up where they meet at the bottom.

22. Clip the corners of the outer fabric, being careful not to cut through your stitching.

23. Your pleats should match up nicely at the bottom, and once you’ve gently poked out your zip covers, they should sit neatly. If either of these things doesn’t look quite the way you hoped, then don’t be afraid to unpick your stitches and neaten things up.

24. Now, in co-ordinating thread, turn in the seam allowances in your lining and sew the turning hole closed.

25. Press with an iron.

26. You can make a zip pull using ribbon, co-ordinating fabric, or beads threaded onto some cord.

27. Fill the bag with make up goodies and spend some well deserved time preening in the mirror. The face you see before you is a peacock who had just sewn her very own make-up bag. Stand and admire! (That's a recommendation for my own blog readers...I refrained from advising that particular course of action in the original magazine article).

And if you use this pattern, I'd love to hear how you got on and I'd love it even more if you have the time to drop a picture of your lovely new make-up bag into my Flickr group here.

This is a free-of-charge pattern for personal use. If, however, you are an independent business/Etsy/Folksy seller, I am happy for you to sell items made using this pattern providing a PayPal payment of £3.00 is made - this buys the right to sell items made using this tutorial.

Please note: payment is only necessary if you wish to sell make up bags using the above tutorial.

Florence x

Sewing EPP pieces to a central medallion

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 09:45:00 +0000

I've trawled though my blog trying to discover if I've already talked about sewing English paper pieced shapes to a central medallion, but the post I'd intended to write about this last summer can't be found, so I'm assuming not. When I was piecing my Rouenneries quilt it was the first time I'd attempted to sew pieced shapes to a medallion. I believe there are several ways of doing this and the one I tried first I know works for many, but sadly not for me. Initially, I used fabric glue on the back of the hexagons and, with my medallion sitting smoothly on a flat surface stuck the hexagonal border to it. All seemed well, but as I sewed I felt that the central piece of fabric wasn't lying quite as taut as I would have liked. No amount of easing it back into place and re-gluing it with better tension worked for me. It wasn't awful, it just didn't look perfect and the rumblings of an internal duck-fit were felt I'm unsure if a duck-fit is a widely used term, but my mother has always described the feeling of flapping around in despair or frustration in this way, which I think is such a lovely image (that of ducks suddenly flapping about, seemingly on the surface of the water, quacking frantically and flapping their wings and spraying water all about. It's always an unexpected event that seems to come out of nowhere).

One way of doing it would have been to create a central English paper pieced medallion which perfectly followed the inside edge stepping-stone line of the small hexagons and then sewing them together in the conventional way for EPP, using an edge-to-edge whip stitch. However, not only would this be fiddly to cut, but in the case of these shapes it would be virtually impossible to wrap my fabric around so that wasn't an option.

Eventually I found a way of attaching my pieces to the central medallion that made me feel altogether more swan like. My problem was all about tension, so it made sense that if I was sewing hexagons of fabric that were firmly wrapped around card, then my medallion should have an identical tension brought about in the same way. I cut a template a little bigger (by about 3/8") than the aperture created by my ring of hexagons, so that I could sew them to the top of this shape. I sewed the medallion into place by using something which probably most resembles a whip stitch, but with not quite as many stitches per inch as I'd normally do for standard EPP. I sewed the inner edge of the small hexagons to wherever they rested on the central medallion. I lifted the fabric away from the card a little with the tip of the needle to make the stitch as it's really important not to let the stitches go through the centre of the medallion as it would be almost impossible to remove the card afterwards. When you're doing normal EPP if the odd stitch goes through the edge of the template it's not the end of the world because it will perforate the edge and still pull away easily. Here though, the stitches are made about 3/8" in from the edge of the card, so it would be disastrous (and may cause an unforeseen duck fit when it comes to trying to separate the two).

My medallions were actually a little bigger than an A4 sheet of card, so it involved sticking two pieces of card together with glue (as above). It's far better to do this with glue, rather than tape, as it meant I could press my work with the card still in place, once I'd finished. This stabilises the fabrics prior to card removal and has the additional benefit of the heat of the iron warming the glue a little, making it easier to separate the card from the fabric.

I'm yet to find a solution to the problem of finishing this project with any kind of speed, but I quite like that it's something I've picked up and put down over the last seven months as working with these fabrics still delights me.

Florence x

Lovely fabric shops update

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 14:09:00 +0000

My sewing has finally been forced to come to a stop as we reach Stage 2 of 'Every Floor in My Entire House is Being Sanded', so I've spent the morning updating my list of online UK fabric suppliers, which I've been meaning do for a long time, as that post dates back to 2009. Sadly, some of the links led to shops that have now gone out of business, while there were also a few glaring omissions where new ones have sprung up.

Do go and have a look at the list if you're interested to find new fabric shops. Where a supplier is relatively unique in stocking a certain thing or specialises in particular areas I've put a note saying so.

I also wanted to draw your attention to a couple of bookish finds too. I discovered Kaleidoscope at the quilt show in Birmingham last summer. Their stand had a quite staggering selection with virtually every obscure sewing book you could wish for (including a vast array of Japanese pattern books), so it was exciting to find that they were intending to launch a website (now up and running). They're based in Scotland and offer flat rate postage throughout Europe. I placed an order with them before Christmas and my book arrived speedily, so I feel completely happy to recommend them to you.

I also stumbled across The Running Chicken late last year and have seen that they are stocking a wonderful selection of QuiltMania books (usually only available from France) as well as Jen Kingwell's beautiful pattern, Green Tea and Sweet Beans (usually available from Australia and which Danielle tells me is a wonderful pattern for dabbling in some hand stitching). They also have a good range of reproduction fabrics, which I adore but which can sometimes err on the side of sludgy, but I think the selection here manages to avoid this. I feel most excited by a shop that is winkling out these kind of treasures that aren't easily available elsewhere in England (I'm yet to order from them so can't vouch for their service).

When I re-read my original post that went with my list of fabric suppliers I was shocked to remember just how difficult it was to buy lovely fabric in this country prior to 2009 - it really had been a case of having to place bulk overseas orders up until that time. It wasn't that there weren't fabric shops in England before that, it was that they tended to predominantly sell slightly stuffy, out-dated ranges. So it really was incredibly exciting when all these amazing fabric shops began springing up in England and I felt so grateful that they'd taken the initiative to do so. I wonder if the risk involved in starting an online fabric shop then is a different one to that which might exist now. In the last few years, sewing has become so wildly popular that I'm imagining the concern now isn't so much 'will people want to buy fabric online', it's more 'how can I differentiate my fabric shop from the hundreds of others'.

But many of the shops do seem to have a different feel to one another and have created a cohesive defined style with the collections they choose to stock. I buy much of my fabric locally, partly for convenience, but also because it feels important to support highstreet shops, however, when they turn up a blank for something I'm looking for, I often begin visiting shops online. If you rarely shop online, but would like to and feel overwhelmed by the long list of fabric shops I thought it may be helpful to mention which shops I use as a starting point when seeking out new fabric (you can find links to all these shops here).

Depending on what I'm sewing or who I'm sewing for depends on which shop I head to first. For slightly traditional fabrics that might suit my own house I tend to go to Hulu Crafts, Oakshott, Eternal Maker or the Quilt Room and then Shaukat for large cuts of Liberty prints. For dressmaking, using unpatterned fabrics such as cord, wool or linen, I'll look at Ray Stitch or Dragonfly Fabrics, or M is for Make for the Nani Iro double gauze. If I were sewing for friends with a more modern and minimal aesthetic to their home, then again, I'd go straight to M is for Make. For children's prints I peruse The Village Haberdashery, Backstitch, Holland Fabric House (not in the UK) or perhaps Saints & Pinners. If I'm looking for inspiration and ranges that I haven't noticed elsewhere then I look at The Eclectic Maker, who mix some unusual collections (such as the V&A Benedictus range) in amongst their more widely available ones. If I wanted to find something one-off and precious, I'd visit Donna Flower and immerse myself in the amazing collection of vintage textiles (my husband has bought me several pieces and they tend to have a delicious fragility to them).

So do go and have a look at the list if you'd like to discover some new favourites. Let me know in the comments if you have any haunts you think I might like, which don't appear on my list - I'd love to know what your favourites are and why you're drawn to them.

Florence x

Rouenneries and Thangles

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 12:50:00 +0000

In amongst the disruption of floor sanding I have ended up doing a small amount of sewing, albeit with my sewing machine on a low coffee table and me sitting on the sofa - it requires an odd body posture, but at least it allows me to feed the sewing addiction. I started 2013 determined to finish a few of the half-finished projects I've had left over from last year. I've surprised myself as I rarely used to start a new project before finishing the last, but hand-sewing changed that as it encourages you to have some projects running in tandem - those by hand that can be done here and there, and then those on the sewing machine, which tend to be more quickly finished projects.

The majority of this Rouenneries quilt top is hand-pieced, but I've now started adding some borders of half square triangles to the sides and these are being pieced on the machine using Thangles. Thangles are relatively new to me - they are basically a very accurate way of sewing HSTs (half square triangles), as you simply cut your fabric into strips and then sew on the dotted lines. Once sewn they can be pressed, cut along the solid lines, pressed again, before finally pulling the paper away. Personally, I don't think it shortens the process, in fact, I think it takes a longer (I sewed hundreds of them without using Thangles when making this quilt). However, I'm not sure I'd sew a HST without them now, as they make your sewing so incredibly accurate and perhaps best of all, they ensure that the bias of the fabric is always on the diagonal seam, so that you're left with edges that won't distort as you sew them to other things. I find it slightly exhausting thinking about grain lines with any shape that isn't a square, so this really appeals to me (yes, these end up square, but initially you're dealing with triangles). I bought my Thangles in several sizes from Kate's lovely shop (Kate links to this video tutorial, which explains exactly how you use them) - I can't recommend enough trying them out for yourself.

It began snowing in England on Friday and the country now seems to be under one large not-very-warm blanket. We stayed in our one usable room and watched nearly the entire box set of Anne of Green Gables with the fire on (and because my new sewing machine is so quiet, I was able to sew at the same time), punctuated by going over to see friends for dinner, a first sleepover for the eight year old (adorably, they fell asleep early and he returned a perfectly normal human, rather than the tearful beast I'd been anticipating), and some sledging (theirs, not mine this time as I couldn't find any wellingtons for myself as everything is so disorganised).

The cats were shocked by the removal of the carpet and, for the first few days, each time they came in through the cat flap they ran straight back out again, terrified by all the machines and men. Finally though, I came home one day to find that our tabby had carefully picked her way through to the only place on the sofa that wasn't covered by my quilt top and curled herself up into a tiny ball in the corner - she always astounds me with quite how considerate and sweet she is. She somehow seems to know that lying in the middle of the half-finished quilt top wouldn't be polite.

Our other cat has found a home on top of the piano, which is currently living in the utility room covered by old quilts. I love how her fur is yellowing slightly as she gets older - it makes me think of a well-loved teddy bear.

After being adamant that our floorboards must be oiled to a very dark finish, after several days of gap-filling with slithers of wood (it is now so cosy and warm!), we finally got to the sanding part this morning and I like the natural wood more than I'd expected. It's probably not what I'd pick out myself, but I'm wondering if it suits other parts of the house a little better than my drastic plans, which will involve a thousand other things having to be changed in order to make it look normal. The indecision continues.

Florence x

Woodwork

noreply@blogger.com (Florence (Flossie Teacakes)) — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 11:31:00 +0000

Unfortunately there's not a large amount of sewing going on this week, due to nearly every room in the house been either devoid of furniture or so piled high with it that there's no room for a girl and her rotary cutter and cutting mat to fit in amongst it all.

At the end of the summer, in a response to my alarming dust allergy which threatened to render all conversations to be conducted from behind a handkerchief, we tore up our bedroom carpet and found some potentially lovely floorboards lay beneath, if only there weren't so many holes in them that I was in danger of permanently losing my presser feet every time I changed the foot on my machine (something I do with alarming frequency).

So the time has come to have the holes filled in and have it all properly sanded and waxed to bring out the loveliness which we hope they hold...and we've decided to do the same to the rest of the house at the same time (aside from the children's bedrooms, where it seems nice to have something soft for their trotters to land on when they get out of bed in the morning). Yesterday the rest of the carpets were taken up - my daughter and I have rather fallen in love with this scuffed looking paintwork on the stairs, but my husband is insistent that it will not be preserved, despite it amusing the children for nearly an hour this morning as they climbed up and down it pretending the central area of stair was a waterfall.

I had a very clear idea of what I wanted in my head...warm, but very, very dark floorboards. I'd just forgotten that we already have a huge amount wood all over our house that's a completely different colour. Nearly every door, several window frames and many of the skirting boards are pale stripped wood. Also this vast panel that runs along the side of the stairs.

It feels too awful to paint it white so that we can have the colour floors we'd like (especially when the previous owners stripped much of this by hand), so we're now thinking of compromises that avoid it being so one-toned that our hallway is mistaken for a sauna. It's funny how once you start thinking of changing one thing it has a knock on effect on everything around it.

My Instagram friends were a huge help when I was pondering all this last night. They clarified that I must not ever paint the stair panels white (by using shouty capitals at times); they reminded me that you can start off light and then go darker with floorboards, but not the other way around (without sanding it all over again); they shared photos of their own hallways and floorboards; and even advised about which waxes were best. Instagram is such a wonderfully visual and instant way of talking with people.

So for now, I'm sitting squashed into the corner of a furniture-stacked room doing some work with my husband on his Squeebles, making teas and coffees and considering where we might sleep tonight, as it's not looking obvious which room in the house would allow for such a thing.

Florence x