How Are You, Bobby-Sue?

 
I should have learned by now to take “Before” photos – you’ll just have to take my word for it that this was a XXXL Men’s shirt from Lowes (Australia: “At Lowes!”) that the dog and I could have camped under.  It was a great red,  longsleeved, summer-fun light and no ironing required - my favorite.

First I cut the sides in (according to an old favourite and slightly more stretchy shirt – mistake) and the arms off at the shoulders.  Then I sewed 1 inch seams.  Then I unpicked them and sewed 1cm seams…which unfortunately are still a little snug around the old bike tyre.  Oh well, I just casually unbutton the last two buttons – it’s still long enough not to give an unattractive midriff reveal!

I shortened the sleeves twice…and to be honest, I’d still prefer them to be shorter again.  Gathered the shoulders a little before putting them back into the sleeves (one unpick only) and finally decided to just sew some elastic (one inch shorter than my arm cicumference) into the sleeve hems for that puffy look.  I figured I’d keep it deconstructed and just zigzag all the hems. 

And the black pants were my black jeans cut into long shorts – getting rid of the bleach splash that run up from my ankles, yay!

I call it “Bobby Sue goes Blackberrying”
 
After two months of my pledge my drawers are fairly bursting, which I did not expect!  I have a better sense of what suits me and what I like.  I also troll through shops and markets and think: I could make that.  I’m going to try and keep this up for Life but will be lapsing from the Wardrobe Refashion site for a bit so I can refocus computer time on NaNoWriMo. Hahahaha.   Yeah, we’ll see.

T-shirt Refurb

“Before”

This is a Liz Claiborne top, op-shopped from the bargain rack for $4 (is it just me, or have other Australians noticed that Vinnie’s and Salvo’s prices have suddenly gone UP?  It’s because it’s so fashionable, I’m sure!), while the knit fabric is good quality, diappointingly the shape was boxy and wrong and it was consigned to a pyjama top.  But after poring over this inspiring post at My Mama Made It I decided to take to it with scissors.

I’m so glad I did.

I used a favorite t-shirt to figure out how far to cut the sides in, took the sleeve length to midway between elbow and shoulder, took the pocket off, and swirled strips into a ‘rose’ to cover the studs from the pocket.  And because it’s a t-shirt, there is no hemming required.  None.  Fantastic for the lazy sewer, like me.

“After”

I like it alot!

Here it is with my new stash busted skirt (the best of two skirts I’ve ever made, the original pattern made it a weird bell shape, in my frustration it was nearly binned but saved by a second pattern) and my flower pots (what the…?).  I feel so French in this outfit…it could be the headless thing.

My Girl

 

When she was first born, she looked like a grumpy old lady who had been woken very rudely, but was willing to forgive me, if I would just turn the light out and cuddle her back to sleep.

She used to climb into the chook house, to the complete dismay of its occupants, to share the brekkie scraps that had been thrown in there.

She got her first beesting in the week that she learned to walk.   She stepped solidly on the bee, it stung her, and the next step she took (still taking that massive breath that preceeds ear-splitting toddler howls) she stood on another bee, and it stung her too.

She once ran into a shopping centre elevator 5 seconds ahead of me, and two seconds before the doors closed.  It took 20 minutes to figure out which floor she’d gotten off.

The only way you could tell she’d found a slug in the strawberries she grazed on in the backyard, was by the shudder, and the cockeyed grimace she gave before she swallowed it.

She knew the difference between parsley and any other green thing in the backyard by the time she was three.

She has never needed very much sleep to function energetically, full-bore throughout the day.

She’s good at everything she does, which leaves us scratching our heads and wondering how on earth they swapped her in the hospital without us knowing.

She hates having to choose in the lolly aisle.  If she was allowed to, she would take an hour.  And one of everything.

She turns nine tomorrow.

She’s my baby, and I’ll cry if I want to.