I had a brief flash of sewing deja vu last weekend. Like that glorious period of prolific creative production that blazed through the greater part of my pregnancy, I sat in front of my sewing machine and whipped out a stack of new things. Or rather, I sat in front of my new serger and masterfully turned knit shirts and skirts into smaller renditions. I use the adverb “masterfully” with a silly smirk on my face; my new serger was adopted into the family for its spectacular ability to do most of the work for me, especially the pesky tasks of threading and tension-regulating. This is entirely appropriate and necessary, I argued, considering the ever increasing demands of my time elsewhere. He agreed, and now I’m making baby pants with abandon.
And transforming thrifted knits into attire that is pretty enough (thankfully) for the newly-critical fashion sense of Miss Isadora.
You’d think we had a mandatory “stripes only” dress code around here, but I assure you that’s not the case. As far as I know.
Fashion tip: wearing your heels on the wrong feet allows for a more flattering fit.
And, obeying the age-old adage “Make hay while the baby sleeps,” I’m off to said serger to whip out some summery pajama pants.
Have a lovely weekend!