Skirtless in Seattle

I know, I know: as bloggers go, I am a bad little bee. What can I say? I went to Maui, quit my job, laughed as my husband quit his job, and have been lazing around with him and the dog ever since. I've made exactly one thing: a pair of pajama pants.

OK, there was a wrap dress in there too, and two pending pairs of yoga pants for a little goin' concern I've cooked up with a friend of mine. But nothing photographable, particularly since (after snorkeling off a good 5 pounds in Hawaii) I went and gained it all back on my return, and then some. I am a regular butterball. The sewing has allowed me to avoid that unpleasant fact until now.

Anyway, regular posts will resume at some point. For right now, I'm having too much fun goofing off and going drinking with friends. Tra la! It's like I'm on strike from the regular world. And you know what? I like it.

A new take on the Hawaiian shirt

Not that I'm desperate to go on vacation or anything. Not that it's still WEEKS AWAY or anything.

My friend Jen took this photo. I was making a totally spazzy face so I cut off my head. Why is it that my face and my boobs look so cockeyed in photos?

It is possible that "cockeyed" is not quite the right word to use here, but whatever.

I made a matching bag. I can be a little obsessive.
Here's the other shirt, sort of a gratuitous rack shot for your hump day. Tee hee.
Oh, and I was also wearing the linen pants I made when Jen took the shot. I messed up the butt seam so it looks like I have a vestigial tail. Behold:
The sad thing is, I'm not going to fix it. I like pointing out my vestigial tail too much.

Must... go... to... Hawaii!

Also: Repro Depot!

OMG GREAT FABRIC: http://www.reprodepotfabrics.com/newarrivals.html

Summer Skirt

You only get part of the front because my boobs decided to spaz out when my husband took the picture. But LOOK HOW CUTE! I'm dying. I love this skirt. I want it to be 75 and sunny so I can wear it.

I had worried about the butt-embiggening properties of the print, but you know, I think I'm pulling it off.

Proto-tote lives!

Last night I made another version of my tote bag. I had to finish the side seams by hand: pain in the ASS. But I love the tote. I used interfacing on both the outside fabric and the lining (heavy linen) to stiffen up the fabric, but its sides are still a little on the floppy side.

I love the pockets. I made the outside side panels out of black linen and then patched a couple pockets on - a large one of black linen, and then a small one of the primary fabric. I loved making it, but you know, it was a pain and a half to sew. I have to refine my totery. Also, my sewing still sucks.

My lost weekend with linen

Over the weekend, my husband was furiously studying for his accounting and finance MBA classes, so I hid out in the basement with my sewing machine, five yards of linen, and no small amount of wine.

These, friends, are the results.

First, linen trousers. They're acceptably baggy without making me look like I'm wearing bleached-out clown pants. I worked out the pattern on my own, after starting from the pattern for wide-leg lounge pants from In Stitches.

This linen took me a good couple hours to iron. Never ever ever stuff linen in the wash, then dry it, and then decide to iron it later. Your wrists will kill you in the morning.

I liked the way the pants turned out so much that I made a skirt.

Mmmm, skirt. And I liked that one so much that I whipped up another one, this time out of lighter-weight linen and contrasting thread. My sewing is still not exactly county-fair sewing, but what the hell, right? Go drink half a bottle of wine and tell me you make good sewing decisions.

I think I ironed it a little overzealously. There wasn't even any wine involved. WTF? Wherefore the shiny?

I like it. I like it. I like it.
At some point, I realized I only have one pair of shorts that will contain my ever-increasing ass, so I took the rest of the linen and made myself a pair of shorts.

The best thing about linen is how beautifully the seams look when they're ironed. Then, of course, everything creases all to hell... but for one shining moment between the drinking and the inevitable carpal tunnel, everything comes together.

Linen. I like it. Please get me some ice for my wrists now.

First Dress

I have this fabric that I'm dying to make into a dress. But if my recent forays into sewing have shown me anything, it's that it's best to give it a go with some fabric you're less heavily invested in before making the thing you really want to make.

Not that I ever follow my own advice. Behold, the first dress:

When my husband saw me in this, he made one of those great appreciative male noises.

When I saw the photos, I knew for sure that I have to lay off the doughnuts.

Proto-Tote

I always wanted to front a band called the Capacious Handbags. Unfortunately, I have no musical ability whatsoever, so I've had to resort to making capacious handbags, which as you might imagine is slightly less punk rock than the alternative.

But whatever.

I give you Proto-Tote, the first bag I've attempted. I still need to put the lining in and attach straps, and the sewing is all shot to hell since I worked on it in the dark, but I like the idea.

And from the side:
I love love love the fabric. I may need to get more.

Next up: the Ladylike. I love the fabric - so much so that I ordered another 5 yards in violet to make a dress. We'll see how that goes.


Spring is on its way.

My Neck Hurts: The Catch-up Post

OK! Here in one shot is the extravaganza of experimental sewing: all - well, some - of the quintillion projects I've started, finished, or abandoned as a bad job over the last few weeks.

I won't lie to you. There have been experiments with stretch denim, and with green linen pants. These, you will not see. But here's a sampling of the other stuff.

First of all, I was in a sour mood last night, and I happened to have some appropriate fabric for that, so I made myself a skirt. Here's a close-up of the fabric, which is so sunny, it's impossible to keep being sour when you've wrapped your ass in it.

Appropriately enough, it doesn't fit.

I also made myself a Cruella DeVil jacket (made out of velvet rather than actual puppy, but no less stylish for that).

It still needs a little work around the bottom hem, but I love how crazy it makes me look. (Not that I am the chair. I just didn't have it in me to parade around modeling this stuff for C today.)

The other jacket I made is this pink bounciness, but unfortunately, I cut the seams too close and after one washing, the thing is falling apart.

I know: distressing.
Because the interfacing has fused itself to the crappy sewing, there's no fixing it, which breaks my heart. Trust me, these photos don't do it justice - it hugs my curves and opens up my face in the cute little collar frame.

I made a matching skirt so that I could have a complete ensemble for when the men in the white coats come to take me away.


I love the skirt almost as much as the jacket, and so far, the (now reinforced) seams are holding.



Then I made this apron for my friend Peggy, who's leaving our place of employment. The fabric seemed appropriate, since the place has driven many of us to drink.

This also breaks my heart, but I'm holding that at bay by sewing. And gardening.

In anticipation of a trip to the tropics, I made these black linen lounge pants. They're a little on the baggy side - I mean, no one would say they look like clown pants, but you know they're thinking it. They are also terribly comfortable, and look good with sandals. Mission accomplished!

And I made a lightweight beach coverup that feels lovely on, even if it's way, WAY too big.



When I realized I'd become perilously grouchy, I made myself a long bubbly skirt. It sort of worked, and sort of didn't.

I mean, the skirt works fine. It didn't really improve my mood, though.

Two jackets, three pairs of trousers, and a shirt

That's right. I've been away but I haven't been idle. I just haven't been writing. Obsessive sewing will do that to you.

So, in addition to making three pairs of pants yesterday (two linen, one denim) and two jackets (unlined) over the last two weeks, I have also made 6 skirts (4 for friends, two for me) -- three of which need fixing before I can send them off. I am also making a beachy sort of coverup-shirt-thing to wear when my husband whisks me off to Maui in a couple months.

No photos yet because everything needs small fixes and I've been too fixated on making the big things to do the small mendy-type fixes. But watch this space; they'll be here soon.

Sock Monkey Madness Continues!

That's right, baby: SOCK MONKEY PANTS.

They're lounge pants, actually, meant to be worn for lounging around. And look at that: they work like a dream.

Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.
The only problem is that I made them with really wide elastic which means I now have plumber's butt when I sit down. But hey! They're for lounging. If you can't plumber-butt around the house, I ask you, are you truly an American?

I won't show you the glory of my own plumber-buttiness, but I will show you my belly button. Aside from the super-low rise, I really like the wide elastic as a sort of yoke.

Jacket the Second: Not As Intended

I have been avoiding this.

I whipped this jacket up - and when I mean "whipped," I mean "stuggled mightily for a good 12 hours before admitting defeat and giving up in disgust" - a week and a half ago. My neck has yet to recover.

I would model it for you - it actually looks all right on - but I am just not that punk rock. The Asian Rain Jacket, it has defeated me.

It was meant to be a swing coat, but then I realized that made me look 16 months pregnant, and so I added waist darts, shortened the goofily long sleeves, and tried to get the neck to lay down flat.

When the dust settled, I realized I had made a jacket that only a tiny 80-year-old Asian woman - with admittedly great taste -- would wear. So now I have to find her and give it to her. I can't keep it; my wrists stick out the ends, and the shoulders hit me funny. You need a humpback to wear this thing properly.

But the colors do work beautifully together, if I do say so myself. That's the lining. I also used very light green velvet ribbon around the neck to hide the lousy sewing.

I really do love the fabric. When I first bought it, I wanted to make a knee-length, princess-line jacket or car coat out of it, but when that pattern arrived, it was clear that that's beyond me for the moment. I'm just bitter because I just wasted $50 and a weekend on something I will never wear, and earned a sore neck for my trouble.

On another note, there should be a disclaimer on Amy Butler's fucking High Street Messenger Bag pattern because you need higher maths to put the pattern together.

OK, so "daily" skirt might be a bit of a misnomer

The thing is, there has been turmoil in the Daily Skirt's actual daily work environment. So there have not been many skirts manufactured lately. And the one jacket that was made was... well... not entirely up to DailySkirt.com snuff.

I mean, I'll still post pictures. If I'm not good for comic relief, what am I good for, after all?

But there hasn't been anything worth mentioning other than office politics and negativity and strife. And you know, life is fleeting. Go smell the roses. Report back, tell me how they smell so that I might join you, if only virtually.

Godspeed, you skirt lovers, you. Godspeed!

Jupe La Quinze: Flower Girl/The Eileen

Let me apologize for the crappy photos of this truly lovely skirt. I found the fabric today in the upholstery section - which carries "bottom-weight" fabrics. In other words "bottom-weight" fabrics are suitable to wrap around one's ass. As I soon discovered.

This is me, always fighting the belly. Luckily the enormous flower on my skirt distracts me from my belly, inducing a state close to - can it be? self-love?

But who couldn't love this?
Yes, that is indeed an absolutely enormous flower on my butt. And you know what? I couldn't be happier about it. I'm wearing it to work tomorrow with boots and a brown sweater.

I saw this fabric and immediately thought of Eileen, who will be getting a skirt much like this, but perhaps with racing stripes, in a mere 10-15 days.

Digression into my state of mind: Making this skirt was terrific therapy for a really shitty week at work, part of which I brought on myself, but much of which was brought on by a she-demon named ****. I might as well have called this the "Suck it, ****" skirt, but you know? The jacket I spent 8 hours on yesterday should really be given that name, because a lot of the anger I felt at ****, and the untenable environment she has created at work, dissipated when I was making it, escaped into the ether - along with the shame I felt at handling things badly, letting my own anger and lust for justice (and honesty - the nerve of me, wanting the people I work for to be honest, can you imagine?). Into the air, and left me singing along with Aretha Franklin and the Dixie Chicks and Indigo girls and that gal who sings "I'm not going to write you a love song"* on my iPod.

So thank you, ****. Despite yourself, you brought joy and beauty in the world, if mistakenly.

Digression over. Watch for photos of the jacket tomorrow or so. It's almost completely done, but for a little velvet trim around the collar, which I messed up but which, hopefully, no one will notice once there's velvet trim on it.

* Incidentally, buy that album, she rules. I think her name is Sara Bareilles, and she has a voice like a young Aretha.

Skirt 14: The Rox

Named in honor of my gutsiest friend, Rox, I give you the most favorite skirt I have ever made: The Rox (aka The Sock Monkey Skirt), so named because of the fabulous sock-monkey hat my Minnesotan friend made and proudly wears.

In her honor, tomorrow I am wearing this skirt to:

• A business lunch
• A training session on search engine optimization
• An after-hours work function

I expect everyone will bow before my fabulous style. I will tell them all, "Rox is my inspiration."

Meanwhile, her 13-year-old, alerted to praise of her mother by the mysterious ways of the universe, will make "gag me" motions with her mouth. If kids even do that any more. Is that strictly from the 80s or is "gag me" making a comeback?

But I digress. Here are photos of The Rox, which (much like its namesake) is even more wonderful than I thought it would be--and (again, exactly like its namesake) I had high hopes to begin with. You'll note the fabulous socks-and-ankle-brace combo, which I left in just for you. I'll be wearing this tomorrow with a purple turtleneck and slouchy brown engineer boots.

I love that skirt. Look at the shape! It's flannel, too. It's like stealth jammies.
Oh man. Such a lack of definition in my once-mighty calves. I can start running in 2 months, and you can bet I'm going to do it in this skirt.

Lounge Pants for the Spatially Impaired

I give you Lounge Pants, The First Attempt.

Let this be a warning to anyone who wants me to make you a skirt. Daily Skirts: The thing to wear when you want to be committed immediately.

I cut this pattern out according to the directions in Amy Butler's In Stitches, which was exactly my reaction when I realized that these would only fit if I had a four-foot torso and 13-inch legs.

Imagine my delight.

But I am nothing if not a problem solver. No matter, I thought; I'll just make them into a nightshirt!

See? That's vaguely t-shirt-shaped, right?

And I mean, it's still got monkeys on it, right? It doesn't have to look perfect, and it will still make me laugh every time I put it on. Especially now that I know I am actually wearing pants with my head where my lady parts are supposed to be.

Sadly, this plan was flawed. Not only were the sleeves desperately uncomfortable, but I looked like an escapee from a children's hospital.

You'd think I would have a high tolerance for that, but as it turns out, I do not.

I still have no idea where I went wrong, although I suspect when she said to sew the inner leg seams together, I managed to sew the wrong thing to the wrong thing. Imagine.

Skirt Thirteen: The Brownie

May I introduce you to Lucky Number 13, The Brownie? It features three different kinds of brown and also some black, so that on days like today, when I get dressed while comatose, it won't matter if I wear black Doc Martens with a brown sweater and a navy coat. This skirt can pull them all off.



Well, OK, not the navy, but it's got black's back. And check out the ribbon at the hem. You should see the sewing on that ribbon; it's all over the place. Thank God the thread matches.

I could not be happier with this thing, and it only took me 45 minutes to make. Which is good, since I now have a permanent pain in my neck. It is called Art.

OK. It's possible it is called Notions. But look how cute!

By the way, blame Rox if you are seeing rather more of me than you would prefer. She bitched about wanting to see the skirts on a real live person, so you get these crappy mirror shots. But look at that skirt, willya?

No. 12: The Thelma

In honor of my favorite great-aunt, I give you The Thelma, made Saturday morning for a petite dinner party we had Saturday night. It's made out of bark cloth, which I believe is used for outdoor awnings, but whatever.

I'm calling it The Thelma despite the fact that TJ hates her name. See, I'm trying to bring it back, in all its retro glamour. I mean, look at this skirt: it looks like a beatnik jam at 3 a.m., no? All martini glasses and dilated pupils and percussion.



At some point I will get C to take a photo of me wearing this, but for now you get the table wearing it. I can tell you this: I am not a small girl, and this fabric makes much of my thighs. I mean that in a good way: I look curvy and delectable in this skirt. Go barkcloth! Now I have to find some outdoor webbing to make some pants.

No. 11: The Making of a Road Trip Skirt

Bodacious, no? Get the full scoop here, in the original post (post-dated to 1/1/08 because it's completely enormous and I don't have the patience to actually code this correctly).

Skirt the Tenth: Black and White

Ah, the black and white skirt: How better to show off my Fussy shirt? Here's a close-up:

Get your own at Fussy.org. It's just the thing for luncheons and teas.

Although the Joss Whedon Is My Master Now t-shirt gives Fussy's a run for its money, I'll tell you that. This one's on CafePress somewhere.

My favorite is the writer shirt below, bought to help support the WGA Writer's Strike.

Get your proletariat on by buying your own strike swag here - all proceeds go to help non-writers who are affected by the strike (like production teams who are sidelined while the strike continues). More information is at UnitedHollywood.com.

Look at that. Looks dandy with the skirt, no? The fabric is from Alexander Henry, with whom I am carrying on a fairly serious love affair in my mind. C, you've got competition.


Not really. The guy who buys me a scooter on the spur and lets me unspool over sewing skirts is the guy for me.

Here's the real tea outfit. This is far less likely to get you chucked out of the Four Seasons than Eden's Fussy shirt... although you only live once.

I whipped this skirt up in a little over an hour last night. I didn't have a zipper to go with, so I used a magenta one. I loves it. Look how bright and happy! And again, not embarrassing! It's a Stormy January Miracle.

By the way, you Californians, are you all right? My kid sister is currently trapped in her home in the woods without power. She's 18 and her parents - my dad and stepmother - are three states and several snowy passes away.

Lest you get any ideas, she's a crack shot and she's armed. Plus I can only imagine that she is surrounded by three or four of her beefy young admirers, who have snowshoed their way through the Sierra snows to ensure her safety.

Oh right! Zipper. Voila:

And slit:
Man, what a missed opportunity: I should have called this site Zipper and Slit. I bet the Google searches would be hysterical.

How the hell did this happen?

I never sewed. I never wanted to.

I come from a family of women who haunt fabric stores and win quilting competitions and talk about "fat corners" as if they're something to aspire to. And it made me roll my eyes with the best of them.

In fact, up until last month, the extent of my sewing career was making a plush skateboard in the eighth grade. Sure, there were a few badly hemmed pairs of jeans in there, a couple badly hand-sewn baby quilts, crap like that. But that was it, and that was fine by me.

And yet, a few weeks ago, I got a wild hair to buy a sewing machine and make myself a couple skirts.

How did this happen? I'm as baffled as you are. In fact, pretty much anyone who knew me as a teenager is scratching their heads right not, wondering if I went to some churchy thing where they convinced me that Doc Martens were the tool of the devil and it really is best to be barefoot and pregnant.

Well, no joy on either count. I own like 8 pairs of Docs and kids are a road I've decided not to take.

So whence the Kenmore 19233?

Well, it all started with a spur-of-the-moment upholstery project. I went to a fabric store looking for a bathroom curtain that I could attach with safety pins. I came out with three yards of gorgeous suede and a book on reupholstering ancient dining-room chairs.

When that turned out OK - and by "OK," I mean that I did not die of infection from the century-old horsehair stuffing in the chairs - I started thinking about the other great fabrics I'd seen, and wondered if having a sewing machine might, in fact, be kind of fun.

After all, I told myself, I didn't have to make quilts or afghans or any of that old-lady crap; I could make something cool. Like curtains. And skirts. Skirts are easy, right? And I could make them out of fabrics that would make my mother's eyes bleed. Excellent.

And so an impulse purchase was born: my bottom-of-the-line electronic Kenmore sewing machine, bought on sale and later expensed as a work-life balance thing. (I do love my company and its liberal expense policy.)

And since then - Dec. 16, 2007, a mere three weeks ago - I've made 10 skirts, one jacket (stay tuned, DS faithful), and a tablecloth for my beloved step-mother-in-law, and I am hooked. Clearly.

I was not prepared for this. Between that plush skateboard and an hour spent with my mother back in 1983, huddled weeping over her sewing machine, I have had only limited instruction, and fraught instruction at that.

The only documented evidence of this (since the skateboard no longer exists) is a photograph my sainted home ec teacher took of me when I finally wrestled the last bit of foam into the skateboard and called it a day. It had taken something like three months to complete the damn thing. Everyone else in class had long since graduated to aprons and tablecloths except me and the Skateboard of Shame.

So when at last I finished the project, the teacher--who had to be as frustrated as I was, if not more--took a photograph of me. In it, I am leaning back in my chair with my hands laced behind my head, my eyes closed, a huge smile on my face because I was done.

I was fantasizing about burning it, if you want to know the truth.

That photograph showed up in the year-end slide show, cued up at the very beginning of the song "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang. A more apropos song you would not find, unless it was possibly "I Fucking Hate to Sew" or possibly "All of a Sudden I'm 21 Instead Of 11".

So you know I'm telling you the truth when I say I have no idea how this happened. I thought I skipped the sewing gene. My mother is a lifelong quilter, having the basics of sewing all but beaten into her by her mother. But I have been a lifelong avoider of any kind of "soft" craft, opting instead for metal sculpture and encaustic painting, as if to prove to my grandmother how macho I am.

As if she cared. I hope that if her spirit still exists, she's looking down at me now, here in the foofy little gardeny jacket I made myself, and she's laughing at me, understanding me at last. She and I, there was always a gulf between us. Always. There was a deep connection but also a deep misunderstanding. A deep caution. I did not approve of the way she treated my mother; she did not know how to bridge the gap. So I stayed as far away from her as possible.

And maybe because of that, I essentially forswore all sewing activities. But then that damn Heidi made me start knitting, and Eileen did too, and then my grandmother died, which apparently caused some kind of deep seismic shift in me that made me want to make things. Pretty things, things I could wear.

And then there was the upholstery project and then the sewing machine and now HERE I AM, making skirts and jackets and thinking maybe if I can learn how to sew a tote, I'll set up an Etsy shop.

Jacket: Testing my Spatial Abilities

Three backbreaking days later, and you're welcome for sparing you the blow-by-blow, I had created this jacket: the gardening jacket.



Lined with rough silk and covered in what I suspect is upholstery fabric, this sucker's warm as hell. C didn't even think I'd made it myself. Now he is convinced we will save hundreds of dollars if I make him dress shirts.



What he doesn't know is that they, too, will be puffy and deconstructed, because that's how I roll.

Also, the seams will be in unpredictable places, like one inch to the left of my spine instead of directly over it.

That's OK. I love this jacket, even though I fear my neck is permanently stuck in the looking-down-at-sewing-machine position.

I love it even though it permanently disrupted any understanding I had of spatial relationships between the linings of sleeves and the sleeves themselves. I did not know, when I took Mr. Zaraza's physics class in the eleventh grade, that all the shit I did not learn in that class would later come back to haunt me.

But you know, some of it stuck, because after I had decided I'd failed three separate times, I turned one little piece of fabric inside out and all of a sudden, I had an actual jacket. I swear I heard that old bastard laughing, too.
I mean, look at this jacket: Does this not look like a puddle of comfort to you? I probably look like I'm 70 years old in it, but you know? It's so comfortable, I do not care.

Zen and the Art of Sewing by the Seat of Your Pants

Here are a few things I've learned since I started this project. A complete post on making your skirt can be found here.

The iron is your friend.

Zippers are hard.

Darts are easy (and hey, the high waist is coming back, so what the hell? Pop in some darts).

Wash and dry fabric, and iron it, before you even think about cutting it to make whatever it is you're going to make. Otherwise it may shrink. Just trust me on this.

A pair of really sharp shears, made specifically for cutting fabric, makes all the difference in the world. Invest in a pair and then only use it for fabric. Be a Nazi about this.

The straighter you cut, the straighter you'll sew. Be precise when you cut your fabric. That way, you can line it up on the little 3/8 or 1/2 line on the sewing machine and have a more or less even seam.

When you screw up a seam (or a facing, or the top of a zipper), ask yourself two things: Is this going to affect the fit? And is anyone going to see it? If not, whether you fix it is between you and your God.

Ribbons hide a host of sins.

Wine helps. (Wine usually does. So accommodating, the grape.)

Don't panic. Seam rippers were invented for a reason. After a while, it gets kind of fun.

If you're buying thin quilting fabric and not lining your skirts, invest in a good slip. (Although I hear lining makes a skirt look more polished.)

Here's how I make a skirt.

1. Wash and dry fabric, then iron it before cutting it out.
2. Using the pattern I made from the Sew What? Skirts! book, I cut out two sides of a straight skirt. Cut on the fold.
3. Facings: Instead of cutting out a separate piece of fabric for the facing, I made a pattern that includes the facing - it ends up being a little flap over the waistband, and this turns out to work pretty well.
4. Sew a line at the top of the waist, so that my facing will flop down over one side and the skirt on the other.
5. Turn the skirt pieces so that the outside of the fabric faces in. I always mess this up, so pin it and then turn it around and see if it makes sense. If it doesn't, girl, regroup.
6. Then sew the side seams, leaving room for a 7-9" zipper (or whatever size zipper I bought). If I'm sewing little side slits, I'll leave room for those too, plus an inch or so for the hem. The more I sew, the narrower my hems get. One thing: These hems will fray. You can get a pair of pinking shears and pink 'em up; there's a stitch called a blanket-weave stitch you can use; or you can just let them fray and deal. It comes down to this: how Martha are you? My response: Not very, so I leave them and deal.
7. Iron the hem, then sew it. Soooo much easier than pinning.
8. Take deep breaths and a sip or two of wine. Pin the zipper in place. More wine. Then I'll sew it in, following directions in that Sew What book (or whatever you can find online).
9. Once it's more or less on, take the skirt to the ironing board. Iron the facing down and then sew the facing about half an inch from the top of the waistline, then about an inch from the bottom of the facing, in a straight line. This will show on the front and back of the skirt,so it's important to sew a straight line rather than following the dip of the facing--unless you want a little V in the front of your skirt, which come to think of it could be slimming. Hmm.
10. Sew the facing around the zipper so that it's neat.
11. Add any trim or lining. If your seams are a little wonky at your hem, get a great ribbon and some matching thread and go to town.
12. Iron it. Iron your skirt. I know, I know, it's like I'm being funded by the Iron Council of America. All I can say is, whatever craziness I inserted in sewing my skirt, I can usually downplay or eliminate entirely with a good ironing.

Somewhere my mother is laughing. Later I'll take photos of each step to illustrate, and then I'll post the whole shooting match in the "You'll Need These" section over to the right.

Number Nine: Dragonfly

Oh, my favorite yet: the dragonfly skirt. This is made of a nice heavy viscose/poly blend that drapes gorgeously and makes much of my shape.

I made a matching wrap, again using the right side of the fabric for the wrap, but the "wrong" side for the skirt. Who wants a shiny ass? Not me. I would be a hazard on the street.

Oh, but look how pretty!

The seams are even, too. And it looks great with light-blue v-neck and little blue neckerchief.

Note the little flowers I sewed onto the skirt. Dragonflies like flowers, don't they? I should sow some grass on, maybe a moat. I would call it the Collage Skirt.

I also love it with a chocolate-brown t-neck and brown boots.

The zipper is not as embarrassing as previous zippers.

Close-up of the flowers. All skirts should have flowers on.

That cross-hatch pattern is from my ironing board. I know, time to get a new one.

But the skirt itself even looks good with a jean jacket and my favorite scarf (thank you, Eileen!)

The Ocho: Another outfit, sans green

Heart heart heart!

The Ocho: Loopy Skirt

There are those who would say that purple, green, and pink do not go together. I am here to tell you that this is commie hogwash.

This one is made out of a nice heavy cotton that drapes beautifully and, despite the enormous circles on it, takes about 10 pounds off. Thank you, Manufacturers of Heavy Cotton. I heart you, as do big-bottomed gals everywhere.

I put in darts. They look good, despite the fact that this skirt desperately needs pressing. I forget exactly why these darts are so close together, but whatever. Who cares? The skirt is loopy! Loopy, people! Go with it! I should call it my Doobie Skirt.

7: Because my skirts aren't crazy enough

I love this skirt. It looks like a chemistry experiment gone terribly wrong, and you know, I dig that. I consider