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Mending

I've been working on a few low-input projects lately, trying to use stash materials more and to make my existing clothes last until I make up more of the items I want to wear.

This would be less challenging if I weren't so prone to doing hard labor in my decent clothes.

A neck-down mirror photo of a young white woman in a loose, pale-pink t-shirt and a long denim peasant skirt, in front of a bright display of oven-bake clay. She's taking the picture with both hands, mostly obscuring the rose illustration on the black case, and the green ribbon tie of her skirt just shows below the shirt hem, along with a checked teal, white, and orange band on the highest tier of the skirt.
Featuring a nicely placed mirror at Michaels.
This beloved skirt is from a thrift store, and has been one of my most-worn items for nearly three years now. It's showing the use—I've remade the pockets I added once already—and the fabric is starting to wear away to nothing in spots where it takes a lot of abrasion.

A close-up of a checked teal, orange, and white band stitched to denim, with several of the dense gathers below the band wrapped in blue thread to reinforce the worn fabric.
Desperately performing necromantic spells on this fabric.
To give it more support and hopefully extend the skirt's life a bit, I added the very first narrow band I ever wove over the seam where the first and second tiers of the skirt meet. It was about four inches longer than required. Perfect. I hate to waste materials even when they're bought or unspecial, but this piece I very much wanted to make good use of.

I also, as I stitched down the lower edge of the band, whipstitched many of the gathers descending from the seam. Several of them were down to horizontal threads alone, and some were actual (if small) holes. Hopefully the thread wrapping will protect whatever integrity remains in those spots; I like how it looks, too.

A young white woman with red hair, leaning toward a very tall marigold in a flower bed bordered with grey concrete blocks. She's wearing a black t-shirt and long rust-red skirt, largely obscured by the extremely tall flower stalks of the grass at the edge of the flowerbed.
I need a tripod so badly.
I was in a hurry and really wanted to publish this post today, so this is what you get for a beauty shot of this skirt.

A rust-red skirt with narrow vertical panels of lace, a dull-orange elastic waistband, and a faux leather panel with corset-style lacing at the front center of the waistband.
The only true-to-color photo I have of this skirt so far.
Okay, this skirt wasn't already in my closet, but it was $6 and a color I love and that coordinates well with my existing shirts. I didn't particularly like the plastileather corset belt detail thing, and the skirt was also about that much too loose on me.

A close-up of a seam being started in a dull-orange elastic waistband, pinned in place with white-headed pins, and with a red-threaded needle about halfway up the seam. A loose fold of rust-red skirt fabric hangs open below the seam.
Red thread was the closest I had.
So I snipped out the weird waist detail—carefully—which left me with two cut edges of elastic waistband and a spare five inches of serged skirt fabric to anchor again. I started by seaming the waistband with several rows of backstitch. Whether it'll hold long-term remains to be seen, but I think I snagged all the crucial bits.

A close-up of a vertical seam in a dull-orange elastic waistband,with a pleat centered on a lace panel pinned in place with white-headed pins on the rust-red skirt.
Not too shabby.
Then I tucked the spare skirt fabric into an inverted box pleat and pinned it in place against the back of the waistband.

A close-up of a red-threaded needle inserted through the intersection of a rust-red skirt and dull-orange elsatic waistband, anchoring a pleat directly under the vertical seam in the waistband.
I have no idea if I actually managed to anchor everything important.
Lots of probably-excessive stitching, but I really don't want the little tails of the waistband to unravel themselves, nor for the front pleat of the skirt to tear itself out if I trip on the hem.

A youd white woman with red hair, half-turned away from the camera in a living room with a red door behind her and a white bookshelf crammed with books and DVDs. She's barefoot, in a black oversized t-shirt with a huge, colorful calavera design on the front, and a dark denim skirt with patch pockets and floral suspenders.
That shirt goes remarkably well.
Okay, this skirt also cost $6, plus the ribbon was $14, so overall it's a $20 skirt. Ish. I have close to two yards of ribbon left, and the pockets were all stash material that needed to be used! Justifying at the speed of light over here.

A pair of wrong-side-up pieces of hemmed denim, pinned to red fabric that just shows around the edges, with shallow points marked out by pins on each piece.
Highly scientific edge creation here.
I made the pockets from cut-off bits of worn-out jeans, taking advantage of the hems to save myself some finishing work, and realized I should've brought the skirt itself to check the angles on the pocket bases too late. So I guessed, and guessed pretty dang right.

Two denim pockets roughly stacked on each other, one with the rust-red lining showing.
YES.
I stitched three sides before turning the pockets, and used an invisible hem stitch to catch down the lining edge on the side with the intact felled seam and the top, where the bottom hem of the jeans had been. No need to torment my hands with any more sewing through multiple thicknesses of denim than absolutely necessary.

I attached the pockets to the skirt with doubled thread and a chain stitch around the very edges, to imitate the triple-seaming on the rest of the skirt. I also ended up whipstitching the felled edges down to better hide the red lining and seal off the raw edge where I'd cut away the back of the jeans.

A very cluttered photo, taken by a young white woman with red hair in a mirror. She's wearing an oversized black t-shirt and dark denim skirt, with a bright patterned ribbon pinned in a vee over her shoulders and to the skirt waist. A pink orchid is blooming profusely in front of the mirror, along with a variety of glasses, containers, and cut flowers.
No, I could not be bothered to move everything out of the way of the mirror.
This skirt is ever so slightly too big in the waist for me; not enough to really take in, unless I want to make dozens of one-eighth-inch darts all the way around, and not enough to ignore without risking losing my skirt if I catch the hem somewhere.

So, being the clever and enterprising sort, I thought I'd add buttons to the waistband, and make ribbon suspenders! That way, regardless of weight fluctuation and differing shirts, I won't need to worry about keeping the skirt on—and with a few additional pairs of buttonholes, I can even wear it high or low as I please.

A white hand holding a dark, translucently red button against a floral-patterened ribbon. The ribbon is black, with a pair of vertical red stripes and yellow, orange, and blue flowers overlaid. A pin marks the spot for the button, which has a doubled white thread running through it to other buttons below.
Took a while to find four buttons of the right size, so I leashed them to my pincushion for safekeeping.
I only have three of these very cool red-black buttons, so the fourth is a black and silver one of the same size and thickness. Not a problem, as the buttons will be hidden inside the waistband.

A close-up of the back of a floral woven ribbon, showing layers of very fine thread floats. A white hand is holding a needle ready to make another chain stitch, encircling the buttonhole placed vertically in the center of the ribbon.
Note to self: check the back of the ribbon before choosing it next time.
I did end up having to stitch down the cut ends of the brocade threads on the back side, since I didn't bother to line the ribbon before cutting buttonholes into it. Luckily, I did realize I should align the buttonholes vertically (so they rest shut against the pull of the suspenders) before I cut the first, horizontal, one open.

A young white woman with long red hair crouching in a garden, ready to pull a weed. She's wearing a black t-shirt with a dark denim skirt and bright floral suspenders.
Bindweed everywhere. I am attempting to defend my fresh garden beds from it.
One last pretty shot from this morning, when I finally caught the morning glories on the fence being wide-open and glorious rather than exhausted and deflated. I need to spend more time out there weeding. Somehow.

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