My darling mum was always a collector and saver. I inherited and willingly pick up anything she began to discard because of a move to a smaller flat. I fully intend to turn the odds and ends into something, and this shoulder bag is one such thing.
I have no clue what she intended the two different kinds of material for. Probably something else. Only thing I’m sure about is the strap surprised her.
It’s an old bicycle tube.
The top is something shiny, the beads are mostly Czech glass, the floral-print is satin.
There’s something about contrasts …
Cake, dinner, midnight.
Calculation, dedication, mass production
Chaos, disaster, moping
What have I been doing?! Well you might just ask. The answer is that Saturday my Mum came to visit to see the progress on her bedspread (see last post) and decide what should go on it now. We talked back and forth for a bit, thought a lot and finally decided to reduce the number of denim pieces and add a simple patchwork design of only squares.
A lot of them as it turned out. 468 to be precise.
We sighed a bit, then she began to cut out the squares, I began to edge them, and my daughter collected them in bundles of 10 to ease counting. All was well, we took a break for coffee / tea and cakes, another break later on to finish cooking a pot roast already simmering.
Time wore on but around 11 PM we “just” needed 80-odd squares and went on cutting to get it over with.
Minutes later disaster struck. My trusty old sewing machine decided to play up, eat material and make snares of the thread. 44 squares are un-edged, and all of them still need sewing together.
I really need the one CDM I didn’t have: Cadbury’s dairy milk.
So here’s the reason I was silent online for a fortnight and a day: I kept myself busy making this little trifle. Which is less of a trifle given the fact that I started out with flat material, a lenght of cord, a needle, thread and two boxes of Czech glass beads. Yup, that’s right: Each and every single one of the beads on this bag is sewn on by hand.
I’m rather pleased with the result, I have to admit. I wanted it to look random in it’s pattern, and I followed a meandering trail traced in tailor’s chalk before I began beading.
That’s not saying I didn’t beat myself on the head a few times in the process. What was I thinking using the really small beads and tracing such a long trail? And did they really all need two stitches to fasten them securely?
The answer is I was thinking how it would end up looking. And I like it. It was worth it.
This post will have you seeing stars. Really.
I was seeing stars when I got the material for the shorts I practically finished. It was in a shop in Amsterdam, our summer hols destination, and it was just packed with fabrics I wanted. And I had to limit myself and therefore pinched close my eyes so hard it made stars shimmer inside the lids.
My daughter saw stars too, but only these.
Then I was seeing stars again when I laid out the pattern. This time they were stars of rage. What was she thinking in that shop?! I specifically asked for enough for a pair of semi-long shorts. And this is how they had to look in the end:
All I could get were the leg parts. Not the waist band, not the pockets, not the belt straps. And I really was very careful, trying several times over to somehow fit more pieces onto the star fabric.
So I was reminded again to be careful about trusting shop clerks. At least my daughter thinks her new shorts are cool.
Got anyone’s curiousity up? Got anything else up?
Well, sorry. No explicit content despite the hints. Just some explanatory content:
As may be discernible this is the top par of a pair of (short) pants and five strips of material before they went on those shorts as belt straps.
The shorts belong to my eldest daughter. The one wearing a fault patterned sweater in an earlier post. She likes colours, which is lucky for me because I made a blunder cutting these shorts, laying the pattern pieces the wrong way on the material. Which meant there was too little and I had to add on. The turqouise was left over from sewing another pair of pants and was okayed by her.
The irony is that I could have done without those gussets. Because skinny as she is the shorts proved a bit too big for her. Since her belt was apt at slipping she asked for straps.
I dug out pink-and-white scraps as well as turqouise. Colour-loving that she is she went for the latter. And I got the joint pleasures of using up a long strip and improving her shorts.
Now if we could just get the heat of summer back, everything would be good.
Yes I know full well I’ve been at it before. And now I’m at it again: Scouting. Well it’s just a sign that it takes up a lot of mental room. Hardly surprising since I have this proof of just how long time ago I first donned my blue uniform:
7 years in blue. And ridiculously proud to show it. As a girl I was in the YWCA for 6 years. And no that doesn’t mean I should have a star saying 13 years on my pocket, which is where it’s sewn on. Because I’m in the non-denominational uni-sex Danish Scout Corps now.
And I think I’m ready for seven more years, one at a time. So is it much of a craft to sew on a small piece of material? Not really, though our uniforms are made of sturdy cotton woven the same way as denim.
What is a genuine craft is coming up with idea upon idea on how to train each girl and boy scouting skills, cooperation, cameraderie, how to overcome being homesick, pitching tents et c. And still keep up your own enthusiasm. OIt’s only possible because scouting is so wonderful it attracts other adults that become friends. Oh yes, I am SO ready for seven more years. Itching to get back to it all!
Sigh. I seem to dress the family’s duvets in worn-out covers of late with the result that my younger daughter (oddly enough always her) comes to me for another after few nights. Because it rips open.
Two were turned into shirts. Two others were turned into PJ’s. This one is different though:
Not so much because it’s older than the others. But because there’s time embedded in it. The blotchy pattern is an experiment I made with thinned-out textile paint dripped and splashed onto fabric. The faint and wavering purple line to the left is embroidered. I spent time making that duvet cover.
I spent even more time including some very good time under it. I made it when I moved away from home to a so-called kollegium, a Danish near-equivalent of a dorm except it’s not necessarily on a campus, there’s no room mate system and you don’t have to move home for long vacations.
It was there I met my boyfriend / later husband, there I made friends for life ( I hope!) There I battled memory, learning skills, rotten economy, got myself terribly drunk after exams and generally enjoyed life to the most. It was on my bed with this cover friends would sit and share my G&T’s to talk through nights of plans and harebrained schemes. And it’s all associated closely to this cover. We had shared laundry room with washers and a dryer, no place to air-dry anything, and so it would at regular intervals leave its duvet stuffing, go in the washer followed by the dryer to get stuffed again with the duvet. And a dryer does add to the wear of clothes, including bedclothes.
Which means the rip is no surprise. The rest is more or less as worn as where the rip appeared. The sensible thing to do would be to just throw it into one of those Red Cross containers.
Feelings aren’t sensible. There must be some way to use this. I can’t let it go. Not yet.