A 10 Item Wardobe? (Or: It's OK to wear the same outfit over and over!)

This orange dress (shown in 2011) survived multiple closet purges over the years because I loved the color and shape. But I hated the length and never wore it—and now it's finally gone.

So I still haven't had time to blog several sewing or knitting projects, but thought I'd drop in quickly to share a little video. We're doing some triple super ultra major decluttering in preparation for an apartment move, so I decided to watch some downsizing/minimalism TED talks for inspiration (found via Apartment Therapy: Flirting with Minimalism or Downsizing? These TED Talks May Just Talk You Into It).

Anyway, thought I'd share this little one here — blogger Jennifer L. Scott on the 10-Item Wardrobe:

A lot of this material you might already have thought about if you've followed along with Colette Patterns' Wardrobe Architect Series (or read one of Sarai's blog suggestions, the minimalist capsule-wardrobe-building blog Into Mind.)

My big takeaway? It's OK to wear the same items of clothing or the same outfits multiple times in the same week. Really. If it looks good and you love it — wear it and wear it over again (change your accessories if you like), clean it, repair it, and take care of it. Quality and fit and style over quantity.

That's why one of my goals for Me-Made May has never been "no outfit repeats."

A minimalist wardrobe approach has another bonus — even though I only have very limited sewing and knitting time, if I make the RIGHT things, they can still make up the vast majority of my mini-wardrobe.

What to Wear (and Sew) When Nothing Fits? Rebuilding My Wardrobe from Scratch

"Congratulations! When are you due?"

"Mommy, how come your belly looks so OLD and WRINKLY and PREGNANT?"

The first comment is from a nurse when I went for a doctor's visit several weeks after giving birth. The second is from my daughter, who happily has no clue as to why this sort of comment might make Mommy feel less than totally amazing.

I've tried over the years to develop a magic body image "bubble of peace", in which I dress for and embrace whatever size and shape I am at the moment, avoid incessantly comparing myself to others, and shut out impossibly Photoshopped and personal-trained skinny celebrity imagery. But sometimes it is harder than others and I really have to pull out the Joan photos and the pictures of some beautiful real-life moms and gorgeous women of all shapes and sizes to calm myself down. This is one of those times.

If you read this blog regularly, you might be wondering: what's with all the baby clothes and doll-making lately, Mikhaela? Where are the vintage patterns, fitted cardigans and otherwise body-conscious garments you used to sew for yourself?

Readers, eight weeks out from having my gorgeous little baby boy, I am in a serious postpartum style and body-image funk. I realized this week I really need to Do Something to Feel a Little Fancy or I might just sink under Mom Frump Lake never to be seen again. In fact, the photo at the top of this post IS me post-partum... with my previous baby, in 2010. Er...

Every day I feel like I wear the same thing: too-loose maternity top + too-loose maternity leggings/jeans + me-made wool socks + ugly old sneakers. I'm carrying diapering stuff in a disintegrating 10-year-old backpack. The only pretty accessories I'm wearing are my wraps and ring slings...

Nursing baby in line at the thrift store in a silk sling while wearing ugly old sneakers

Luckily this guy is so cute hopefully no one is noticing.

Anyway. Right after D was born, I mostly lived in stretchy nursing nightgown/dresses (see one of my most popular blog posts ever: "Easy Access: Nursing Nightgowns that Double As Dresses"). You can't see my belly in this photo, but I still look rather pregnant.

And really, I still feel pregnant-looking today, and it is bumming me out. I feel silly feeling bad about the same belly I was so excited about when I was pregnant, but I have even been congratulated a few times on my pregnancy and it HURT (though I was with my baby at the time, so I was also PUZZLED).

I've lost over 32 pounds since giving birth, but I gained a whole lot more than that, and things are just CHANGED in various ways — my bust and waist are both 4" larger than pre-pregnancy (though my hips are just 2" larger), I have a 3-months-pregnant-looking tummy, and everything is just more, I don't know. Squishy? And I'm not going to get into nursing bras here (that's a whole post of its own!) but I'm currently rocking a 34I (as opposed to my previous 32E).

So rather than sitting around in milk-covered old maternity clothes and feeling sorry for myself, I think I need to take some thrifty body-im-limbo wardrobe rebuilding action. Here's my little plan so far:

1. Stop wearing maternity clothes. Just STOP.

I think I am at the point now where it is no longer cool or working for me. I may still live in leggings and stretchy skirts and knit tops for a while, but I would like them to be actually fitted and not baggy around the middle. I've sold most of my nicer maternity clothes on eBay and given away or donated the rest.

2. Assess my pre-pregnancy items and TNT sewing patterns for fit & nursing friendliness

"One size fits sizes 2-12. Seriously." So goes the tagline on a pretty Gala wrap dress from Karina I was ogling for inspiration the other day. It's way out of my budget but just the sort of thing I need to make or buy right now — nursing-friendly, super-stretchy, a bright and distracting print, fitted and curve-hugging, but not too tight around the belly.

Luckily I have always been a fan of knits, stretchy things, wrap styles and surplice tops. A few of my me-made dresses have necklines too high and tight for a breastfeeding mom, but most are just fine. As far as TNT items I hope to sew again, I think I might do a few variations on my McCall's 6070 dress, maybe a top version too. I don't look like this in it right now, but it totally still works on me:

And I think I can play around with versions of my beloved Jalie 2921 scarf-collar top, which somehow still fits as well:

My me-made handknit sweaters are holding up just fine, and hopefully I can finish up my Hetty cardigan by Andi Satterlund in time for Me Made May... here's where I left her:

As for fabrics to make tops and dresses in, I have plenty of ITY and rayon jerseys waiting in the stash:

From Spandex House:

From Mood:

3. Fill major wardrobe holes.

The biggest gaps are in the jeans/legging, shoe and nursing top categories. As much as I'd love to try my hands at a pair of high-waisted Gingers, I'm not going to sew fitted jeans while my body is still so much in flux, so I hunted down some cheap second-hand shapewear jeggings and leggings on eBay from Spanx and Yummie Tummie—we'll see how they fit.

I'm not sure what to do about shoes right now. I somehow seem to have destroyed most of my comfortable flats by walking them to death while pregnant.

I picked up some nursing tops on deep deep sale from BOOB nursingwear, thrifted a few non-nursing tops and camisoles that work just as well for that purpose, and hope to sew some for the Small Human Being Sew-Along.

4. Embrace shapewear.

I've always had a few shapewear items to wear under special occasion dresses, but I think at least for now I might start wearing such things on a more daily basis. (That's more vintage style anyway, isn't it? Right?)

5. Never talk myself down or talk about weight in front of my daughter.

Which is apparently working, given her comments referenced at top. I felt like I was going to cry, but she was just genuinely curious—my squishy post-baby belly was just interesting to her.

6. Get fancied up for the camera

This always helps, and is one of the reasons I love Me Made May. Just the act of PLANNING what I am going to wear knowing that blog readers will be watching and putting on a tad of makeup instead of just throwing on WHATEVER... well, it helps. (Edited to add — speaking of photos, how awesome does this mother of three look in her bikini, with her squishy belly and stretch marks? Maybe a smile is the best accessory here!)

(By the way — if I had the budget, I would totally book a session with retro pinup style photographers Shameless Photo—they do hair, makeup and wardrobe as part of their packages and their photos are just amazing!)

Anyway, that's my tentative "fight the new-mom frump" plan. So: what do YOU wear when nothing fits?

P.S. Back in my pre-mom cartoonist days, I used to draw a sarcastic regular series about body image called "Your Yucky Body." One installment I did was about the rise of the "Mommy Job", a popular package of post-partum plastic surgery. I think nowadays this cartoon maybe feels a bit judgmental to me of women who choose to have plastic surgery, but I think my real point was more about how women are made to feel ashamed if they don't somehow "bounce back" and have flat stretch-mark-less bikini bodies weeks after giving birth:

Cheating on Sewing

Accomplished: the stripey purple Tomten toddler sweater hoodie. Not Accomplished: getting toddler to stay still in front of a plain backdrop for a proper photo.

Readers, I don't want to scare you, but I've been having dreams about yarn. Big, soft, luscious skeins of snuggly soft wool in bright colors, falling from the sky and turning into magical socks, cardigans, scarves, shawls, hats... Well, I'm not sleeping well, and it's kind of a problem. I recognize well the usual signs of obsession I dedicate to all things sewing.

The other day I found myself pulling ALL of my back issues of Interweave Knits and Vogue Knitting off the shelf and just sitting with them in a pile on the floor daydreaming (which is something I normally only do with Threads and BurdaStyle). I've even been reading knitting blogs instead of sewing blogs on my iPod Touch as I lie in the dark nursing the toddler off to sleep.

I think it was the thrill of FINALLY finishing Z's Tomten jacket, which ended up taking FOREVER (five months, because I only knit on the subway and during lunch breaks) thanks to the gigantic hood and huge armholes and, well, huge EVERYTHINGness of it all:

This yarn-o-mania might also have been triggered by the excitement of planning my next big project, the Georgina Cardigan. Which I HAVE definitively decided to knit in chartreuse, specifically this Swans Island Organic merino (nonsuperwash) "Spring Green" worsted wool (from Purl Soho):

But please don't be concerned. I may be feeling the lure of the loop, but sewing is my entree, and knitting will forever remain a side dish. Mainly because too much knitting aggravates old repetitive stress issues I used to have. I actually gave up knitting entirely for a year, and when I started up again, I kept it GLACIAL and SPORADIC, and sold most of my dashed yarn dreams on EBay.

Anyway:

• Pattern: Tomten jacket by Elizabeth Zimmerman. An awesome modular classic EZ pattern, but beware the giant arms, they require half as much yarn as the hood and body combined. Note: No details are included on how to insert the zipper. In the ancient copy of Knitting Without Tears I learned to knit with, so: FREE.
• Yarn: Berocco Vintage Chunky (50% Acrylic, 40% Wool, 10% Nylon). I used 6 skeins, and I almost ran out at the very end. I chose it because of the colors, and it's nice enough, but I hate that it's only 40% wool and am not sure if I'd ever use again, especially on a kid (acrylic = flammable, wool = magic and flame-retardant). Paid for with a gift certificate from the hubby, so I'll say: FREE.
• Needles: Size 9 circulars (used to knit flat).
• Notions: Separating plastic YKK zipper from SIL Thread, $3.
• For full details and notes on how I inserted the zipper (shorter version: by hand, with a backstitch, took AGES) and hid the color changes (or at least, started hiding color changes halfway up when I realized my "who cares, it's a kid's jacket?" attitude was lacking), see the Ravelry project page.

The too-tight hat: still too tight

In other cheating on sewing news, thanks to an excellent suggestion from a commenter here, I decided to block my too-small 18 Seconds to Sunrise blue cowled alpaca hat in hopes it would grow... and it did!

But after wearing it for two days, I have decided that while it is no longer "PAINFULLY tight," I would still call it "ANNOYINGLY snug." We'll see if I ever get around to correcting.

Darning methods compared

Finally, as promised, I did indeed darn my first pair of socks, the first socks I ever knit, in fact:

I used the traditional weaving method on the left (Knitting Daily tutorial here), with less-than-amazing results--the patch is obvious, thick, and not very stretchy, though it has a certain Dickensian charm.

For the sock on the right, I used the duplicate stitch method (HJS Studio tutorial here). It was maybe SLIGHTLY more time-consuming, but much neater and stretchier, and it just blends in way, way better. No contest, really.

But whatever: they had big scary holes in both heels, and now they are whole once more. And from a distance, both methods look just fine, and warrant a heel-clicking of joy:

I can't wait to darn EVERYTHING now: more socks, holey sweaters, and my Sew Grateful colorblocked skirt.

Or can I? Tonight I traced the patterns for my spring and summer tops, so maybe this fever is passing. And I'm even thinking I might be able to get back to my Joan dress, now that I'm over missing the deadline so badly.

So readers: do you ever cheat on sewing with other hobbies? How long does the madness usually last before you come to your senses?

Wardrobe Rescue: The Mending Pile Attacks!

Source: knitpicks.com via Mikhaela on Pinterest

It's a thingie, it's a whatsit, it's a ... darning egg!

Can't blog much tonight folks, because I'm busy DARNING my socks. It's all very 1940s of me, don't you think? Could I be MORE glamorous?

Seriously, I've been doing quite a bit of sewing these past few days (despite an awful cold virus that has been making myself, the mister and the toddler totally miserable) but none of it has been the exciting Big Reveal kind. Just a lot of patching and mending and button-replacing and, as of a few minutes from now, SOCK DARNING.

Although I generally avoid my mending pile like the plague, when I actually force myself to attack it I really enjoy fixing those little things that will bring a garment back from the dead to wear-ability land. I know some people would rather replace T-shirts and socks rather than fix them, but when it's one of my husband's really nice arty silk-screened tees or one of my snuggly pairs of expensive (or handknit) wool socks, I'd rather fix them.

Anyway, for my repairs I generally refer to this frighteningly-illustrated book I picked up on deep discount many years ago, Jan Saunders' Wardrobe Quick-Fixes:

But sock-darning is a whole new venture for me. I don't actually own a darning egg like the one pictured above, so I'm going to try and use an orange (my local knitting shop even recommended a lightbulb, but I don't want to accidentally embed shards of glass in my heel). Wish me luck! I'm using the "Darn Those Socks!" tutorial from HJS Studio:

Source: hjsstudio.com via Mikhaela on Pinterest

So are you a make do and mender, a regular fix-it guy or gal? Or do you prefer to move on and let your holey socks go to the great holey sock basket in the sky?