Seasonal Boro Mending with Gingko Leaves: Year Three

In preparation for the first of May, I have just completed the third year of seasonal sashiko stitching and boro mending on a set of hand-crafted Japanese-style garments. To see years one and two of this project, follow these links: Year One (Happi Coat), Year One (Kimono); Year Two.

This is a piece of process art and, as with my beloved Thread Cupcake, either you get it or you don't. Each subsequent year of this seasonal boro project gets more delicate and difficult, as the leaves from earlier years become more brittle. The focus and attention required are all-absorbing.

Happi Coat front with leaf color code

Happi Coat back

Stitching detail

Kimono front

Kimono back

Stitching detail

Repurposed Men's Shirts #s 27 - 31 (and a little upcycling math)

How many men's shirts do you need to create one dress for a seven-year-old? A hell of a lot more than I would have thought. The 3-layered skirt of this adapted New Look pattern (#6319) requires volumes and volumes of fabric. Luckily, my local thrift store has daily color-coded sales with the lowest coded price set at just one dollar, so total materials price for this creation was $5.

Dress front

This is a moderately challenging jigsaw-puzzle-type project that can be used when recycling old garments for use in any pattern. You simply need to study, turn, and twist your original garments, cutting them open as needed, to come up with fabric for your new project. The voluminous circle skirt layers required for this dress meant having to piece and stitch together fabric from the shirts before cutting out the pattern.

Hidden pocket

One adaptation was a hidden pocket underneath the first circle skirt layer, addressing that perpetual problem I have with the fact that garments for little girls always lack pockets...and pockets are power!

Shirt back

Other adaptations included dropping the waist a bit more than was called for in the original pattern, and substituting a shirt placket with buttons from one of the original garments for use as a back closure instead of the zipper called for in the pattern.

I liked the 7-year-old version so much, I decided to make one for her 5-year-old sister as well. Just repeat the upcycle math above: 5 shirts for one dress at the cost of $5.

Dress front

Piecing together the jigsaw for this dress involved using one of the shirt fronts, positioned sideways, for the front of the dress. Because I didn't want this set of buttons to open, I sewed the placket closed about an inch and a half down from the edge. This dress, unlike the one above, does not have a dropped waist.

Added polkadots

Because I found the finished dress a little somber and boring, I added some stitched on polka dots.

Hidden pocket

And again, a garment for a little girl that has no pockets is no garment of mine. A hidden pocket was positioned underneath the first layer of ruffles.

Dress back

Once again, the original placket and buttons from one of the men's shirts serves as a handy back opening.

Now the question: What to put in those hidden pockets? I decided to put a little gift package inside each of the hidden pockets, and each package contains...a coyote toe bone. This seems like a useful talisman for the child who wants to invoke some general, all-around spirit magic. These were purchased at Paxton Gates on Valencia in San Francisco, and I'm going to assume the coyotes in question had a good life and a peaceful death.

Wrapping up the bones

Coyote toe bone

And there you have it — upcycled couture for two little girls skipping into the 21st century, with a small measure of magic thrown into the mix.

21st century children's couture

Pigeons Encounter Miracle Tortillas

I originally figured out how to create Miracle Tortillas back in 2010, and reprised them this past December for a holiday studio sale. Now, several months later, I am wondering what to do with the leftovers. These tortillas truly are miraculous in that they seem to stay preserved forever. I still have an original from 2010, perfectly intact. On a walk around Lake Merritt in Oakland, I decided to share the miracle with the pigeons.

I never did reveal the how-to secret for these Miracle Tortillas back in 2010, but have now decided to tell all. Note that Jesus isn't the only miracle in town. You may use any miraculous image you like, depending on what you find astounding, awe inspiring, or culturally iconic.

1. Choose and download a non copyright image from the Web. Resize it as needed using Photoshop or other graphic software. I also altered the image using a sepia tint at this stage.

2. Place multiple copies of your image on a single page in either Word or the page layout software of your choice (mine is InDesign).

3. Print image onto iron-on photo transfer paper.

4. Cut out individual images leaving a scant 1/4" border around the image.

5. Iron the image onto a tortilla by first placing a large piece of plain white paper on a hard surface, then the tortilla, then the iron-on image (face down), then another sheet of white paper on top. You will have to experiment with the iron temperature. Begin by following your photo transfer paper instructions, and then make slight adjustments from there. Don't get frustrated if your first tortilla or two tears away a bit on the surface; it just makes the tortilla look more like an ancient artifact. With a little experimentation you'll find the perfect temperature. You will need to change the top and bottom white paper fairly frequently.

6. To keep tortillas soft, place them individually into plastic sealed baggies. Even inside the bag they will slowly harden after a month or two. Once hard, they will last for years, or maybe forever.

The Unspeakable Secrets of a Bad Hat

The Bad Hat Bag O' Secrets

I have an old friend with whom I dine once a week, during which we share our darkest views regarding current affairs, popular culture, and the universe in general. Recently we concluded that, based on our views, we are not very nice people. Thus, the Bad Hat Bag O' Secrets. 

For those of you unfamiliar with the term "bad hat," it means a person of unsavory character. My grandmother used the term often, as in, "He is a really bad hat." One of the more iconic bad hats in literature may be found in the children's book, "Madeline and the Bad Hat." In that case, the bad hat was the son of the Spanish ambassador, a very nasty little boy.

I made this bag so that instead of sharing his black thoughts and unacceptable opinions with the rest of the world and becoming known far and wide as a bad hat, he may instead scribble them on bits of paper and place them in this bag, which will presumably be cremated along with his body at the time of his death.

Bag back

Inside: "the unspeakable secrets of a very bad hat"

The exterior of the bag is linen, the inside is crushed velvet. 

Full bag, unfolded

I have shared a final photo below showing the flip side with the stitching revealed before the bag was completed, just because I find stitching fascinating.