Tag: Sue Ryder

Floral fabric and vintage knickers

1980s underwear

I had intended to spend this morning sewing, but the temperature in the Shed soon put paid to that. It took an hour and a half for the little heater to force its way into double figures. Brrr! I think this is perhaps the only disadvantage of working in a Shed in the garden – it’s blooming cold when it snows!

By the time I’d spent half the morning sending work-related emails (on a day when I’m not at work, more fool me), it seemed pointless to start something when I have to go out this afternoon to catalogue some more beetles.

So, here are my latest bargains from the weekend!

The fabric is a £3.49/m cotton from Fabric Land, and it’s creased because it’s been through a 60° wash and the tumble dryer. This is a much harsher treatment than it’s ever going to receive once it’s a dress, so I can be confident that it won’t shrink or otherwise misbehave in the wash once I’ve spent ages making it. Paul mumbled something about cushions when I showed it to him. Rude.

The pattern was a bargain from my local Sue Ryder shop, in the centre of Reading, which has a large Retro and Vintage section that I love to bits. I’m not sure whether 1988 (the date of this pattern) counts as either Retro or Vintage, but it was 25 years ago… which certainly makes me feel old!

Anyway, the pattern only cost £2, and although some of it’s been cut up and sellotaped back together (argh!), the part that I really wanted is still intact. That’s the two different styles of french knickers, which I plan to make both in printed cotton and in bamboo. The pattern’s a size too small for me, but I plan to cheat it by sewing with smaller seam allowances.

I wonder whether I actually do have time to run up a quick pair now, before I go off to my beetles…?

To shop, or not to shop


Image © Zara

Yesterday I went shopping, and did not buy this silk blouse with hot air balloons and air ships all over it from Zara. I also did not buy two tops with skulls on them from H&M, and a pair of Thundercats Converse from Schuh.

I did buy four pairs of stripy over-the-knee socks, and a bright yellow skirt.

Yellow wool skirt

It’s calf length, 75% wool 25% nylon, fully lined, with pockets in the side seams. Smells a little bit of mothballs now I’ve ironed it (yes, believe it or not I did iron it before I took this picture – clearly not hard enough!), but that’s nothing that a little wash won’t fix. And it shows that somebody’s bothered to look after it. The label says “Yessica” which, if memory serves, is 1980s C&A. It cost a grand total of £6, from the Sue Ryder shop.

I have a sneaky suspicion that this skirt will sit in my wardrobe (along with the tweedy one I bought in May) and be relegated to “vaguely Steampunk dressing-up”. Which would be sad, as it’s a really lovely skirt, great quality, and with details that I really like.

So, why buy the skirt that won’t get worn, and not the blouse that will?

I’ve been trying very hard not to buy mass-produced things from chain stores this year. The biggest exception has been my ever-increasing collection of TM Lewin shirts, but I think I’ve got enough now to last me a good few years. (She says, having just looked at the website and seen a purple flowery one, and a blue one with birds… both reduced from £85 to £20… argh!)

So whilst the hot air balloon blouse is lovely, and silk, and would in fact look great with this yellow skirt… and the skull tops from H&M were just generally awesome (I’m still a sucker for anything with skulls on it)… and the Thundercats Converse were hilarious… they’re all mass-produced, fast fashion, and designed to be disposable. And I don’t want that from my clothes any more.

I’d always thought I wasn’t one to worry about what other people thought of my clothes (see: yellow coat, silly prints, bow ties, gold boots, pink hair, Being A Goth), but I think part of my reluctance to wear skirts like this and my tweedy one is the fear that people might look at me funny. I had a teacher at middle school (anyone remember Mrs Trubshaw?) who was widely ridiculed for wearing unusual clothes, including an a-line skirt with a forest design appliqued round the hem, which a) I would now kill for, and b) was probably actually quite fashionable in the mid 1980s. As kids, we were absolutely horrible to her, and I’m basically afraid of being treated the same way. Which is silly really, because if I coped with people shouting at me in the street when my hair was pink, I’m sure I can deal with a few sideways glances at a yellow skirt.

Perhaps one of my resolutions for 2013 should be to stop falling back into the comfortable trap of jeans and t-shirts, and start putting more effort into wearing the clothes that I really love.