The Damsel takes note that length isn’t the only thing that can be wrong with jeans.

Being a Child of the Seventies, the Damsel wears jeans a lot, mostly because they are comfortable. These, however, look painful. Will everything be okay if this person tries to sit down?

On the other hand, the Damsel doesn’t understand these jeans at all.  Can someone explain it to her? You can earn Old School extra credit.

If all your jeans lack is the right length, the Damsel has a great tutorial for you. If you’ve ever hemmed jeans before, you know it can be tricky. The fabric is thick and hard to work with. Plus, once you’re done, the hem doesn’t look like a “regular” jeans hem. To solve that, the Damsel points the way to this fantastic jeans hemming tutorial: Altering Jeans Length.

You’ll want to visit this site for the step-by-step directions, with great photos. Notice the resulting “storebought” hem.

With Ashley holding your hand, you’ll have those jeans the right length in no time.

What do you do when your jeans have worn through the knees, and summer is right around the corner?

Make cut-offs.

It’s so easy! The first step is to lay the jeans out so the legs are very flat, next to each other so you can eyeball where to cut.

If you’re Daisy Mae or have a part on Dukes of Hazzard, it’s easy. You just cut the jeans right under the pockets. If you’re a ten year old boy, cut them just above where the denim has worn thin, for maximum length.

With very sharp scissors, carefully cut through both layers at the same time, straight across. If your scissors aren’t up to it, you can cut one layer at a time, but you’ll have to be really careful to get them straight.

Now continue on to the other leg and repeat.

If you’re obsessive (the Damsel freely admits she is obsessive about some things, like chocolate raisins. But some things are worth obsessing over) you could measure up from the hems of each leg and mark a cutting line, to make sure they are exactly the same. But we’re talking about cut-offs.

Cut-offs are correctly worn frayed along the cut line. A few washings will get the fray goodness going. The Damsel’s ten year old sprog favors a rolled look. You just fold a couple of inches up, and then fold the same amount again. (You’ll have to refold after each washing)

Another sprog feels this entire post is heretical because the holeyness of the pictured pair of jeans has only begun to approach perfection, and won’t be truly wearable until giant hunks of his leg shows through the hole.

The Damsel has also had sprog that asked her to hem cut-offs, showing that although her sprog are genetically similar, they aren’t a bit alike.

Hemming crosses the project over into making denim shorts, leaving the land of cut-offs behind. To do this you would do the roll mentioned above, except folding up only 1/2″ each time, and then top-stitching through the folds. This requires a sewing machine with a stiff upper lip and a very slow pace when you cross the seams, but it only takes a few minutes.

Whatever you do, DON’T throw away the cut off legs. Save them for patches or other denim projects.

Why should you?

Should you?

Should you take perfectly respectable fabric, cut it up in little pieces, and then sew it back together again in a different order?

Grandma used to make quilts to keep her people warm. She’d take apart old clothing and use it in quilts, but only after that clothing had been used as long and hard as possible. Then that clothing would begin its new life in a quilt. When that quilt finally became threadbare, it still wouldn’t be thrown out. Maybe it would be used as batting in a new quilt, or to soften the bed of a new litter of puppies.

Nowadays, many quilters use brand new, expensive fabrics. They’re making art. It’s less about practicality and more about creation. As one quilter put it, “I’m not going to spend hours and hours of my precious time making something out of crappy old stuff.” There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, either.

Grandma would be surprised that such a homely skill now belongs mostly to the so-called “leisure class.” Many quilters are those who have the enough leisure time for hobbies and have the money to purchase expensive tools, supplies, and classes.

Here’s a thought to let percolate in your mind: How would you deal with the situation if we needed to depend on our own resources–stuff we already have and skills we already own–to put blankets on our families’ beds? Just think about that. There’s no right or wrong answer, but it’s a good thing to ponder.

The Old School take on this is: using (and thus preserving) old-fashioned sewing skills to make something beautiful is never a waste, whether you choose to buy new fabric or reuse old. Quilting is a skill that is worth saving from the dung heap of lost memories.

Maybe you’ll use the skill to make something beautiful. Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll use it to keep your people warm someday.

The Damsel noticed the bottom corner had gotten tattered from snapping in the wind, and fired up her google-fu to find out if it’s kosher to mend a flag. She was surprised to find very little information. She saw plenty of references to the proper way to dispose of a worn-out flag (let the boy scouts or veterans burn it in a special ceremony) but what about mending? Is that okay?

The Damsel actually had to (gasp!) pick up the telephone and call a flag company to find out. It is considered respectful to wash and/or mend a flag when needed.

As you can see this corner is in bad shape. According to the flag company, it’s permissible to trim this off and rehem the flag, although it throws off the balance of stripes vs. stars a tiny bit.

Cut in a straight line, all the way across. Mark the line first if you feel nervous about eyeballing it. Just make the cut so that all the frayed fabric is cut off.

Thread the machine with white thread. Fold over a bit of the cut edge, 1/4″ or so, or a presser-foot-full, and simply sew a straight seam to hem the flag. Once that’s done, you can fold it over once again and sew. It’s not strictly necessary, but you can if you like. Don’t stress. No one is going to be judging your flag hem.

While the Damsel was sewing, a sprog wandered in. “Hey, Betsy Ross!” One is left to suppose that comment is unavoidable if you’re sewing and a flag is spread across your lap.

Oh, and to wash it…you can just put it right in the washing machine, along with a towel or some such just to help make up a load. Flags are made of extremely durable fabric, so a washing machine won’t do it any harm. Or a dryer.

Long may it wave!

]]> http://www.mynewoldschool.com/2010/01/22/how-to-wash-and-mend-a-flag/feed/ 5 http://www.mynewoldschool.com/2009/09/21/how-to-sew-on-a-shirt-button/ http://www.mynewoldschool.com/2009/09/21/how-to-sew-on-a-shirt-button/#comments Mon, 21 Sep 2009 17:31:35 +0000 damsel http://www.mynewoldschool.com/?p=382 Confession time: how many garments do you have that you don’t wear, because a button has come off?

The Damsel understands. You don’t have time. You’re not sure how. Your mother always did it for you, but now she’s not handy. You’re afraid of needles.

Actually, it’s very simple, and with a little practice, you can be a pro at sewing buttons on. The Damsel is here to take away your fear.

Notice she titled this post “shirt buttons” rather than just “buttons?” There are a few different kinds of buttons, and the procedure is slightly different for each. So these directions apply to shirt-type buttons…the flat type with two or four holes in the middle.

It’s great if you still have the offending button. If you’ve lost it, you can either 1. check the garment to see if extra buttons have been sewed to it anywhere, 2. check your stash of little envelopes of buttons that come with some clothing, 3. take the garment to the fabric store and see if they have anything like it, or last resort…4. take a button off the garment from a place that needs it less than the one that’s missing (for example, the last button in a row, on a shirt that tucks in and won’t show that the bottom button is gone)

Now then. Look at the place where the button used to be. Can you see a tuft of thread, or a little hole, or anything showing where the button should go? If so, skip the first step.

Button the shirt and lay it flat. With a pencil (or even a straight pin, if you can’t or don’t want to use a pencil) make a mark through the buttonhole where the button should be placed. It’s SO ANNOYING to sew a button on and then find out it’s not in just the right spot, which will make your shirt hang funny. There are plenty of other reasons shirts might hang funny–no use adding another by sewing the button in the wrong spot.

Thread the needle (with thread that matches the shirt, if you can). (For hints on threading, see this) Use 12 to 18 inches of thread. Longer and it might tangle, and you don’t need a ton.

Pull the ends so they meet–so the thread is double–and tie a knot in the end.

With one hand, hold the button directly over the spot you marked. Poke the needle from the back side through the button and pull through until the knot catches.

Go back down through one of the other holes. (Now you’re going front to back.) Repeat this process 5 or 6 times, going back and forth through the same two holes. It may take a few pokes to get the needle coming from the back to hit the right hole, but you’ll get the hang of it.

Then repeat with the other two holes. Some people like to criss-cross between the four holes instead, and the Damsel won’t flunk you if you do. But the other buttons will probably be done this way, because they were sewed on by machine–so it matches better this way. If you care.

And if you think people are staring at the threads in your buttons, the Damsel would like to gently suggest otherwise. They’ve got other things to stare at.

Turn to the back, and take a couple of stitches.

Make a knot…

and trim the threads…both the sewing thread and the threads hanging from the original knot.

This method is sufficient for a basic shirt-type button, and takes only a couple of minutes. Now go and rescue those poor lonely shirts out of your mending pile, okay?

For eggshell and tan colors, using tea is simple and quick.

Sprog #1′s wife (sprog-in-law?) wanted to make a slip with antique lace edging, but her lace was eye-blazing white. Tea to the rescue.

What do you want to tea dye? Natural fibers will take the dye best.

Choose a pot big enough to comfortably hold your dyeing project and heat water in it. Add 4 or 5 chamomile tea bags (use black tea such as Earl Grey for a darker end result).

Loose tea is pesky because it can stick to the fabric, so bag that. Let it boil for about 5 minutes for an eggshell/very light color, longer for darker.

Remove the tea bags and add the thing you’re dyeing. Poke it around until it is well submerged and soaked, then walk away.

After 5 minutes, check the color by lifting the object out with tongs.

When it has achieved the color you like (with chamomile, it will probably take 30 minutes or so), remove from the tea, blot with an old towel and let it dry.

Rinse with cold water, and you’re done.

If you’d like a more uneven look, put the steeped tea in a spray bottle and spray the dry object. The Damsel sincerely advises you test this spray method first, on something other than the quilt top you’ve spent hours weeks on.

Bonus: your house will smell delicious and cozy.