I just want to state for the record that I would be a terrible lumberjack. When I was a junior in high school I spent a semester living on an organic farm in Maine, it’s actually a fantastic program with your normal junior year classes plus a crash course in community building, sustainable living, and salt marsh farming. I rarely do that last one anymore, but the first two, I’m all about, and I credit the Chewonki Foundation with much of my interest and abilities. It’s basically using Thoreau’s edict in Walden to “Live Deliberately” and teaching it to 17 year old kids, which works a lot better than you might think it would. Plus, you get to hang out with lambs fresh of out their maternal ovens, which is both cute and strange. All the things I’m into!
But back to the lumberjack thing, we did have to do a day or two on the forest rotation, where we observed how they grow wood for lumber and fuel and are careful to vary their cutting and rotate their gathering so that they don’t deplete too much of their woodlands at any one time. And we had to use a chainsaw. And it was terrifying. It sounded like a wild beast growling at me and it moved really fast and I was totally sure I was going to cut my own arm off, who knows how. So that was my first and last time with a chainsaw and I certainly wouldn’t trust myself with an axe, because I’m clumsy with a pillow, so what would I do with and axe? I would be the worst damn lumberjack. It’s a fact. But that doesn’t mean I can’t dress like one, right?
So here it is, my second Lady Lumberjack incarnation, following last year’s Archer Shirt in a cozy flannel. This year, it’s a red plaid wool that was given to me by a costume designer who worked with me last year. Oh, how I miss the costume shop…..I miss you all! This pattern is the Grainline Studio Archer, lengthened to a dress and shaped with a belt because, you know, that’s how I do. Check it out!
I was sitting in this for a while before I took these photos so it’s a bit more wrinkled than I had anticipated. Sigh. I’m the worst. I never consider wrinkles when I take these photos, or when I bask in the sun.
A blurry photo because of the rapidly setting winter sun. These photos were taken at, like, 4pm. I hate winter for this reason, we spend our days mourning the death of light. I wanted to show the curve in the side of the hem, though, so there you go.
This dress was very easy to make. I’ve made this pattern so many times that it’s sort of second nature to me now, it still takes time and effort and is complicated in its way, but I get it, I get how it works, and I kind of enjoy how labor intensive it is, not that it is so labor intensive, really, it’s not a coat, for goodness sakes. I now flatfell all the shoulder and arm seams, and I french seam the sleeve and side seams in one continuous motion. I like the collar and I like the collar stand, and this time I had enough fabric to make the outside yoke cut on the bias, so, that’s a win! I really have a hard time justifying buying more fabric even if it does allow me to have the details I want. It’s a constant internal struggle, I must say. Sigh. Between my dashed lumberjack dreams and these dilemmas my life is SO hard, isn’t it?
That bias cut situation really makes the shoulders so deeply comfortable, does anyone else think this? I feel like it stretches over your shoulders so nicely.
That strange line of white is actually the markers mark on the selvage which I used to cut the button band. I really didn’t mean for it to be visible but I actually think it’s kind of nice! I never mind when that kind of thing is visible, I usually enjoy it.
So there you go, a new dress, and by the way, I know I know I know I’ve been on a dress roll and I’m not going to apologize for that. Dresses are easy and they are fun and I love them. It’s an instant outfit. Who can argue with that? I will stop making dresses when they stop being awesome which will be NEVER.
In other news, a recent stay in Philadelphia with my parents included a late Hanukkah gift exchange which had me leaving the table with an endangered species my mother adopted in my name, which Morse, one of their cats, really could not figure out at all.
Are you a new friend?