Make Do and Mend - Jeans to Skirt Tutorial

I have a pair of jeans that I love. They always make me feel relaxed when I put them on. They fit well and they are a nice faded blue that can only be accomplished with years of wear. But they are falling apart. I've been wearing them for nearly ten years now and the holes in the crotch are getting so big that I risk showing the world my bits if I wear them in public. But I can't throw them out. They still have so much good wear left in them. For a while they lingered in my rag bag waiting for the perfect project to come and restore them to their former glory. Yesterday, I pulled out the sewing machine and decided that it was time for my jeans to live again.

I thought about patching them, so that I could wear them as jeans again but I didn't have any suitable material for patches and I thought I wasn't very likely to want to wear them out of the house with big patches in the crotch. So I figured I'd transform them into a skirt. I had made skirts out of old jeans in highschool but my approach wasn't very sophisticated. I had just split the inside leg seam and added a triangle of fabric. It worked and I wore those skirts all the time but they had a tendency to pop out in a strange way at the top of the triangle. It was like they had decided that since they couldn't be pants anymore, they would go in exactly the opposite direction of pants. So I came up with an alternative method which resulted in this:

It worked! I got something I can use again from my old jeans. I'm hoping I'll get at least a few more years wear out of this!

For anyone interested in recreating my results, I've put together a little tutorial.

Materials

Pair of jeans (they can be very worn but they should fit well and shouldn't have tears on the waistband area)
Scissors
Sewing Machine
Thread (I used a gold coloured thread to match the existing stitching on the jeans, but any colour will do)
Seam ripper or small, sharp scissors
Ruler or measuring tape
Tailor's chalk or pen or pencil
Pins (I didn't use them, but I'm a cheater)

Directions

Cut or rip open the inside leg seam of the jeans. If the seams are thick, you may need to cut off the seam so that only one layer of fabric remains.











Using a seam ripper, or small scissors, rip off the pockets from the back of the jeans. I only ripped them halfway off and left them hanging there, but this is optional.

Using a ruler or measuring tape, mark a line parallel to the waistband, about 5 cm below it. The line should run from about where the middle of each pocket was or about 20 - 25 cm long, with the crotch seam in the middle.

Cut off the cuffs of the jeans, taking off all ragged edges. Measure from the marked line to the cut off bottom of the jeans. mark the halfway point and cut here. If your jeans are worn through at the knee (mine weren't), you may need to cut out this portion of the leg that is worn. Make sure that the distance from the marked line to where you cut, is the same length as the lower leg portion of the jeans.

Mark from the line you made to the inside corners of the bottom of the skirt. Cut through the top layer only.










Draw a line of the same length that you marked between the pockets on the back of the skirt, parallel to the waistband about 2 cm below the zipper. Mark as you did for back of the skirt. Cut.









Here is where my drawing skills failed me, so you'll have to bear with me from here on in. Take one of the lower legs, open it and pin the shortest side to the top of the rectangle you cut out of the back of the jeans, matching seams, right sides together. Pin out to the corners of the rectangle, then pin the long sides of the lower pant leg to the long sides of the rectangle. You may need to clip the corners of the rectangle to do this. Do not worry if you have extra fabric in the corners of the rectangle. Sew. Turn to right side and press. Remove excess fabric from seam and edge stitch so that the seam lies flat. Do the same to the front. You will have excess fabric at the hem of the skirt as the rectangle cut out from the front is smaller. Apply pockets to the back. Using a zig zag stitch (or a serger if you have one), stitch the hem at the width of the presser foot. Turn up 1cm at the hem and seam using a regular stitch. Press and model!

Fine Yarns

Like most human endeavours, knitting is subject to fashion. It comes and goes in popularity generally and certain trends come and go within knitting as a whole. Like most fashion, knitting style is cyclical. Fun fur and boucle have come and gone and seem to be making a reappearance.

There are some trends though that seem to be here to stay. One of these is heavier weight yarns. It makes sense. Knitting was once not so much of a hobby as a way to provide a necessity and so people could devote more time to it. And even when it did become just a hobby people had more time to devote to it without the constant stream of technological distractions we have today. We have less time for our knitting but still we expect the same number or even more projects to be completed. It seems logical that we would turn to thicker yarns to solve the problem. They work up faster and they create warm garments with bold patterns.

Here's the thing about thicker yarns though: they make people look thicker. (In the physical, not the mental sense.) And in most cases, a pattern in thick yarn has all the subtlety of a hammer to the head.

Sometimes this is fine. A thick sweater for lounging in or a jacket that's meant to go over other layers should be thick. Bold patterns have a long tradition in outerwear. It just makes sense. But I think a subtler approach is better most of the time. If I think about "classic" fashion, in the sense of the ability of the look to stand the test of at least fifty years worth of time, it's not the bold patterns that stand out. The looks that today's designers tend to reference are about flattering shapes. Yes, there are certainly classic patterns but they are generally repetitive and reasonably subtle. Paisley, florals, houndstooth and some plaids come to mind.

I professed my love for sock yarn earlier and I think that my desire to create subtler, more classic looks has caused me to gravitate towards this thinner yarn. It allows me to make garments with smaller patterns, that fit closer to the body. Garments like this weigh less, are generally less expensive to make even in beautiful hand dyed yarns, and are fairly durable. They also take longer to knit. For those who are really in a rush to have something done RIGHT NOW, this is a problem. These are not instant gratification projects but for the knitter who is looking to keep a project going for longer because they enjoy the process, or want more knitting time for their money, it's a great option.

I love this kind of project. I'm currently working on a couple of them. Right now, it's a little brown sweater, it's going to have a henley neckline and set in sleeves. The caramel coloured wool is really doing it for me. I love how it looks like the bark of a tree. It's quite simple in construction but I think it will be a great addition to the wardrobe. Hopefully it will also be a successful pattern.

Procrastination

I enjoy most parts of the design process. Sketching, knitting, taking the pictures, the layout, writing the initial pattern are all things I enjoy. But there is one part of this work that I hate and because I hate it, I avoid it. I try everything to get away from having to do the dreaded sizing. I know that I shouldn't. I've learned from experience that procrastination only means that when you finally buckle down and do something you not only have to suffer through the pain of doing the dreaded task, you also feel guilty for not having done it earlier. Nonetheless, I still avoid doing the sizing on my patterns.

You would think that sizing wouldn't be the worst task. It's relatively easy and really only requires a basic understanding of human body shapes and simple math. But still it is the worst for two reasons.
First of all, it's tedious. It's the same math over and over again and it's not mentally challenging. It's about about the same amount of intellectual stimulation as filling out a spreadsheet.

Secondly, people freak out about sizing error, treating every error as a personal affront. To some extent I understand why people do this. The reason why many people knit or sew is to be able to create clothes that fit their bodies perfectly. Many people don't fit the mould when it comes to off the rack clothing. So I understand the frustration when the craft they have learned to be able to solve this problem fails them. I have even more sympathy for people knitting their first garment that come across this problem. Putting so much time, sweat and tears into a first sweater only to have it not fit is a dreadful situation.

That being said, I have read far too many forum and blog posts lambasting designers for simple errors. Even when the designer apologizes for making a mistake, I've seen people get worked up and portray the situation as one where the designer is against people of a certain body shape. Usually this means the shape that the designer or model isn't. This seems unnecessarily harsh to me. Yes, the clothing industry as a whole is skewed towards thin, tall women with boyish figures. Does that mean that all knitwear designers are morally opposed to women with other figures? No. Of course not. Beyond the fact that it is reprehensible to use people's physical appearance as a measure of their worth; as an independent designer that serves a community composed of people of all different shapes, sizes, ages and tastes coming out as someone who judges people for their body is like shooting yourself in the foot. It is a sure way to lose business.

We make mistakes in sizing because it's boring and we're human. Additionally most designers only have the resources to make one piece. In my case, I make the garment to fit me. This, in itself isn't really a problem. The problem happens during sizing because the fact of the matter is that sizing is an intellectual exercise and the further away you get from the actual garment and the human body for which it was designed, the more likely you are to make mistakes or to distort. Yes, designers should strive to make their patterns error free but mistakes are going to happen. When they do, it's best to correct them with as much grace as possible.

So what is the moral of the story here? Don't sweat the small, easily fixable stuff. And also I really should stop complaining and actually do some sizing.

Stash

Every crafty person has one. Some people apparently have small, manageable stashes. I am not one of those people.

I live in a two bedroom apartment. Since it's only me and my honey living here, this is plenty of space even though I'm doing most of my work from home. The only things we struggle with in terms of storage are books (mostly his, though I do have my fair share) and yarn (all mine!). For us it is really important not to have too much stuff because of our living situation. We tend to move around a lot and change countries and continents regularly. So, if I were more in touch with reality I would have a significantly smaller stash.

Some people would say that I collect yarn. Sometimes, on days when I'm feeling a little down about my knitting, I might be inclined to agree with them. But most of the time I don't like to think of it as a collection. If I think of my yarn as a collection I might be inclined to say that it's enough as it is. This would be a terribly bad thing. I cannot think of my yarn as something that can be allowed to continue to exist unaltered for all of eternity. Think of the consequences! Acquiring yarn would be justified as adding to my collection but production of useful things with said yarn would slow. And the yarn would engulf me. Or possibly I would have to move out. Honey is very tolerant but even I can see how death by yarn suffocation could be a little grating.

Now, the terrifying idea that my stash might become a collection has occurred to me before. At the beginning of last year I decided that I should stop buying yarn because my stash was risking becoming an unusable collection due to it's unwieldy size. This was a complete and total failure. My stash grew exponentially. I had forbidden myself to buy more yarn and so all yarn that wasn't in my stash became infinitely more appealing. Whenever I felt down I wanted to buy more yarn! And since I was living away from my honey in a country where I knew almost no one, doing a job I didn't like, I felt down a lot more than I usually do. It really was a recipe for disaster.

I needed a change in how I viewed my stash or drowning in it would become a very real option. Not to mention that buying that much yarn really wasn't good for the budget.

Instead of justifying my stash as a collection I choose to see it as inspiration. I try to view all of my yarn as a potential project and a potential pattern. This can go two ways: it can either be very motivational or a little bit overwhelming. There are so many options and so many choices for any project I might choose to undertake. On the flip side there are so many projects to be done which is a little scary. I'm pretty sure that I have enough yarn to keep me knitting for the next three or four years. This thought is at once terrifying and reassuring.

The end result of all of this is that I've recognised the potential in the yarn that is already in my stash. And though I'm still buying yarn, the quantity has decreased substantially because every time I am forced to consider the time I have to invest in a project with that yarn in addition to monetary and space considerations.

And without further ado, I give you the stash:

It's stored in two Ikea Billy shelves that were fitted with glass doors to keep out dust. There is also another box hiding out in the storage room but I didn't feel like hauling it out for exposition.

Local Inspiration

I've been considering the topic of inspiration a lot recently and have mostly been thinking about how my surroundings affect what I create. When I think about my designing it seems at first to be something very separate from the rest of my life. It seems like a solid, unchanging thing. When I'm really down it sometimes feels like my designs are one thing I can control and this makes my life feel more manageable. But it's really not the case that my life and everything that goes on don't affect what I make.

For instance, lately I've been through a bit of a rough patch and even though I would like to say that my work hasn't suffered that isn't the case. After working on some of my own problems I suddenly feel this creative burst of energy. It's as if my emotional well being has poured over into my creative self. It really is wonderful.

This isn't just about my emotional surroundings though. My physical surroundings affect my work as well. I love the town I live in and I love my apartment. I really draw from those things that surround me to create. I live in the mountains, in a town where there are some older, medieval parts and some parts that are very art nouveau and still others that are completely new. So when I walk through these parts of town I want to create something that fits in with my surroundings.

I took a few photos of my walk yesterday to the grocery store and I thought about how they affect what I want to make.

 The autumn colours are just starting to make their appearance here in Bellegarde. And while they won't be quite as spectacular as the colours of fall in North America, the effect is the same. I want to move away from working with bright colours and embrace the more muted colours of fall.








These older homes make me think of smaller villages and simple styled clothing. Something to wear on a farm. Maybe a felted jacket. Something warm and traditional feeling.

 These next few views are of the small castle that is just up the hill. It feels really more like an outpost than a castle though at one point there was a series of noble families living here. Even though for many people castles conjure up more images of medieval inspired clothing, this castle makes me think of later soldiers uniforms. Beautiful jackets with epaulettes and gold trim. Or much more worn shirts and waistcoats of mercenaries.

I will say though that the little turret does make me imagine Rapunzel. 

Recently the Man and I attended a festival at the castle. There were a bunch of people in costume and I got to see all kinds of cool demonstrations like a blacksmith and the proper way to conduct warfare through the centuries. There were no knitters though (I will admit I was a little disappointed) so I didn't get to admire any historical fibre. But I really do want to make a military style jacket now.

When I look at the photos I take and the work that I am inspired to do I realize just how important my physical surroundings are in my designs. It really makes me wonder to what extent this is true for other people. No creative work exists in a vacuum of course but does where we live really dictate what we make? I'm starting to believe that it does.

Balenciaga and No Whimsy!

As a designer who is just really starting out in a serious way, I want to establish a style that I am known for. And it had better be good or I won't be a very successful designer. So I feel some pressure. I need to find a style that is accessible to lots of people but is still very much my own. There is no easy way to do this. Everyone is looking for this elusive, unique style and there are so few designers that find it.

I think that the only way to find my design style is to look at my own knitting.

I am not a whimsical knitter. I don't knit toys or cozies for inanimate objects. I don't like to make tchotchkes. I'm pretty sure that's heretical in the online knitting community. I'm okay with that. To each their own right?

That being said, I am not sitting and knitting austere cardigans in the dim glow of one hanging lightbulb either. I just have a slightly different take on knitting style than other people. I like to knit tailored pieces that fit well in a professional wardrobe. I like making fitted sweaters that show off a figure for a night out. Is there whimsy? Sure. I like to add small fun touches that keep me and my knitters entertained. I love a sweater with a fun motif on it or a detail on a hat. Still, I think it's unlikely that I will be knitting for elves and faeries any time soon. I leave that to the professionals.

In terms of designers and styles that I admire, it's all about shape. If you love the fitted look it's almost required to say that you admire Dior's New Look. Of course I do but I think that some of the designers that were going against this flow were even more interesting. For example I love the work that Balenciaga did after the Second World War. I love these experiments with shape and how the shape of the garment really draws attention to a woman's best features. You would think that they wouldn't be flattering at all but not only are they beautiful in and of themselves, they accentuate the beauty of the woman wearing them.

So in short what do I want? I want to make fitted, tailored pieces that play with shape. It should be flattering to the female figure but also capable of being beautiful on its own. It's a lofty goal, and it kind of makes me sound pretentious but I still think it's worth a shot.

Some inspirational photos:

Photos from : 

http://flickriver.com/photos/52899036@N05/4954279223/

http://blindflaneur.com/2008/02/29/fashionista-street-balenciaga%E2%80%99s-erotic-knowledge/

http://petulantrumblings.com/?paged=32

Sketching

Sketching is my favourite part of the design process. It's where I can really get all my ideas flowing about what sort of piece I want to make and about the design elements that I want to incorporate. I love this part because it is so much about instant gratification. I can think of an idea and twenty minutes later it's on paper for me to see.

I know that a lot of designers start out with the yarn or the materials that they are going to use and just sort of do a free flowing kind of design. I do this occasionally mostly for accessories or socks using a standard construction. But this free form kind of process just doesn't work for me for larger pieces. I think this is a carry-over from sewing for me because I've always been very much about planning things out and hammering out at least most of the details before I even get started with my materials.

Sketching for me is also a very useful tool to find out what does work but also, more importantly, what doesn't work. I always feel like I'm channeling Tim Gunn from Project Runway when I sketch. I have to ask if I'm "running the risk of overdesigning". I love to work with sleek lines and tailored looks but with this kind of aesthetic it's so easy to get way too simple so that no one would want to knit my design because it is just too boring. (Ironically, I think that this would make a piece a wardrobe staple because it could go with anything but I just am not willing to poke my eyes out with pointy sticks halfway through a tightly knit black stockinette sweater in laceweight!) On the flip side, I have a tendency to overcompensate for this by adding in so many interesting details that the sweater looks more like a Cirque du Soleil act than something wearable. Sketching everything out before starting allows me to edit so that I can avoid both extremes.

I would encourage everyone to sketch their designs. It really is helpful for the planning stages and if you intend to submit something for publication you need to submit a sketch along with your descriptions. You don't need to be a great artist. It just really helps to get your ideas out on paper.

I'm going to take you through one of my sketching sessions. I like the end result, but we'll see if it makes it to the top of the design pile.

Step 1: Drawing a body shape

A lot of people like to use a fashion croquis for this. Which is a great option if you're not a confident sketcher or if you're just starting out. I prefer to draw my own body shape. This is mostly because when I'm sketching I'm often just out with my notebook on a bench somewhere and I really don't want to be putting too many extra things in my bag.

You can find a lot of free fashion croquis here.

Step 2: Draw Your Idea

Include the shape but don't forget to add all of the details that you are considering - collar shape and embellishments as well as cuffs. Remember to draw darts or pleats if you are using them. If you are considering putting accents of a different colour, highlight this. Do not worry if your sketch isn't something that you want everyone and their brother to see. It is a reference tool for you.


I've drawn a fitted blazer with puffed sleeves and pockets as well as darting for the bust and cuffs.

Step 3: Edit, Edit, Edit

My original design had shoulder tabs, and pleats that were different colours and the collar was going to be patterned. There was waaaay too much going on. The great thing about a sketch is that if you do it in pencil, nothing is permanent.

Step 4: Draw your Piece from all (Relevant) Angles

The back of a sweater is just as important, if not more so, than the front. Don't neglect the side view if your sleeves have design details like mine do. I do always think about the side view of a sweater but honestly I only draw it out if it involves details like this one does.



Step 5: Consider Your Sketch's Feasibility

Ask yourself the following questions:
Do I like the piece and would I wear it?
If I wouldn't wear it, who is the audience?
Am I capable of making all these design elements?
How does it rank when compared to your other designs?
Stop here if you are designing for yourself.

If you are designing for a client, a pattern line or a magazine consider the following:
Does it fit in the overall aesthetic of my designs?
Does it fit in this line, or magazine?
Is it "sellable?"
Is it easily scaled up/down for a wide range of sizes?
Can I make it within the allotted time frame without going crazy or allowing quality to suffer?

I love this piece and I think that it would be a great part of a tailored line. At the same time I know that there are a lot of design elements and a lot of fitting so it would be a challenge to size for many different people. But because it doesn't have a specific stitch (and therefore stitch count) associated with it, I think it's fairly feasible. I don't think I would be able to make this piece with too short of a turn around time so I think that it would be most suitable in one of my own lines.


Step 6: Swatch or Put it Aside.