Category: Scrap of the week

Mar 11

Scrap of the week #29

 

After a relative dearth of scraps, here’s a whole slew to make up for it. I hope you can handle  all the excitement!

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Rail fence quilt top

This exuberant patchwork quilt-top was made by my Pennsylvanian grandmother. It’s a simple machine-pieced single quilt top which was not completed.

It isn’t fancy: a thrown-together-fast strip pattern called ‘rail fence’. Each little strip measures about three inches by one.

To make rail fence, three strips are joined to make one square block. The blocks are then arranged (one vertical, one horizontal, etc) and joined into strips, the strips then joined to build up the entire quilt top. Simple, but lively. It seems to me that the  placing and piecing haven’t been sweated over too much: this is a hap quilt, the pieces falling pretty much where they will. The lines of stitching are a little rough-and-ready too. But Nana had plenty of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and didn’t have time to spare on perfectionism.

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Rail fence patchwork

The workmanship and provenance may not be grand, but these scraps are like little jewels to me. I know that some of them came from humble feedsacks. Others were cut from plain fabrics bought by the yard. I’m sure Nana would have kept precious scraps a long while. She grew up on a farm, one of fourteen children, and resources were scarce. I think she’d have been conservative, therefore, so maybe some of these fabrics date to way back whenever. She worked in a shirt factory for a while (in the 1910s, I think) so I wonder if any of these could be shirt offcuts.

My mother used to tell me that some of these prints featured in her childhood clothes from the late 1920s and 1930s. Other scraps are a little later. I don’t know exactly when Nana made it; it could possibly date any time up to the late ’70s. I’m not sure precisely when she stopped sewing; she had bad arthritis in her hands and I think she’d stopped for a while before she died in the 1980s.

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Rail fence close-up

A few people have suggested I complete this quilt. But I’m reluctant to. I feel that the WIP tells its own special story and has its own value; I’m reluctant to meddle with this time-capsule. But I’d love to ask you: if it were your grandmother’s handiwork, what would you do? Finish? Or leave it as is? And why? Have you finished off your own grandmother’s (or your mother’s) quilt? Did you feel you owed that to her? All valid points! Please do take just a moment to share your thoughts. I love to hear them. Thank you!

 

 

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Feb 04

Scrap of the week #28

 

Here’s a little pile of corduroy scraps, waiting for their moment in the spotlight.

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Corduroy scraps

 

When my lovely neighbour took a tumble down her stairs (thanks to that pesky balance problem) and landed with her legs tangled up in the banister rail, she thankfully suffered nothing worse than a set of spectacular bruises. And her corduroy trousers were ripped across one knee.

My neighbour is a total sweetheart, so I happily took in a pile of mending from her (Warning: anyone else, please don’t ask!). Most of it I repaired inconspicuously, even invisibly, but when it came to the trousers I thought I’d give her a talking point; she’d already told me that she considered them rag, so anything I could do would be happily received.

Time to look through my scrap pile. That kingfisher blue jumped out at me screaming “STITCH ME!”. A little subtle overcasting and the repair was done.

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Kingfisher patch

 

Yes, maybe it’s a little… obvious. Even a tad toddler.

Question: if you were the other side of seventy, would you be happy to wear such a conspicuous repair? I’d love to know. I’ll report back on how my neighbour is getting on – whether she is wearing her little flash of kingfisher blue beyond the confines of the house.

 

 

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Dec 31

Scrap of the week #27

 

This little heart is made from a small scrap of window-cleaner’s scrim, a leftover from a waistcoat I made twenty-something years ago. Yes, a waistcoat; I really, really like utility fabrics: ticking, scrim, hessian, calico, cambric: plain, simple, honest, serviceable (that wonderfully old-fashioned word) fabrics, and I have a habit of trying to use them in unusual ways. I think I pushed the envelope a bit with that waistcoast which sagged and bagged enough to test the sartorial patience of a hobbit. But it’s good to experiment. Anyway, if evidence were needed that I really do cherish all scraps, this little piece of insignificant scrim is it. Remember: there are no worthless scraps, just scraps waiting for the right project to come along.

Love heart

Scrim is a loosely woven light canvas cloth made of cotton, hessian or linen. The only version I’m familiar with is the linen window-cleaning type, held in high esteem by glass cleaners because of its absorbent, lint-free and and non-smearing properties. I bought this way back whenever in John Lewis, but you can also find it sold by the metre at upholstery suppliers or in packets from purveyors of old-fashioned cleaning supplies, and very good value it is too. The handle improves as it is washed and worked. Scrim of a slightly different variety is also used much in the theatre as something onto which or through which to project light for various effects; there seems to be a wonderful product called sharktooth scrim which I’ve yet to encounter, but when I do I’ll count my fingers and toes afterwards.

A word full of chewily onomatopoeic potential, ‘scrim’ sounds like it should be anglo-saxon or medieval but is actually late eighteenth century, and of unknown origin. If there hasn’t been a Dickensian character named Scrim (of spare physique and mean as mustard) there really should have been. Please put me right if there’s a literary creature out there bearing the name and you’ll really make my day.

To create this little heart, I wanted to use counted cross stitch technique, something I’ve only done in small amounts but which I’ve long admired, particularly in the form of classic marking stitches, the day-to-day needlework which would have eaten women’s time a century of two ago. Time for me to have a go. I first embroidered my motif, following an old DMC handbook of marking stitches, carefully counting my threads. Note that I left my small square of scrim intact for the embroidering – didn’t cut out my heart until I’d completed the embroidery part, because I needed all the fabric I could muster to hold well within my tiny embroidery hoop. When cross-stitching, it’s good to place your work in an embroidery hoop to keep it stable and supported, particularly on something as flexible (for that read ‘wayward’) as scrim, or these soft linen scraps featured as my previous Scrap of the Week. It’s also worth lining your hoop in white cotton seam binding or strips of cotton if you’d prefer (as shown below – you can see towards the bottom how it’s been stitched to secure it) to minimise creasing of your work caused by the hard edges of the hoop. It will also help your hoop grip the work securely.

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For the stitching, I used regular skeins of embroidery cotton. And you know what? It was fun. There’s something very satisfying in simply following a chart. All you have to do is crunch the data.

Amongst my most treasured sewing books are copies of these old DMC needlework books: The Embroiderer’s Alphabet is one of my favourites. Just look at this beautiful page picked at random.

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Issues of the books are undated but the first was published around 1910. It was reissued time and again in English, German, French and Italian. Most of the book is cross-stitch charts, running to some 90 pages. The designs are eye-wateringly elaborate.

Imagine monogramming your sheets, towels or hankies like this?

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Maybe adding a suitable crown?

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Or just embroidering a seasonal scene on a cushion, or nightgown case?

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I am listing some DMC cross-stitch books on Etsy. This 8th edition of The Embroiderer’s Alphabet is sadly missing its back cover, but the pages are clean and tight in their binding still. And, wonderfully, all of the glassine transfers are intact.

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Back to my scrim heart, once finished with the embroidering (it didn’t take long), I cut out two heart-shaped pieces (my template was a large cookie-cutter) allowing a small quarter-inch seam allowance. I seamed the two together, remembering to leave a biggish hole down one side of the heart for turning and filling. I clipped the curved edges at the top of the heart to ensure that they would sit nicely, trimmed the point at the bottom of the heart (same reason), then turned my heart right side out and filled it with wadding (but it would have been lovely with lavender). A quick slip-stitch of the opening and it was complete.

Sending you love and cross-stitchy blessings this New Year’s Eve! Roll on 2013!

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Nov 19

Scrap of the week #26

 

This is another little something I nabbed at the Selvedge Winter Fair.

Dyeworks scrap bundle

It set me back all of a fiver: not bad for Chelsea! But just feast your eyes on the scrumptious array of naturally dyed linen and hemp scraps. They really are textile treasure, the handiwork of Polly Lyster of Dyeworks, based almost in my neck of the woods in Gloucestershire. Polly is a dyer who also sells wonderful antique textiles. You may have seen her featured in the pages of Selvedge magazine. Her wares are impeccable; even her card is simply beautiful, painstakingly printed on an old-fashioned letterpress.

Dyeworks scraps

Polly went through all the scraps with me, kindly telling me what product had been used to dye each piece. Foolishly, I didn’t write it all down at the time and forgot some of what she said in all the Selvedge excitement. but I remember that the top one is madder, the yellow has some onion skin. Most have been dyed and then over-dyed, so colours achieved are endlessly, subtly variable.

What will I use them for? Well, I may combine them patchworkily with some indigos bought last year at the quilt show in Birmingham. I’d love to embroider on them. They are so tactile that they positively cry out to be handled, so I think they’d make lovely purses or tool wraps. I’m imagining these would come in handy should I ever be called on to visibly mend an antique shepherd’s smock. Yes, a little unlikely, but you never know. Don’t you think that the next time Monty Don snags an ugly hedge tear in his favourite Old Town gardening jacket, this type of fabric would make the ideal start to an artisanal patch repair? Nothing too perfect, mind. Do keep watching Gardeners’ World and just remember that you heard it suggested here first!

 

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Nov 12

Scrap of the week #25

 

These deliciously vibrant wool and silk Wallace Sewell ribbon-like woven trimmings were being sold on the Ray Stitch stall at the Selvedge Winter Fair at the weekend. I see that you can buy them on the Ray Stitch website too (though I got a better deal at the Selvedge fair – another good excuse to go next time, should you need one!).

Wallace Sewell ribbon trims

 

There’s so much you could do with these strips. I can see them gathered simply along their length to create elegant ruffles, or knife-pleated. They could be applied to a cushion, or the front of a jacket.  Or turned into corsages, or buttons. The zingy colours are so rich that a little goes a long way, so I’d like to try cutting some  of the silk ones into short lengths as tabs or tags, or jewel-like visible mending patches, making a prominent feature of their frayed edges. Or I could just wrap them around the gifts of fortunate friends.

Wallace Sewell woven strips

 

And what would you do with them?

 

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Oct 22

Scrap of the week #24

 

Gone so long and no excuse note. Sorry, the dog ate my blog posts.

I’ve been fully absorbed by a handful of projects, one of which is guiding my eldest son through the serpentine process of applying for university. If you’re doing likewise, my sympathies. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.

I’m also having persistent difficulty getting Flickr and WordPress to communicate with each other via Safari. Anyone else had the same problem? And how did you solve it? At the moment I’m having to compose posts on other family members’ computers. Very meh.

Anyway, I finally have a Scrap of the Week to show you. It’s a piece of sweet floral barkcloth, part of a pair of curtains (complete with gathered pelmet) which a good friend spotted for me recently. Not being a textiles expert, I’m guessing 1950s, but please correct me if you are able. The set is half rotten and (one assumes) about to shred to ribbons. Therefore, I haven’t dared wash it yet, though it’s a little grotty and stained and deserves laundering. I may give it a gentle soak with something benign in the bathtub, in the same way that I washed this.

But just look at the darning! Not exactly expert but determined.

Darned barkcloth curtain

There are several areas of repair. The story they tell! Somebody really loved their floral curtains. Have made no plans for this lot yet. What would you do with it? About 4 metres in all. More pictures over on Flickr.

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Sep 18

Scrap of the week #23

 

London Fashion Week is just ending. It’s not something I pay close attention to at all as I’m obviously not a dedicated follower of fashion; if you’ve met me you’ll know that the way I dress is almost 100% sale or second-hand, frequently with a subtle got-dressed-in-the-dark twist. But on Saturday I met someone who made me think hard about fashion and how little we, the end consumers, know about our clothes and how they are made.

I was running a mending event in Wiltshire when a man wandered over and picked up this piece of denim from my heap of scraps.

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Sandblasted denim scrap

 

The scrap came from a pair of my youngest son’s cast-off Gap jeans. He’d successively holed, ripped, then outgrown those jeans, and I eventually cut them up for patchwork. This scrap now sits in a small cardboard suitcase of denim pieces which I lug to the Big Mend and back every month, just in case anyone wants a worn, soft denim patch to repair their jeans with.

The man looked closely at the scrap and, after a moment of scrutiny, said in a thick Middle-Eastern accent: “Yes. Sandblasted.”

He then went on to tell me that he had worked in a Turkish jeans factory in the 1990s, sandblasting garments to fade them fashionably. The work had damaged his lungs. Permanently. Living and sleeping in the sandblasting part of the factory (not unusual for migrant workers) hadn’t helped. He only retains about half his original lung function. It is not a reversible condition. Many of his co-workers and family members have died of the lung disease silicosis. Sandblasting is such a pernicious process that it was eventually banned in Turkey a few years ago. But the fashion for the worn jean continues, and so does sandblasting – but in other less regulated places, such as Bangladesh.

The fashion in the West for the pre-worn is curious. Why, when we can’t bear to allow our bodies to show any vestiges of age, do we want our clothes to look prematurely old? I can remember the time when all jeans were as stiff and unyielding as they were deep blue. You had to work at wearing them in, like a stout pair of leather boots or a Brooks bike saddle. Fading, similarly, was achieved only with time, wear and washing. But on the upside, in contrast to most of the ones you get today,  your jeans lasted intact for years. I wondered if I’d imagined the former ruggedness of jeans (a kind of false denim-memory syndrome) until I found an old scrap of a pair I’d owned as a teenager. I’ve kept it, absurdly, in the materials lugged from home to home over the years – retained because it still bears my embroidery stitches (a bit of belated Flower Power). That denim is truly rugged. They really do not make them like that anymore.

That said, a few companies (like the Hiut Denim Company) now specialise in making robust denim jeans once again, jeans with a conscientious provenance too, but at a price. Perhaps this is the right price, the price free of needless exploitation and pointless disease. Very nice if you happen to have £130+ available to spend on jeans. But what about those who can’t afford it? What to do?

One thing is to learn to detect the sandblasted finish and simply not buy it. Should you even buy sandblasted jeans second-hand? A moot point. The charity shop can seem for clothes what the money-launderer is for immoral earnings, displacing the context, cleansing the sins of production. But, of course, it doesn’t really.

Another thing you can do is ask your favourite jeans manufacturer/s whether they still use sandblasted denim. If so, where has it come from?

And finally, you can consult one of the organisations working to eradicate sandblasting.

I felt rather humbled to learn so belatedly about the distress caused by those distressed jeans, to hear first-hand from a sufferer about the perils of sandblasted denim. It’s not the price I wanted anyone to pay, not for a pair of jeans.

 

 

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Jun 18

Scrap of the week #22

Vintage scraps

Green and yellow floral scraps

 

Here’s a trio of zesty vintage cotton florals found in a scraps bin in a charity shop last week for just 40p a pop. Happy days!

The ’60s one on the right is my favourite. Sorry not to have supplied anything for scale; the dinky little sunlike flower heads measure just 7mm across.

They’re now washed, line-dried and pressed. I have hexagon patchwork in mind. What would you do with them?

 

 

 

 

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Apr 09

Scrap of the week #21

French horn and dancing rabbitsDancing bunnies fabric

Bunnies dancing. What’s not to like about that? Especially during Easter. And with random letters and the odd French horn too! This fabric isn’t vintage but reminded me of the feedsack fabrics my grandmother used in her quilts. I’m currently working it into a patchwork project – to be revealed soon. Happy Easter!

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Mar 24

Liberty bead workshop winner

 

I sneakily announced the winner yesterday, but so well hidden down in the comments that you probably didn’t see it. So, here’s the official gold envelope moment. [Cue drumroll] The upcycled bead was, in fact, … #4! Yes, the red one slap bang in the middle!

It was guessed correctly by the very first commenter, the keen-eyed Cat. Well done! If you can’t get to the workshop next Thursday, Cat, you can have a Liberty bead necklace kit instead. Just let me know which you’d prefer.

A big thank you to everyone else who took the time to guess, and commiserations to anyone who got the right answer but too late. Another time!

Liberty bead necklace

That particular piece of Liberty lawn, in a pattern named Matilda, came from a handmade blouse found in a local charity shop.  Here’s a glimpse of it.

Liberty Tana Lawn in Matilda

Blouse picked up at the charity shop

Maybe you wouldn’t have cut it up. I’m not sure I should have. But it was relatively cheap. And the making up wasn’t fabulous. It will certainly make an awful lot of beads. I also used a swatch of it when I made my everyday needlebook a while back. I tote it to workshops etc so gets hard wear. It’s the same one featured over here.

My scuzzy everyday needlebook

Matilda scrap on needlebook

If you’re interested in coming along to a Liberty bead necklace workshop, two are currently scheduled: Thursday 29th March (still spaces!) and one for Friday 18th May (each link take you straight to the bookings page). Both are morning sessions, 10.30am-1.30pm, here in Bath at Crockadoodledo, Larkhall’s lovely pottery-painting studio. Further details on my Classes page.

Tana lawn with wooden bead

One for the necklace

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