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I AM SEW DRUNK LOL. Being an Expedition into Boozesoaked Stitchery

Well, I admit this is an entirely new world to me.  I am sewing.  I got this nice pattern for what I thought was gonna be a simple slapdash affair.  Like, crank it out in 15 minutes type thing.  I mean, hell, some 18th century caveman (okay, cavewoman) without a sewing machine can do this, I got the benefit of a bunch of books, the interwebs, youtube videos, a 35 year old sewing machine, and a six-pack of Newcastle Brown Ale.  What could go wrong?  After a couple of beers and a long day of work, I couldn’t understand the instructions to save my ass.  Gusset?  Whiplash hem? Bodice?  Note: Bodice is one of my all-time personal favorite words… I was pretty dehydrated owing to the G__ awful heat.

Well, I think I cut the pattern okay.  May have overjudged the (my) size.  The damn thing looks like a tent so far.  I understand I need to gather the front a little (I can’t believe I just typed that out) but seriously, I look like I’m getting ready to set sail.  On these long stretches of seams you burn through thread like nobody’s business, too.  I needed to replace the bobbin like 3 times.  I admit I have a lotta stitches per inch.

The pattern suggests that everything be sewn by hand.  I tell you, Ms. Kannik (the fine proprietor of said pattern) is a sewing-crazed wanton.  If I tried to so much as hem this thing by hand I would needs must curl up in a balle and die!  Odds Bodkins! Hammer and Tongs!

Well, don’t sew drunk kids.  Bad news.  Bad news.  Ima need to go get some more muslin to cut out the body pieces.  I don’t trust my newcastle-laced stitchings.  A pun.  Beer and sewing.  You see?

Sewing Pattern Recognition

When I imagine the future, it’s a terrible thing.  I’m thinking of Blade Runner.  Brazil.  Minority Report.  The Postman.  Yes, I might go so far as Waterworld.  I know, I know.  I just saw Repo Men today (a pretty good flick, btw).  And I just got “Zero History” – W. Gibson’s latest novel from the local library.  2 things about Gibson: 1) The books get less “future-y” and more “present-ey” and 2) He must have some sort of minor guilt complex for introducing us to “cyberspace” all those years ago.

 

Why?  Well, hear me out.  And bear in mind I live in Mennonite country (this seems an odd thing to write, upon reflection).  In the last couple of books there was a subplot that’s been developed into the central theme of this latest one.  Sort of a “fight the future” type arc that’s been hung there like he was staring at it and thinking real hard or something.  This thing about nice clothes.  You may have picked it up in the earlier books; the Rickson’s bomber jackets, bad reactions to logos.  Now he’s got this “plot device” of the post hoc militarization of civilian wardrobes.  Kinda scary; also perfectly true.  If you think his premise is a bad one, go check out my local Walmart where camo shorts in widely varying patterns are all the rage.  You see, the styles of the armed forces have like a 10 year curve into mass appeal and now we have things like neck ties because some dickhead Prussian officer had to keep the gravy off his placket.  (Bear in mind, I’m hungry as I write).  Long story short, in the book the end product of development is the anti-Old Navy “anti-label” Gabriel Hounds.

 

Anyway, thanks to Gibson I am reacting badly to mass-produced clothes.  Once you learn a little, you might be horrified at the shortcuts and shoddy workmanship that sweatshops gotta make so’s you can have a $12 pair of khakis.  That’s leaving all the “sweat” aside…  I was wondering why my pants have holes in all the seats… Well, it’s cause I settled for cheap shit.  And I got a closet full of cheap shit I don’t particularly like to wear.  Why?  Always hunting for something that looks good on me/always buying cheap shit/too invested to move on and throw that stuff into the Goodwill pile.

 

Uninformed purchasing of disposable goods.  Possibly the greatest problem in the modern western world.

 

The only thing I own that I really dig is my leatherjacket, and my biker boots from 17 years ago.  And my red chuck taylors.  But I’m growing up and I’m a professional and you can’t wear that shit forever.  So I’m gonna take my mother-in-law’s sewing machine and build me some clothes that look good on me and that will last for a long time and that are comfortable.  And fuck belts.  I don’t like belts.  I do like vests (or rather ”waistcoats”).  So I guess I should have suspenders.  Well, in short, I’m learning how to sew so that I can make sharp clothes that will last me the rest of my f’ing life and survive the zombiepocalypse.  Sort of a throwback to the old days when you’d have one suit for business, and a couple of stoutly-built and comfortable tailored shirts, and like a minimum gentleman’s wardrobe that could be carried around in a trunk rather than a truck.

 

Well, Gibson can start a thing that’s sucked us all in; hopefully this reactionary movement will spit us all out cleaner and more clothes-aware types in, say, 30 years.  By then we’ll have the chips in our skulls to learn tailoring fast, and we’ll use them to make neoprene double-breasted frock-coats to accommodate our swims to and from work.

 

I’ll fill you in on the details as they arrive.  Actually, I cut the pattern for the vest tomorrow, probably.  I’ll have the muslin made up this week, I should think.