Then, I paused. I looked up at this shirt, this shirt that only needs the hem, and buttons and buttonholes. This shirt that has been hanging in my sewing room, almost finished, for about 20 years.
No kidding. I was making it for a class in college. (Did I mention? I majored in Clothing & Textiles.) It's a lovely blouse, very nice fabric (well, it probably didn't cost me much, but it looks nice), good pattern. And I've let it sit there, part of my sewing room landscape, unfinished, for a couple of decades.
I did french seams on that shirt.
Then, I marked the buttonholes. This blouse has french cuffs, so each cuff has four buttonholes, but no buttons. I'll need cuff links. (I have some, from another blouse.) I do my usual, start at the bottom and work my way up, in case my first (couple of) buttonholes are less-than-perfect. Which they are. For some reason, I chose not to use interfacing in the placket. No idea why. So it puckers. It doesn't pucker on the cuffs or the collar. There are two buttons on the neckband (it's a two-piece collar).
When was the last time you bought a shirt, or even saw one, with two buttons right up on the tippy-top? (Or such crooked buttonholes? Whatever. Like you'd notice.)
I don't have the buttons. I need 12 little 3/8" plain shirt buttons, and I only have two.
So the real finish will have to wait until I've been to the fabric store. But we're close.
I stare at the pattern, thinking how very classic this blouse is, how timeless. How small (it's a size 12, which in patterns fits someone with a 34" bust, a measurement I left behind about 8" ago).
And then I see it, down in the lower left,
Liz Claiborne
Well, that explains it, then. I've never met a Liz I didn't like.
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