Ribbon Embroidered Reticule

A few weeks ago I had a rummage in my fabric stash, and I found a piece of soft peach silk dupioni. Unfolding it, I saw that at some point I'd begun embroidering wild roses. It took a bit of remembering, but eventually I worked out I'd started this piece back in High School.  That's quite a while ago now.  Why on earth had I abandoned it?

I decided I'd finish it.  Going back to the stash, I pulled out a frame, my silk ribbons, a box of silk threads -

Oh boy.  It was pretty quickly VERY clear why I'd abandoned the project the first time round. I use dupioni often for ribbon embroidery as I find that silk ribbons pass very cleanly through the fabric - far more easily than they do through a silk taffeta.
  But this particular  soft-and-supple-seeming dupioni was so tightly woven and so tough that I could hardly get a needle through it.  To drag a ribbon through it, I had to pull the needle through the fabric with a pair of pliers.

 

The mystery now wasn't why I'd abandoned the project the first time round - it was why I hadn't burned it in a fire and salted the earth afterwards.

Presumably I was as much a stubborn idiot then as I am now.  The roses were pretty. I would not waste them.I abandoned my first plan -  to unpick the rather-badly-laid-out stems and start the composition over, and instead stuck to a few simple rose leaves. 

Leaf by leaf, I dragged the thin ribbon through the blasted silk.  The resulting tension issues mean that my little rose bush is not the healthiest-looking rose bush in embroidered history - in fact I'm pretty sure some of the leaves have sawfly.
But I pressed on, swearing ineffectually, until there was a nasty snap, and only the front half of the needle came through.  Yep.  My, soft and supple silk had actually broken a tapestry needle in half.  

 

Dropping plans for any  further leaves, I tied off and threaded up the smallest needle I could get away with and started embroidering rose thorns instead.  Lots of rose thorns. This was NOT a FRIENDLY rose bush.

Once I'd wrestled the embroidery into submission, turning it into something I could show off was practically a walk in the park. I needed a regency reticule, so I made that.  

I figured out some dimensions, cut out a template, marked it up, cut it out, and stitched it up.

 

A hand-stitched drawstring channel was next.

 

Then a pair of ribbon drawstrings to match the roses, and lastly, I used up a hank of green silk thread making a set of little silk tassels for the corners.

And voila - a reticule!

 

 
The embroidery might not be perfectly accurate to the period, but it is very pretty and photogenic, and I never need to sew this AWFUL silk again.

So there.

 

 

The White Lace Dress - Vogue 7350

Several years ago now, I bought a roll of doll-scale vintage lace in an antique shop in New Harmony, Indiana.  New Harmony Indiana is mostly antique shops. Antique shops, book shops and cornfields on the edge of the wide, slow, Wabash river. It's summertime heaven on a slow Sunday afternoon. A year or so later, I sewed Vogue 7350 with some very fine swiss cotton voile that has been in Mum's stash for years and years and years.
This pattern certainly got me over my fear of sewing with lace - the hours picking scraps of tissue paper out of thread seams on thread lace as I stitched the yoke panels left me with no mysteries and no terrors. Lace is now very firmly do-able, thank you.

Yummy dress details:

And because I love making wired ribbon flowers, she needed a sash with a big bow on it.  Just something simple:

The purse is the sort of thing that happens on Saturday afternoons when you have nothing scheduled to do and you can do exactly whatever you want to do. I had a scrap of white silk, a meter of beaded fringe and a bag of lace remnants from my mother's wedding gown - I cut out roses from the wedding lace and appliquéd them onto the silk, and across the body of the purse I scattered clusters of embroidered petals and beads stripped from the fringing.
More beads made the purse handle and I stitched it all together by hand.
I adore it. It's fabulous.

And so, Once More with Feeling:

A Pad Stitched Strawberry

Well  - I had quite a weekend.

            At Jenny's Biggest Morning Tea I was given a flier for an embroidery workshop sponsored by the local quilting guild. Country Bumpkin, an an Adelaide sewing store, was sending up a teacher for this past Saturday and Sunday.  Saturday was an introductory day for beginners,  but Sunday looked exciting - silk on silk embroidery, in an Elizabethan style of not-quite-stumpwork, that I'd always liked but never been quite willing to try, so - why not?

            Yesterday morning I knocked on the door of the Quilting Guild Hall - and walked into rather... more than I was expecting.

            There is an Australian-published embroidery magazine called Inspirations that's full of extremely elaborate and intimidating projects.  What I hadn't realized was that Country Bumpkin, far from being a cute and cozy craft store - is actually the company that produces Inspirations magazine.  And that Sunday's workshop was a seminar taught by Susan O'Connor - teacher, designer and an astonishing embroiderer.  And she was mine, all mine - well, myself and 9 other ladies from the quilting guild  - for a whole day, at a fraction of the price she customarily charges for her classes.

            Seriously - this woman is amazing.  She's stunningly talented, and is in high demand all over the world for her seminars and master classes. She had brought with her from Adelaide a table's worth of exquisite embroidery pieces for us to sigh over and fondle (here are a few of them- these particular ones were actually in the classroom with us, but the pictures don't come close to showing the exquisite detail and texture of the dense embroidery.) 

            The demand for her time is understandable.  She's a wonderful teacher.  Monique Johnston, who had run Saturday's class, sat at the back of the room doing things with needles and thread that looked as though she was painting on silk, while Susan led us through our paces with silk thread and number 10 sharp needles and handed out the project du jour  - a tiny embroidered bag silk.  We looked at the design - a stylized Elizabethan strawberry plant, no more than two 2 inches across - and all "Oh, yeah!  We'll get this little baby done today - wheee!"

            Susan smiled serenely and began to explain how to pad our strawberries and strawberry flowers with layers of satin stitch - and eight hours later, I had several stem-stitched stems, 3/4 of a split stitch and satin stitch leaf, one of two strawberries, and the padding of a strawberry flower.  You see - this is textured silk embroidery - you work with a single strand of silk, and you pad out the shapes by doing layer on layer of satin stitch - a strawberry the size of my fingernail has nine layers under the final layer - and then you have to criss-cross it in gold and couch it in green, and -well, there is a fair list of things that go into a silk strawberry.
            On a completely unrelated note,  I now have a divot the size of Crater Lake in the top of my middle finger.  I need to invest in a thimble. 

And my word, did I eat well!  I'd packed a sensible lunch of sandwiches and carrot sticks (I was feeling virtuous that morning.  So sue me.) but I'd forgotten something important - the ladies of the quilting guild are elderly country women: there was a morning tea provided with madeira cake and home made biscuits, a lunch of hearty country soups (plural) and long loaves of fresh-made bread, and an afternoon tea of more madeira cake and chocolate cake and more biscuits and home-made cheese straws - I may not have eaten healthy, but I ate solid.

            I also learned just how sharp really high quality European needles can be.  They're so narrow and fine that they just slide straight into your fingers and you don't even notice until they're a quarter of an inch deep.  The afternoon was punctuated by howls of anguish and yells of "SHIT SHI- sugar. sugar.  darn. drat." as delicately spoken country women leaped to their feet and ran for the first aid box before they bled all over the silk. 

            Today I've been all over amazon and found a set of books by Di van Niekerk, a South African woman who combines these techniques with ribbon embroidery, which clears up my last lingering dubiosities of "well,  this is fun, but I really love the freedom and spontaneity and creativity of designing as you go, as you can do with ribbons so,  should I...?"

            Well, I should.  And I'm sold on silk thread.  It's only a dollar more per skein than DMC cotton, and it doesn't fray and it's a billion times as strong and it keeps its luster - and I don't think I can go back!

Silk gift bag

This embroidered bag was a bachelorette gift for an artist friend (Zoe) who was married last month - I sewed the outer bag of green silk and lined it with calico - so that it would be strong enough to hold a large bottle of chocolate body paint and a paintbrush!