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.

 

 

Christmas Tote Bags

Not long before I left Whyalla, the ladies from my Wednesday Sewing Group had a conclave and discussed a problem- every single one of them had a stash of Christmas prints that they'd never be using again - on account of having children and grandchildren already plastered with very same holly-and-snowman prints. (Crafters have no self-control at all around holidays.)
            Pretty soon, J's cutting table was buried beneath a 55 liter lucky-dip tub overflowing with red and green and white cotton scraps in all grades of sparkly - the glitter sort of oozing out under the lid and on the floor all around the chest and turning the carpet was twinkly gold.
             The stash was intended as a 'if-you-need-it-it-will-sparkle' group resource for holiday-ifs-and-whens, but when sewers are in the same room as free fabric they have all the restraint of magpies.  And somehow, by a natural progression, we were all making Christmas tote bags.

Lots of Christmas tote bags.

I didn't get them all finished before we left Whallya - my old Elna choked on the wool batting and before I could get it fixed we were knee-deep in packing to leave.  Last week I picked them up again. 

           

Themed bags take care of half your Christmas gift-wrapping needs in one fell swoop (add one cellophane bag of home-made cookies and you're good to go!) and using up other peoples fabric feels like virtuous thrift.
             And that's a nice feeling when I'm spending my free time hunting down vintage ecru valenciennes on etsy.
            Here's a lovely tutorial, if you've too much seasonal fabric glittering up your sewing stash. When I left Whyalla there was still half a tub of christmas cheer left. The ladies were talking about table runners... 

A Moment of Silence

Please join me for a moment of silence in in the memory of my dear, departed Elna 3003.

It passed away at 7:54 last night, with three seams left to sew on Kindred Thread's Cape Island Dress. 

Pray bow your heads and give a muffled curse in the name of the damned machine that after all the tender love, care, fresh bobbins, fresh spools, screwdrivers, damp q-tips, machine oil and delicately voiced entreaties in Santiago, could not graciously consent to last just one more damned half hour.

(Epithets will be acceptable in  lieu of offerings.)


 

7.8.15

Rest in Peace, dear old machine!

You left an uncompleted seam.

Now go to your eternal rest 

while I hand-sew the arms and chest

                             - Pam

I am sewing, see?