Get your stitch on.

One of our first south London jumble moments was a yard sale we passed a few days into the new year.  It was cold and dark and 5 friends were moving out of their flat and were selling their clutter.  For some reason I was very restrained – I think the memory of packing everything I owned into boxes and moving it across town not once but twice in two months was still fresh in my mind.   The last thing I wanted in my life was stuff that other people had decided was too much bother to own, pack and move.

Unpacking hell of my nightmares

Unpacking hell of my nightmares

Even with this grim new world order view of clutter I still managed to find a “jewel”.  Inexplicably dumped in the £1 pile I found a gorgeous  feminine jumper in salmon pink with white fluffy birds across the front.  I was made up.  For the past 3 and a bit years I’ve worn a uniform at work but now I work in the community I have the dubious pleasure of wearing my own threads on the job.  No jeans allowed and wipe clean shoes essential.  (On a ward you are only ever 30 seconds from a sick bowl – sadly this is not the case in the community.)  This was the jumper I dreamed of.  A jumper that could keep me warm  A jumper that would make me look feminine and sophisticated.  A jumper that would make me look professional… eerrrr  It is possible I mistook this particular jumper for a personality transplant!

Sadly when I got it home I discovered why the jumper of my dreams had been placed on the £1 pile.  The fluffy white birds had shrunk in the wash but the salmon pink wool had not.  The white wool was stretching the jumper out of shape and what I had assumed were cute ruffles were in actual fact great pulled threads straining across my none too ample boobs.  It wasn’t the look of elegant professionalism I was after.

The dream jumper has sat on my “to do” tower next to my sadly underused sewing machine for 5 long months making me feel more and more guilty and less and less professional.  I guess that is the power of clutter in all it’s forms.  It costs you money, takes up space and makes you feel bad.

Last week I took control.  A post over at Lulastic and the hippyshake   (er I do read other things occasionally I do promise)  spurred me into action.  I had lace.  I had a ruined jumper.  I had a husband out at the cinema and the house to myself.  I had a can of red stripe. I definitely had the mad skills.

Mmmmm Drink me

In the end I decided to skip the red stripe because I realised my skills weren’t as hot as I thought and weren’t going to be improved with some delicious Jamaican larger.  Chris found the unopened can abandoned by our bed in the morning.   In my defence my sewing table is next to our bed I’m not at the stage of drinking in bed when left unattended.  not yet anyhows.

So as I guess you already know.  I totally forgot to get a before photo but just imagine a ruined sweater.  Imagined it?  Right well done.

First of all I pinned the lace to the right side of the jumper and sewed the lace to the jumper by sewing an outline of the white birds in straight stitch.


Lace sewn to bird. You can see the pulling in the background

I cut the lace as close to my stitching as possible.


Already looking better

Then I stitched over the lace edges with a tight zigzag stitch.  Once I had finished I turned the jumper inside out and cut away all the white threads that were pulling the jumper out of shape.  I felt confident that the jumper wouldn’t unravel because the join between white and pink was well and truly tied up in my zigzag stitch.


cut away

A bit of pulling and and bit of stretching and bosh!  Not a perfect jumper but one I could wear to work on Friday and feel all professional and elegant.  Almost a personality transplant then!

Part of the personality transplant involves never smiling.  Never!

Part of the personality transplant involves never smiling. Never!


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