Tag Archives: slow fashion october

Slotober Frock step 2: What will it be?

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Slotober Frock step 2: What will it be?

Where this fabric Allison made is concerned, there are two of me:

One me thinks this is very special fabric and that I need to think long and hard about what it wants to be. I don’t want to rush into anything, cut it hastily, risk wasting it by sewing it into the Wrong Thing. The extreme version of this me thinks the wisest thing to do — especially given how Spring-y the fabric feels to me — is to say, you know what, I’m going to learn the lessons of Slow Fashion October and not try to crank out a dress this month after all, because that would be rushing it and making for the sake of making (to meet my own arbitrarily set goal) rather than being certain I’m spending my time and energy making something I’ll truly get a lot of use out of.

The other me thinks, yes, this is indeed special fabric, but it’s not actually spun from GOLD! I don’t want to overthink it and risk paralyzing myself out of fear of getting it wrong. This is also supposed to be fun, right? The extreme version of this me wants to sew it up into a floor-length Anna gown and pray for just one occasion in my life where a dress that dramatic could go. It would be the most beautiful dress ever. And I would wear it with my biker boots.

Here’s the thing about this fabric that’s stumping me a bit, if I’m being 100% honest: I’m not sure it’s me. I think it’s gorgeous and amazing and I could happily stare at it for hours on end. But how much does it have to do with the rest of my wardrobe? What do I layer it with? Can I make a single outfit with other things I own, or is it only worn one way: on its own.

The best word for it is pretty — it is insanely pretty — and that’s not a trait I relate to much. It would be very simple to sew it into a very pretty dress for someone else. (I see all those hands shooting up right now.) What’s harder is figuring out what it can be that’s me. I have to be able to imagine getting up in the morning and putting it on. It’s also quite a statement, and like I was saying the other day, that tends to limit frequency of wear. I feel like whatever it is needs to be fairly spare and simple — I don’t want to be drowned by the pattern or to feel like the dress is wearing me, but a simpler shape will also allow the fabric to shine.

So I’ve sketched a bit. I’ve piled the fabric onto my dress form. I’ve started a Pinterest board. For now, I’m just going to think about it. But not too hard.

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PREVIOUSLY in Slow Fashion October: Week 3, LOVED

Slow Fashion October, Week 3: LOVED

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Slow Fashion October, Week 3: LOVED

Week 3 of Slow Fashion October is upon us, and this week’s theme is LOVED, as in your proudest accomplishment / most loved item / most frequently worn item / thing you saved up for / investment pieces / thing you worked a long time on / oldest thing that’s still in rotation. (I just noticed that’s seven suggested prompts and I might literally do one per day on Instagram this week.) What is it about those items that makes them so cherished?

I wrote last week about some of my most-loved and most-worn pieces, but in anticipation of this week I’ve been thinking about the times in my life where I put on an outfit and thought, man, this is it. This is what it feels like to put on clothes that are me. The first time it ever happened I think I must have been 11 or 12 years old. My mom told me she’d heard about a new children’s boutique one suburb south of us and she thought we should check it out. I was old enough to be mortified at the idea of being taken to a children’s boutique, but shopping was also something of a difficulty with my mother and me, and I was not about to turn her down. It turned out to be full of things that made me drool, but the defining moment was when I tried on a burgundy velvet pantsuit that fit as if it had been custom made for me, and was the coolest outfit I’d ever been near, much less in. My mom or the shoplady, I don’t know, had picked out a dusty pink blouse to go under it, and there happened to be a matching pink “silk” (who knows) scarf with Karen written on it in burgundy caligraphy. Which of course got tucked under the collar, ends dangling so you could see the name. It sounds horrific, I know — it must have been 1979-ish? — but I’m telling you, I felt like I could rule the world. I’m sure it was expensive, by our standards, but my mom agreed it had to be mine.

I’m pretty sure I felt the same thrill every time I put that outfit on, and it was definitely a lesson in how good clothes could and should be, but I think that was also the outfit that ultimately taught to me to steer clear of statement outfits. When something is that much of a standout, and thus memorable, you don’t get to wear it very often. People will definitely recall that you had it on the last time you saw them. And I either didn’t yet have the hang of mixing and matching, or I didn’t have other pieces in my closet that would work with just the pants or just the jacket. I’m not sure how often I wore it or what ever became of it, but it was the garment love of my life at that stage. And probably also the birth of my love of a good blazer.

Flash forward to 1994. I’m 25 years old, going through one of my biggest hardships, and had been briefly and tumultuously dating an older man named Bob. We’d decided to stop dating, having found it impossible to get through an evening without having a massive fight about something ridiculous. But before the break-up, I had bought two tickets to a Counting Crows show and made a date with him, and it turned out he still expected to go. Obviously, I needed to look amazing. I was broke but an excellent bargain hunter, so I hit the mall, and I came away with these two items that together gave me all the confidence I needed to go on this awkward non-date. The natural linen tunic came off a clearance rack at The Limited (made in Hong Kong — I just checked) and black linen mini skirt off another clearance rack at The Gap (made in Malaysia). I already had the perfect black sandals. It was the summer of the best tan of my life, and it was also blazing hot in Kansas City — the year all those people died in the Midwest. So the outfit would help keep me cool (physically, anyway) in addition to boosting my confidence.

Bob and I have been together 21 years now. I don’t credit this outfit for it — it was a trouble-filled evening, and we definitely did not get back together that night — but at least I felt amazing in uncomfortable circumstances. And I knew he noticed.

I loved both these garments and, as you can see, have never been able to part with them. For years, they were in an underbed box with some other souvenir clothes, almost all of which I finally parted with when we were packing up for our cross-country move last year. But these two remain. The tunic went back into my closet — I figured it would be useful in the Tennessee heat, and I’ve wound up wearing it multiple times a week since we got here, including through the winter under sweaters. At this point, it’s threadbare and a little discolored around the edges, and I’m glad I have the sewing skills now to make a pattern for its successors. The skirt is a little too small and a lot too short for me now, but it’s still one of the best-designed pieces I’ve ever owned and I think of it all the time. (In fact, there’s a bag in my sewing WIP basket right now that’s black linen with contrast stitching, inspired by this skirt.) It has the perfect shape, perfect pockets, perfect amount of detail. I apologize for not ironing it, but it’s a garment I’m studying and thinking about how to translate it into something that will work for me now. Garments with long lives and legacies, that’s what I crave.

I just realized the most recent instance of pulling on an outfit and having that magical feeling has a lot in common with the linen combo above — it’s the linen and wool combo below, which I don’t apologize for posting again! Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind it reminded me of my Counting Crows clothes, or maybe it’s a coincidence. But it’s nice to feel that old feeling again, this time in clothes knitted and sewn with my own two hands.

Slow Fashion October, Week 3: LOVED

PREVIOUSLY in Slow Fashion October: Elsewhere

Elsewhere: SFO edition

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Elsewhere: Slow Fashion October edition

The abundance and richness of discussion that have sprung up around Slow Fashion October is already beyond whatever I may have anticipated, and I continue to do my best to keep up. If you haven’t read the comments and blog posts on this week’s theme post, that alone could keep you busy for a bit. I’m also attempting to highlight some of the standout posts at Instagram by mentioning them on the @slowfashionoctober feed. If you’re not technically on Instagram, click through to that feed in your web browser and explore those. I highly recommending spending some quality time with the entire #slowfashionoctober Instagram feed, though — it’s pretty amazing. And also the hashtag activity at Twitter.

I’m planning to do an Elsewhere-style post every Friday this month, as a way to highlight some of the great blogger contributions and also to mention some other/related worthwhile links, so here we go:

SLOW FASHION OCTOBER

– Z’s origin story cracked me up (and she also did a great post recently about some ethical shoe brands)

– I love Felicia Semple’s thoughts and her focus for the month on making herself the frocks she never gets to, but don’t miss this earlier post from her about the human brain and desire

– Karyn Valino is spending the month revisiting patterns she sewed when she was new to sewing — read her intro and keep up with her series as it develops here

– Then there’s Liesl Gibson on living with plenty

– Fibre Sprite on the distinction between sustainability and wasting less

– and Kristine Vejar on the evolution of her Seam Allowance club (in which she also mentions a few more good shoe companies)

RELATED

– The case for expensive clothes: “The next time you buy something, spend a whole lot on it. Enough that it makes you sweat a little.” (thx, Kay)

– Why I wear the exact same thing to work every day: “To state the obvious, a work uniform is not an original idea. There’s a group of people that have embraced this way of dressing for years—they call it a suit.” (thx, Jennifer)

– The hypocrisy of “helping the poor”: “Every so often, you hear grotesquely wealthy American chief executives announce in sanctimonious tones the intention to use their accumulated hundreds of millions, or billions, “to lift people out of poverty.” …  In most cases, they have made their fortunes by impoverishing whole American communities, having outsourced their manufacturing to China or India, Vietnam or Mexico.” (thx, Elizabeth)

– Vintage Kate Davies: “And we luxury knitters wrap ourselves in fuzzy notions of domestic continuity and tradition, consume mountains of expensive yarn, and somehow still manage to pass off the results as utilitarian and homespun rather than extravagant.” (thx, Brynn)

– Vintage Ysolda: “I pretty much help people to make their own clothes for a living, but I make a very small percentage of my own wardrobe. In many ways, I’m not sure that opting out of the global garment industry is a solution.” (thx, Ashley)

– See also the URLs Bristol Ivy shared in this IG post

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Double Basketweave Cowl kit in Bare at Fringe Supply Co.

In Fringe Supply Co. news, a lot of you have asked for photos of the Double Basketweave Cowl worked up in the undyed Sincere Sheep Luminous and I’m happy to finally have these to share. (Thanks to Jo for knitting the sample!) This version was also knitted with 3 repeats of the pattern instead of 4, for those who’ve wondered about making it a bit narrower. We have a good cache of the undyed cowl kits for you in the shop right now, and we’ll have more of the indigo soon! And in the spirit of Slow Fashion October, I’ll note that all Sincere Sheep yarns are responsibly sourced and naturally dyed.

Have a great weekend, everyone! I’ll see you on the Slow feed.

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PREVIOUSLY: Elsewhere, Cowichan edition

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

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Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

This is the story of how a little pot of wet yarn became 4.3 yards of exquisite, one-of-a-kind fabric. I’m mostly going to let the (obscene number of) photos do the talking, because to me it’s pretty much sorcery, but this is my friend Allison Volek-Shelton of Shutters and Shuttles working her magic for me. As I wrote in my Fall Amirisu essay: “I don’t raise sheep, or shear them. I’ve never spun my own yarn. And I’m not much of a weaver, either. I’m still at the mercy of others for the materials I make my clothes from. When I knit a sweater or sew a dress, I can be 100% certain that no one was forced to make it for me in unsafe conditions or without being paid a living wage. But what about those materials I’m working with?” So as you may know, my big idea for Slow Fashion October was to have Allison weave a piece of custom cloth for me, from which I will cut and sew a garment.

We got together several weeks ago and decided to build it around a painted warp, a process I’ve seen her do fantastically well for designers Jamie and the Jones. So one day in mid-Sept, I went to her studio to watch the actual painting of the warp, above, and that’s where it all began.

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

The US-grown and -spun cotton was painted with fiber reactive dyes Allison had mixed up in a few different shades of blue. After it sat a few minutes, she washed out each hank and hung them to dry in the warm Tennessee breeze, then last Friday I went to watch her begin tying it onto the loom.

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

She had previously been weaving blankets on this loom, and cutting those off left the 1200 ends of natural warp, onto which she would tie the 1200 new ends of my painted warp. One knot at a time. This would take her about 4.5 hours, so I left her to it. On Monday afternoon, I returned for the next step: warping the loom, i.e. passing those ends through the 16 harnesses. Gradually the new warp made its way up around the sectional beam, with Allison painstakingly combing out the ends a little at a time as she went, like trying to comb through a little girl’s hair after a bath.

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

As she continued to work, I took 600 photos that look like this:

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

Once she’d reached the other ends, it was time to tie them to the canvas apron (fewer knots this time!) and then finally the weaving could begin. I was already a little in awe of how physical the whole process is, and then she began to weave. All I can say is that is hard work.  I wish I had video.

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

The next afternoon she called me back to her studio so I could watch as she cut it from the loom — 4.3 yards of splendor, the final yard of which we decided to do in a textured weave. It is so beautiful, and so soft.

Slotober Frock step 1: Yarn becomes fabric

Don’t ask me what I plan to do with it. Figuring that out is step 2.

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PREVIOUSLY in Slow Fashion October: Week 2, SMALL — and some of my hardest-working garments

Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and some of my hardest working garments

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Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and the hardest working garments in my closet

So again, WOW on the response so far to Slow Fashion October. Today begins Week 2 and our theme is SMALL — we’re talking handmade / living with less / quality over quantity / the capsule wardrobe / indie fashion / small-batch makers / sustainability in every sense. I’d love to hear about everything from your favorite local-to-you designers to how and when you choose to add new items to your closet, wherever they may come from. A lot of people have pledged to spend this month really evaluating their wardrobes and their works-in-progress and making considered decisions about what stays, what gets finished/frogged/donated, what the gaps are, and how those will get filled. So this week should be great!

For me, for starters, I thought I’d show you the Gallery Dress I finished last month and keep going on about. I didn’t really realize it until it was finished, but this dress epitomizes the kind of thing I want in my small closet, being so incredibly versatile and wearable. (Albeit linen.) A few weeks ago, Kathy Cadigan came to Nashville to photograph a bunch of Fringe stuff with me over the course of two days. I had just finished the dress and couldn’t stop wearing it, and the night before our shoot, I was demonstrating to her that I could pull almost anything out of my closet, throw it on with this dress, and look (and feel) pretty damn great. So the next morning, we took a little bit of time to shoot some of those variations. (In our still-empty new living room, which I now think we should never furnish.) At the time, I wasn’t thinking of it as a Slow Fashion October post, but as I waited for the images and thought about it, I realized one of the most interesting parts is what I chose to grab for these photos. I didn’t do a lot of strategizing about what to include, wasn’t trying too hard to make it any particularly pointed range of looks. But as it happens, the things I reached for were some of some of my all-time favorites. The way that all of these beloved, hardworking, long-lasting pieces go together is exactly what I’m striving for with any new garment I decide to make or buy.

The dark spot in this is that some of these things are not of known origins, having been purchased before I began paying attention. So all I can do is hope that no humans were harmed in their making, wear them as long as possible, and do all I can to avoid new things being manufactured on my behalf.

TOP: Worn with a trench vest from J.Crew circa 2009 or ’10. Vests and trench coats are two of my favorite things, so I bought this immediately upon seeing it several years ago, and I can’t imagine there will ever be a year of my life that I don’t wear it. I love it immeasurably. I see now that it was made in the Philippines, hopefully in a reputable factory, but I don’t know. The tote is via Fringe Supply Co, made by a small and conscientious San Francisco company whose workroom I have visited. The boots are new J.Crew, made in Romania, and I wish I could know more than that. Ethical shoes are one of the hardest challenges. Regardless, I’ll be wearing these for years to come.

Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and the hardest working garments in my closet

Paired here with the denim shirt I wear probably 150 days a year (including in a ridiculous number Fringe Supply Co. photos). It’s Madewell from several years ago, a dead-ringer for an identical predecessor I wore for at least ten years, and was made in China, so all the same caveats as above. When the time comes, I vow to sew my own replacement. The bag is handmade. The boots are Gap — any markings have worn off, but given what I paid for them I’m guessing they were made in China.

Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and the hardest working garments in my closet

Here it is on its own. I was considering this one a try-out of the pattern and sewed it from some inexpensive linen I had on hand — made in China, purchased at JoAnn. It’s the dress version of the Gallery Tunic and Dress pattern (obviously), lengthened by 1.5 inches, band collar variation, and I left off the sleeves, finished the edges with bias. I’ll absolutely be making it again and will address the one fit issue which is the way it wants to form pleats at the shoulders. After consulting Liesl about it, I need to compare the slope of the shoulders to some other patterns that sit better on my frame and figure out how to adjust for that. If you sew and pay attention to this stuff, you know finding fabric that was not made in China is incredibly difficult, and I hope we’ll be able to explore that this month. Handmade bag. And J.Crew sandals from a couple summers ago, made in Italy.

Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and the hardest working garments in my closet

This outfit makes my heart sing. The sweater is designed and knitted by me — version two of this one, pattern coming soon — and the bag is handmade by Poglia in NYC (a definite investment piece that will weather beautifully over the years). I would wear this every single day if I could get away with it. But what’s especially pleasing to me about it is that I sketched it and then I made it come true.

Slow Fashion October, Week 2: SMALL — and the hardest working garments in my closet

So we went on to shoot all the planned stuff for two days, and on the third morning, I got up and got dressed to drop Kathy at the airport and head to work. I put the dress back on and pulled my favorite sweatshirt over my head, and Kathy got the camera back out for one last shot. I don’t even know how old this sweatshirt is or where it came from. The tags are long gone. It has holes and stains and paint splatters, and should really never leave the house, but I love it too much to let it go. I’m going to attempt to copy it for myself, and also want to knit a sweater that fits exactly like this, for pulling on over everything. My pouch is handmade by Bookhou, one of the most thoughtful and admirable makers I know. (Returning to Fringe Supply Co. soon.)

I’m not sure I’ve ever owned a garment that elicited as many compliments this dress does, which isn’t why I wear it multiple times a week, but is a pretty nice benefit! I’m still wearing it, even though it’s linen and the weather has taken a serious turn, so if you expect to run into me anytime soon, odds are I’ll have it on.

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PREVIOUSLY in Slow Fashion October: Week 1, You (me, all of us)

Photos by Kathy Cadigan

Slow Fashion October, Week 1: You (me, all of us)

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Slow Fashion October, Week 1: YOU (me, all of us)

Happy first day of Slow Fashion October! If you haven’t seen the introduction (with the weekly themes/prompts), take a minute to read that over. The theme for this partial first week is YOU. As in you, me, all of us who are participating in any form. This is your chance to introduce yourself. Who are you — are you a knitter/sewer/mender/thrifter/weaver/small-batch-fashion designer? How did you come to be interested in the slow fashion movement, and what are you hoping to get out of this month? And do you have a special project in mind? This is also a time to think about how you want to participate — whether it’s daily, weekly or one contribution for the month; in the form of a comment here on the blog or in posts to your own blog and/or social media feeds. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s what you should do! If you do publish something on your blog, leave a link here for people to see, and be sure to use hashtag #slowfashionoctober on social media so everyone can follow along.

Each week, I’ll be highlighting some of my favorite contributions here on the blog, and will also feature people in various ways on the @slowfashionoctober feed on Instagram.

For my part — for anyone who might be new here — I’m Karen Templer and this is my blog. Last year I moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to Nashville, where I live with my husband and run Fringe Supply Co. I’ve known how to sew pretty much my whole life but have done it very sporadically. Learning to knit four years ago reminded me how incredible it is to wear something you made with your own two hands, bringing me back to sewing. And tapping into the incredible community of makers online really raised my level of awareness of some of the more political issues around disposable fashion and the human and environmental costs thereof. I’ve written an essay for the current issue of Amirisu about much of my motivation for building a handmade and/or known-origins wardrobe, and talked quite a bit about it in my Woolful podcast interview last winter. I also did an interview for Curious Handmade recently, wherein she asked a lot of really great questions around these subjects. So if you want to know more about me and where all of this is coming from, I’d recommend reading that interview! I also did a blog post last year about my Handmade wardrobe role models, and hope you’ll take a look at that if you missed it.

I’ll be posting here on the blog and on my @karentempler Instagram feed throughout the month, following the weekly themes. And my special project for the month will be to sew a garment from fabric my friend Allison Volek-Shelton of Shutters and Shuttles is weaving for me. So expect periodic check-ins on that project, as well. (And wish me luck! So scary.) To learn more about Allison, listen to her on last week’s episode of Woolful.

p.s. SPEAKING OF AMIRISU, a little bit of shop news: Yesterday we got another short stack of the fall issue of Amirisu (the one with my Slotober essay), and also have some amazing new additions to the vintage fiber mill spindles for you. Check it out!

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PREVIOUSLY in Slow Fashion October: Get ready!

Slow Fashion October — get ready!

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Slow Fashion October — get ready!

Ok, lovelies. Here’s my outline for Slow Fashion October (previously discussed here and here). There’s nothing formal or prescriptive about this — you can do as much or as little as you like; use my prompts or ignore them entirely. Whether you just spend the month reading along and pondering these topics, or you take specific steps of some kind with regard to your wardrobe, or you address any or all of these issues in whatever way — on your blog or Instagram or around the table at your local yarn/fabric shop or wherever — it’s all entirely up to you. I just want to present a little bit of a framework for those who find it useful.

Slow Fashion is a big subject, and I want every week to be inclusive of everyone who might be interested — from sewers and knitters to thrifters and menders and anyone just trying to be more mindful and informed about where their clothes are coming from and what environmental impact their buying habits have. So I’ve broken the month down into weekly themes that encompass everyone, hopefully—

“Week” 1,  October 1-4: YOU
First let’s introduce ourselves: Where are you at with all this / What first got you interested in Slow Fashion / What are your skills / What do you hope to get out of Slow Fashion October / What are your personal goals for the month / Do you have a special project you plan to tackle this month?

Week 2, October 5-11: SMALL
handmade / living with less / quality over quantity / capsule wardrobe / indie fashion / small-batch makers / sustainability

Week 3, October 12-18: LOVED
proudest accomplishment / most loved item / most frequently worn item / thing you saved up for / investment pieces / thing you worked a long time on / oldest thing that’s still in rotation

Week 4, October 19-25: WORN
second-hand / mending / caring for things / laundering for longevity / design for longevity (bucking trends, quality materials …) / heirlooms

Week 5, October 26-31: KNOWN
favorite sustainable resources / “local” / traceable fabric and yarn origins / traceable garment origins / reference books, films, videos

Again, use this if it’s helpful, or take a whole different approach if you like. There’s no right or wrong. However you choose to go about it, if you’re sharing publicly use pingbacks or leave comments with URLs here so everyone can see. And also be sure to use the hashtag #slowfashionoctober to connect with others who are participating. I’ve also created an official Instagram account, @slowfashionoctober, so go ahead and follow if you’re there! I’ll fire that up on October 1 for general announcements and highlighting great posts and such. And of course I’ll be posting my own contributions on my @karentempler feed, in addition to all the blog content.

I’m sure you’ll all have a ton of brilliant ides and angles I haven’t thought of, so please be sure to weigh in below. And I’m so excited to see what everyone comes up with next month!