Faux Jumpsuit

I knew it would take an amazing outfit to get me to pose in public and I was right. Enter the jumpsuit of my dreams. Which, it turns out, isn't a jumpsuit at all, but two separate pieces that give the appearance of a jumpsuit. Faux jumpsuit for the win!

For anyone that has worn a jumpsuit, you know that this solves some very real struggles with this style, namely, having to completely undress whenever you use the bathroom. I also find that the torso-crotch region never fits quite right in a one-piece — always too baggy or too tight — with two separate pieces, I can fit and adjust that area easily. And if you're on the fence about whether you're even a jumpsuit-wearing kind of woman, it's a great way to try it out and still have two wearable garments if you don't like it. But I think you will. We're talking pyjamas you can wear to dinner, here. You can't really go wrong with that. Let's all get on the faux jumpsuit train, ladies!

I have to give credit to Sarah, who first blew my mind with this idea a year ago. I've been dying to replicate it ever since. I didn't have either of the patterns that Sarah used, but since I'm getting more confident with pattern drafting, I decided to try tweaking some of the patterns I already own: the kimono bodice from the Sallie Jumpsuit and the Hudson Pants. Both of these are knit patterns, and I was set on making this in rayon, so there were quite a few adjustments to be made.

Get ready to nerd-out on some serious pattern-hacking!

100 Days of Farmer's Wife Quilting

A couple pretty big things happened in the last couple months that I've been slow to share. First, the completion of my 100-day project.

Yes! I did it! Woohoo! High five!

In case you missed it, back in April, I challenged myself to sew Farmer's Wife Quilt blocks every day for 100 days. Initially I thought I would sew a block a day, but quickly realized I had to give myself some grace there. If you've ever flipped through the Farmer's Wife Quilt book, you would know that some of those blocks are super complex and would require several hours of time. There's no way I could keep up that kind of intensity for 100 days. Plus, this was real life: in 3 months, there was sickness and vacations and doors needing painting.

But even if I didn't complete a block, I was always working on it: calculating quilt math, cutting out paper pieces, buying fabric. I even hand-pieced several of the blocks so that I could take it with me on vacation.

There were a handful of days, mostly on vacation, that I did nothing at all, but I tried not to beat myself up over those days (I added them on to the end). I'm not a machine. This project wasn't about cranking out a certain number of blocks. The goal was to surrender to the process, to see where a daily practice could take me.

I'll admit, some days were difficult. Days where I only had half an hour to sit down and take a breath, and I knew that half hour was also my only chance to sew, so I dragged my weary bones up to the sewing room. How was that helping anyone? But the majority of the time, I enjoyed having an excuse to sew every day, without thinking about all the things I "should" be doing isntead. At the end of each day, no matter what else happened or didn't happen, at least I did that one thing and I could be proud of that.

There were many things learned along the way, about both quilting and myself, but ultimately, my biggest lesson came from letting go, pushing perfectionism aside and placing greater value on a daily fresh start. Don't like the block you just made? Oh well. Add it to the stack, you'll make a new one tomorrow. It's only fabric.