This is more like it!

A middle-aged white woman with red hair standing in a garden. She is wearing black velvet jeans, and a top made from strips of floral fabric joined with lace.

The two projects I finished but hadn't photographed? Behold, photos! I'll start with the one I'm happiest so its photo goes on the blog homepage, this vest top/camisole inspired by Victorian/Edwardian corset covers. (Language note: in the UK a vest is an undershirt, not a waistcoat.)

I made a wrap dress in 2024 from this viscose crepe fabric. I bought it from Fabworks as deadstock – fabric left over from a manufacturer that's sold on rather than sent to waste. But as soon as I saw it I knew what it was: one of House Of Foxy's good-quality repro vintage fabrics. My wrap dress really is lovely and I feel good every time I wear it. However, it did leave a lot of scraps, and there was no way I was throwing those out. The problem was, the scraps were all too small to turn into conventional garment pieces. 

A redheaded white woman clowning around in a garden, pulling silly faces.

So, in the stash the scraps went, and months passed. Every so often I'd look at my Pinterest clothes inspiration board for the year. Victorian/Edwardian lingerie has been a constant for a few years now. Usually it's white-on-white, but a few more colourful examples popped up, which gave me the idea of joining my scraps using lace strips. I decided to go for it. What did I have to lose? Scraps! So I got some black lace off Etsy and had a go.

The pattern was my bog-standard vest top pattern as I've adjusted it for my bust and knew I could rely on it. I wasn't about to attempt a new pattern and a new technique. I traced the pattern, sliced it up, cut the bits out of my scraps and then joined them up using the lace. I could have made one big sheet of cloth and then cut pattern pieces from that, but that would have made more waste and necessitated a dart. This way, the lace runs along the lines where the darts would be, shaping the garment as it joins the fabric pieces.

If I have one nitpick, it's that the bias binding on the neckline is a little baggy, but that's just looking for problems, really. I like this top, and it's not bad for scraps that could otherwise have gone to waste.

The next finished make is this, knitted in grey cotton with a silver lurex thread to a 1960s pattern. (It is symmetrical; I'm standing wonkily.)

A redheaded white woman standing in a garden. She is wearing a grey knitted bolero jacket with a popcorn-stitch edging over a charcoal grey cotton top patterned with roses.
There is a lesson in this one, and the lesson is: if you spend too long faffing about finishing projects, you might not have anything to wear them with when they're done. When I started knitting it, literally years ago (SHAME) I'd planned for it to go with a silver-grey shift dress I owned, for a sort of spy-fi feel. The dress had a fatal accident with a too-hot iron, and my style's shifted rather so now I genuinely don't know what I own and would wear it with. The outfit above is the best I could do. 

I'm not getting rid of it, it's comfy and I'm pleased with how it came out, but it is something of a wardrobe misfit now. I do have some black and silver-grey brocade in my fabric stash, so I might lay the bolero on that and see how the greys match up. Pinning brooches on it might tie it better to other things too. One to muse on, I reckon. 




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