I know you've all been waiting with baited breath. Where oh where can they be?
Did she do it yet?
Has she conquered the fleece?
Or did she get buried under bobbins and brown transfer paper?
I made it out alive.
For those of you new to this adventure, my SIL innocently asked me for a pair of pajama pants. See here for why this is so humourous.
But we made it out alive, old faithful and me.
Here are the pants, all nicely cut out and actually resembling pants. Not to be fooled. Not unlike so many other projects, the devil is in the details.
This is the, *ahem* crotch seam. Nice and straight and even. The beauty of fleece is that you don't need access to your mother's Serger to ensure the entire thing doesn't fray into a bazillion tiny threads over time.
Here is where I ran into the weensiest bit of a problem.
See that seam on the left? That's the centre front seam, running roughly from your waist to your navel.
See that seam on the right? That's the pocket.
See a problem yet?
As is, the pocket is now permanently affixed OUTSIDE the pants. Great if you want to avoid collecting pocket lint, but not so great if you actually want to keep tissue in your pants to wipe your 3 year old's nose with.
Not that my SIL would ever do something like that.
See this gizmo? For the uninitiated, it is a seam ripper.
And one of my very best sewing buddied. This little blue handled wonder and I have spent many negatively productive hours together.
Now this? This is much better. We are all on side now. All the raw seams are on the same page, er, fabric side. Going to make carrying loose change to tip the pizza delivery guy so much easier. Not that my SIL would be wearing these at an hour where she would be tipping a pizza delivery guy
And here they are, in all their glorious finishedness. Inseams on both now measure 32".
Look at that nice hem. So nice and even and straight. Truly a thing of beauty.
1.
2. Did she do it yet?
Has she conquered the fleece?
Or did she get buried under bobbins and brown transfer paper?
I made it out alive.
For those of you new to this adventure, my SIL innocently asked me for a pair of pajama pants. See here for why this is so humourous.
But we made it out alive, old faithful and me.
Here are the pants, all nicely cut out and actually resembling pants. Not to be fooled. Not unlike so many other projects, the devil is in the details.
This is the, *ahem* crotch seam. Nice and straight and even. The beauty of fleece is that you don't need access to your mother's Serger to ensure the entire thing doesn't fray into a bazillion tiny threads over time.
Here is where I ran into the weensiest bit of a problem.
See that seam on the left? That's the centre front seam, running roughly from your waist to your navel.
See that seam on the right? That's the pocket.
See a problem yet?
As is, the pocket is now permanently affixed OUTSIDE the pants. Great if you want to avoid collecting pocket lint, but not so great if you actually want to keep tissue in your pants to wipe your 3 year old's nose with.
Not that my SIL would ever do something like that.
See this gizmo? For the uninitiated, it is a seam ripper.
And one of my very best sewing buddied. This little blue handled wonder and I have spent many negatively productive hours together.
Now this? This is much better. We are all on side now. All the raw seams are on the same page, er, fabric side. Going to make carrying loose change to tip the pizza delivery guy so much easier. Not that my SIL would be wearing these at an hour where she would be tipping a pizza delivery guy
And here they are, in all their glorious finishedness. Inseams on both now measure 32".
And look at me gittin' all fancy with the waistband. Stitching along the top to keep the elastic from rolling.
And for those of you who might be moderately concerned, I did remove that unsightly thread. Couldn't have that showing if a UPS guy comes to the door just after lunch, now can we? Not that SIL would be wearing these at a time of day when the UPS guy would be likely to show up.
And there they are. A thing of beauty if I do say so myself. Now here's hoping she doesn't come up with some crazy idea that she also wants a pair for Christmas. With only 10 months to go, I am not sure I'd have enough time to get them done.
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