This post is about the hideous drawstring pajama bottoms that I made in my first sewing class. The class was called Sewing Basics, and is offered by the Philadelphia Sewing Collective. The instructor was Stephanie Rubinetti, a local fashion designer.

Let me start out by saying that being a beginner is hard. I had no idea where to get nice fabric, what brands were good (or sucked), what was priced fairly (or overpriced), or what the heck I was looking for on the “notions wall” at Jo-Ann. But, here’s what I had to track down:

Simplicity pattern #9330
3 yards (45″ or more width) of lightweight, woven fabric (no knits, satins, or fabric with a nap)
Thread (matching or neutral)
Fabric shears
Craft scissors
Ruler
Pencil
Pins
Dressmakers tracing paper
Tracing wheel

Obviously, not everything was a mystery, but the pins and fabric caused me major angst. That, and they were out of tracing paper. Seriously, outside of Utah, is there still an unmeetable demand for dressmakers tracing paper?

You’d think pins would be simple, I mean how many kinds of pins could there possibly be? The answer is: More than you’d think. After what seemed like 30 minutes of deliberation, I finally decided on the ones with the plastic balls on top, figuring they’d be easy to pull out. Then, on Day 1, the instructor tells us that these prevent the fabric from laying flat, so we shouldn’t use them. Grrr…

Picking out fabric was the worst. First, I didn’t want to spend a lot, because I figured there was a good chance that I would screw up my first project. And, because we were making pants, I (wrongly) assumed that I had to use apparel fabric. If you eliminate “knits, satins, or fabric with a nap,” as well as the John Deere fabric, there isn’t much “lightweight, woven fabric” left to choose from in the apparel section of Jo-Ann. So, you’ve already seen what I ended up with.

All told, I think I spent about 2.5 hours in Jo-Ann, most of it in a state of confusion and frustration. 

But, it was all worth it, because now I own these beauties:

Go ahead and laugh, smarty.

The drawstring was extremely annoying to make.

We didn’t get a chance to finish the pants in class, so I taught myself how to make the buttonholes through which the drawstring slides. [You can't see, but, after typing that, I buffed my fingernails on my lapel.]

These pants actually made me terrified of hemming. I’ve since overcome it, but, man, I had to redo these hems about 5 times. Since we didn’t get to finish the pants during class, I didn’t learn the proper way to hem. And, to my surprise, there are a lot of improper ways to hem. I think I used at least 3 of them on these pants, and I’m sure there are more I haven’t gotten to try yet.

At one point, the legs differed in length by at least 3 inches. How does that happen?

At another point, I had about 3 rows of stitches in each leg, because I kept rolling the hem up further and sewing it again.

When I finally decided that I needed to start over from scratch, it took me at least 2 hours to pull out all of the stitches.

My advice to future me: When you get frustrated, walk away from the project and come back another day. Angrily persisting will only make things worse.

Though you can’t really tell from the picture, I eventually got the legs right (I swear, it’s just the angle of the picture that makes them look lopsided), and they are the perfect length for me. Too bad they are too ugly to wear. 

My original plan for this post was just to write about my first sewing project. But, as I thought about it, I remembered that my desire to sew came from an exceptionally dorky place, so I figured I might as well write about that first.

Each year, we have a holiday portrait taken of our dogs (for photographic evidence, please direct your attention to: Exhibit A). To keep the pictures from looking the same each year, I always try to find different holiday collars for the dogs to wear. One year (I think it was 2006), unhappy with the collars I had purchased, I decided to dig through the photographer’s trunk of dog outfits to look for something better.

What I found was one of these: 

click the image for purchasing information

Unfortunately, since the photographer only had one, and I was looking for a matched set, I had to use the crappy collars I brought with me. But, when I got home, I started searching online for where to purchase the ties for the following year’s portrait. When I found them, I was shocked to learn that they were nearly $30/each (they’re currently on sale for $15.99, by the way). I mean, I’m crazy when it comes to buying stuff for my dogs, but even I wasn’t prepared to shell out $60.00 for two collars that would be worn for a maximum of 10 minutes.

Looking back, I should have just spent the $60.00, because my first sewing class cost more than that. But, hey, at least I didn’t get ripped off on those ties.

In another dazzling display of thrift, more than a year before I even had access to a sewing machine, I made my first sewing purchase: 

click the image for purchasing information

Almost a year later, and still with no access to a sewing machine, a trip to Japan prompted me to begin looking for Japanese sewing patterns. This lead me to Sweet Lucy’s, and my second sewing purchase:

So, the story begins with a dog tie. Life is weird.

First, for those that are wondering what the heck Feeddoggle means, let’s define our terms:

Feed Dog \ˈfēd-,däg\ n. The part of a sewing machine that feeds fabric and regulates stitch length by controlling how much fabric passes under the presser foot as the machine stitches.

Boon•dog•gle \ˈbün-,dä-gəl\ n. A trivial, useless, or unnecessary undertaking; wasteful expenditure.

Feed•dog•gle \ˈfēd-,dä-gəl\ n. Using a sewing machine to make garments, accessories, and other practical items, despite the fact that it would be far less expensive and time-consuming to buy the manufactured versions of those goods (see also, scrap•dog•gle and knit•dog•gle).

So, if you’re still with us, Feeddoggle.com chronicles the trials and triumphs of a couple crazy Philadelphians who are just learning to sew, realizing all along that it makes no logical sense.

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