Even after fifty odd years of sewing, drafting a sleeve pattern is still a challenge. It starts, the night before, with trepidation.
“Stop worrying,” I tell myself as I toss around in bed, “you’re going to get this one, no problem. Think about how many times you’ve done this. You’ll figure it out, you always do.”
Yes. I always do. But it’s headache inducing. . . ugly. . . and fraught with bad words.
The cat hides first.
Then my husband.
After my third emoji strewn text, even my best friend remembers she has an urgent load of laundry to do.
Not that any of them can help. Sleeves are hard! And if you don’t believe me, just take a look at the photo below.
Everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong for this poor seamstress. That dent high on the arm is there because there’s not enough fabric eased into the cap. And then, all of a sudden, there’s just too much fabric everywhere. I also suspect the whole thing was doomed to failure from the start by a poorly shaped armscye (cut too high under the arm, perhaps, and slightly too far into the front of the bodice where it begins to curve to the underarm). A fuller, puffed, sleeve is supposed to do these things. A fitted sleeve should not.
This is what I’m up against. And for reasons I still don’t understand, no amount of acquired skill or experience has made this easier.
No matter how many times I’ve done it, sleeve drafting always devolves into an exercise in voodoo origami. There are pins, literally, everywhere.
And chocolate. . . and potato chips. . . and coffee. . . just sooooo much coffee.
Eventually, when nobody is even willing to be in the same house with me anymore, I get lucky.
I did this time.
I will, again, the next time.
But if the world ever runs out of coffee, I might never finish a sleeve again.
To continue following along with Maddie’s first dress project, click HERE.
Too see all of Maddie’s wardrobe so far, click HERE.