Mistakes Will Be Made and Even Repeated

I haven’t posted in a while. I had a sewing set back followed by a few days away from home. I’ve been back home for a while now. Still, the cause of the setback, a simple one, is haunting me. I made a mistake.

I’ve never been known as a perfectionist – fearing failure is more my style- but this time mistake really got to me because I’ve made this particular mistake before. In fact I’ve made this mistake many, many times and thought I had learned my lesson. The only thing I learned was that this lesson is mine to master over my lifetime.

I cannot say I am in disbelief that I made this same mistake again yet I am having trouble forgiving myself for repeating it. “I should know better,” I tell myself. Well, there is a difference between knowing what you’re supposed to do and actually doing what you’re supposed to do – just ask my teenage son. (Yes, it’s true, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree).

What mistake did I repeat? I rushed ahead. I was excited about the project. I was excited to sew with knit fabric. I was excited what a good post it would make and how great the garment was going to turn out.

So I didn’t take time to measure the pattern and make fitting adjustments if needed before cutting out the fabric. I didn’t heed the pattern designer’s stern rule of making a muslin. I simply forged ahead. After all, I thought, they aren’t tailored; they’re knit pants. What can go so wrong that they won’t be wearable?

When hemming the pants was all that was left to do, I tried them on and noticed (it was obvious) that the crotch depth was way too long or maybe I chose the wrong size to make. At that point, I was too emotional to figure it out. I took them off and took a walk.

They lay, still, on my neglected sewing table, where I placed them, the seam ripper right beside them.

I ignored the pants when I returned home from my trip and distracted myself with learning how to crochet. Maybe I was hoping the solution would present itself to me in a rainbow dream. Or better, yet, elves would come in the night and fix them for me. No, instead every time I caught a glimpse of them (and I really was trying not to) I felt tremendous guilt. Tremendous self-disapproval for repeating this mistake, yet again.

Then enough time passed I guess, and even though the rainbow and the elves never came, I remembered I am not my mistakes. Don’t take it personally, I told myself, just take those damn pants apart and start over. Show them who’s boss.

Or, hem them and wear them as pajama bottoms.

(You can probably guess which one I did. That’s right, pjs.)

Maybe, I hope, I have finally learned the lesson to always make a muslin. ALWAYS. I don’t really like this idea because, well, I’m impatient when I’m excited to sew something, but it has to be. Accept it and make it into a habit like flossing.

It’s a logical equation really:

• Time for Muslin & Adjustments to get a well fitting garment > Good fabric ($$$) + Time to Sew + Self-Esteem Taking a Beating to get a bad fitting, unwearable, garment

Perhaps I need to tattoo this on my forehead, backward, so I can read it every day.

A couple of months ago I saw a quote and posted it up in my sewing room, on my machine, and on my laptop. I should have read it. It says,

Without discipline – success is impossible

The light bulb goes off: Without the discipline to slow down I will not have a garment worth wearing.

Hindsight is 20/20. If you own a good book on fitting (or one on self-discipline) please share. I might even slow down long enough to read it.

Since originally publishing this post I wrote up a little how-to on making fit muslins. They are much simpler than a garment. Here’s how: How to Make a Fit Muslin