Showing posts with label Pendleton coat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pendleton coat. Show all posts

01 January, 2016

Pendleton coat: the inner workings

The moment I acquired the Pendleton Wool from Ann, I began pondering its ultimate shape:  a short(ish) coat - and collecting materials for it.

As I'd mentioned, the wool fabric is very soft, very spongy, and very, very breathable.  The Arctic wind will blow through it as easily as my own wee breath.  So it needs plenty of invisible support to make it both sturdy and winter worthy.

The support will come in the shape of interfacing, underlining, and interlining.

1. Interfacing - either fusible or sewn-in - serves to provide substance for the fabric in areas of greatest wear and visibility:  hems, vertical edges, collars, lapels.

I opted for fusible interfacing for the collar (upper and lower), full fronts and front facings, and all hems. I also opted for welt pockets, and interfaced the pocket locations, which you can see in the photo below. 

Both upper and under collar are interfaced:   the under collar is cut on the bias and bias-interfaced with regular woven interfacing, while the upper collar is also bias interfaced with fusible horsehair canvas.  




Above is another instance of photos being invaluable in assessing one's progress.  Do you notice the tiny discrepancy in the pattern at the collar points?  After seeing this, I flipped the collar back inside out and re-sewed the right corner to better match the left.  


Collar pinned onto the body, just to approximate the way it'll look when finished. 

2. The underlining of a garment is sandwiched to the wrong side of the fashion fabric and and they are sewn together as one.  That way, the underlining supports the body of the fashion fabric without actually being attached to the face of it, as is the case for interfacing. Indoor garments such as dresses, skirts, or jackets, are often underlined with lightweight cotton or, if more body is required, silk organza.

In this coat, the upper backs and side fronts are underlined with a polyester tie silk from the shoulders to the waist. This supports the fabric and prevents it from stretching out of shape in areas that always experience the most stress - just think of the pulling and tugging you give a coat as you put it on and then move in it.  I chose the poly tie silk because it's more tightly woven than the cotton broadcloth I'd normally use to underline an indoor jacket.  Thus, this underlining also provides some wind blockage where most needed:  the core of the wearer's (mine!) body.


The above underlining might look like it's on the bias, but it's not - the design is oriented diagonally, that's all.

3. The interlining, or the insulating layer between the outer fabric and the lining, is the critical component that will make this coat a warm one.   Of the three outdoor winter coats I've made previously, two were perfectly interlined for warmth, and I love wearing them.  Until last week, the third (the coral cashmere) was interlined in a seriously substandard fashion, an error that was badly in need of a correction. This is a lesson I won't forget in a hurry.

For the current project, I opted for windpro, a high insulation value technical fabric from Polartec. It's highly water repellent while being breathable, blocks 80% of the wind, and provides warmth without (much) weight or bulk.  I got it from Discovery Trekking Outfitters - a company that makes high performance outdoor clothing and sells its excess fabrics.  They're located in Campbell River, BC.

As you see, the coat's now in progress.  So far everything's machine basted or hand basted together, and fit tested.  I'll discuss the pattern and fit in the next post.

Happy 2016 to all and sundry!

26 December, 2015

The Pendleton coat's lining: dare to try!

Whenever I can, I try to use a fun patterned silk to line my coats and jackets.  But for this one, I didn't have any silk charmeuse in the right colour way.  So I grabbed a light-medium  warm grey bemberg rayon during a members' sale at my local fabric store.  Bemberg is usually expensive, so this was a great grab.

When I got it home, it became apparent that the tone of the rayon's greyness was a tad too warm for the grey of the fashion fabric;  more beigey than grey, in fact.  Lesson:  always  take a swatch of your fabric when shopping for matching fabric.  Head shake at self here....

You'd be completely justified to roll your eyes in my general general direction, and say:  get over yourself, woman!  for pity's sake, who looks at lining?!

Well.... I do.  Every time I put the garment on, and then every time I take it off.  And we sew for ourselves, right?

You already see what's coming here:  another dye job, right?  Right!  But this one, with a difference:  rather than just plain stove top immersion dyeing, I decided to try for a pattern.  I've long been reading about shibori techniques, but have not yet dared to try any.  I've never done anything patterned before, in fact. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to attempt a never-before-tried experiment:   whatever the aesthetic effect, the lining will be wearable, since it'll be quite invisible to the world at large. Indeed, a very safe experiment.

To connect with the pattern of the fashion fabric, I decided on a rectangularish-squarish-patterned tie dye.  I concertina-pleated the lining and then tightly tied narrow bands across the pleats.  Both the pleat widths and the tie intervals are about 6", or 15 cm.



I then soaked the tied fabric in a warm solution of soda ash and salt - this improves the dye molecules bonding with the fabric.  Squeezing out the solution, I placed my wet, tied fabric roll on an inverted aluminum cookie sheet in the sink, and squirted dye over it from a squeeze bottle.

I used two dyes:  Rit liquid dye in navy as the main player, and black instant set Colorhue dye as a finishing touch.

After applying the dyes to my fabric roll, I placed it in a glass bowl, wrapped the lot with thick plastic, microwaved for a total of three minutes, waited for it all to cool, rinsed in the sink, then machine washed in cold water with plenty of soap.

I had no idea what to expect.  But I hoped that the navy dye will at the very least cool down the beigey tone of the lining's original colour, and thus bring it a little closer to my conception of how the colour of the lining ought to play with the grey of the pendleton.  And I knew that the result will be rather subtle, being dark navy on top of mid-tone beige. I like subtle.

The result?  I'm delighted!  Tickled!  Amazed!  I got an unexpected, regular yet very organic pattern, with colours that are mainly cool purplish blue on top of the beige.  It also appears that the Colourhue dye reacted with the aluminum pan and gave some greenish-tealish tones to the final result. The edges of the pleats absorbed more of the dye and created dark horizontal lines, while the ties across the pleats (which prevented the dye from reaching in) created soft light coloured vertical lines.



I'll be very happy to have this unusual wacky lining inside my very regularly patterned coat!

It's so easy to say to oneself, I wish I could, but I don't know how, I've never done it, therefore I can't.

And that's why the last word today belongs to Gary Trudeau:


Amazingly, I remember reading and loving this strip when it was first published:
 21st February 1974.  
Even then, its message resonated with me:  dare to try.  
Dare to aim higher!
   Dare to be bold!    
Just do it.