I’ve written only briefly about my “all-the-hard-things” goal for this year. It’s a nebulous goal, and the phrase “all the hard things” really sums it up more nicely than a whole bunch of bullet points or detailed goal lists ever could. Plus, an open ended goal leaves room for expansion and modification. I might make a bunch of quilting goals but then decide to take up, say, tatting (hint: likely not what you think–click the link!) or wild-yeast sourdough bread making. With me, you sort of never know.
One of my firm goals this year was to finally make the Mathilde Blouse, pattern by Tilly Walnes of Tilly and the Buttons. I had seen this amazing version done up in Liberty lawn over at the Workroom’s blog (Liberty junkies: this blog is nearly as essential a follow as the Purl Bee) and I just knew–though I barely had Washi under my belt–that it had to be mine. I bought the pattern, I bought some beautiful Yuwa lawn because I’m not about to goof up $35/yd Liberty and…
…I let the whole pile sit for a year, almost. Part of the issue was that the pattern, designed for A4 paper, printed super-weird and I had to hand-draw in many of the lines so that I could even cut it out. And that Yuwa lawn? Well. It came, and was supposed to be less-nice than Liberty, but it was the most beautiful fabric I’d laid my hands on to date, and I was terrified to ruin it. Plus there had been the Buttonhole Incident surrounding the Geranium Dresses I made for Lucy last year that made me love-hate-dread-fear my Janome auto-buttonhole feature. Let’s just recollect that Mathilde’s key feature is that lovely row of seven buttons closing the back of the blouse–romantic, dreamy, old-fashioned–but they had to be done RIGHT.
What is there to say except, reader, I finally sewed it?
This sew took me every bit of four whole sewing days, at 2-3 hours a day, to complete, but it was so worth it. I loved every minute, from french-seaming every part I possibly could, to carefully hand-finishing the cuffs (stitch in the ditch was too sloppy a finish for this beauty–hand sewing was definitely called for), to sewing on the bright, coral-pink buttons that Lucy insisted were the right choice for this blouse. (She was right.) Even setting a seam with my iron was a joy.
The best part? It fulfilled my childhood Anne-with-an-e dream of ridiculously puffed sleeves on a garment. Mathilde Blouse: check.