Another Goodwill shirt from the refashion pile. It was a really nice J. Crew button-down–great print, good fabric–but it had a big tear on one front and the sleeve had been weirdly and inexpertly darned. So I made a market skirt.
The white is something random from my stash–I don’t think it’s entirely cotton, but it’s very white.
Also, since my machine can’t make buttonholes (only a few more weeks!), I skipped the pocket for now.
I did cut up the shirt sleeves to make bloomers for A to wear under this in the spring, but they turned out awfully big. At some point I’ll try to fix them up.
This is one of the first things I’ve made for her that she actually seemed to get excited about–but not as excited as she gets about this green bag twice a week:
Refashions–especially ones that require any cleverness in cutting out the new pieces–always make me think of this exchange from Louisa May Alcott’s An Old-Fashioned Girl:
“A little checked silk was sent in our spring bundle from Mrs. Davenport, and Mother said Kit might have it if she could make it do. So I washed it nicely, and we fussed and planned, but it came short by half of one sleeve. I gave it up, but Kit went to work and matched every scrap that was left so neatly that she got out the half sleeve, put it on the under side, and no one was the wiser. How many pieces do you think she put in, Maud?”
“Fifty,” was the wise reply.
“No, only ten, but that was pretty well for a fourteen-year-old dressmaker. You ought to have seen the little witch laugh in her sleeve when any one admired the dress, for she wore it all summer and looked as pretty as a pink in it. Such things are great fun when you get used to them; besides, contriving sharpens your wits, and makes you feel as if you had more hands than most people.”