I'm going to have a beautiful, if tatty, bike that I may call a cute name. And I'm going to cycle to a super cosy café and have a tasty coffee and pastry that will cure any vague lingerings of hangover, whilst nattering with my boy and/or amazing friends. (The cafe will have rotating exhibits of interesting locally produced art and photography, BTW.)
Then we'll hop back on our bikes and head over to the farmers' market and buy some amazing things for dinner. Maybe some special goat's cheese, some delicious fancy sausages, oh! and some of those little red peppers that are stuffed with soft cheese and marinated in oil.
Then there will be just enough time to stop by the flea market (I'll probably score a fabulous original 1940's fashion plate print for my sewing room!) before cycling home along the seafront. Then we will scoff the goats cheese with seedy bread and do a bit of gardening, before preparing said tasty dinner for friends/family who will bring lots more wine.
But what will I be wearing throughout this action-packed Saturday? THIS!!!!!:
Whilst trying to describe to someone the latest garment I was making, my powers of language fell somewhat short. Not really a jacket, not really a shirt, but simply saying 'top' seemed a bit lacking. But thanks to the pattern description, I have discovered that actually what I have made is called a jiffy! Now on those future Saturdays, when my mate calls me up from the café to warn me I'd better be quick coz they only have one pain au chocolat left, I won't be lying when I reply 'I'll be there in a jiffy!'.
I think this pattern was a charity shop score, and it dated 1977. (Doesn't the model in red look like a young Condeleeza Rice?! Also, I'm very tempted to crank out a shower proof version, like the yellow one!). I thought it could do with an addition to make it a little more feminine, and after a couple of failed experiments, I came up with the gingham piping.
I pretty much followed the instructions to the letter, which involved doing something I hate: hand-basting in sleeves. In fact I hate doing hand-basting in general so much, if instructions suggest it, I usually feel personally afronted. I kind of think, if thousands of garments are made per day in factories and workrooms without hand-basting, why the hell should I waste my sewing time doing so? Anyway, the pattern's sleevehead ease was so massive in this instance, that I had little choice unless a wanted two ugly-ass sleeves. Seeing as I was being all 'slowly slowly wins the race', I even added a sneaky bit of contrast inside gingham when the pattern called for binding the sleeve hem (something I would normally have overlocked).
So all I have to do now, is grow up!