Poetry & Clothing Project: January

Now, it cannot have escaped your notice that I'm pretty behind with the documentation of mine and Harriet's Poetry & Clothing project. Perhaps you were fearing the worst and had assumed that it had be derailed in some way. Fear not my friends!!! It is alive and well and I shall endeavour to catch up with the documentation over the next month or so. Onwards to January's garment-based and December's poetry-based delights.

For January, I created Harriet an outfit comprising of a long sleeved jersey top and high-waisted tweed shorts (pictured at the top). Conscious of not creating any wardrobe orphans, I wanted to make sure Harriet had at least one garment that the shorts would look ok with, even if she ultimately chose to never pair these garments together in this way.

The jersey was made using a pattern that I've developed myself. It has seasonally appropriate long sleeves, gathered-head sleeves and a flattering scoop neck. I made it using some black jersey that had been dwelling in my stash for some months that had been very kindly donated to me by Jessica from A Yen for Craft. Sent all the way from San Francisco, apparantly this jersey had been living in her stash for years, so it was lovely to be able to finally turn into a wearable garment.  

The shorts were made from the same pattern as the denim pair from first ever edition of the P&C project back in April 2011. They were made a little smaller after feedback from the denim version, and in a smarter fabric for a different look. I really enjoy making these high-waisted shorts, so I was really pleased that Harriet was so into her first pair and hinted that another wouldn't go amiss!

The greyish-blue wool tweed was so nice to work with, I really pushed myself to create a very clean finish, even adding hanging loops and one of my 'Blatant Self Promotion' clothing labels.

Now for some culture: Harriet's poetic response to her December/Christmas check wooly cape.

December

Where the wings would sprout

in a mustard speckled second

my tail, my fur

wrap around these brittle bones

Oh to be a bird

(that well-worn, waxy wish)

in which

the sun came undone

knotted up the shoulder blades

the humps and bumps

fade

curl up inside

a loosely woven consolation

the kind to keep the wind

at arms length

from a nap in a field

in the cool yellow spring