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dngrcpckwithmurdericing · 3 years

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Disabled sewing - YMMV

I watch a lot of what seems to be affectionately known as "costube" and I make a lot of my own clothes at this point, which is !!!!! to me, since it was always a dream of mine when I was a kid. I found costube invaluable to me to explain how garments piece together - which is the first thing I have realized about my "disabled sewing".

I have read SO many books and purchased SO many patterns, only to give up in frustration, but actually watching someone piece together a garment from start to finish (and not in the Project Runway sense) made my ADHD, visual learning brain go: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

(Not sure why that surprised me, since "watch one, do one, teach one" is how I learn the best and always has been.)

Modern sewing is pretty focused on sewing machines, and I have had many in my life (starting with one from the 1950s set into a wooden table that folded up to have a glass top !) but I find it difficult and confusing to keep track of what I am doign with a sewing machine. Hand stitching, just because of what it is, forces me to slow down and focus on one seam at a time.

But my hands cramp and have tremors and that does not seem to be the case for the folks who film their sewing adventures.

I have learned to use a long needle. This goes against most hand sewing advice for clothes, because a short, small needle gives you lss of a "puncture" through the fabric and more "cntrol", but a longer needle, as long as it is slim, can still fit throug the weave of the fabric instead of puncturing it - especially with how loosely woven modern fabric is - and since there's more room to hold it, I can switch ff which fingers hold it, change the shape of my hand as it is holding it, and also don't drop it when my fingers tremor.

In hand stitching garments, if you read manuals - especially historical ones from the Victorian era - and sometimes in the "costube" videos - there's focus on making tiny, neat stitches. Well. First of all, the interior of your garment is your own, so if you are doing a back stitch, your garment will pretty much stick together, and no one will see. But also, I learned (I think from something Matthew Gnagy said in one of his videos) that modern fabric is so much more loosely woven than historical fabrics that tiny stitches can actually make your garment LESS structurally sound, rather than more. Since I learned that, I stopped feeling bad about not being able to make my stitches one mm long, and started focusing on getting the stitching done in a way that does not hurt/exacerbate my hand, finger, and wrist problems. I usually end up with 2 stitches per cm, or 4-5 stitches to an inch.

Yes, this is drastically fewer stitches per inch than you'd get with a sewing machine, and it might not work for something like a kirtle, where the stitches are taking the full weight stress of the garment, but you know what? If I were making a kirtle, I could just do TWO LINES OF STITCHING and then I would have 10 stitches per inch, and that measure can take about 50 lbs of stress (per sewing machine guidelines), which would be fine. (Although there is a 0% chance I will ever make a kirtle, since I can't wear tight things and couldn't button the sleeves up anyway!)

I mark out my stitch lines with pencil or pen (I don't use fancy fabrics, so what do I care if there's a pen mark on my cotton until it's washed?), and am very careless with seam allowance. As long as the seam allowance exists, the vagarities don't really matter - and cutting in a straight line is a no-go because of my hands and wrists, so not having to worry about cutting along a seam allowance line is great.

And then I often take a bright cheap polyester thread and baste. I can't sew in a straight line. I literally cannot draw a straight line with a ruler. But that actually rarely matters! If there's a running stitch every inch or so, I can eyeball it enough to get a decent enough seam. If someone is looking so closely at my clothing that they can see the side seam or the hem is a cm crooked, they are frankly standing way too close to me and should step the fuck away.

One thing some costubers do that I thought would be helpful but turned out to not work for me personally is pin the end of the fabric to a tailor's ham, or pillow, to help keep the tension. But it may work for some folks.

Finally, the last thing on my list is that due to my migraines, I have a hard time stitching in natural sunlight. However, I've found that my seasonal affective disorder sunlamp, which has brightness levels and can be situated into the exact position I want, make stitching a lot easier! And also can be used at any time of day, so if I want to sew at 7 pm, I don't have to worry that I am losing the sunlight, I can just adjust my lamp that does NOT trigger migraines, and sew for a half hour that way.

Lots of breaks are also crucial! Every 15 minutes or so, I give my hands and eyes a rest, and move around as much as I can to stretch out, just like when I'm working on the computer. Or, like, how I try to do when working on the computer and fail because I'm too hyperfocused on what I'm doing.

\o/

What are your disabled sewing tricks and tips?

#disability #disabled sewing #sewing #costube

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hazbbyhaz · 3 years

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sleepless || harry styles

eight

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: a night out on the town

disclaimer: cursing, bars

Forever is composed of nows

Avery watched Harry decline the incoming call without a second thought. “We should get going.” He said, already making his way to the door. She quickly grabbed her keys and her coat before following him out of the flat. There was something impatient and troublesome about his presence as he waited for her to lock her front door.

“How are we getting there?”

“We drive.” He must be a damn good photographer if he could afford a car. As if he could read her mind, he soon spoke, “The car’s not mine, It's my uncles.”

The vehicle was small but cute. It seemed to fit him well. During the drive to the club, Harry was rather quiet and closed off. Later saying that his friends were already there, quickly assuming she still remembered them from his birthday

“So, you're a photographer, right? What do you photograph?”

“I like black and white photographs,” He said. He stopped to think about what he was going to say next before he continued. “When I got into photography I used to just take pictures of my friends without them noticing. Then I moved on to public transport, parties, concerts. All those places where you can catch a glimpse of people's souls. I quickly threw out all of my colored films and switched to black and white. There's something so much more vulnerable and secretive about it…”

“I like that.” She imagines Harry with a camera in his hand, spending his days in London looking for the mystery in every person who passed him.

He gave her a small smile, which did not reach all the way up to his eyes. “Me too. However, I can't make my money with that. It's not good enough to stand on its own, so I work for a modeling agency as a photographer. It's not bad, they pay good enough but it also shows me just how much I hate staged photographs. What about you then? What's your passion?”

She shrugged, moving her gaze to the front. “Writing, I guess.” The truth was, she had no idea. In her opinion, it was too hard for her to organize all of her thoughts inside of her head, let alone sit down to put them to paper. She wanted to be a writer. She did. It was one of the only things she really wanted, but she knew she didn't have the talent or skill set for it.

“So you want to be a journalist? Or a writer?” Harry asked. She struggled with finding an answer since nobody had ever shown that much real, genuine interest in her.

“Just a writer, I think… but journalism sounds nice too.” In reality, she'd like to tell him that she didn't know what to do. Tell him that she was lost. Completely and utterly lost. In her childhood, she was never given the chance to find her talents or develop specific abilities. She had never shown her work to anyone, only submitting a handful of short stories to magazines just to receive no reply in return.

“Can you tell me more about your photographs?’’

He grinned and told Avery more. He spoke with so much emotion that Avery found herself wondering if she had sounded the same when she talked about writing. Most likely not. I felt like he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to capture an image and turn it into the most wonderful masterpiece.

Soon after, the club came in sight. Harry parked the car at the side of the road, and as they were getting out, a sudden wave of exhaustion overcame her. Just thinking about meeting his friends, for real this time, made her mind so tired, “You ready?”

“Sure.”

Avery had never been much of a club person, always liking the warmer feeling a pub provided. She didn't like the loud music, the overwhelming smell of pure sweat, and just the overall pace of it all. She felt like everything went so much faster. Harry helped her take off her coat as they got inside. Despite her objections, he paid for both entries, emitting a small chuckle when she tried to argue with him.

The entire place was filled with people and the music was being managed by a DJ in the back of the room. Different colored lights flashed and moved through the crowd. Harry soon took her hand into his own, leading her through the crowd, and down a small flight of stairs to a much quieter area.

The brunette girl was the first person Avery spotted. “Emily, How are you? Why are you down here?” Harry greeted her with a hug, letting go of Avery's hand in the process. “Not bad, the DJ is kinda wack.”

“Well, look who's talking. The girl who said we HAD to come here.” A guy standing close by said, mimicking Emily.

“Shut up, George.” Harry greeted the others. Some of them she recognized from the party and some she didn't.

“This is Avery.” He introduced her and all of his friends' eyes stopped on her for a moment, looking her up and down, making her feel like a rat on a doctor’s table.

“Nice to see you again,” Emily said, the others nodded in her direction, but a second later all of their attention was back on Emily. She let out a dramatic sigh, “So, what are we going to do? Stay here, or go somewhere else?”

“I vote that we stay here.” A rather tall man, Harry had introduced as James, said. The brunette rolled her eyes, all of them making their way to the dance floor nonetheless, George making it his responsibility to get drinks for everybody.

It was hard for Avery to enjoy herself. She felt incredibly awkward while dancing, or trying to anyway. All the others had some type of rhythm in their blood, while she was desperately trying her best. Once “Low” by Flo Rida started to pour out of the speakers, she made a mad dash to the bathroom, staying there until the song was finished. Harry didn't drink, as he had to drive them both back afterward, so Avery did the same. Wanting to avoid all possible realms of embarrassment.

He gave her a small backstory of his mates. James has very rich parents, his dad paying his way through law school just so he can tell his colleagues that his son is a successful lawyer. James has a twin brother named Jasper, he ended up leaving home the first chance he got. George is a failed musician who has the entire second verse of Piano Man tattooed on his ass. Emily is into fashion, but she lost per passion for it after she got rejected from a school in Amsterdam. They all seemed to be on some kind of path. Every one of them working their way to the future, attempting to reach some sort of goal.

And Harry had taken photos of all of it. Documenting their entire lives as these individuals. He had taken photos of James passed out on the floor with numerous textbooks open around him, all just to live up to his father's standards. There were pictures of George playing the piano in many different pubs, several pints sitting atop the instrument while his friends listened to him play a tune. A few were taken of Emily hard at work, sat by her sewing machine, or window shopping at nearby second-hand dress shops. And when Jasper was around, there were a couple of him trying to learn how to juggle, the instructions given to him by a homeless man.

Their lives had been documented in a way so utterly beautiful. Photographs were taken in moments that seemed worth freezing. Moments that a curly-headed boy thought deserved to be remembered forever. Knowing all of this made Avery feel so unexplainably lonely, especially while being in their company.

“Did you have fun?” They had made it back to the car at 2 am. Harry took a quick look back, seeing all of his friends laughing, and stumbling while making their way back home.

“Yes, thank you for inviting me.”

“My pleasure. What are you going to do when you get home?” He backed out and drove onto the main road.

“Probably make a couple of cups of coffee.” She still hadn't made it out to the grocery to pick up more tea.

“You don't sleep often, huh?”

“What makes you think that?” The answer was obvious.

“You look tired a lot. Why don't you sleep?” Avery ignores his assumption. She wasn't offended, it was easy to assume without being incorrect.

“I don't like it,” She shrugged, feeling like a child. “I prefer to stay awake.” Avery could tell that he wanted to ask more questions. She would have been fine with this, but at this point, she was beyond exhausted and couldn't handle giving any more answers. “Can I ask you a question?’’

“Shoot.”

She waited a moment before continuing. Not for dramatic effect, just to figure out how she wanted to go about it. “What do you dream of?”

Harry's eyebrows pulled together, and he looked her way. “Uhm… I guess making a living off my-”

“No,” She quickly stopped him. “I mean… When you fall asleep at night. What do you dream of?”

“Oh… I don't know. I forget most of the time when I wake up, but last week I dreamed I had adopted a puppy and he ran away the second day I had him. I oddly enough didn't mind that he had run away. He ended up coming back on the third day. Quite random, but that was that… Why are you asking me this?”

Avery smiled at the description of his dream. So innocent and childlike. He didn't have to worry about what would appear before him when he fell asleep, and she was glad that he didn't have to. “No reason.”

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alissabila · 5 years

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[1] 4 sept - self journal

The day started just about as normal as usual, woke up late, had a shower race, came up to class late without forgetting to show exhaustion while the day just even started. And yes that's my kind of normal. I don't know how to describe my day again but everything went very similar like any other day. Maybe the interesting part was the cultural landscape preservation subject, we discussed about the legal aspects of cultural heritage, the unesco and regulations stuffs, it was always interesting when it comes to united nations but legal aspect was never been in my concern.

Talking about my mood today, lately i've been feeling very empty and lost. I'm not trying to be hyperbolic but lately it feels like im drowning in the thick black sea where the oil has leaked, and the water is slimy and oily (maybe?) and you can't breathe as the black oil got into your mouth and started filling your throat then probably your lung and all happend while you drowning. You can't do nothing and you're being eaten up. It's not a new feeling. I've been here. So many times. Yet i still don't know how do i deal with it. I was just "and yep here we go again, this phase again". In the current moment, i have a lot to do, like real lots. Let's do a recall to every places I put myself into: AIESEC, TEDXIPB, Faculty competition, Himpro, uncountable amount of landscape tasks, and many other things that should be done but I didn't keep it in mind. This phase had taken me to the highest level of not being productive. I completely conscious about my responsibility, that i already in the best platform i could have, but IT'S JUST STOPPED ME LIKE THAT. I JUST COULDN'T DO IT AND IT DIDN'T NEED ANY PRECISE REASON. I hate that i had to say that i don't feel alive.

Long classes and time passed, i skipped short film competition session, like i said before, i just couldnt do it. And i really mean it. Out of nowhere, i didnt remember how it happened, but i ended sitting with Abi and started to talk about everything, in literal meaning. Everything. Then he just randomly shouted "NGOPI YUUK" without even really proposing. But i was like, yes lets go now please its been a long time since my last caffeine. And we agreed to try the new coffeeshop behind the campus, it seems interesting because the landform is hilly and the coffeeshop is in the down so you could only see the parking lot from the road. Who knew they had marijuana plantation down there? Lol ok kidding its haram.

We took our laptops, in case we had the drive to finish our site plan task and just go without hesitation. I always been wondering how the coffeeshop looks like because it's pretty much in remote area i might say? Well i didn't expect much actually, then again it's only Dramaga how good can it be? (I am truly sorry for the deprecation i swear the next paragraph would be filled with praise)

As I said before, it had this 'not very normal land contour', we needed to go down a very steep road to reach the parking lot. Next, there was a small wooden gate, very traditional and there our feet started to walk down the ramp, it was pretty steep for a ramp but they had this natural stones with much textures so it didnt feel slippery. Down and down and down, we walked to a small path with very natural and organic shaped stone, they didnt really make it as a strict lined path that has all the stones to step along the path, and they didnt really cut the vegetations around no matter how wild and messy it is. And i found this really good. Along the stone path, i could see the view of a green space with some industrial table and chair. On the right side, there set a small traditional wooden terrace, with it's coffee roasting machine, industrial chairs again (you know that type of metal chair), some really retro chair as well really retro colors, some coffee tables were a recycled sewing machine wow so you got to play with the pedal HAHA. fun fun thing. Before reaching the coffeshop area, you would find this mini pedestrian bridge crossing a small water stream. All i could say all of these are beyond expectation, i really love what i'm seeing. Other thing that amused me was, the river was just next to all of it and i really loved the sound of water it always gave me calm I couldn't have from anything. They had this backyard of traditional house feelings and yet they served natural landscape scene. I could smell the wet grass, I could smell the wooden house construction, I could smell the coffee being roasted, I could see how they managed to not destroy the existing landscape as much as they can, I could hear the water having it's rhythm, and I could hear all these people having an intimate discussion, and all i could think is all my senses had been blessed. They also had this vintage shelf with vintage things, that vintage metal coffee cups, bamboo walled toilets, aaaa im in love with everything here it's like the owner really put his soul into this. At some point i felt grateful for this place, and by that i felt alive again at least for this moment. This could be my very short escape from all the dullness in life (I'm really trying not to be hyperbolic but I am who I am). One thing i also realized was; to be grateful, it doesn't have to be ourself as the main character in it, it doesn't have to be our destiny, and it doesn't have to be our story. One serene coffeeshop could make it work,and other peculiar thing also could work, maybe we just need to be more detail to what's around us. This place reminded me a lot of Bandung. Which I also very grateful, now i can get Bandung vibes in hand. As the night came, the place got more quiet that it enhanced the sound of the river, added by the frog sounds and the buzz of night insects. This night was cold but somehow what surrounds me, the yellowish lighting, all the chit chat with Abi, gave me warmth. Cold night with a warm heart.

Shitty stuff still happened tho, it took forever for my laptop to install the autocad and i couldn't find the keygen for cracking the app because my brokeass couldn't afford the legal one. I decided to continue my read on Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore. It's my second book of Murakami. It's only been chapter two but i already highlighted a lot haha. To end this very first self journal, I would present my today's favorite quote from Kafka on the Shore. Ciao.

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine."

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