How to take in a blouse with snaps, the overcomplicated way!

It was Cinco de Mayo. Or, as my boyfriend calls it, Cinco de Drinko, and naturally he wanted to go out and celebrate. I wasn't planning to dress for the holiday, but he wanted to go all-out with a Mexican theme. So when it came time to plan my outfit, I opened up my closet and looked for something that might pass for Mexican. What immediately jumped out at me was this shirt.

Originally left at my house by a Chinese Airbnb guest and with the tags all in some Asian language, I was pretty sure it wasn't authentically Mexican, but it has the bright colors, flat design, embroidered flowers, and chicken motif that I associate with a lot of Mexican artwork and clothing. It's actually part of a 2-piece pajama set, and as you can see, it's quite loose and comfy-looking. Perfect for wearing to bed, but not exactly flattering for a night on the town.

The only way I'd be willing to wear this in public is if it were more fitted, but since it doesn't stretch, I knew I wouldn't be able to put it on if I took it in. And, with just a couple hours until bedtime, I didn't have time for any complicated alterations like adding a zipper. A string tie at the back is a simple way of making a baggy top fit better, but this top was too baggy even for that! I needed to find a way to keep the extra fabric and keep it under control.

The solution was something I've never tried before: a couple of internal snaps. In retrospect, since I ended up using a ribbon tie anyway, it probably would have been easier just to sew up the sides to remove some of the bulk, and then use the ribbon tie to fine-tune the fit...but if you want to see an interesting snappy alternative, go ahead and read on!

First, to decide where the waist should be. In a mirror, I pinched the fabric at my waist and then marked the spot with a safety pin on the right side--only one side because I needed to be able to take the shirt off!

Once the shirt was removed, I flipped it inside out and replaced the safety pin marker with 2 dots of tailor's chalk. 

Then I sewed one half of a snap onto each dot.

Here are the two complementary snap pieces after they were sewn on.

Folding the bottom down at the height of the snap, I then used the old eyeball technique to estimate where to put the snap on the left side. 

I marked it with chalk and sewed it on.

Now, I had two snaps on the inside of the shirt which I would use to quickly nip in the waist.

Unfortunately, this didn't make the shirt any smaller; it just added "wings" on the side. I needed to find a way to hold those wings down flat. For that, it was time for ribbon ties.

I took a length of seam binding (used that instead of ribbon because I liked the color) and cut it in two pieces.

I folded over the end of one, and laid it over the side seam at the same height as the snap. You can just see the pale pink stitching that is the only sign of the snap from the outside.

Then I stitched the ribbon down using two rows of machine stitches. If I had had more time, I would have opened part of the side seam and sewn down the ribbon on the inside. My compromise was to keep the exposed end of the ribbon on the back panel of the shirt. That would ensure it would be covered up when the ribbons were tied. 

Of course, I repeated the process on the other side seam.

The ribbons were prone to fraying, so I unceremoniously burned off the tips to seal the synthetic fabric.

That was it! Now I can wear this shirt and not feel ashamed. Once I fit it over my head, I snap the internal snaps to define the waist, then tie the ribbons in the back to keep everything flat. It kind of looks like I have a peplum in the back, which was an unintended but pretty cool feature!

I ironed it before I wore it; this was just a trial run!

My only issue with this rather unconventional closure method is that the fabric in the back doesn't stay put, tending to ride up. If I had had more time, I  would have added another set of snaps to hold the layers together.

Summer is now

I know no one gets as excited about my seasonal wardrobe changes as I do, but I continue to post them, if for no other reason than personal records.

Summer came early this year. It was only a few weeks ago in April that I switched to my transitional wardrobe, and then this Sunday, only the first week in May, the forecast highs were 79 or above for the predictable future! That means I'm already putting away the bulk of my remaining wintry clothes and boots, and bringing out the sandals and tank tops!

This year, I have a smaller collection of unworn summerwear than last year—mainly because there was no massive influx of hand-me-downs in the fall, and I quit shopping cold turkey to make up for some hefty vet bills. Nonetheless, before the rabbit incident occurred, I had accumulated a fair number of warm-weather garments through wishful winter shopping. 21 of them are pictured below, but I also have added a few pairs of plain shorts and pants to my collection.

 

As you can see, I've acquired a couple new digitally printed tops (to keep company with the Galaxy Cat and Chat Noir shirts), the usual complement of dresses, a couple of sensible shirts and a few unsensible ones, as well as 4 pairs of sandals (one, brown lace-up flats, not pictured!).

As I was organizing my summer collection, I ran out of hangers. Completely out. I had to resort to metal dry-cleaner hangers for a few of my off-season, back-of-the-closet garments. This hasn't happened since last year when I bought a total of 146 velvet hangers to satisfy my need for uniformity and clothes that actually stay hanging. The sudden hanger shortage made me curious. 

It turns out I have 37 work-appropriate summer dresses. That's over a month's worth of unique outfits, in dresses alone! I also apparently own exactly 100 pairs of shoes, not counting the 3 that I keep at the office. So much for "keeping the total number of possessions down to acceptable levels!" I've already gotten rid of 3 of the articles pictured in my last summer-season flat-lay, and running out of hangers inspired me to cull my collection a bit, but there was surprisingly little in my closet that I felt ready to part with (I did dump a dress and 5 or 6 other things, but then yesterday I picked up a vest at the thrift store!).

So if you see me shopping for clothes any time in the next few months, kindly ask me if my wardrobe can sustain that kind of consumption.

P.S. Here is how my room looked for almost a whole day while I was trying to figure out what to do with the shoes that no longer fit in my closet.

The dog did not appreciate having his sleeping environment disturbed.

 

Double Dots

I have grown a little disillusioned with my white polka-dotted dress. Both times I've worn it, I've had to wear leggings underneath because it's so short, and even then, the silhouette's been a little awkward. I think I'm going to cut it down into a more appropriate length for a shirt or tunic, but in the meantime, I found a way to wear it as it is—tuck it into a skirt!

This ragged hem black skirt has served me well over the years, but possibly never better than this time, when the polka-dotted underlayer finally got to be an asset rather than a liability. You see, polka dots on top combined with inversely colored, smaller polka dots on bottom has to be one of the cleverest fashion tricks in the book.

Another clever trick? Pinning the skirt to the dress. 

Hold it.

If you, like me, shy away from tucked-in shirts because they're always getting baggy or coming out completely whenever you move your arms, try using safety pins in a few strategic locations to keep them fixed to the inner waistband of your skirt. Note that this doesn't work with pants, unless you want to be unpinning and re-pinning them every time you go to the bathroom.

With all the black and white going on, I really burned with the desire to inject some color into my outfit. Usually I'd do this with jewelry, but in all my experiences with the dress, the polka dots totally drown out any kind of delicate necklace. The only necklace I had that was up to the challenge was this black one. Alas. At least I worked in some arbitrary color with the purple boots (first wear!), hair clip, and similarly colored earrings.

Peaceful green

Remember this skirt? I finally got bored with it (it's a bit too large these days, and there are only so many ways one can wear a green asymmetrical skirt), so I tried for weeks—months—to sell it on eBay without any takers. Normally, at this point, I'd send it off to the thrift store, but I've been on a budgeting, waste-nothing, buy-nothing kick, so I decided to see if there was any way I could infuse new life into it.

I have worn this skirt one more way (you can see why I might be getting tired of it!) and that's with this knotted bolero sweater. Since I distinctly remember the last outfit, I couldn't possibly wear it again with the same brown tank top, so I thought I'd resurrect the skirt's tried and true role as a dress.

This time. I safety-pinned it to my bra, since as its elastic slowly dies, it becomes much less interested in holding itself up. and tied the sweater extra-tightly to provide a little definition to the silhouette. I added a green jewelry set and some unobtrusive brown boots, and tada! One more look for the green skirt that I just can't let go.

I think this might be my favorite look for this skirt yet—at least, it was the first one I can remember getting a compliment. My coworker said, with its algae-esque shades and ripply shapes, it reminded him of a peaceful pond in a forest.

Red Pant Refresh (Or, how to fix a faded spot AND reposition a jeans button)

A few months ago, my favorite thrift store was having an 80%-off sale on all pants. So I got these red jeans for under 2 dollars. They were actually a girls' 14, but the length was perfect for today's ankle skimming trend, and they actually were a bit too loose around the waist.

I wore them once before realizing the knees were rather obviously faded.

For a while, I sadly thought about re-donating them or turning them into shorts, but then it occurred to me to search Google for ways to fix faded knees. Turns out there are all sorts of suggestions, including spraying them with dye—which I decided against because that would require me to open up my new packet of red fabric dye, and it would be quite a waste if unsuccessful. Another suggestion was to color them with crayons and then use an iron to set the pigment.

I gave that a try. Fortunately, I have an enormous box of crayons left over from my days as a camp counselor, containing every shade of red you can imagine.

I found a crayon that seemed to match the pants fairly well, and then began scribbling over the faded spot. I tried to graduate the color by using a cross-hatch technique near the edges.

After crayoning the fabric, it actually looked more faded than ever, but there was no turning back now!

I covered my artwork with a sheet of paper, set my iron onto "cotton" and started pressing.

At first, the pants turned disturbingly blotchy, but I remembered that many fabrics change color temporarily when they are hot, so I stayed calm and waited for the cloth to cool down.

When I was done, the faded spot was less noticeable than before.

But not quite unnoticeable enough. Although it took me several days, I ultimately decided that it was still too pale, so I did the whole process over again with a different crayon—this time selecting a shade that looked darker than the pants. This got the faded spot to being almost invisible.

Lessons learned: It is indeed possible to recolor a faded patch on fabric using a crayon and an iron (though I'm not sure how this holds up in the wash), as long as you use a darker crayon than the fabric you're trying to match!

Once my pants were a consistent color, I decided to get them to a more flattering fit, which basically just meant taking in the waist. The fastest and easiest no-sew way to do this is just to move the button. On these jeans, that would provide the added benefit of making the waistband look symmetrical, since the original location of the button was closer to one belt loop than to the other.

I had to consult an Internet tutorial for this task, too. I used the pliers method to remove the existing button, which got it off, but all the twisting and turning actually broke the rivet so it couldn't be reattached.

Fortunately, I had a spare button that I'd salvaged from something or other long ago, which I was able to take apart — also using the pliers method — without destroying.

I've replaced the buttons on jeans many a time with buttons I bought from the craft store, and using an old jeans button is no different.

You simply poke the pointed end through the cloth (from behind, so it's pointing outward) where you want the center of the button to be.

Then press the front of the button into it.

Hold the two pieces together while you turn the fabric upside-down so that the front of the button is facing down (preferably on top of a few layers of cloth, so it doesn't get damaged when you hammer it).

Then grab your hammer and tap the backside of the rivet until the two pieces are securely fastened together.

Done! Except...I did find that the process of taking the button apart had pried up a rather sharp edge on the back of the rivet, so I used my pliers to try and fold it back down, and filed it a bit smoother with an emery board.

Now I have a pair of perfectly red jeans with a much better fitted waist!

Look at that majestically symmetrical waistband!