Not everything is going to work out, and that’s okay…you’re allowed to let go of the outcome.
Last year I was really into sewing denim. Jeans-making became an obsession. My Fella had purchased some Wrangler’s the year before that ended up being the wrong size and style for him. I’m not sure what we were thinking the day he tried them on and modeled them. He was about to put them in the Goodwill box, but I pulled them back out again. It was the perfect opportunity to try my hand at upcycling my own, something I had always wanted to do. I grabbed my seam ripper and took the entire pair apart. There’s something really satisfying about ripping out all that chain stitching. I used the Morgan Jeans pattern from Closet Case Patterns, and couldn’t have been more pleased with the results:
So when another pair showed up in the Goodwill box, I decided to give it a second go. Should be easy, right? Same process. Same pattern. So, I got to work. I ripped out all the chain stitching and laid out the pattern pieces over the parts of the jeans.
This is where it all fell apart. To get the cool frayed and distressed edge on the leg, I had to remove the hem and press it flat, then predetermine the desired length and fold the pattern piece where I wanted the hemline to be. Next, I laid the leg pieces out starting the pinning at the hem and working my way up. This was the key to getting the cool, ankle-length effect. I cut the back pieces first. I cut the first of the front pieces. But something was wrong. The front piece was several inches shorter than the back pieces. How did this happen?
Easy. The pattern piece was already folded from the first pair I’d upcycled. I didn’t realize it and folded it again. OMG. It’s not like I could just cut off the back piece to match. First off, denim capris. That’s all I have to say on the matter. Second, the front leg piece had all the distress lines on it. If I shortened the back pieces that part would have to be cut off. It would look weird. I was going to burst into tears and throw the pieces across the room, but instead I decided to brainstorm. I went ahead and cut out the other front piece exactly as the first. Could I have the front be shorter than the back, like you see on some trendy pairs of frayed jeans? Nope. Too much of a length difference – I’d look like a jackass. How to lengthen the fronts… I got an idea. I grabbed scraps of denim from the scrap bin and got creative with colorful thread. I created the detail below:

I whipped these babies together with a newfound vigor, still unsure if they would end up being something I would get much wear out of, but determined to make it work. I assembled the back first. Perfect. I assembled the front, complete with zipper and top-stitching. It was time to attach front to back. I did what I always do. I went to zip up the zipper, re-purposed from the original jeans, in order to stabilize the front prior to pinning. True to the nature of this project, I forgot that the zipper lacked a stopper and zipped the slider right off the entire thing. Son of a Widget!!! I was not going to redo all of the top stitching, etc. Anyone who has ever installed a zipper in jeans understands my unwillingness. Things had been clipped and trimmed down! What to do? Sit on the sofa, put on re-runs of That 70s Show, and destroy your fingernails trying to get the durn thing back on. It only took hours and a small amount of blood, but I did it. We were back in business.

I attached the front to the back. Now keep in mind, by now I had made quite a few pairs of jeans: Gingers, Morgans, Jenny trousers, Lander pants, a pair for my Fella…sigh. Despite my careful measurements, the front leg was still a little shorter than the back. I wasn’t thrilled, but at least it was an amount that made them look trendy, not terrible. I went with it. Everything came together nicely, and they were actually looking pretty cute. Now, the moment of truth – the pre-waistband fitting. I wasn’t worried about it, because this was my third pair of Morgan jeans. I felt like I had a pretty good handle on the fit. I slid them on, zipped them up, and stood before the full-length mirror. Muther-of-gawd, they did that twisty leg thing that jeans sometimes do, and they did it a LOT. To take them apart and re-pin the legs would cause the hem to line up all out-of-whack in front. It had been two days at this point. I needed to move on with my life. I hated tossing them into the scrap bin, but that’s what I did.
I felt guilty. I murdered a pair of jeans. I was trying to upcycle and create a conscious wardrobe, giving new life to a defunct piece of clothing. The odds of them being purchased at the Goodwill were slim to none. Have you seen the men’s denim section at the local Goodwill? No one really wants all those old JcPenney relaxed fits and stretched out Mossimo’s from Target’s golden days. I was trying to do something awesome and it didn’t work out. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It was discouraging to have put so many hours of hard work into something and have it come to nothing. I still had the band aids on my fingers, but inside I just felt deflated. What an absolute waste of time and resources. How could it have gone so wrong?
But was it a waste? I had to ask myself, what was the point of this project? To have a new pair of jeans? Not really – I already had a stack of jeans. The point was twofold. First, I wanted to perfect a skill that I had recently acquired, to upcycle men’s denim. Second, and most importantly, I was working toward crafting an entirely me-made wardrobe that I loved, that was unique and represented my own true style. They say that the journey is more important than the destination. On the surface, it would seem that the journey of making this pair jeans had a pretty crappy destination – failure. This project was a failure, let’s face it. This is taking the short view of the situation, though. Making a pair of jeans was just one part of a bigger journey of expressing, expanding and enjoying my creativity through fashion. Do I have a wardrobe I love? Yes. Do I have the joy of putting on clothing everyday that feels personal, that I’m proud of? You bet. Have I failed? At points, but not in the grand scheme. The little failures have been part of the bigger picture, because I got to grow in my perseverance and resourcefulness.
The journey is long. The reason it’s more important than the destination is that we have no destination. As long as we’re alive and kicking we’re in the journey, always living, always growing; falling down then getting up again. I can’t really declare a destination, because I don’t know what tomorrow holds. Not every endeavor is going to work out. It’s frustrating and disappointing. The worst disappointments are those where you have put blood, sweat and tears into whatever it is, investing so much of yourself, persevering through every set back, and it STILL DOESN’T WORK OUT. It’s one of those great paradoxes, how life is so short in the grand scheme of eternity, yet it feels so long when you’re in it, ever learning and evolving. Sometimes it helps to take the long view of things, to realize in the midst of a seeming failure that you’re still going to wake up tomorrow and have successes. You’ve had them before, you’ll have them again. Things didn’t work out this time around, but at least you’ll get a good story out of it. Just chalk it up to experience.
Fast forward about three months. Megan Nielsen’s Dawn Jeans pattern was released. There were mistakes in the journey of making them. There were imperfections in the final product. Who cares? I made my favorite jeans to date. In truth, every pair of jeans I’ve ever made has flaws and mistakes. These are the things that keep me striving and growing, and reward me with a creative outlet which brings me joy in spite of it all. In the end all that matters is, yes. I really did. I made these jeans myself, and I’m damn proud of myself.








There are some projects that are intimidating. You don’t know why. You’ve been doing this for so long, if anyone can handle it, you can. Yet for some reason, it keeps getting pushed aside and pushed aside. Such was the case for my turquoise floral knit dress. There are a lot of pieces to that bodice, and no princess seams whatsoever, so fitting it to a large-chested and narrow-waisted figure is tough to do. In the interest of 

I recently acquired a copy of this book and was surprised at how utterly absorbing Shiva Rose’s approach to beauty, spirituality and lifestyle has been for me. She takes an
I LOVE 
I found this book at a used book store, while trying to find an encyclopedia of essential oils.
Okay, so this is not necessarily a beauty book, but the 1940s are my absolutely favorite era of fashion. This book is full of beautiful photographs from the era, and is an endless source of inspiration for beauty looks. It is also a fabulous resource to understand the history of fashion in this era. You really can’t study fashion history without going into the politics, societal attitudes and economics of that era, because people’s choices are intimately linked to what’s happening in the world around them. This is why I love this era – women took charge on the home front during the war, and fashions reflected that. American designers were on the forefront, since Paris was occupied, and designs needed to allow women to really move and be free. Shoulders were strong, waistlines were narrow, and silhouettes reflected a brilliant blend of confidence and femininity. Trousers became commonplace, as menswear was cut down to fit women’s physiques. I was fascinated to discover that 








I like to use a double-cleansing routine when I wash my face at night. I started doing this about ten years ago and love the results. I got the idea from reading all those books about French women that were so popular back then. Remeber that, when American women were obsessing over how French women did everything? 











