It’s getting cold here. Yesterday, I finally caved and put the heating on (only for an hour when I get home from work! It’s so dispiriting coming home to a freezing flat …) which always feels like a Big Thing (… see also, gas bills). Our office at work is still under-heated, too, and I’m presently wearing three layers and shivering. Will have to go up to four.
The need for warm extra layers that are also work-appropriate is why I made my first waistcoat, and the success of that one led, naturally, to my immediately cutting out another one. This has been made for a while – ahem, since August – but I procrastinated about taking photos because I do that.
Without further ado!
The front, back and facings are cut from the remains of the same thick black wool blend that made the first waistcoat (from Samuel Taylor’s remnant rack). The side panels are a heavyish black quilting cotton with a sort of pixelly design in gold (from my mum’s stash).
The lining is champagne-coloured slidey fabric (my inability to identify synthetics showing up there; from SCRAP) left over from a Twenties-style dress I made for a friend to go to a Great Gatsby party in. Even accounting for the friend in question being 6′ 1″, I bought waaay too much. The colour is off a bit in the above photo – it’s lighter than that in real life. You can see the underside of the topstitching on the right: I topstitched all the edges to keep the facings down, having learned from version #1 that the fabric is too thick for understitching, and I even bothered to make sure that the bobbin thread was the right colour to match the lining.
Here’s the whole thing, modelled once again (lopsidedly) by my dress form:
Only two buttons because I only had the two that matched. And hereby, my friends, hangs a tale. I fished them out of my button box and was all set to sew them on – I do my buttons by hand – when I noticed that they had four holes on the front side and only two on the back.
Holding them up to the light revealed the secret …
I hadn’t found two buttons, but four! The front side was a four-holed button with a metal rim that created a dish at the back, into which a two-holed flat button a couple of millimetres smaller had gotten thoroughly jammed. This had happened to both of them, and the two sets of buttons matched so well in colour that I have to wonder if it was deliberate – though I don’t know why, as the holes didn’t align, and were the wrong distance apart to ever do so whichever way you twisted the inner button. A mystery indeed.