Maybe it was more than I could handle. Maybe it was doomed from the beginning. But, I am so over my first vaguely tailored jacket.
To summarize: I resewed the placket about six times to get it vaguely pointy, I resewed the pockets to change the proportion after they ended up being folded into the hem, I then had to hand sew them on because the lining was already in, I had to cut fabric out of the hem and re-shape it to get them to match. And now that it’s done:
I put the buttonholes on the wrong side of the centerfront line
The freaking collar is lopsided and too tall
The pocket position doesn’t match and the pointy placket is all kinds of wonky
I thought the fit was great until I saw a photo of the back. Which is so sloppy, I’m not even gonna post the photo.
Again I say: I am so over this jacket. I just wish it wasn’t from my Egypt fabric
ETA: I am still over this jacket. But, I’ve slept on it and read all your helpful comments. Thank you! Into the magic closet it goes until I feel like surgery. I can take of the collar to reshape, while that’s off replace the front placket and sort out the hem. Fixing the hem length will let me put the pockets into the correct position. I’m not sure where things went awry, but I suspect it’s from drafting my own lining and not getting the measurements right. Hopefully, this will make another appeareance in the fall.
Also, because you asked, here’s the back. Which, I can live with. The problem here is my hips are bigger than when I made this last and didn’t accommodate.
This is my sewing machine. There are many like it, but this one is MINE. My sewing machine is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. My sewing machine without me is useless. Without my sewing machine, I am useless. I must sew my machine true. I must sew straighter than my friends who are trying to dress me in Talbots. I must sew my clothes before Macys calls me.
I will… My sewing machine and myself know that what counts in clothing is not the amount I make, the noise of our motors, nor the seams we rip. We know it is the perfect fit that counts.
We will stitch… My sewing machine is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a sister. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, its bobbins, and its stitches. I will ever guard it against the ravages of dust and humidity. I will keep my sewing machine clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other.
We will… Before G_d I swear this creed. My sewing machine and myself are the defenders of cheap and nasty clothes. We are the masters of shoddy seams and cheap interfacing. We are the saviors of my fashionable life.
– adapted by me with all due respect from the creed of the US Marine Corps