Beneath the Seams: Counting the True Cost of Clothing

Over the past few years, I've become more and more disillusioned with the modern clothing industry. "Fast fashion" has made clothing cheap and virtually disposable to the consumer -- a fact that is exploited by swiftly changing trends that keep consumers coming back for more...and more...and more. Quality has plummeted along with cost, and sources suggest that for every five garments produced, the equivalent of three end up in a landfill. According to the EPA, 1.3 million tons of clothing and footwear were discarded by Americans in 1960. By 2018, that number had climbed to over 9 million tons, even though the population hadn't even doubled since 1960! As someone who values the resources God has given us, it saddens me to see so much waste. Cheap clothing may be easy on the wallet, but its ecological cost is high. 

But far worse are the inhumane manufacturing processes used to keep those prices tantalizingly low. Many factories (even some in the US) pay workers shockingly low wages, sometimes pennies per garment. And even in third-world countries where American dollars stretch further, that's far from a living wage. Working conditions are unsafe, benefits limited or nonexistent, and any worker who dares to complain can be easily replaced (because sadly, these jobs are better than many other options in third-world countries!). So much suffering, just to ensure that consumers can stuff their walk-in closets with garments they may never even wear before discarding them. 

I've learned to realize that if a garment on the rack seems cheap, someone is still paying the price -- it's just not me. 

And quite honestly, it's not just "budget" retailers that exploit garment workers. We've probably all heard of the infamous sweatshop, but may not realize that so many upscale brands rely on them (even if indirectly, by not making adequate efforts to ensure that their entire production chain is ethical). Mid-level brands like Gap and Anthropologie -- and even many luxury brands -- are guilty of this. So higher prices don't automatically guarantee workers were paid a fair wage.

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One of my dearest memories from our time in Virginia was a women's Bible study that I attended. It was there that I met my friend, Peyton Roberts, who (besides being a delight!) encouraged me and helped me grow in my walk with the Lord. She invested so much into each of the women in that group. We had some fun connections, too -- we are both military spouses, both seamstresses, and the church I attended as a teen was across the street from her grandfather's house.

A happy reunion in March 2020!

So imagine my delight when I found out that Peyton was publishing a social impact novel about the fashion industry! I was blessed to read an advanced copy of Beneath the Seams -- which is being released today! 

The story is so powerful, and I was amazed by how seamlessly (no pun intended...) Peyton wove the dark truths about fast fashion into her writing. Even though I had done some research, I was horrified to find out just how dangerous and inhumane sweatshops can be. Shelby, the protagonist, was someone I could relate to in many ways, from her love of sewing to her struggles with secondary infertility and miscarriage. And I had a sewing business myself once upon a time! As the final few chapters unfolded, I couldn't stop reading; I was so invested in the characters that I had to find out how their stories resolved. I'm eagerly awaiting the copy I pre-ordered, which will soon have a home on my bookshelf. 

I'd highly recommend Beneath the Seams if you'd like to explore the consequences of fast fashion while reading a great story!

Peyton's Instagram and Linktree have some helpful resources, as well as more background for the novel and its author. And you can read the first few chapters over at Scrivenings Press.

In my next post, I'll share my own (imperfect) journey toward more ethical fashion.

Summer Staples

With Summer in full swing, I knew it was time to pull out some fabric and get to work. A few pieces from last summer's wardrobe are still in rotation, but many of the tops have bitten the dust (as they were worn throughout Fall, Winter and Spring). 

My coral top and my black-and-white striped maxi skirt were the pieces I was most eager to replace. And here are their replacements!

The top was made from a coral cotton spandex and the skirt is a black stripe cotton spandex, both from Girl Charlee.

The maxi is a simple matter of two self-drafted identical pieces connected to a wide knit waistband. I've learned that I shouldn't serge that waistband seam because I have a tendency to alter my maxi skirts. Sure enough, after taking the above photograph, I decided that the skirt was too "wide," so I detached the waistband and made a few adjustments. Though to be quite honest, I don't serge any of my knit seams any more. It just seems to stretch them out, and it's extra work for fabrics that aren't going to fray anyway.

I drafted the pattern for the top from an existing Old Navy shirt I bought for $1 at my local charity shop. I love the drawstring neckline, and the shirt is surprisingly flattering! It also works really well under cardigans, making this a perfect layering pieces that serves as both a shirt and a "camisole." Oh, and the drawstring neckline provides adjustable modesty! 

This top is so easy to finish, because the neckline binding requires no fancy stretching. I hemmed the armholes and waist with a single row of slightly zig-zagged stitching, so there's no need for fancy equipment (beyond a stretch/ballpoint needle).

Oh, and I did realize while wearing the original shirt today that there should be a line of stitching about 1/4" from the neck edge of the drawstring casing -- I'll have to add that to my existing shirt, as I prefer the look.

From the one yard of coral fabric that I bought, I made this top, the straps for these sandals, and a pair of leggings for Rosa. Not bad for $6.50!

Minimally Shod

My attitude toward footwear has been slowly evolving over the past few years. I am a shoe lover at heart -- after all, what's not to love about an item of clothing that doesn't care if you gained five (or twenty-five) pounds? I used to have at least three dozen pairswhen I was a teenager. They were just so cheap at the thrift store! But my perspective on "stuff" has changed, and that includes footwear. Much as I may admire different styles and designs, I really don't want dozens of pairs any more. In fact, now I prefer the minimum necessary to coordinate with my wardrobe, and one pair (maybe two) for "fun."

Oh, and my perspective on footwear has changed in one other significant way -- we've become more and more convinced that minimalist footwear is the way we want to go for our family. Turns out, people in "shoeless" cultures don't experience the same joint problems that plague first world runners, because you run differently barefoot than you do in a cushy, "supported" shoe with a thick heel. Weight lifters have known this for a long time, which is why they wear flat shoes (it pays to have a husband who knows these things!). I own a pair of Merrell Barefoot Vapor Gloves for running and exercise, and they really are amazing (as in, you will never want to wear another pair of shoes once you put them on). As a disclaimer, I do have one pair of black heels for fancy occasions, and my winter boots aren't exactly minimalist. But my everyday shoes are as flat and "minimal" as I can manage -- though ballet flats, which are typically flexible and have little to no heel) are the closest I've come without spending a fortune. 'Cause let me tell you, there are not many minimalist shoes available -- especially if you're on a budget.   I guess it's a good thing I was downsizing already...

In fact, between my two "minimal" philosophies (fewer pairs and less between me and the ground), I rarely even bother looking at shoes when I'm shopping.

Then I saw Sseko sandals -- a single amazing sandal that can be tied in umpteen different ways with any color of ribbon? Don't pinch me, or I might wake up! Oh, they're also made fair trade by women in Uganda. Like they needed to be any better. There was only one teensy, weensy problem: Ssekos are not minimalist. I would have gladly shelled out the cash if it weren't for that subtle rise between the toe and the heel.

But I wasn't about to give up. Ideas have been simmering in my mind for months (no joke), and I finally summoned up my courage and got started. Turns out, the solution was simple:

You know you have minimalist shoes when the wear pattern on the sole shows your heel,
the ball of the foot, and all of your toes! 

I like simple. Two scraps of free leather (brown upper and black lower, because that's what I had), a utility knife, Contact cement, and a pair of knit "straps" did the trick. I wouldn't feel right doing a full tutorial for these because they are total knock-offs of the Sseko sandal -- but it's a simple design to simulate, based off of this image. I traced my foot and smoothed out the shape, adding a bit so that my foot wouldn't fall off the edge. My leather pieces were relatively thick, but they're still quite flexible. I scientifically "eyed" the location of the leather loops after perusing images on the Sseko website, and fortunately they seem to be placed properly.

They were practically free, unless you count the bottle of contact cement (which is still mostly full). The leather came in a bag of scraps from a local saddle shop, for those of you who might be looking to make some of your own.

I can't wait to try out more of the different tying options, and to also make a whole rainbow of straps. The straps, by the by, were sewn with two strips of excess knit fabric, leftover from a shirt I made (more on that project soon!). I just made them the width of the fabric, which, being a knit, was characteristically wide. 60", perhaps? I'd used grosgrain ribbon at first, but it was not nearly as comfortable. With the knit straps, it feels like I have absolutely nothing on my foot! In fact, once I put them on I have absolutely no inclination to take them off. I think Sseko ribbons are made from woven fabrics, so I'll probably try that to see how it goes.

My toes look a bit wonky in this one, because it's harder than you might think to get pictures of your own foot...

I've noticed some areas of separation between the two sole pieces, so I'll probably try to re-glue them or even try a different glue (I've heard Barge cement is great for leather shoes). Oh, and I think a bit of stitching around the edge would also work splendidly (and solve the glue issue), but I didn't have the proper type of "thread" for such an application and I was too impatient to wait. But since these were free, they're a perfect experimental pair. I can work out any kinks at no cost to myself. Though quite honestly, I'm perfectly happy with them and will continue to wear them as long as they'll last!

I'm so thrilled that I have a new option for footwear; I'd like to experiment even more once I have a little more experience under my belt. Making shoes -- however simple -- was never something I'd thought possible. Now I have an option that fits both of my "minimalist" shoe requirements, with the added bonus of cheap materials, a customized fit, and virtually endless style possibilities.

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go (A Review of "Lessons From Madame Chic")

I've already mentioned that my wardrobe's been in a state of chaos lately. To tell the truth, I've been enjoying the process of overhauling my closet. I've basically gotten to start all over because so many of my clothes were worn out, impractical for a nursing mom, or just no longer my style. This time around, I was determined to create a wardrobe with fewer items, more function, and less "I have nothing to wear!"

It was while I was exploring the concept of a capsule wardrobe that I came across Jennifer Scott's blog, The Daily Connoisseur. I was instantly hooked! Her "Ten-Item Wardrobe" was an inspiration. And don't worry, it's not quite as drastic as it sounds. The idea is to have ten core items in your wardrobe each season, but it doesn't count staples like camisoles, tees, blazers, formal dresses, etc (though going overboard on "extras" will, of course, be counterproductive). Overall, the point is to have a small wardrobe of items that work together. That way, you're not overwhelmed by the choices (and possibly guilt) of an overstuffed closet, and every day it's simple to pick an outfit you love. If ten is too few, Jennifer suggests trying for fifteen or twenty core items. I won't go into too much detail here, because Jennifer says it much better on her blog! Here's a helpful post: Ten-Item Wardrobe: Getting Started. And here are all of her posts labeled "Ten-Item Wardrobe".

As I worked my way through Jennifer's archives, I became more and more determined to get my hands on a copy of her book, "Lessons from Madame Chic: 20 Stylish Secrets I Learned While Living in Paris." I ordered it through inter-library loan, and once it arrived I polished it off in a few short days.

Image taken from the author's website

While I'm usually not attracted to this kind of "self-help" reading, I thoroughly enjoyed this particular volume! Jennifer's style is delightful, and her encouragement to savor the everyday things in life is certainly worth noting. I especially appreciated her challenges regarding why we use our nice things only on special occasions. Why save them, when we could enjoy them daily?

As a note, my philosophy is a bit different from Jennifer's because of the Biblical principles that I value -- for instance, I don't want to dress nicely because I think I deserve it or I'm worth it. I want to dress well as a reflection of my Creator's beauty, and as a way to bless my family and those around me (though I will, of course, get some personal satisfaction out of it). But overall, I was able to apply a Christian perspective to just about everything she presented. 

[10/2018 Update: Since writing this post originally, Jennifer has become a bit more transparent about her beliefs on her blog and it is quite obvious that she is a Christian. I thought back to this review, and hope that my comment about a "Christian perspective" did not imply that I was assuming she wasn't a Christian, or that her book was lacking in any way simply because I disagreed with some of her perspectives -- hopefully my overwhelmingly positive reaction to her book (and the two which succeeded it, which I've also enjoyed very much!) made that clear. But just in case, I thought I'd clarify it here!] 

Look Presentable Always

One of her suggestions is to "look presentable always." I love that! Do I want my children to remember me as someone who only dressed up if I had somewhere "special" to go, and spent the rest of my time in yoga pants and a messy ponytail? This is not a new concept to me, as evidenced by the lack of "loungewear" in my closet. I'm used to cleaning and cooking and cuddling in clothes that most people would consider too nice for "around the house." After all, at my local thrift shop, a nice top is the same price as a dingy tee shirt, so why not?! But being a momma to two littles can be exhausting (I know those of you with four or more are probably laughing dryly at that comment...), and I've found myself slipping a bit in that area lately.

Jennifer suggests wearing aprons during messy tasks, in order to protect your clothes. It's a little easier to wear your "nice" clothes when you're not worried about splatters of spaghetti sauce! I'm notoriously bad about remembering to wear aprons, but I've turned over a new leaf. Making a new apron that I love to wear has certainly helped!

Another positive about Lessons From Madame Chic is that it does not encourage some kind of artificial, high-maintenance beauty routine. Instead, Jennifer suggests that you find a low-maintenance look -- something that's feasible for every day (that's the point!). She encourages what she calls "le no makeup look," which are a few minimalist looks designed to enhance one's natural beauty. 

Counting the Cost

I quickly realized that Jennifer's suggestions of brands and retailers would not work for me. I simply cannot afford most of the labels she buys. I think one season of her ten-item wardrobe would be about what I'd spend on my whole wardrobe for at least five seasons! Also, some of the fabrics she prefers (like silk and cashmere) require dry cleaning; I don't think I've stepped into a dry cleaner's since I got married 3 1/2 years ago... But that's okay! I have a different style and budget. The principles of the book aren't ultimately dependent on having a huge income, or on buying specific items or brands; Jennifer points out that you can make the ten-item wardrobe work on any budget. 

While we're on the topic of cost, I was pleased to find that Jennifer promotes less consumption, rather than more. I expected a certain amount of materialism from a book about living well. But according to Jennifer, the Parisians she met were not interested in obtaining the newest, latest, greatest "thing." They valued quality over abundance -- which makes sense when you consider the ten-item wardrobe. 

I've also been able to implement some of the book's principles by finding cheaper (and more natural) alternatives to some of the beauty products she recommends. I'm very much a minimalist when it comes to makeup, but I've realized lately that I'd like to experiment a bit. Lessons From Madame Chic has helped me realize I can do that without looking artificial (via le no makeup look). Now that I have the materials I need, it's time to experiment and come up with a skin care and makeup regimen that works for me!

What This Looks Like For Me

Much of what Jennifer proposed was not new to me, but her presentation helped me realize that I want to make more of an effort to incorporate those ideas into my day to day life. I'm thinking specifically here about music, the arts, and reading. Like Jennifer, I've been blessed to live in and visit certain places where the museums are free, the art galleries are abundant, and even the buildings lining the streets were designed by masterful architects. My current locale is not one of those places. But that's hardly an excuse to throw in the towel. While I hope life in the military will take us to many places rich with culture, it will almost certainly also take us to "ordinary" places, too. I'll need to be creative in finding ways to incorporate culture into our lives.

On a different note, reading this book also made me realize that it's high time I paid more attention to my skin. That's something you only have one shot at preserving, and I'd rather put in some effort now than regret having neglected it when I'm 40. I can't afford the professional massages, facials, and mani-pedis that Jennifer recommends (that lifestyle seems very foreign to me, since I've had a total of one mani-pedi in my entire life!), but I can certainly do my own versions at home! French clay for facials is inexpensive, and the oil cleansing that I've started implementing recently has already improved my complexion. I've been more self-conscious about my skin recently, so Jennifer's suggestions were perfectly timed.

As for my closet? As a teenager, my walk-in closet bore painful witness to my thrift shop "addiction." I had about three feet of rod devoted to tops, skirts, and dresses -- each (though my dress section did include my then-substantial costume collection). Granted, I paid less for all of my clothes than I would have spent on just one high-end designer dress. Nonetheless, I had far too many clothes, and I still had difficulty creating outfits! I let my fondness for shoes run rampant, as well. I had no plan, and just purchased whatever appealed to me and fit into my budget. As a result, I had so many clothes that nothing I owned wore out, and I became bored with seeing the same items over and over again.

I've been slowly reigning myself in over the past few years -- two years ago I enacted a self-imposed shoe fast, and decided to not buy any new shoes until I wore out the pairs I already had. I had multiple pairs for each "style" (flats, heels, sandals, etc.), so when my last pair of a specific color and style wore out, I allowed myself to re-purchase equivalent shoes. I was tired of buying shoes (either new/clearance or thrifted), only to have them sit in my closet for years without showing the slightest signs of wear! As much as I enjoy shoes, I don't need to have two or three dozen pairs.  

Similarly, my wardrobe has shrunk dramatically over the past few years, thanks to pregnancy and a little more self control on my part. Jennifer's observations gave me the last little push I needed, and I'm almost to where I want to be. My summer wardrobe consists of about two dozen tops (that includes tanks, cardigans, etc.), five dresses, eight skirts (one of which I haven't actually made yet), and ten pairs of shoes (which will be five pairs in the fall, when my four pairs of sandals are put away). My maternity clothing fits in one large tub, and my winter wardrobe fits in a single under-the-bed bin. 

I don't technically have a capsule wardrobe, because not all of my tops go with all of my skirts. But I don't have anything in my closet that doesn't go with something else! That's a first for me. I've been picky this go around, and I really like everything in my closet. Part of Jennifer's inspiration was that French women have just a few quality items, and are not at all embarrassed to wear them repeatedly. While it sounds boring to 21st century Americans, I'm finding that when I love what I have, I'm excited to wear it again (though I'm still having trouble convincing myself to go ahead and wear a favorite outfit, rather than "save it"). And though I was skeptical of Jennifer's claims that she doesn't feel the urge to shop now that her closet is minimal, I've found it to be true! I'm reluctant to risk adding unneeded items to my closet (which I'll inevitably end up regretting), and find that I'd rather just skip the shopping and stick with what I have. I'll get to shop (and/or sew) when the season changes, or when one of my staple items wears out. It's a blissful feeling to be (mostly) free from the "want." 

In Conclusion

I think I'll post about my wardrobe in more detail soon, so I'll leave it at that for now! Suffice it to say, Lessons From Madame Chic was well worth the read. Jennifer covers a multitude of topics, from music to manners to how casual our culture has become. There are so many ideas for incorporating beauty and joy into everyday life! And I could always use a little encouragement to develop good habits.

I'd highly recommend The Daily Connoisseur if you're interested in reading more first-hand. Jennifer's taking a summer break, which is giving me the opportunity to work my way through the archives and take mental notes. It's been a refreshing and inspiring journey so far! 

Corduroy in Bloom

My recent experiment with jacket alteration left me wanting more. So when I found another victim -- I mean candidate -- for a few dollars at a local outlet store, I jumped on the opportunity. Besides, it's not often that you find a garment in this particular shade, which I can only call "peacock."

Once again, I edited the sleeves to 3/4 length, and this time used the scraps for a tiny ruffle on each sleeve. I had barely enough! Oh, and gathering double thickness of jacket-weight corduroy is no picnic.

Fortunately, the requisite flower requires only the tiniest scraps of fabric, so a little creative cutting made a fabric bloom possible. Once again, I used a "been-waiting-a-very-long-time-for-the-perfect-project" button from my stash. This one's been waiting approximately 13 years. Worth the wait? Oh, yes.

The tulle and beading somehow found their way into this project -- because that particular shade of peacock just begs for a little glamor, doesn't it?

I could attempt to deny that I'm becoming addicted to fabric flowers. But there's a little basket of them on my craft table that would make such an attempt totally pointless. So, addicted I am!

Sewing Tips -- Hidden Potential

It's been quite a while since I posted a sewing tip (and I'm not quite sure this "counts" as a sewing tip!). But it's something that's certainly helped me, so I thought I'd share. Since I do quite a bit of thrifting, I sometimes come across a garment that I like, but isn't *quite* right and usually I don't find out that it's not *quite* right until I've gotten it home. The optimism I felt at the store just won't make sleeves a tinch longer, or make the buttons a smidgeon cuter. So sometimes my clothing has to be "repurposed." For instance, I just finished modifying two long-sleeve shirts. One was a plain white shirt with very plain buttons. There was nothing wrong with it, but I just didn't wear it. So I cut the sleeves down to 3/4 length and put on new buttons (I just happened to have the exact number of buttons in my stash -- a little bit pearly, and just the right size). Voila! The other shirt was a bit tight in the sleeves, but it was an adorable eyelet fabric that I couldnt resist. I modified twice -- I tried 3/4 length sleeves first, but they were still too binding. So I chopped off some more, and had enough left over from the sleeve to make a little pleated ruffle:

I bought if for less than I would have paid for the fabric, and it took much less time to alter it than it would have taken to make it. Cheaper + easier + cute = Happy Me! Other repurposing can include buying a garment for the buttons (Those $1 deals with ten or twelve mother-of-pearl buttons are great!), cutting it apart for other uses (bags, bias tape, pincushions, you-name-it), and even using dresses or skirt to make a whole new garment (those pleated skirts from the 90's have the most beautiful rectangles of fabric). While I'm not a "Save the Planet" kind of person, I do think it's good old-fashioned stewardship to re-use what I have (or what others have had before me!).

Memories

About five years ago, my parents traveled up to Baltimore to help my paternal grandmother empty her town house. She was making the dreaded transition from a home of her own to a small apartment in retirement community. But at nearly ninety years old, it was time. Her basement yielded many treasures, not least of which was her collection of vintage patterns from many years of sewing to supplement her family's income. But another treasure that parents brought home was a stack of old snapshots from the early 1930's.

My grandmother came to live with us three years ago. It was the perfect opportunity to ask her about the snapshots, and, armed with a pencil and a sheet of paper, I asked. Almost without exception, she could remember the names of the people in the photographs -- people who had been no more than faces to me, but people who were real to her. I learned the stories of some of the curious photographs that had always puzzled and delighted me. But that was nothing to watching my grandmother's face brighten at the happy memories that came flooding back to her through those brief, captured images of a time long past. There was sadness, too; she was the only one in the pictures who was still living. And a less than a year later, she too was gone.



But before she died (at the age of 91), I made an album of the pictures. It was partly for her -- she was delighted when she opened the cover and saw the photos laid out with the names beneath each one -- but it was also for me, for my family, and for my own children one day. Because those memories are the only glimpse we have into the lives of some of the people who were dearest to us.

There was a whole page of photographs of my grandmother, Anne.



I love this photo of her sitting on the running board of a car. She was 17 years old at the time. What I wouldn't do to own that car!



This young man had just had his appendix removed:



I think this snapshot is so sweet and whimsical:



The gentleman hiding under the hat in this photo has his tongue extended!



I would love to know how this photo was taken, and why on earth those two young men were playing around on beams:



While many things in this photo appeal to me -- vintage fashion, weddings -- I think I like this photo primarily because of the (short) priest with the wild white hair, peeking over the shoulders of the happy couple:



This is one of the few photographs I have of my paternal grandfather, Frank (he's on the far right). I never met him because he died when my father was only eighteen years old. Because of that, he has always been something of an enigma to me. I can see in his face traces of my father and my uncles. I don't think I've ever seen a picture of him without a smile on his face.



Now as I look back through the album, I find the photographs just as tantalizing as they were before, even though I can put names with most of the faces. Baseball games, picnics, weddings -- I wonder what was said, and what the people were thinking.



And, of course, I enjoy the vintage fashions!

Vintage Inspiration

Check out these fabulous vintage fashion books:

Fashionable Clothing From the Sears Catalogs

My mom found the Mid-1930's volume at the library yesterday -- One hundred fifty-nine pages of glossy illustrations of everything from women's clothes and shoes to little boys' ties. The 1930's is, hands down, my favorite fashion decade of the 20th century. So I'm gloating over this book and dreading having to send it back to the library. Let's just say that I'll be making several sketches before I let it go!

I also learned something new: wrap-style house dresses in the 1930's were also called "Hooverettes!" And you could get two of them for 95 cents. I won't even start on the shoes... *sigh*

So if you like vintage fashion, see if your library has any of these books or try interlibrary loan. They're well worth the $27 they're selling for on Amazon, but at that price I think I'll have to add them to my collection gradually!