Menagerie Workshop and Shop Update!

Hello everyone, and - for those who celebrate it in North America at this time of the year - an early happy Thanksgiving!

I had so much fun at last week's Menagerie workshop. I learned so much from the process of prepping and teaching the class, as well as from my four joyful, competent participants. All skilled seamstresses, they were focused, patient, asked fabulous questions and worked with great determination for four hours to make stuffed toys together. We started out in the "do this next" step-by-step way of traditional classroom sequences and then very quickly, each participants found their own pace and rhythm, so that what was left for me was to wander around the room and enjoy watching them instinctively assemble their plushie from its disparate parts (and occasionally poke my nose in their business to see if they needed any help).

Oh, how I've missed being in a classroom! I loved the intimate size of this class, which allowed us to chat randomly between sewing an arm, or a tail, or to demo a particular technique one-on-one. So, so, fun. There was a lot of prep to do beforehand, not only of the materials we'd be working on, but even more so to anticipate the best way to teach someone in a brand new setting, with equipment and technology I'd not been accustomed to using. I mean, for the past couple of decades, my mode of instruction with you guys has been tutorials and photodocumentation. And before that, when I was a high school teacher, there were still chalkboards and white boards and OHPs and transparencies (remember those? Sooooo funny). 

Of all the things I've learned as a teacher, the most vital is this: different learning speeds. These days, we talk about different learning styles: visual, auditory, kinesthetic, and I can't remember the others. But more fundamental is the challenge of presenting the same instructional material to a group of learners who, because each is an individual, will process that material at varying rates. And as instinct leads us to slow down for the student with the most furrowed brow, this concept was drilled into us in teaching college; some professor would always be asking, at some point or other, regardless of whether it was a Science or English or Phy Ed teacher's course, "And how will you ensure that the quick learners will not get bored?" 

I almost went the way of the powerpoint presentation, let me confess. I thought I'd run a slideshow of enormous annotated photos detailing each step to guide most of the class even as I backtracked to an earlier stage to review a particularly fiddly technique with others. 

Thank the stars I didn't. Instead: handouts. Which looked just like one of my blog tutorials, with color photos and do-this-do-that in accompanying text. Did it involve more prep work? Sure, but it was worth it. Some participants followed the instructions, others deviated as they felt creative, and anyone could be on whatever page fit their speed most comfortably. 

My one regret is not thinking to take photos. Grrr! I was so focused on being present during those four-plus hours, that I didn't imagine I might want to share that experience with you guys in this post after. I did take one quick shot - just one, and only because I thought the husband and kids might like to see what it all was like - and the participants have kindly let me share it here:

I wish I'd taken photos of the setup of the room, the various animal displays of both Season 1 and Season 2 Menagerie critters, and the sewing tables stocked with notions and materials at the start of the class. When I got home, I recreated the shot I would've taken:

If I ran this workshop again in the future, I'll be sure to do a better job photodocumenting it! I also need to record all the things I'd tweak and those that worked wonderfully, because the learning process for me was at least as exciting as being able to teach in person again. One of the things that really surprised me was how much I liked cutting out pieces of fabric for the participant kits. It felt like mass-producing (which you all know I adore) but without the actual making, and I had so much fun doing it that I made way more kits than I knew we'd need. It certainly gave the participants plenty of choices on the day of, but it was mostly because I wanted to keep going with the cutting and assembling. Well, now I have kits to put in my Etsy shop for you to buy if, unlike me, you actually disprefer cutting stuff out and just want to get right to the sewing!

There are three different Menagerie kits, and each contains almost all the materials and notions you'll need to make that animal, plus the templates so you can make more of that same animal after if you want. You'd only need to supply fiberfill stuffing and sewing thread. I'll include some instructions (you'll get a black-and-white printout with your order, and I'll email you the color PDF version). 

Here, I anticipate a question: Does the kit come with the sewing pattern?

To which I will say that the answer is a bit roundabout, so bear with me as I try to explain.

These kits are intended to be used with your Menagerie sewing pattern, so if you already own that, you'll find that the print instructions, particularly for the Rabbit and Ladybug, are very similar. If you don't, the print instructions accompanying each kit may be adequate if you already have some experience sewing stuffed animals. There might be some Menagerie terminology (like "rolled ear") that's new to you and which are explained in the Menagerie sewing pattern, but instinctive people will probably be able to work around it. 

You can buy the Menagerie Sewing Pattern here.

In order of challenge level, I'd say the Rabbit is the quickest sew in that it is a classic Menagerie animal with very simple surface details. The instructions are also pretty basic, with a couple of photos or diagrams.

The Ladybug also comes together quickly but because it deviates a little more from the classic four-appendage Menagerie animal, the accompanying instructions contain more detailed step-by-steps and photos.

The Grey Cat is a new variation on the original sleepy-eyed Season 1 cat, 

so the instructions are correspondingly much more detailed. I'd go as far as to say you wouldn't even need the Menagerie sewing pattern with this Cat kit - the instructions are more than adequate. 

And speaking of patterns, I'm thrilled to announce that you can now buy my Menagerie pattern book. In print! 

Limited numbers of physical copies are now in the shop. The pattern book is the same full-color thing as the popular PDF digital pattern, except in hardcopy, 

and spiral bound for your reading (and reference) pleasure. 

For those who want to sew something a little smaller, 

I'm relisting my Spring Bird kits, 

with the option to bundle them with the sewing pattern if you don't already own it. You can select the option in a drop-down menu and I will email you the PDF pattern file after your purchase is completed. 

Finally, and I'm super excited about this - for the first time ever, there are also some actual Menagerie critters in the shop! I've been hoarding all my prototypes since day 1, only some of whom have found space in my sewing room to live

but as I'm working through the documentation of Season 2, I've needed to make duplicates for the photos. The plan was to release all the duplicates when Menagerie 2 is finished, but I. Am. Running. Out. Of. Space. Plus, I want nothing more than for these animals to find better homes and other children (and adults) who will love them now. So this is the first wave; just seven, each uniquely handmade and one of its kind.

Axolotl

Beaver

Rabbit

Dilute Calico Cat

Grey Tabby Cat

Sperm Whale

Narwhal

Lots more photos with each listing in the shop.   I hope you stop by and find fun and creative gifts for yourself and someone you love!

My Patterns in Print and other updates

Happy spring, friends!

Although it feels decidedly summerish here in Minnesota this week at a sweltering 86 degrees. Temporarily sweltering, that is, as we expect to plummet back into the 40s this weekend. Typically neurotic spring in the upper Midwest, in other words. 

Speaking of sweltering, we were in Singapore a fortnight ago. This was the first time we'd been there as a family since the start of the pandemic. The girls had grown a lot in those 3+ years, so much so that my family could barely recognize them at the airport when we set eyes on each other after all those years apart. It was a sweet reunion. Mum is doing well. Being with my family again is like being filled with all good things. 

Back here in the US, we're prepping for a graduation party. I tell myself it will be like any of those insane birthday parties we used to throw when the kids were little, just bigger, although perhaps even less stressful, because there would be none of the manic role-playing-game-type activities - complete with ambitiously-sewn props - that we had to invent to entertain the guests.  I'm trying to be present in it all, and not let my mind sneak back to the past too much. Yes, I know this is all bittersweet, and that the kids were babies not that long ago and somehow I blinked, and here we are, 18 years later as if time ungracefully short-circuited us to this moment. I choose not to linger there. I've learned enough about grief to recognize this for what it is, and to anticipate that the emotions will come when they come. Even relentlessly so, there is a place for them, and the present isn't it. 

On the subject of old-ish things, I did something for myself recently that surprised me: I had my digital sewing patterns printed. Well, some of them, anyway. I've been writing sewing patterns for about 14 years, a fact that stunned me when I actually counted backward to determine when this pursuit first began. It has always struck me as ironic - the precision and methodicalness of teaching a person to do something creative and artistic - and as you all know, for a while I rebelled against the idea of sewing patterns altogether. By all means, have manuals for assembling a toilet or filling out an IRS form, I'd argue, but for Pete's sake, let people make a doll or a backpack whichever way they wanted, thank you very much. Eventually, I made peace with this by deciding that pattern-writing was not the same as bossing people around. Rather, it was like a recipe: here is what you need to make This Thing, and here is how I throw it together; follow if you have to, deviate if you want.

Whatever their motivation, these patterns (I think I've written 17, in addition to who knows how many tutorials and deconstructions) have been a fun distraction, and a sneaky but modest, source of passive income - pocket money to buy more fabric, was what I thought of it when they first began to sell. And then it began to look sort of like a small business, and there were taxes to pay, finances to document, customers to interact with. Some days it felt like an actual job and I'd wonder how to categorize myself: freelance designer? monetized hobbyist? Self-employed SBO (small business owner) who pays her sole employee in chocolate? What was most amusing to me, though, was that it was a largely invisible enterprise. These were digital patterns, designed on a computer screen and delivered remotely into someone's inbox following an online transaction. Nothing physical existed, except for the prototype bags or soft toys that were sewn to fine-tune the construction process - even these were ultimately sold off in my Etsy shop (yet another online arm of my unseen business). And if you'd visited me in my home/office and asked me what I did during my spare time, I wouldn't have anything to show you apart from pulling up an image on my phone of a screenshot I'd taken of the cover art.

Then last month, on a lark, I decided to have some of those incorporeal patterns printed for the first time ever, and found a proper printing company which didn't charge an arm and a leg for full-color pages. It felt incredibly self-indulgent, let me tell you. Especially at a time when everyone and their mother is making TikTok tutorials for those of us with the attention span of a flea, which makes a written pattern even more old-fashioned. But I did, and I forgot about it until the box arrived at my door and I opened it with no small amount of fear and trembling: would they be hideous? Would the fonts be blindingly mis-sized? Would the photos look like indistinct blobs? Would the text bleed off the page because I failed to consider print margins? Mind you, I'd stared at these same documents on my computer screen for days on end while I wrote and formatted them, so I knew that the photos were not low-res blobs, and I was well aware of the layout of each page, having printed out each subsequent revision on our economy black-and-white home printer for hardcopy editing.

But when I actually looked at them - the first color prints of my up-till-then-only-digital patterns - it felt unreal. I've had my work included in print magazines and books, and I always got a kick from seeing that, but it was quite different now to hold the tangible form of something that had only ever existed on my computer screen, or as one of those nebulous, ghostly things called pdfs. It was oddly validating. I remember thinking, "Hey! I actually did stuff! It wasn't me just imagining it, because here they are! I can touch the paper and flip the pages and everything!" Then I patted myself on the back and said, "You shoulda done this 14 years ago instead of just concluding you were going nuts for wondering where all those hours went."

So just wanted to share that sometimes when you do invisible work, like writing software, creating digital products, analyzing obscure data, or hey, even cooking meals that mysteriously vanish in 20 minutes so that you have to do it all over again several hours later. . . no, it really wasn't a dream. It actually happened. And it totally counts.

Incidentally, I do plan to get my other patterns printed eventually. And maybe put some copies in my Etsy shop to see if anyone's interested in buying them as print copies instead of the digital versions. The nice thing about bulk(ish) printing is not paying copyshop prices. Menagerie, for instance, would've cost $70 at FedEx just to print each page manually, but print shops could automate spiral bound books for less than half of that. A win-win.

Also, I'm working on Menagerie 2. Yes. Not lying, I promise. But we're talking years, not months, because I sew only during those rare pockets of time between swim meets and jazz concerts and the other wonderful things the kids are involved in. But I'm getting there. Two winters ago, there was an elephant and panda and several aquatic mammals. This winter, giraffes, two versions of unicorn and even an axolotl, all systematically photographed and documented. Menagerie 2 is looking to be bigger than the original, and I might have to do some culling to make the final selection more manageable. Thanks for being patient. I'm not giving up. This is something I need to finish, no matter how long it takes.

But now, the snow is gone and the townsfolk are emerging from hibernation. May you enjoy the beckoning sunshine, may you reconnect with neighbors whose names you struggle to recall, may wretched hay fever stay far, far away, and may the coming days be filled with projects that lift you up and expand your world.

Till next time -

Paw Patrol Vest Pattern

Hello, all!

This is a quick announcement to let you know that you can download the Paw Patrol Vest pattern from that earlier blog post here.

I decided to tag it the original post so that anyone visiting that post in the future can access it immediately without having to jump to a second link. Please also note that it is not a full tutorial - it literally is just the templates and some notes, but it's a straightforward enough garment, so you should be good to go.

Anyway, here's the original PP post again. Happy making!

Chickens (and a Pattern Revamp)

Here's a funny story.

Last month, I needed to sew a concert gown for Emily. I will tell you more about that in a separate post but I'll say here that it had slightly ambitious sleeves so I took some time to work out how to construct them. 

"Ah," you're saying, "that's a euphemism for 'she procrastinated'."

Hangs head.

In her defence, they were fiddly sleeves.

But yes, procrastinate she did. 

First, she made a chicken. 

Her small nephew was turning two, and she rationalized that all small children needed a chicken, so she resolved to make him one. Plus chicks, because obviously all stuffed animals have to have offspring to make any sense at all.

Then, because it had been twelve years since she'd last made chickens, she had to print out her Chicken Pattern for the templates and to have her memory aided by the instructions therein.

Then, when the chicken was made, she realized she was now a much better pattern-writer than she was twelve years ago and, having now beheld all the ways in which that 2010 Chicken Pattern could use a tune-up, entertained the idea of revising it.

Then, for the purpose of re-photographing and testing out the construction process for the rewrite, she made two more chickens. And six more chicks (see earlier logic re: adult animals and offspring).

And then wrote the second edition of the Chicken Pattern.

After which she remembered, as if waking from a fevered dream, that she was supposed to be sewing a dress, and hurriedly measured the child in question and drafted a sloper. And went panic-shopping for fabric, returning with (as if to overcompensate) enough fabric for two dresses and several muslins.

Then left her common sense at the door and, in the name of "testing out the sloper" and "getting the old brain warmed up for the Real Thing", proceeded to sew an entire Other Dress (with its associated muslins). That's right - an entire second gown that the child didn't actually need. 

Then, in the strange hollow silence immediately befalling (you know the kind that often greets one in the aftermath of having eaten an entire quart of ice cream all by oneself and in a moment of belated clarity wonders why one thought it seemed like a good idea at the time), she realized she had run out of ways to procrastinate further.

And sewed the dress.

And it didn't take nearly as long as making three chickens, nine chicks, re-photodocumenting and rewriting a sewing pattern, and making another dress.

So. How's your sanity been holding up this winter?

Mooooooooving forward now, I have two bits of news to share.

One is that I have indeed revised my Chicken Pattern. I should probably disclaim that I don't think the original 2010 version was a disaster - I was quite easily able to make a chicken (or three) from those instructions, after all. But it was written 12 years ago and I approach sewing instruction much more methodically now than I did back then. 

I don't know if it's even a thing - pattern designers returning to old patterns to revise and release new editions of them, I mean - but it seemed irresponsible not to incorporate improvements when they were now obvious to me, and pass those on to you guys. The construction sequence and methods are still essentially the same but I reworded some instructions which sounded awkward, added more photos and annotations, and redrew all the templates so they were more effectively spaced out on the page. 

If you bought a Chicken Pattern in the past and would like the new version, send me an email with

• your name 
• the email address you used to buy it, if you can remember it, and
• the year you bought it, if you can remember it,

and I'll send you a link to download the new one for free. I can't promise that I'll respond to your email right away, especially if I receive many requests, but give me a couple weeks or so, and I should be able to have a new link for you.

Second, I now have two sets of chicken-and-chicks to send to new homes! You can find them in my Etsy store here. 

I don't think I've ever had a chicken in my Etsy store before - my children inherited all the prototypes and samples I'd made when I first wrote the pattern. Snuggling and cuddling aside, I imagine they'll be good fun for classrooms and preschool rooms and anywhere that kids want to set up a pretend farm or co-op, and just in time for spring, too.

Each set comes with a hen 

which lays eggs,

and three chicks.

Each chick fits in one of these plastic eggs (also included).

You might notice that the eggs are a bit festive-looking; my apologies if you were hoping for more realistic or at least solid colors. These are what I was able to obtain at this time of the year, and I thought I'd include them with your purchase so you could start playing with the chicken and chicks right away. I'm pretty sure that in a couple of months, the stores will be full of easter eggs and you can replace these with ones more to your liking.    

Go to my Etsy store here to buy the chicken & chicks,

and go to my pattern shop or pattern page on my blog to buy the revised Chicken Pattern.

Ollie the Quaker Parrot

This is Ollie.

Ollie (short for Oliver) is a Quaker Parrot, sometimes called a Monk Parakeet.

This is obviously made of fabric, but there is a real-life Ollie who inspired this version, and he lives with my cousin and his wife in Singapore.  

We got to meet Ollie when we last visited Singapore, right before the pandemic began. Ollie is absolutely charming - he's smart, sweet and extremely well-trained. 

Also, he talks and sings. Here's a video of Ollie singing Happy Birthday To You. Evelyn (my cousin's wife) recorded it and sent it to Emily on her birthday last year. 

We all love Ollie! Unfortunately, since he lives halfway around the world, we don't see him as often as we'd like. I thought I would render him in fabric, then mail it to Singapore so real Ollie could meet him.  

Here are more shots of the fabric version.

Shape-wise, this is very similar to the lorikeet, but much simpler in that there aren't as many add-on color patches. I did get to work with multiple shades of green, which was a lot of fun. 

Ollie's face is white, blending into green over his forehead and toward his neck - I couldn't make that happen in standard store-bought fleece, so a green crown overlay appliqued to his head was my best attempt to approximate the real thing.

His wings are solid-color double layers - chartreuse on the top,

and emerald green underneath,

with that underlayer peeking out, like Ollie's wing feathers do in real life.

I'd modeled this fabric version after a photograph we'd taken of Ollie early last year - in that photo, his tail feathers were of unequal length, so I made the fabric version the same way. 

My cousin later explained that parrots' tail feathers are the same length when fully grown after a molt - apparently, I'd caught Ollie while he was still growing his out! 

Here are some shots of Ollie with the Rainbow Lorikeet from the previous post.

Ollie is truly the last bird I've made (so far!) I'm doing some crochet this summer (more portable and relaxing than sewing) but I'm also working through a to-sew list of clothes the kids have requested - fitted tank tops, skirts and T-shirts and such. I've had to draft brand new slopers for everyone, which took a while since I'd let myself get rusty over the years and then procrastinated because I was loathe to put in the brainwork to get all caught up. But I did eventually, and it wasn't anywhere as tough as I'd thought. Silly me. I can't believe we're in August already - hope you guys have good things planned for the remaining weeks. Stay well!