You can wrap it up in ribbons, you can stick it in your sock...
I spent all night formulating the pleat ratio for this overskirt.
No, seriously, even when I was dreaming about other things, the rabid little ferret in my hypothalmus was frantically shoehorning symbols of that equation, and random strips of taffetta into every corner. Now mind, I usually just let my subconscious handle the maths when it's time to do pleating or gathering, and that's exactly WHY my pleats and gathers are usually fairly straight on; I had an evilly abusive bastard for my first 'real' maths teacher -- you know, the kind who's so resentful of the fact that he's teaching high school algebra that he takes delight in making students cry in class? And really, he was only the last in a string of maths teachers who were frankly, quite deleterious to my learning curve in that subject, so as a result, I disowned maths for many years, telling folks who asked that maths was just something that happened to other people, and if it really was the key to the universe, I was going to have to get someone to unlock the bathroom window so I could crawl in while the universe wasn't looking. I became a matheist.
That facade lasted right up until those math-believers sat me down and pointed out that I was doing complex maths every time I designed a sewing pattern, whether I knew that or not. My general response to that was that math, like faeries and vampires, can exist whether a person believes in them or not, and folktale tradition always favored the Jack who stumbled into the mushroom ring, crypt, or temple without knowing what he was getting into, over the ones who went looking for trouble. Maths might, in fact, exist, but I didn't trust them enough to look at them square on, thanks.
And really, it's not hard to do sewing equations with only the most basic of sums, so long as you've an eye for proportion and a basic understanding of what fabric's going to do in three dimentions. However last night, my brain apparently thought that was simply NOT going to be good enough, and that I needed to be fully aware of the details. 12 x 64 for the green ruffle, 10 x 64 for the blue one, allowing 3' for a nice box pleat in the center, and an extra couple at the sides because it's never a bad idea to have extra for matching up edges.
*Sigh.*
At least there wasn't a talking animal telling me what to do. Then I'd be SURE to wind up in an ogre's pantry out of sheer cussedness.
See what my dreams do to me?
Ah well. Apparently my Id conspired with my Superego to make sure I'd work on sewing today instead of my other options. But that's okay, I guess, seeing as how I've new machine feet with which to play. (Yes, I'll take pictures as I go. I know where the happysnap's hiding now, so I can actually DO it!) Also, while looking for scraps to sacrifice to rufflage, I learnt to my surprise that I, or someone else apparently cut out a circle skirt from the blue, and now it wants only some seams, a waistband, and a finishing ruffle to be the IDEAL companion to the overskirt I'm currently working on. I love it when my fabric stash gives me prezzies!
In other news, Mithril just flirted himself right off the edge of my desk. High comedy, I tellya, especially when, scrabbling to stop his fall, he pulled the napping pad off on top of himself. Cats is funny.
No, seriously, even when I was dreaming about other things, the rabid little ferret in my hypothalmus was frantically shoehorning symbols of that equation, and random strips of taffetta into every corner. Now mind, I usually just let my subconscious handle the maths when it's time to do pleating or gathering, and that's exactly WHY my pleats and gathers are usually fairly straight on; I had an evilly abusive bastard for my first 'real' maths teacher -- you know, the kind who's so resentful of the fact that he's teaching high school algebra that he takes delight in making students cry in class? And really, he was only the last in a string of maths teachers who were frankly, quite deleterious to my learning curve in that subject, so as a result, I disowned maths for many years, telling folks who asked that maths was just something that happened to other people, and if it really was the key to the universe, I was going to have to get someone to unlock the bathroom window so I could crawl in while the universe wasn't looking. I became a matheist.
That facade lasted right up until those math-believers sat me down and pointed out that I was doing complex maths every time I designed a sewing pattern, whether I knew that or not. My general response to that was that math, like faeries and vampires, can exist whether a person believes in them or not, and folktale tradition always favored the Jack who stumbled into the mushroom ring, crypt, or temple without knowing what he was getting into, over the ones who went looking for trouble. Maths might, in fact, exist, but I didn't trust them enough to look at them square on, thanks.
And really, it's not hard to do sewing equations with only the most basic of sums, so long as you've an eye for proportion and a basic understanding of what fabric's going to do in three dimentions. However last night, my brain apparently thought that was simply NOT going to be good enough, and that I needed to be fully aware of the details. 12 x 64 for the green ruffle, 10 x 64 for the blue one, allowing 3' for a nice box pleat in the center, and an extra couple at the sides because it's never a bad idea to have extra for matching up edges.
*Sigh.*
At least there wasn't a talking animal telling me what to do. Then I'd be SURE to wind up in an ogre's pantry out of sheer cussedness.
See what my dreams do to me?
Ah well. Apparently my Id conspired with my Superego to make sure I'd work on sewing today instead of my other options. But that's okay, I guess, seeing as how I've new machine feet with which to play. (Yes, I'll take pictures as I go. I know where the happysnap's hiding now, so I can actually DO it!) Also, while looking for scraps to sacrifice to rufflage, I learnt to my surprise that I, or someone else apparently cut out a circle skirt from the blue, and now it wants only some seams, a waistband, and a finishing ruffle to be the IDEAL companion to the overskirt I'm currently working on. I love it when my fabric stash gives me prezzies!
In other news, Mithril just flirted himself right off the edge of my desk. High comedy, I tellya, especially when, scrabbling to stop his fall, he pulled the napping pad off on top of himself. Cats is funny.
