Simplicity/EvaDress 3322: Those high lonesome pants
Britain doesn’t really do chinos. And if it did, it wouldn’t do chinos in my size. Thanks to my cocktail of English and Indian genes, I measure 26.5″ in the waist but a scant 34″ around the hips, which means that pants and skirts on the UK high street (most of which seem to be designed for hourglasses and pears) hang like pathetic Halloween sacks empty of treats on my up-and-down frame. So I’m basically debarred from buying below-the-waist clothing for the duration.
The lack of any bottoms in light neutral tones is a serious gap in my wardrobe, especially in summer when black just won’t cut it. As in, I have a stupid amount of stuff I like but can’t wear because I have no beige pants. Enter EvaDress 3322, a multi-sized modern reissue of a 1940 Simplicity trouser/overall pattern.
Simplicity, you say? I know, I know. Barely two months into my no-Simplicity vow and already I’m backsliding. I tried, really I did. I ordered this sweet Hollywood slacks pattern from the unimpeachable Mom’s Patterns in March and waited weeks for it to arrive, but thanks to the vagaries of the transatlantic postal service, it never showed up. Are Royal Mail in league with the devil? Who knows. The clock was ticking — it was late May and the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it English summer was due to arrive any day now. I couldn’t afford to wait for another pattern to ship from the US; I had to put shears to cloth. The Simplicity pattern was in my stash, so back to Simplicity I went.
Just to be on the safe side, I checked the measurements scrupulously to make sure there weren’t any of the wild discrepancies I’ve come to associate with Simplicity patterns and made a rare muslin before cutting into my fabric, a beige cotton/viscose twill I bought from Cloth House in Soho. It needed surprisingly little tweaking, although of course this didn’t stop me from compulsively tinkering with the fit later to the point of courting ruin. However, for my first ever pair of pants, I’m fairly happy with the result. I added big patch pockets and belt loops to soften the spartan look of the original design and give me more wearing options.
Thanks to my project dysmorphia, I could point out a whole host of problems and defects that render these pants torturously unacceptable in my eyes. BUT I WON’T, because when I debuted the pants to the two main men in my life and started to moan about all their flaws (the pants’, not the men’s), they (the men, not the pants) very sensibly told me to STFU, the pants looked great. So instead, I will tell you what I like about them and what I got right and leave my FAILs to the “Lessons Learned” section below.
I love the comfort of these pants. I cannot remember the last time I had a pair of pants that hung from my natural waist rather than from a point below it. Starting from the break at the fullest part of the hip, these pants have a lot of ease. They also have a very low crotch relative to modern pants and jeans — there’s plenty of room in there for a girdle, for instance, or a pair of old-timey French knickers. (Ooh, swishy!) These elements, combined with the drapey fabric I used, make the pants feel flowy, full and unconstricting. They churn fascinatingly along the pavement when I walk and allow a much freer range of motion in hips and legs than I’m used to after years of tight, stretch and low-rise pants. I can high-kick in these if the mood takes me (although probably not while wearing the girdle). Great for lindy hop!
I love their versatility. The high waist makes them ideal for wearing with all my 1940s blouses, and I can pair them with modern tops and sweaters to make them work- and street-appropriate, like so:
Paired with restyled thrifted Brora cashmere sweater, £12 (no coupons!)
I like the fact that I got the topstitching on the patch pockets right. “Simple” tasks like stitching a straight line are usually a minefield for me. I also like the fact that I wore these out of the house for the first time today and two people complimented me without suspecting that I’d made them.
I like the secret banjo I embroidered on the inside waistband (a detail shamelessly cribbed from the blog now known as Adventures in Couture):
I like the fact that these pants have jailbroken about half a dozen items in my wardrobe. After a year and a half of ownership, I can finally wear my vintage 1940s utility shoes!
These shoes are more than 60 years old and still going strong. They may not be dainty or elegant, but they were certainly built to last. Here’s the maker’s mark, complete with the CC41 “cheeses” to indicate that the shoes comply with British utility standards:
Like Tabby, the original owner was smart enough to have a cobbler attach protective half-soles and heels to extend the life of the the shoes themselves:
But back to my pants!
This is the most practical piece of clothing I’ve ever made, and definitely the first I’ve made with the presumption that I’d be wearing it regularly in situations requiring me to look normal and presentable. Ooh, pressure. But it is a challenge in its own way to make something that has to stand up against our RTW-trained aesthetic standards for street and workwear. I can see the appeal. Maybe Self-Stitched September isn’t out of the question after all!
I think I’m starting to understand the Simplicity problem (wacky drafting aside). As its name implies, Simplicity marketed itself in the 1940s and 1950s as the easiest and most accessible pattern company for novice seamstresses — its promotional film Pattern for Smartness, which I’ve featured before, emphasizes how easy Simplicity patterns are to use because the brainiacs at the company have done everything for you.
However, simplifying design and construction that much must involve sacrificing some quality in the finished product. Beautiful garments require finesse on the part of the maker — more finesse than can possibly be included on a single instruction sheet without printing it on monster A0-size paper. Therefore, a lot of vintage Simplicity patterns, because they favor easy-to-explain or apparently easy-to-master techniques, make it easy to sew a finished garment that looks homemade.
However, some of these “simplified” techniques actually involve false economies of effort. It’s easier to illustrate and explain how to make a “simple” straight waistband than a faced contour waistband, but I loathe and dread straight waistbands because they are never simple. The necessity of easing the garment into the waistband, for instance, often isn’t mentioned. You need to account for turn of cloth because it is physically impossible for three layers of fabric cut to the same length (waistband right and wrong sides + interfacing) to curve neatly around the waist without buckling or bulging. The traditional methods given for finishing the waistband (fold both seam allowances under and topstitch or handstitch to secure them) nearly always create too much bulk. And it is often fiendishly difficult to topstitch through multiple layers of fabric without creep, even using a walking foot. And on and on. I’m not sure this deceptive simplicity in patterns is helpful to those just learning to sew.
Anyway, despite the fact that I’m learning to understand Simplicity instead of just, you know, hating it, this will be my last. I really mean it this time!
Lessons learned:
- Apply a twill tape waistband for fitting. Any garment that hangs from the waist needs a stable waistband for accurate fitting. Sandra Betzina’s tip in Power Sewing about using twill tape for this is invaluable — I used a marker to draw the waistband “notches” on the twill tape and basted it just inside the seamline before trying on. This also gave me a better idea how much easing I’d have to do when applying the waistband to the garment (in this case, none).
- A method that looks simple on the instruction sheet may conceal hours of struggle. In this case, “topstitch waistband through all layers”.
- Avoid the Colombo Effect by resisting the temptation to tweak “just one more thing”. In my quest for the rare and novel sensation of snugly fitting trousers, I made one last impulsive fitting adjustment that nearly ruined the whole project. I took too much off the hips, distorting the fit and causing seam slippage, and had to let it out again. In the end it left permanent and visible flaws in the project. Ouch! Leave it alone!
- Use the best interfacing you can find. This may mean importing. You can have any interfacing you want in Britain as long as it’s Vilene (made with real paper!), which means I often come up empty-handed when searching for suitable interfacing for projects. So I didn’t have anything in my stash for interfacing the button and buttonhole plackets on these trousers (not mentioned in the instructions, by the way) and my buttonholes are already distorted. Waaah.
- Hemline brand anorak snaps are total crap. I had three people working on the problem and none of us could get the male half of the snaps to stay in the fabric. Avoid avoid avoid. In the end I used jeans buttons.
Coupons spent: 6 (2 less than a pair of store-bought pants!)
Coupons left: 41
Okay – so I am in the middle of making these and they are ab fab EXCEPT… can you explain to me how the underlap and waistband interact? Should the underlap stick out beyond the end of the waistband but on the inside of the garment? I appear to have made a weird moebius strip down the side of my trousers! P.S. the blouse pattern I bought from you was a big success – thank you!
I love love love the secret banjo embroidery!!
Try the woven interfacings. I’ve gone away from non-woven/fusible. I’m just not happy with the results.
If the resulting piece doesn’t need to be overly stiff, organza works well as an interfacing. Silk would be best, but all I’ve been able to get my hands on is polyester.
I got the idea from this blog–which, by the way, has some really good sewing tips.
http://thesewingdivas.wordpress.com/2009/03/26/not-adding-to-fluff/
http://thesewingdivas.wordpress.com/2008/07/02/do-u-speak-marfy/
http://thesewingdivas.wordpress.com/2007/10/20/silk-organza-saves-the-day/
http://thesewingdivas.wordpress.com/2007/09/03/marfy-9865-finished/
Thank you thank you thank you for the light bulb moment regarding Simplicity patterns! I never figured out why they never turned out well until I read this post and had a ‘facepalm’ moment!
Your pants are fantastic and I would sell a very close family member for those shoes!
~Kelli @ Smidgens
Great job on the pants!
I have the opposite problem with most ready-made skirts and pants. There’s an 11-inch difference between waist and hips, and if something fits over my hips and thighs, you could fit another person in at the waist. Yes, I could tailor it out, but I don’t think I should have to.
Finding pants that I’m happy with is always an epic shopping trip.
I have patterns for pants and skirst waiting. Now I have to get to them.
hi
vilene now how woven interfacing,but I buy mine form a lady in america called pam erny,she is a shirtmaker and has wonderful interfacing
love your blog,I too collect vintage patterns and was lucky to start collecting in the seventies when they were quite inexpensive
jane
omg I completely need to make those dungarees!
They look great, Susannah! I commend you for making something practical. I know it is difficult to resist the pull of your pretty, patterned fabric…but you will get A LOT more wear out of these than I do out of 99% of the things I make!
Also, your hair looks lovely!
I love those pants on you. This confirms my opinion about beige. I can see you in those pants at the office, or paired with the white top to eat ice cream at an outdoor cafe, getting admiring glances from all around. Absolutely worth six coupons. I also think it’s hilarious that you already had a pair of sturdy shoes with half-soles and lifts already applied. You’re way ahead of me!
Hi Susannah,
The pants look nice, and I love your discussion of the process and Simplicity “philosophy”. I think the pants are a bit too long, though – they almost seem to reach the floor. Is this a deliberate feature? I don’t know much about vintage clothing, so I was just wondering.
Well spotted. They are longer than was standard in the 1940s, because they had to be street-wearable. I hem all my wide-leg pants about 1/4″ from the floor in back. A wide-leg pant hem that flaps around the ankle may be period, but it looks ungainly to my eye.
I wish I could shop in the UK then.. Seems like most pants in stores here are made for straight-up-and-down girls, not pear shapes like me.. or maybe everyone in the world has a hard time getting great-fitting pants?
Back to your pants – they’re fantastic! They’re so effortlessly cool. I love the first shot with the camisole, so glam and yet so simple. And if you do decide to join us Self-Stitched-September, those pants will go with everything!
Great shoes, too!
I love the look of vintage slacks, and you did a great job with those. And I *bet* they’re great for doing the lindy… looks like I’m going to have to make myself a pair!
Great trousers, and I love the banjo embroidery! Maybe I will start a trend!
“hang like pathetic Halloween sacks empty of treats on my up-and-down frame”. This is exactly how I felt the first tine I made a pencil skirt. I seem to have thought my bum would become all pillowy to fill the skirt.
Well, here in the States, it seems like most jeans/pants are made for women with less bum/hip (of which nature has granted me plenty!). *sigh* So frustrations is all-around in the trousers department, I wager!
I really love how these turned out–so workable in both modern and vintage looks! The patch pockets are genius; I hate that the pair I made earlier this year have no pockets–so annoying. But maybe seeing yours will get me off my bum and set to work on a new pair of pants (or the elusive late 40s jeans that have been on my to-sew list for 6 months?!).
Bravo on your newest sewing success!!!
♥ Casey
blog | elegantmusings.com
Thanks for your kind words! Another lesson I’ve learned from making clothes and tinkering with patterns is something I’d never thought about before — every element of a garment has to be designed. Even seemingly simple features like pockets and belt loops don’t just happen — someone has to decide how big to make them, what to make them out of, where they go etc. This is a roundabout way of saying “Muslin your pockets first or you won’t actually be able to get your hands into them.” *ahem*
But as I’m always telling James, actually putting stuff in your pockets is verboten because it ruins the line of a good pair of trousers.
Ooh yes! I have been eyeing up that pattern for weeks now, and I think I will have to succumb. I really need some high-waisted (but not corset-waisted) trousers to go with my back-buttoned blouses (cut but not yet sewn!). These have that much-needed swish. With you on the Vilene. Spent an hour scrubbing melted interfacing off my iron. Grrr. I found some lovely “woven” interfacing on ebay – worth a search!
Well, I’m an hourglass, and British trousers don’t fit me either! They’re usually too tight around the thigh and hip, and too loose around the waist.
Those trousers look great though, and the shoes!
Really? Actually, come to think of it, my pear-shaped friends complain too. I wonder who the pants DO fit?
The pants are FANTASTIC! Wow, I love the fabric, the cut, the pockets…everything! They look great on you and will be so useful (I wore my pants ALL the time in Me-Made-May–by far the most useful thing I’ve sewn!!) Thanks for the tips in your lessons learned…I should have used twill tape in my pants….Oh, and the shoes…Lov-ely!
Luuuurve the shoes, by the way.
Those pants are just gorgeous, you did very well.
Ever consider sew-in interfacing? I used to think it was for nit-picky perfectionists and a time-eater but its great. You can use some similar fabric with a similar weight. My go-to is Moda quilting cotton. Or just cut the sew-in interfacing from the fashion fabric. That’s vintage. Then you just baste around the outside edges and treat it all like one layer. No bubbling, no warping, no ickies after a few washes.
I did exactly this with the waistband in the end — fortunately I have a stash of silk organza, to which I am rapidly becoming addicted. I never considered quilting cotton, though — I’ll have to give that a try, as I have LOTS of scraps.
You should try: English Couture Company – http://www.englishcouture.co.uk – for a nice range for non-boardlike and professional quality interfacings.
Diane
Hi I was just going to suggest the same place, I have found they have a much better selection of suitable interfacigs, some iron on and some sew in. Trews look fab on you, and I just think store bought trousers vary so much even in one store. Last year I tried in every pair of jeans in one well known store where my generation always bout their underwear!! In the end only one pair fitted (they were all the same size) and that turned out to be the cheapest pair, surprisingly enough. I’m about to make a pair of trousers for first time in ages certainly since I have acquired my present shape, and I do like these for their versatility.
Thank you for the tip, Diane and Janey! These look perfect. Why does stuff like this never come up when I Google it?
For a range of fusible, non-board like (non-Vilene!) interfacings suitable for knits and wovens, you should try English Couture Company
http://www.englishcouture.co.uk
Diane
Lovely pants and the shoes are to die for!
Jana
These look lovely on you.
I agree, most interfacing is crap. In the good old days there wasn’t non-woven interfacing, right? So do what my mom did and save bits of fabric with nice body for interfacing. A linen or bottom-weight cotton works well.
Oh my dear lord those shoes are fantastic! reason # 593 why i am jealous of you. reason #1 being your sewing cabinet…
Pants!! i am waiting for the check in the mail so I can make some pants of my own. I have to say that this pattern has had my eye for a while. I am glad you bought it because I need to do more sewing with patterns and less buying of patterns. i actually just lamented yesterday about tight fitting low rise bumsters and after reading your post on modern austerity found watching the girl on the train yank up her pants terribly unappealing. You look so fresh and breezy in your beige trousers and your white wrap top. Perfect for summer! (and the pants will work at the office, n’est ce pas?)
i failed in me-made-may and am secretly hoping the summer will allow me to participate in self- stiched-september. I root for you and you root for me, deal?
Sounds good! And I hope you’ll pipe up to defend me when my self-stitched wardrobe fails me and I have to resort to wearing a handmade hanky on my head to qualify.
Wow–those trousers are fab. They look crisp and tailored, but comfortable at the same time.
Great pants! As sewists we always know what could have been done better, but they look fabulous on you! Loved the embroidered banjo detail. I must incorporate that idea into my sewing. I have a question for you…where do you buy fabric in the UK. My daughter has been living there since September and her sewing buddies have yet to find a good fabric source. I am coming in September and need to show them how to find the fabric!!!
Hi Mary!
I compiled the Lonely Crafter’s Guide to London for just this reason — it took me ages to figure out where to buy fabric and supplies here. My favorite place for fabric shopping is Goldhawk Road in the west of the city, and I tend to head for Soho when I want haberdashery (notions). I apologize if you’re not based in London, as the guide only covers this city.
I don’t know how long you and/or your daughter plan on staying in the UK, but most fabrics available here are imported to begin with, so if you can afford to wait a week or so, I think it makes sense to just mail-order them from the US, where the selection is far greater and websites tend to carry more information about the fabrics they sell. Even with the cost of postage and even if the package gets charged customs, buying in from the States or Canada is often still cheaper per yard than buying within the UK. (Sometimes it’s faster, too.) Such is the markup! Blame high business overheads here in the UK.
My favorite notable exceptions: Liberty prints, which are available at a discount from Shaukat in London. Affordable handwoven tweeds and bend-over-backwards customer service from Butt of Lewis Textiles. Vintage and antique fabrics from Donna Flower.
Good luck, and don’t hesitate to get in touch if you’re still struggling!
Hey, cute pants. They fit you very nice, and look comfortable. I made a muslin for these, but still haven’t made an actual pair. Great job!