Red linen Jedediah shorts, perfectly fitted, as requested in April (oops), and a copy of Ted Gioia's book on Jazz Standards.
On an impromptu trip to Foyles, B cheerily walks out with his new copy of The Jazz Standards. Hmph.
Red linen Jedediah shorts and a perfectly fitted copy of the pattern on lovely manilla card ready for him to use.
Getting pretty close to the deadline I realise that a perfectly fitted and hand adjusted pattern might take much longer than expected.
|Adjusted and cut out|
Sod it, just make two pairs of Jedediahs.
Wait until B is out of town to diligently trawl London fabric shops for the perfect shade of purple for a pair of trousers.
Apparently nowhere stocks a purple trouser-weight fabric. Seek comfort in cake instead of working on birthday present.
|Snazzy pockets and belt loops|
Make another pair of red Jedediahs!
Discover the otherwise perfect red cotton drill is hideously wonky. Spend rest of your day crawling around the floor trying to correct it.
Construct first pair of Jeds as directed. Watch House of Cards.
Realise that the shorts are ending up dreadfully (and unexpectedly) skinny. Try shorts on self. Decide B needs an emergency (secret) fitting session.
|Snazzy pocket topstitching|
Hold emergency (secret) fitting session, discover everything is actually okay. Put the kettle on.
This bit actually went okay.
Expect to finish second pair Jeds in a series of weeknight late-night sewing sessions. Decide to add a tasteful soppy monogram to the inside of the waistband.
Attempt buttonhole on first pair of Jeds at 0030 in the morning. Finally succeed on attempt 5.
|Slowly getting there|
With 2 nights to go shun all cleaning, cooking and correspondence responsibilities until second pair of Jeds is done.
Explain to housemates why you're making a second pair of red trousers. Assume "Because he knows about those ones, but not about these ones" is a rational explanation.
Attempt to flat-fell both the inseam and the sideseam of trouser legs. Realise this is a near-impossible, time-sink task. Beautiful level of detail on both pairs of trousers has put you badly, but not impossibly behind schedule.
1am, the night before. Go to bed. Admit that you're not finished, but the only remaining things are a hem, a buttonhole and the two buttons for the front of the trousers. That's about an hour's work in the morning.
Fine. Sod the monogram.
|Snazzy Pair 1|
|Snazzy Pair 2|
8.30am, B-day. Hem? Done. Buttonhole? Done. Buttons? Buttons?
*WHAM* Button not gone in.
*WHAM* f***, cut bigger hole for rivet.
F***, f***, f***. Panic. Now late for work. Trousers need a button and I've just cut a massive hole in the front of one of them. I can't do this myself, and I definitely can't fix it. Oooooh dear.
TO THE DRY CLEANER!
Arrive at dry cleaner 2 mins before the Same Day Service deadline. Tip trousers, buttons, rivets, hammer, wallet, phone, keys and bags all over the countertop.
"Pleeeease fix this and add some jeans buttons"
"You know that requires a special machine, right?"
"Yes. Pleeeeease fix it!"
4.30pm, B-day. You beautiful, fabulous, glorious dry cleaner. Thank you.
Realise you might need to wait until spring before B wears the linen shorts.
|Snazzy finished Pair 1|
|Snazzy finished Pair 2|
I think B's pretty happy with them...