Mazel Tov

Picture this: A beautiful fall wedding in Pennsylvania. A slight breeze encourages a few leaves to fall lazily to the ground as the sun begins its descent, casting rays of dappled golden light across the scene, peeking through the clouds as if to smile down on everyone present. A sweetness in the air an unmistakable sign that the seasons have shifted; women pull their shawls a little tighter around them, thankful for an extra layer to ward off goosebumps each time the wind whispers its encouragement to the bride and groom. A final Mazel Tov sends waves of joy and celebration through the air, the trees responding in kind with colorful applause, leaves shimmering in a quiet rustle, sharing their own hopes and dreams for the couple with those who listen. The sun is nearly gone now, sending streams of light upwards into the sky, announcing its jubilation to the world, grateful to have witnessed another ritual of love and commitment before sinking beneath the covers of night. Another perfect Fall day.

That’s the wedding I prepared for when making my outfit. I am not sure what sort of delusion had guided me into thinking that Pennsylvania is so far north that “heat index” isn’t even in the vernacular. I lived in Pennsylvania for two years, I know what their summers are like. I also know that summer extends well into September in such a way that a wedding the day before Labor Day – arguably the unofficial end of summer – is unequivocally NOT a brisk fall wedding. I also know that pants and I do not see eye to eye once the mercury hits 65. Socks and shoes? Forget about it. Heck, even sleeves are a forgotten relic of the past by the beginning of September. So where, and how, and why did I get the notion that a long-sleeve button-up with a tie and a wool waistcoat would be the best choice for this wedding? I am here to inform you, I was wrong.

I don’t mean to paint the picture that this wedding was anything but beautiful and perfect and lovely, because it was all of those things. I am incredibly happy for my dear friend and I wouldn’t have missed her wedding for anything. I was just simply misled both by myself and by the weather into dressing for winter when I should have prepared for summer.

It all started well enough in my air-conditioned hotel room. Sure, I should have maybe tried on this shirt even a single time before actually getting dressed for the event. Maybe then I would have realized that the collar was teetering on the edge of becoming a lethal weapon with the overpowering constricting grip it held on my neck, but fashion takes sacrifice and I didn’t need a constant supply of blood to my brain anyway. Adding a tie was just the icing on the cake, which I would no longer be able to eat because I was certain the collar would prevent me from swallowing anything larger than a grain of rice. We’ll mark that down as an adjustment for the next time I use this pattern (Fairfield Button-Up Shirt by Thread Theory), along with lengthening the sleeves and body as I suspected and alluded to in my last post.

The fabric I used for the shirt was a custom-printed cotton poplin I ordered from spoonflower.com. It is not the most remarkable fabric I have ever worked with, but it was affordable and allowed me to make the nerdy clarinet shirt I had envisioned from the beginning and bring it to life. The colorful pattern did not disappoint. My friend’s face when she realized the stripes were clarinets was priceless! I used some nice mother-of-pearl buttons and of course made sure to line up the pattern just right in the front.

And no matter how much planning and attention to detail one can put into a project, I am always surprised and delighted by little unexpected details, like the way the stripes of clarinets running up the sleeves meld perfectly over the shoulder and into the horizontal stripes on the yoke.

So all was well and good. Sufficiently choking and only mildly lightheaded, I ventured outside to begin the 0.5 mile walk to my truck (uphill, of course, as I began the Sisyphean task of attempting to arrive at this wedding without breaking a sweat.) By the time I reached said vehicle, I was thoroughly aware of the fact that it was a full 93 degrees outside with nary a cloud in sight. But never fear, I had tissues in my truck to mop my brow, and the wedding venue would surely be climate-controlled in a way that would bring the stars back into alignment for a successful and sweat-free evening.

That photo above is not just representative of my extreme confusion as to how I could have betrayed myself so horribly, but also of my shock when I arrived at the wedding only to discover that the ceremony would, in fact, be held outdoors. And so I found myself sitting in full sun for an hour, comforted only by the fact that my wool waistcoat was expertly obscuring what was quickly becoming a state of emergency of a shirt, whereby a rowboat would be the only means of evacuation. I was all too happy to pretend the sweat in my eyes was instead tears of joy for my beautiful friend.

You’ll see as well that I did find buttons for the vest that I think were better suited to it. They may still be replaced at a future date if I ever wear it again, but I liked them well enough and they served their purpose.

The button holes on the other hand are an entirely different story. As punishment for daring to admit to any amount of pride in my ability to create this waistcoat (Belvedere Waistcoat by Thread Theory), the universe immediately threw me off my high horse when I began to sew the buttonholes. After spending way more time than it should have taken to decide on placement and spacing, I finally started to sew the buttonholes. As I mentioned before, having to rip stitches out of this wool fabric would have been troublesome and I hoped for an error free experience (ah, see, there we go again challenging the universe not to teach me a lesson in humility). I sewed the first buttonhole and it was perfect. Fantastic. No issues. But what’s that? You’re right, it really does look like my bobbin is running low on thread. Thread that I didn’t have any more of. Thread that I had purchased three years ago when I could easily get to a craft store. Thread that I couldn’t easily replace without notice. So here’s what I’ll do, I thought. I’ll make every other buttonhole with this thread – the bobbin should allow me to make two, maybe three more – then I will find another thread in my stash to make the alternate buttonholes. It will look intentional! Perfect. Foolproof. So I made the second buttonhole and it too came out perfectly. Nothing could get in my way now, this was coming together with ease. And then I got halfway through the third buttonhole. The sewing machine clunked, the bobbin rattled, the fabric caught… my project was so intricately tethered to the inner workings of my sewing machine it was as if they were one. I had to remove the needle and take the machine apart to free my poor waistcoat from its captor, and then begin the laborious task of surgically removing an absolute bird’s nest of precious thread from the fabric so as to begin anew. This of course would be the most prominent buttonhole at the top of the waistcoat, exactly where I did not want any mistakes, right near the breast pocket that should have been placed on the other side of the vest. As I removed the bobbin in the process of taking the machine apart, I noted that there still might be enough thread remaining to complete this buttonhole once everything was back together. However, once everything was back together the bobbin was nowhere to be found and my frustration was at boiling point, so I decided to call it quits for the evening and reassess the following day.

The next evening, frustrations of a failed zigzag fading, I did find the missing bobbin in its hiding place beneath my desk and was able to complete the buttonhole without any additional calamities. It was finally time to search for a thread that wouldn’t be too glaringly mismatched from the original to finish this project.

It’s obvious the thread is not the same, but at this point I was beyond worrying myself about that detail. In wear, the buttonholes would be covered by the buttons anyway. While the buttonholes were a reminder to embrace obstacles and imperfection, and at the risk of welcoming yet another lesson into my life, I will say that overall I am very pleased with this project. I learned quite a bit and this is my first time making a garment that is fully lined on the inside. I think it looks quite spiffy!

And so it is that these two children went from posing for photos in the stairwell at school…

…to goofing off in the green room at Carnegie Hall before a performance…

…to finally being reunited 11 years later for one wonderful evening where we all got to celebrate Erica and the incredible woman she has become, and her now-husband David who could not be a luckier man. And I even wore pants for the occasion.

Mazel tov!