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The new sewing machine that I bought last week is MAGNIFICENT, however for this particular project it has had to take a side seat – I may write about it later, but for now, I’ve had to settle into hand-sewing – and I’m having to slow it down completely and just pin and plan; so am around ‘half-way through’. But many of us passionate sewing enthusiasts know that half-way through can mean a lot more than a literal '50% done' mark!

Nevertheless, this coat is rather special for multiple reasons. Most importantly, the brown non-wool part of the coat belonged to a fabulous long puff-coat that a dearest friend had gifted me, the last time I travelled to Scotland. I used it extensively when in the wild north of Europe, and also during winters in Italy and in Portugal… Then, most unfortunately, it got burned when I was drying it next to my roaring wood stove. Aaaaaarrrgggghhhh: the melted part was a big-enough chunk of the middle of the (lower) back, which initially I thought could be repaired by cutting the bottom few inches off completely....

On further inspection, it was clear that the whole shape of the brown coat would be too compromised if I cut the bottom off it (plus I'd have to remove the enormous zip): it’d make it into a different and rather less wonderful garment altogether. So I got to thinking of how I could mix it up and use the best aspects of this coat, plus the best aspects of another great 50c stall buy, and make a ‘hybrid’ coat, which’d allow me to express some of my favourite, funky uniqueness in a 'never-before-seen' new winter coat.

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The mustard wool kind-of-tweed upper-bodice is the fabric that I used for the turquoise wool skirt with mustard details (last week’s post): I had cut the lower edge off of the body of an old tweed coat, and the ends of the sleeves (which I used for the pockets in the new skirt). Now I had an upper-torso and some scraps left, which I had a vision for melding with the brown coat somehow.

The sleeves I had this idea to add simply to the short sleeve section of the mustard jacket, and I went about cutting them off of the brown coat – which I knew was a down filling, but wasn’t really thinking through what it is to cut open a duck down garment.

Yikes! Fluffy duck-bum feathers are a heck of a thing to keep control of, once they escape!!

The rest of the discecting of the brown down coat was done ever-so-carefully, once I had properly thought it out; I cut near the seam divisions (the sewn lines separating the quilting of each section), and tacked the open seam closed – to avoid the spewing of plumes all around our kitchen and studio!

As it happened, a fair amount of duck-down ended up floating around the Arthouse this week - but it could’ve been worse! I managed to keep it to a minimum, as I figured out how to contain them, and got the first stage of this new coat sorted, by tacking, then repinning, then turning up and repinning both the new sleeve section and the old sleeve ‘stumps’ – so they could be relatively-simply sewn together by hand. I tried to use the new sewing machine for this job, but it gave up after a few inches of stitching: I think I need a different needle for this kind of very tough synthetic fabric (the brown stuff): until I do some studying around what needle fits what fabric, I have to keep on with the handwork.

Now, just before I set up my Needlework Monday post this morning, so that @vincentnijman and I can go and arrange a car to hire for a week (woopwoop!!), I have the big square of the main body of the brown down coat almost ready, pinned and neatly prepped, for – somehow, not sure yet! - adding to the bodice.

I’m loving the way the two fabrics work together. It is a lovely blend of old and new, making a kind of contrasting super-jacket, which uses this spontaneous mixing up of elements and forms, into something that is essentially harmonious and fascinating in the new garment. This is just like when I was painting as my main creative practise: grabbing a colour, making a wide sweeping movement with a big brush or a coloured pen, and intuiting how one part of the painting would balance with the other part – adjusting accordingly, until there was one colour block sitting beautifully perfectly, upon another… I love very much the way a garment unfolds without a particular design at the beginning.

Just allowing a new coat to grow from the old pieces, whilst holding a sort of felt vision: a sensory-led momentum - towards something inherently original.

I like this approach the best. It fits my mindbodyspirit better than any other way, and I will continue to explore it and to develop my own unique and spontaneous methodology, using old clothes and making them magical again….