I have a bit of a fabric buying problem. Luckily living in our tiny Vancouver apartment has stopped the influx of fabrics, and now I am slowly working through my huge stash. I’ve had this fabric panel for years, I look at it periodically, imagine cute kid tees and dresses, but I’ve had this fear about cutting into it.
Six years of mulling it over, and it has finally been transformed into a shirt.
I was unsure of the mismatched sleeves, but they’ve grown on me. And I needn’t have worried about using the fabric because it’s super crappy. Every time I wash it, it stretches out a bit more. The print hides the flaws pretty well, so I’m sure I will continue to wear it, but Adeline’s dress is put on hold. She probably wouldn’t have worn it anyway.
Here’s the shirt in action, down my mom’s driveway on my childhood sled. Whenever I want to feel better about my fabric accumulations, I visit my mom, whose fabric stash makes mine seem moderate.