March 29, 2010
I haven't done this in a while.
I am sitting on the floor, with a large pile of paper. When I say large, I mean 72 printed pages. Looking at the stack I'd say it would be similar in size to the first half of the Oxford English Dictionary. But while that would give you everything from aardvarks to Kurdistan, it appears that this is a singular garment pattern.
I am on my hands and knees arranging the pages in rows and columns; painstakingly folding blank edges and matching registration marks. Each edge is being carefully taped in place. I'm trying to beat the breeze which intermittently blows under the door and disrupts the pages before they are secured. Curses. And trying to fend off the family member of short stature is helpfully shuffling the stack of paper. Double curses.
The problem with downloading and printing patterns at home is the deception. The downloading and printing is ever so convenient. And cheap. And marvellously quick and easy. (I don't know about you, but more often than not I find myself disappointed when I head to a store to buy a pattern. Out of stock, they say. Well, that never happens online - its all about instant gratification.)
Sounds peachy, yes? It is. Until the 72nd page spews forth from your printer. Its only then that you have second thoughts. But by then its too late: you've paid; you've printed. You're committed. Hours of folding, lining up and sticking await (and I'm afraid I don't do tedious that well).
The funny thing is that the 72 page pattern, which I am using today, is for a mere t-shirt. Goodness, can you possibly imagine printing a pattern for fancy frock with numerous views?
Yes, it was taping together the 250 pages for the bias, floor-length lined dress that finally sent her stark raving bonkers. Such a pity because the download only cost $2.99 ....