The shirt quilt is dry and lovely, and no longer smells of that slightly suffocating father and naphtalene smell that his old shirts conjured up. So, new life in the sun. The shirts are now a quilt. And I no longer need to weep (quite so much), or call it the Dead Dad quilt to cope with the whole morbidity of it.
Don’t you just love the feet on this photo? The back is a sheet and some toile de jouy from a little shop in Besançon that I bought last year on an epic, and rainy, camping holiday in the French Jura. I only noticed when it was finished that the pictures have ‘matin’, ‘midi’, and ‘soir’ hidden in them. The daily life of the bucolic French peasants, apparently. Although how they would find the energy to play the flute after a day of hard labour in the field is anybody’s guess.
So one nice finish before the summer holidays. Now I can make another one for myself, probably with a different motif, using the same shirts and hopefully weep a little less this time around, seven months on from his sudden death.
This was only about one sleeve from each shirt — and pyjamas and some extra Provençale fabric — so there is lots left. It’s amazing how much fabric you get out of a shirt from a very tall man! It’s quilted in loopy-loops all over. Quite intense to do on my little Pfaff but really crinkly and nice now with a puffy wool batting inside.
The binding is from an duvet cover from the usual Swedish big store that has found its way into many projects in the past months, both in its green and red versions. And Ms E, please note that I have actually managed to learn from you and make proper bias candy-cane-style bias tape! Thank you.
Yay. It’s finished. Now I can now give it to my mother.
Happy summering (if you are in the Northern Hemisphere)! JJ