more fabric fun

I’ve got a ton of sewing projects ahead of me. Above, I just finished Amy Butler’s Swing Bag as a birthday present for my baby sister, this time making the pockets larger and two instead of three. The pockets sag a bit, so I added some velcro to keep the outside looking clean. Like mine, this one’s reversible. One side’s a wonderful linen blue pattern, and inside a cotton orange/yellow paisley.

I also whipped up my first Hourglass pillow, one of Amy Butler’s free patterns. The contrasting fabrics—the red aloha fern pattern with a more traditional Asian floral pattern—might seem like a strange combination, but I’m hoping they’ll serve as diplomats among the warring pinks/reds and blues of my living room. In Hawaii, I decided that patterns make me feel at home. The homes of my grandmother and both my aunts use patterns in abundance. No more of this blank, modern palate. Patterns on patterns on patterns. Maybe it’s the buk-buk in me, but I love it.

One down, three more to go.

sew fun

So I’ve been crazy with the new job, and have a feeling I’ll be out of sorts until I end next month. But I have been wishing that I had more time to sew, since I finally took the old machine out of the closet.

My first, and really, only project this summer has been Amy Butler’s swing bag. This may be the first truly usable thing I’ve made from scratch, and I added nifty little pockets to suit myself. The pockets don’t make it as pretty, but I no longer have to guess where everything is. Anybody who’s ever seen me try to open my door (“Keys, keys, come out wherever you are”), or find my ringing phone (“Damn you, I know you’re in here”) will rejoice.

I can’t wait to try more of her patterns, they’re all stunning! Stylish but laid back, just my thing.

the idea book: decorating

Anyone who’s talked to me in the past few weeks knows I’m cuckoo over my new place. Not that I know where I’ll be living, what it’ll look like, and whether I’ll be thrilled or compromised, but it’s a blank slate to create the apartment-in-my-head. This decorating kick is something that occurs every time I move, and I dream of color, balance and, most of all, a haven.

You’ll find me oogling over books at the bookstore, or pouring over a few copies of Blueprint a friend gave me. I have to say I like the mag over all other mags with a design element: not too pretentious, not too pricey, not too old, and not too much decorating masturbation. I like the recipes and lifestyle features, too.

But like all great ideas, many of them are forgotten in the midst of things, forever shelved on the to-try list, waiting for my attention and courage. Recognizing them here may remind me I once had a vision for my home life and maybe y’all can give me some ideas too. When I started sewing, I kept an “idea book” of clothes I liked, often small flourishes that added a lot of style to standby wear (i.e. Anthropologie) that I could replicate. That’s exactly what I’m looking for in my next home.

How about a rotating exhibit? Vinyl sleeves make hanging easy and versatile. I have a Josephine Baker print from Paris, or perhaps Bonny Doon wine labels?

Yes, I desperately want to paint (like this color, especially if I’m living in a box), but for some quick vibrant color and simple design, I could stretch bright fabric over square painters’ canvases. A friend did this with some beautiful fabric. I could also personalize some fabric with sketches and photographs. Watch out, Warhol.

I loved these versatile boxes because I can envision a dozen uses outside of the closet. A makeshift coffee table, side tables, or bed stands? The color contrast is fun, too.

Since Buggah and I have rejected the metal bed frame, maybe some sort of decorative board beneath the mattresses will liven up the drabness of the bed skirt? Or how about a bit of fabric as a makeshift headboard?

Our apartment now is 600 square feet, an upgrade from our last place, 504 square feet. I imagine I’ll be lucky to go up another 100 square feet, so I’ve been thinking of ways to make the place feel open and breezy. How about open cupboards and floating shelves?

Now, I’m no clean freak. If anything, the crap just piles up and the bane of my existence is my entryway. There’s always shoes and books and coats and bags competing for attention. But with inboxes for Buggah and I, a trash for the junk mail, a table for our bags, and idiot-proof places for our keys and cell phones, maybe all the knick-knacks won’t make it onto the dining table instead. Make coming home more peaceful.

I’ve always had furniture that I thought could be stunning with just a hint of paint, but I’m too lazy to sand. This might be my savior.

Oooh, pretty paper. Doors and headboards.

I’ve got a few old, old books. This may put new meaning to book shelf.

Finally, outdoors there may be more to burning mosquito punks: Natural insect repellant.

A bit unrelated, but useful for moving is Walk Score, ranking addresses from 1-100 based on the amount of walkable places like parks, grocery stores, etc. Where I live now is a 62, and where my sis lives in the ‘burbs is a 15. Given we’re a one-car family, I’m gonna aim to live in a place more walker-friendly.

renton road

This is my favorite tree on the island, outside of the banyans at Iolani Palace or the tabletop tree at Iliahi that ate my kites. I like to imagine how long its been here and how the community has transformed around it. Trees like this have history in their trunks, their own stories to tell.

The tree sits on Renton Road, a half-abandoned, half-regentrified strip of land that was once a bustling plantation community. Mongoose dart in and out of desiccated weeds, blond against the sky. Fallen fruit rot on the red earth surrounding the vacated plantation manager’s mansion, where new jalousies wait on old shutters to be replaced. Storks chase the twittering birds around, and I pass through as often as I can, on my way to White Plains Beach at Barbers Point. I came here as a kid as my stepdad grew up in a tiny house beneath a generous mango tree beyond the bridge. We went to the bon dances, sidestepped fire ants and ate shave ice with azuki beans.

This is the first roll of film I’ve shot in three years or more. It was the wrong film (400 ISO) in the wrong lighting (blinding) with the wrong camera (a hand-me-down SLR with a busted lens), but I liked the heaviness of the camera in my hands, choosing my focus, and listening to the film advance. My photojournalism professor said the difference between an amateur and a professional is the waste basket, but I’m showing you everything anyway.

the silver lining

It’s still Hawaii.