It might have been last summer when my husband came along with me on a fabric-shopping foray to Queen Street West in Toronto when he found the fabric. I was otherwise occupied in the shop while he rummaged through the myriad shirt fabrics and discovered a cotton denim-y fabric that we both thought would make him a fabulous shirt. I finally dug out one of the bespoke shirt patterns I created for him a year or two ago and got back to work on the shirt.
I like the precision required for making a really good shirt, but I have difficulty finding fabric I love. So many shirtings―the kind made specifically for shirts―are too…I don’t know…boring? I mean, there are lots of stripes, then there are more stripes, then you look again, and there are even more stripes. I’ve made a few striped shirts in my day, and it’s getting tired―not to mention how my eyes begin to cross after staring at stripes for a while. I’d love to find some nice lightweight cotton that doesn’t sport stripes (or worse, the dreaded florals) for a shirt for myself, but I digress. I have the denim. And I’m cutting it out for my husband’s shirt.
While we were in the fabric store, I pulled him over to the thread rack. I picked out a few possible contrasting threads for topstitching and asked him which one he preferred. He chose a kind of taupey-grey. It turns out that this is a great colour for topstitching denim. Anyway, let the sewing begin.
Whenever I haven’t made a shirt for a while, I pull out (the late) David Page Coffin’s book, Shirtmaking: Developing Skills for Fine Sewing, for a bit of inspiration. I particularly like his description of attaching a sleeve placket because I tend to forget how it goes. (Wrong sides to wrong sides, wrong sides to wrong sides…my mantra―god knows I’ve done it wrong enough times and had to unpick it *sigh*).
The other aspect of shirt-making I always review is attaching the collar stand. Now, don’t get me wrong. I know how to do it because I was taught that method whereby the inside of the collar stand is done entirely by hand. The results are good, but there can be funkiness at the centre front. Most shirt-making sewists who teach things online swear by what they call “the burrito method.” The only problem is that each of them has its own burrito method. I’ve tried two of the three main ones, and they work okay, but there can be frustrations.
As I searched for the best videos on this burrito method, I stumbled across instructions for using a similar approach for attaching the yoke. It was like a lightning bolt went off. What? This is how to do it without resorting to slip-stitching the inside. Well, it was too late for me since I’d already done the yoke (and it turned out quite well, even if I do say so myself), but next time―let’s just say there will be burritos even if they’re not for the collar (which they may be).
How to Sew a Shirt Yoke – the Burrito Machine Sewn Method
I must admit that by the time I found this video, I had already attached the yoke to the men’s shirt, so I put it on the back burner until I started a new blouse for myself.
I found an interesting blouse pattern among the discards I like to peruse whenever I’m in a big-box fabric store. Last summer, I stumbled on McCall’s 8014 at Fabricland somewhere here in Ontario. I love these expeditions―as a downtown urbanite with access to the best fabric stores in the country a forty-five-minute walk away, I still like to have an adventure at a suburban Fabricland/Fabricville (depending upon where in the country you live) whenever we’re on a road trip. I also had some sale fabric―a rayon with a very soft hand.
I applied this burrito method to attaching the yoke, and wow! What fun! It worked beautifully. I wonder what new things I’ll learn in 2023. (Umm…it’s not quite finished…those cuffs are pinned and, no buttons- as you can plainly see!)
PS What’s the difference between a shirt and a blouse, you say? I wrote about my take on the subject in the post: The “Perfect Shirt” Project Begins.