A tunic length shirt with cuffless sleeves which can be rolled up.
There was a time when I had the process of shirt construction down to a stream-lined art.
I became serious about making classic shirts when our son in his early teens stretched to a slender height above 6 feet. Finding jeans, let alone anything such as casual trousers, developed into a hunt that still continues. Shirts are easier to find in 'Tall' sizes, but most of them assume that a tall man also has considerable girth.
I was an experienced home sewer, so chose a basic men's shirt pattern and proceeded to customize it. I split the sleeves and body of the tissue pattern, measured and inserted sections of paper to lengthen, taped tucks to decrease un-needed fullness and set about creating a wardrobe of shirts for my son. I had access to remnants of fine oxford cloth, warm chamois flannels, traditional checks and plaids.
I usually laid out and cut several shirts at a time, fashioned the collars and collar bands, cuffs and pockets before working on the shirts in an assembly line manner.
Along the way I was also making a variety of shirts and blouses for my daughter, myself, various nieces and friends. It was the era of Gunne Sax shirtwaists, made to resemble the ones worn by young women of the late 1800's. I bought fine broadcloth, crisp lawn, dainty pinstripes and spent careful hours adding lace and ribbon trim, tiny pearly buttons.
It has been nearly 2 decades since I have made a shirt!
Last week, rummaging through a bin of fabric I discovered several yards of a soft cotton flannel. I purchased it during the years in Wyoming, but have no idea of its intended use. Blue isn't a color I wear--except in denim--but there it was.
On a rainy day whim I decided to see if I remembered the process of creating a shirt.
I rootled out a shirt pattern, never used, not quite what I wanted,
I wanted a loose, longish shirt which could be popped on over a pair of jeans with a T-shirt as an under layer.
I fussed with some alterations to the pattern, pressed the fabric carefully, lined up and pinned the bars of the plaid along the selvage edges and began cutting out the pieces.
I had forgotten that the layers of a lightweight plaid are prone to skittering and that it is best to cut such bits as sleeves and yokes one at a time so that the plaid bars can be meticulously matched.
Looking at the finished shirt it is noticeable that while one sleeve lines up fairly well with the body of the shirt, one does not.
I wanted a lined yoke which the pattern didn't specify and, for the life of me, couldn't recall the best way to achieve that. Still, with all the fiddling I was nearly done with the shirt by evening.
I always attach the sleeves before side seams are stitched so that I can make
a continuous French seam.
At 9 in the evening I was not paying proper attention and discovered I had stitched those long seams with the right sides together which would leave the finished seam on the outside. I picked up my seam ripper, started to pick stitches and then balked.
There had to be a work-around.
The make-do solution was to finish the French seam, then press to one side and stitch it down on the right side of the garment--a modified flat-fell seam!
I"m annoyed with myself for botching the plaid match in places and for being slow to recall some of the finer points in the construction process.
However, I've created an everyday-wearable garment which is at least the equal of the few women's flannel shirts which I've seen available locally.
I might make another shirt--if only to prove that I can do it right!