Back in mid-October, I started prodding the sprogs for what they wanted for Christmas this year. The daughter had already taken a preemptive strike by tagging me in a link to the Thug Kitchen cookbook with the promise that she would never ask me for another thing again if I got her that for Christmas.
Easy peasy. I ordered it. Two days later she asked for $50. GOES TO SHOW.
(Actually, my loin fruits are very good about their finances and paying stuff back and all that jazz, so it’s no skin off my back at all. Maybe more about that stuff in another post.)
The son was not so easy. The first response I received from him was a missive about how he can’t even think about Christmas because housing crisis (he was in the middle of one) and moving (he was in the middle of that, too) and he can’t even think about Christmas.
About a week later, I got a text from him:
It seemed like such a simple task at the time, but then I started my search for the Fluffiest Housecoat in all the Land and there was just nothing good enough. I even had others in on the search and no small budget for this gift, but kept coming up snake eyes.
The thing is, my son is, like, a connoisseur of coziness. Dude has been a cuddle monster since day one and I have been enabling that for 21 years, so I’m pretty good for half a clue about all that the Fluffiest Housecoat in all the Land would need to be in order to accommodate his very discerning snuggle bug tastes.
- Be very, very fluffy
- Be very, very soft
- Have a hood
- Have pockets
- Be long enough to hit at least his ankles on his 6’3″ self
- Be very, very fluffy
That doesn’t seem like a list that would be difficult to tick off, but no. No housecoat on the market was The Fluffiest Housecoat in all the Land.
So, fine. I was making my cuddle monster of a sprog a housecoat for Christmas. I set out with my two fluffy quality analysts, Rob and Malcolm, and bought a gazillion meters of very fluffy fabric (because tall lad is tall – I had to add 10″ in length to the pattern to get it past his knees) and a “super easy” housecoat pattern (which I will review some other time) and got to work.
The last time I had sewn anything was in 2014 when Rob moved in and we decided to make blackout fabric panels to cover the window and door in his nerd cave so it could be used as a make-shift darkroom.
The last time I had sewn anything from a pattern I didn’t design myself was in 2008.
To say that I am rusty is an understatement.
This became very apparent when I got as far as stitching the facing onto the body of the housecoat and there was a weird, sticky-outy, pointy bit where there most certainly should not be a sticky-outy, pointy bit and, just as that happened, it was Christmas all up in our faces and I had to drop the sewing project for cooking and entertaining.
When I came back to it on boxing day, I quickly realised my gaff: I had neglected to cut the line that is the collar.
After ripping out EVERY SINGLE SEAM I had sewn into the damned thing, it all went pretty smoothly…except for the problem with the cats.
For the three or four days over which I had to drop the housecoat project, I left the fluffiness of it all on my cutting table.
First, Mordecai discovered it and had a solid 8 hour nap on it. Then Zelda-Loo (ever on the lookout for new kitty lifestyle trends) had to give it a go. Soon after, we found both she and Bobo curled up on it together. Then Mordecai discovered sleeping in a drawer, so Zelda-Loo also had to sleep in a drawer, leaving all of the fluffy thing to Bobo, who fully and completely claimed it as his own. This was the scene every damned time I put the fluffiness down:
See how fluffy that thing is? I really can’t blame Bobo for getting cozy with it.
This was the face every time I told him I need to work again:
He was heartbroken when I wrapped it up to give it away….which happened approximately 1.5 hours before the sprogs showed up so we could do our Christmassing together…and about 5 minutes after I finished the damned thing.
Phoenix, who is decidedly not a cat person, let Bobo get in some quality cozy time with the fluffy before taking it to its forever home:
In spite of a variety of hiccoughs, I did have a lot of fun and did a lot of learning while putting it together. I don’t like to advertise the fact that I love to sew, but I do love to sew. It was also nice to sew something for the son because, I’m not gonna lie, sewing for the daughter was an easy creative outlet. As much as I tried to stay away from notions of gendering clothing for my kids, you can do so much more with chick clothes than you can with dude clothes.
As I stitched and snipped away, I remembered sewing wee bambino clothes for him and mending bigger boy clothes and even teaching him how to sew.
Yes, folks; he sews. He also cooks and is a mean cuddler, but sorry. He’s taken (“fallen hard” – his words).
Anyways, I was going for a kind of “coulda been stolen from Hef’s penthouse, but made for Hef by someone who really loves him” look-and-feel for this project. I think I nailed it:
Once The Fluffiest Housecoat in all the Land was on, Phoenix didn’t take it off. I got a “this is mint, mum!” and he wore it home instead of a proper coat.
I’m pretty sure he likes it.