37: finishing the vest

That's right. The vest is complete. (Check its progress here, here and here.) It had been sitting around, waiting for the final step (button holes) for a few days. When Mom and I finally had a chance to bust out the button-holer, things went pretty smoothly.

I then had to bust out my favorite work clothes to show just how nice of an addition this will be to my wardrobe. I was surprised by how well the pattern fit me. We didn't have to rip out and let out, pull in or move any of the seams. That's not to say I didn't rip things out. That happened plenty of times. But the final shape fits my frame without pulling across my chest, allowing room for my winter work clothes.

So we sat down and stared at diagrams in the sewing machine instruction manual and without bitterness, anger or cursing we were able to attach the button-holer, slip in the button to set the button hole's size, practice several times on scrap material and take a few deep breaths before slipping the vest under the knife--err, needle.

The process went something like this...
Hole 1: lovely
Hole 2: crisis
Hole 3: lovely
Hole 4: lovely
Intermission: Megan leaves to prevent her screaming. Mom spends quite a while ripping out the mischievous second hole.
Hole 2, Part 2: short

For some reason, the second button hole stops short and comes out a different length than the others. For some reason, I decide it is best not to rip it out again (really, we're not sure the fabric could handle it a second time). I admit that I'm terrified to cut the holes open. (The machine sews the shape of the button hole, then the sewing maching operator slits the space inside the create the hole.) Mom helps out and suddenly... There are button holes!
 

The next morning, I set to work sewing on the buttons, which I adore. (Not the sewing of them, but the buttons themselves.) Mom suggested sewing on the first one, using that to show how the vest should close and then slipping pins into the centers of the other button holes, to get it exactly right.

I made this process more complicated, but in the end it worked out. I had pins all over the thing to make sure everything was evenly spaced, in a straight line, directly in the middle of the button holes.

And I sewed on all but the second button.

See, that second button hole turned out to be a smidge too much smaller than the others. The button wouldn't fit. I wiggle and stretched and twisted, but no dice. I decided, instead of stressing about it, to draw inspiration from some vintage/second-hand stores and even stores like J. Crew: I'd use one flashy novelty button to cover the mistake and spice up the piece.

Mom was exchanging leftover bridal shower desserts with grandma (giving up lemon bars for a few frosted strawberry squares–more than fair) and picked up her tub of buttons. After pouring them all over my bedroom floor, sifting through most of it and finding no small shank buttons (hook on the back, not holes in the middle), I was getting nervous.

Then, stuck under a giant square button with diagonal rainbow stripes, I found her. A round rhinestone button in a clear plastic setting, small enough to fit through the hole and big enough not to fall out of it. A few stitches later and the vest was complete.

Now,  the button admittedly damages the vest's professionalism a bit, but the closest places for button-shopping are 20 minutes away. My goal when I make it out shopping again is to find two small rhinestone buttons, to make it every-other, a bit more conservative as far as mismatching buttons go. My alternative solution: find a smaller version of the buttons I originally bought and see if it's too noticeable. My alternative to the alternative solution: leave vest as-is. In any case, it's wearable, all put together and looking like I know how to sew a seam.