Where are they now? Brown Morgan cords

 

It’s time for the next in the series of Where Are They Now? where I go back and examine pieces I’ve made and discuss how they’ve held up over time. You can read the previous post in this series here. Much as I love sewing to have a new item of clothing to wear, it’s important to me to be mindful of my creative output. I don’t want to substitute mindless buying with mindless sewing, I want to make sure I’m cognizant of the environmental impact of everything I make, as well as what I buy. To that end, it’s important to me to look back over past makes, to see whether they were worn, comfortable, needed altered or repaired and learn from those lessons. I hope you’ll find this series interesting and maybe use it to inform your sewing practice!

You may remember, way back in 2021, I embarked on making a pair of brown cords. Inspired by my style icons, the Hobbits and Monty Don, when I saw brown corduroy fabric pop up in Roberta Cummings Instagram destash, I jumped at the opportunity.

It took a couple of attempts to make a wearable pair of trousers. I started with the Alina Design Co chinos pattern but found it really high waisted for my short frame. The slash pockets bulged, making me feel wider than necessary across the hips. The thighs were both too tight and too baggy, thus defying the laws of fabric physics. I liked the welt pockets on the bum, but otherwise was thoroughly underwhelmed by this version.

I don’t have any decent photos of this iteration, I never finished them. Enjoy this night time, artificial light photo taken in my granny’s attic. Please note the creepy vintage doll in the background.

For the next version, I decided to use the Morgan jeans by Closet Core. I’d already had success with this pattern once, so I was reasonably sure I could make it work a second time. The fabric was precious, being made in England and deadstock, so I didn’t want to waste any more on an unknown pattern.

Amy is a small white person, turned to the side, looking off camera. She is wearing a pair of brown corduroy trousers

I was really pleased with this second attempt. They fit well, the cuffs were cute and the jeans-style finishing made these feel really solid and well constructed. I’ve not really owned a pair of cords, since being a kid, so I had to adapt a little to the way the fabric feels when you’re wearing it. The raised whales (the ridges on cord) meant I was initially acutely aware of how my thighs rub together as I walk, I could feel the fabric rubbing on itself in a way I hadn’t experienced with smooth fabric, like denim. It does make me concerned about how these trousers may wear in time, the inner thigh is always a source of bother for me, on any style of trouser. Google photos informs me I finished and photographed this second edition around January 2022 so I’ve been wearing them regularly for around 18 months.

Amy is a small white person, holding a pair of brown corduroy trousers up to the camera. You can see the blue and white gingham facing inside the waistband

My second point of concern with this version, was the button fly. I’d never done a button fly before and I opted use sew-on buttons, rather than jeans buttons. I figured regular buttons would fit better, stylistically, with the brown corduroy. I used buttons from my stash and, if I’m honest, I chose buttons that were far too chunky. You can see in the photos above, how the button fly gapes open. This gives the false impression I’m busting out of these across the stomach and I was always slightly self-conscious when wearing a shorter tee or sweater, meaning the fly wasn’t covered.

This is one of the many joys of being a sewist, being able to go back and correct mistakes or make style changes. I decided in May, it was worth taking the time to change the buttons and fix some damage. The fabric is beautifully soft, but it is quite friable and a hole had developed across the fly, in the direction of tension. I fixed the rip on the sewing machine, then reinforced the button holes by hand. I removed the chunky buttons and switched them out for smaller sizes.

Initially this mini-repair seemed to do the job. However, having worn them a few times since hand sewing the buttonholes, I noticed the fabric was fraying again. This time my hand sewn buttonhole was coming away entirely from the fabric, leaving an awkward hole for the button with a line of hand stitching across the centre. Not gonna lie, it made taking the trousers off to use the toilet a real nightmare!

This second repair needed to be more radical, otherwise I was close to relegating these trousers to the scrap bin. I love the fabric though and have generally enjoyed wearing them, button fly issues aside. It’s definitely been a learning experience in how fragile corduroy can be, I’ve been surprised by how quickly seams have frayed.

Armed with an audio book, I spent an hour at my machine reinforcing the buttonhole edges. I cut strips of corduroy, folded them in half wrong sides together and ironed them flat. I then laid them across the button hole edges, with the folded side of the strip aligned with the edge of the button hole. After straight stitching forwards and backwards across the entire fly panel, plus the top buttonhole and the reinforcing patch I’d previously placed, the whole area feels much more solid.

I’m much happier with how these cords look and feel now. They’re quite snug around the waist, so I took the opportunity to move the buttons slightly, to give myself more room. The button fly still gapes a little and I’ve read this is a known issue with button flies in general, but I think the smaller buttons have helped minimise that effect. I’ll definitely be prioritising zip flies in the future, a good learning point made.

It’s funny, despite these changes being the work of an hour or so, I’d put them off for over a year. Every time I wore the cords previously, I would feel a little uncomfortable and think, “I must remember to alter the fly” but it took developing a rip in the fabric for me to finally get around to doing it. Now I feel silly, looking back on all those times spent feeling awkward or uncomfortable, when the work of an hour would have corrected those perceived flaws. How many hundreds of hours have I spent sewing in that time? Another learning point to be found there I think. Ultimately, the most sustainable item of clothing is the one you already own, so it’s worth taking the time to make do and mend, rather than spending far more time and resources creating something new.