I’m clever. I read the book before I started, so I should be familiar with the process Master Jose outlined. I have pattern pieces, drafted by a master, clearly labelled with instructions like “Cut 2 self, 2 canvas, 2 lining.” Slow and steady and this should be an easy night, right?
Not if you forget that you’re supposed to be a 16th century tailor instead of a 21st century seamstress who’s used to modern efficiencies like rotary cutters and cutting all the layers as one stack. See that picture? There’s 3 fabrics stacked there: the wool main fabric, the linen canvas interlining, and the linen lining. All stacked up neat and cut to the same size with the magic pizza cutter. Which medieval tailors didn’t have. They would’ve cut each layer separately with tailor shears for accuracy. But also because THEIR PROCESS IS DIFFERENT.
I forgot that and overlooked one very important point in the cutting instructions: the bit where it tells me that when cutting the interlining canvas to “cut around the shape, leaving approximately 1/2” around all edges.”* <Head desk> See that nice stack of fabrics? Guess who has interlinings that are exactly the same size as the exterior, so all 1” smaller than they need to be?**
Back to work! Lesson learned about keeping my head in the 16th century workspace and not default to lazy modern sewing habits.
* Gnagy Mathew. The Modern Maker. 2014. p41
** Why is the interlining bigger? Great question! “You will notice as you are cutting around the exterior pieces that the canvas pieces will end up just a tiny bit larger than the exterior fabric pieces. Don’t worry about this; this is desirable and should be intentional. You want to be able to lightly stretch the exterior pieces onto the canvas to hold them taut during wear.” Ibid, p40