Refashioning: Biker Chic Magic

As my stash of refashionable items gets smaller and smaller, I am finding less outlets for my ragey-creativity. As I have mentioned in the past, sewing is one of the only areas of my life in which I am not a paralyzing perfectionist. Knowing this about myself is crucial.

Refashioning is my escape hatch, it’s where I let out my perfectionist build-up of hormonal steam. It’s the power of destroying something and turning it into something else that is so deeply healing to my soul.

I do have one or two things that I hadn’t mutilated beyond recognition in an effort to balance my hormones.

This was one of them:

I will refrain from shaming the person who passed these onto me. I did, after all, decide to keep them

So what do we have here? A pair of polyester-ish, non-breathing, too-sheer ugly-as-all-get-out tattoo-ey-ish leggings. They were hand-me-downs from someone, whose dignity I will not disparage on my own platform.

Why someone would A. think it was a good idea to make these in the first place, B. Buy them in the first place, or C. Keep them around thinking I might actually wear them is an absolute mystery.

That said, I did keep them around. For years. And as I did my mega-declutterings, I continued to keep them. So, I don’t know what that says about me, but whatever it says, so be it.

Biker Chic

So far, it was a pretty straightforward refashion for me, in spite of the flashy, rather unpleasant-to-the-touch material. I opened up the inseam, then tried to figure out what I was going to do with this monstrosity.

After chopping off the legs to make a kinda baggy tube top, I was left with the legs with which to make some magic:

I halved each leg lengthwise. One of the leg’s worth of material would become the peplum, the other…well. We shall see.

So far, so good. I mean, unwearably weird looking and the material still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but so far, so good.

That je-ne-sais-quoi

My sister Poppy talked about strapless undergarments in her masterpiece about life being too short to wear ugly bras. I also own no foundation garment that would make a strapless top a feasible element of my wardrobe, and not even for one single unimaginable minute would I go without. So this whole strapless thing, while cute, was not going to work.

I debated about how I could rectify this. I emptied out my notions bin:

A coupla zippers, some flouncy stuff, some elastic.

I took the remaining to leg-halves and tried safety-pinning them to the top to make little sleeve-y things. It kinda worked!

So I created a casing, then inserted some elastic:

This might actually end up being something!

Honestly, not so hateful

As I said to my sister (who is not the guilty party responsible for this monstrosity), this little number is wholly impractical. I mean, that awful texture, that crazy pattern. But, for whatever reason I kept those leggings all these years, I did manage to make something that I kinda want to wear. I mean, I’m not super-duper enthusiastic about it, like I am about this or this but honestly. I don’t hate it.

Compare for yourselves:

So yes, I am going to wait for a biker-themed masquerade party to actually wear this out in public. But boy oh boy! when I do…watch out world!

Published by Lily Fields

I am passionate about contentment. This is a challenge, because I am equally passionate about progress. I get up at 4:00AM to chip away at a solution to this monolithic problem: how to make progress on my contentment. Born and raised in the USA, I married a French philosophy teacher in 1999. We have lived in France since 2007. We stayed young and carefree until life threw us two curveballs in the form of little humans one after another in 2015 and 2017 respectively. Now I am a slightly older, slightly more exhausted version of myself, but with mystery stains on my walls and a never-ending pile of laundry.

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