My Folkwear Story: Susan Dworski

A stash of brilliantly-colored, reverse-applique Kuna Indian mola patches had been nagging at me for years. Created by young girls as sewing samplers, later sold for pennies lo tourists, they feature relentlessly cheerful birds and monkeys in unambivalently tropical habitats. What could be more inspirational during dark, January days?

When a friend donated a few yards of African polished cotton from Mali, boldly printed in ochre diamonds on black, I set about inventing a garment for her, using Folkwear 129 Hapi and Haori, that would combine these equatorial textiles into something suitable for Lummi-wear. I even had enough to make a bonus mini bag.

QUILTED KUNA KIMONO

Another blazing, reverse applique Kuna Indian mola had been calling to me while I completed the first African Kuna Kimono seen above. The incredible, tiny patches and miniscule stitches that hold it together in one, precision quilt arc superb. I gathered the components. The embroidered bird patch on the inside of the neck is a sewing sampler from Santiago Atitlan in Guatemala. The outside back called for handmade piping. The sleeves required some patching since I measured them incorrectly... twice! Figuring out the neckband was hard, but once I added pleated trim and some soft stuffing inside the interior of the band I was cooking! The sleeves were complex in and out, but worth it. Thi is also based from the 129 Japanese Hapi and Hoari, but 112 Japanese Field Clothing Hippari would be similar.

The neckband being finished, and finished (above).

I added tiny crystal beads to sparkle up the neck yoke.

I added side vents and facings, which was great because I was short of the lining fabric.

KIMONO VEST: MARCH OF THE INDIGO GUINEA FOWL

"Maybe you can do something with these navy blue birds," my friend D said as she handed me a length of African printed cotton with guinea fowl marching across it. "I bought it in Rwanda years ago." The fabric languished in my basket of blues until recently. After months of pondering, I decided to use it to make a quilted 118 Tibetan Panel Coat. All over sub-Saharan Africa, stylish guinea fowl are tromping across the savannah decked out in polka dots and turquoise chin wattles, herding their keets. Known as inpangela, or, "one who is in a hurry," the guinea hen is a symbol of industriousness. In keeping with this daunting bit of natural history, it should have come as no surprise that crafting the vest starring these birds would be a bit of a challenge.

I shorted the vest to be able to work with the fabric panel. The addition of a cross stitched cell phone/ hankie pocket made from an antique linen tea towel lowered the decibel level of the chattering Japanese faux indigo calligraphy a notch.  The inside features a noisy, floral calico interior patched from salvage shop kitchen curtains. An old Americana hand quilted patch enlivens the otherwise sedate outside back. And as ever, the end game mandates the most niggly workarounds. The final corners, points, ends and hems require a thimble and some nimble needling... and a quiet moment. 

THE PINK VEST

There are three things I know for sure about my super-talented friend, she loves anything vintage, the color pink, and L'il Buddy, her cat.  Everything came together in a perfect storm when I discovered a length of printed cotton featuring a witty, feline riff, combined with some unfinished, vintage quilting strips from Ragfinery, a length of antique striped men's shirting, and an old pink and white checked farm tablecloth. The shortened 118 Tibetan Panel Coat is back in action. I quilted this, made it reversible, added a hidden pocket, and a front tie.