selvedge denim front close up

Have you ever convinced yourself that something you made is great, when in reality the final product has so many flaws that you never wear or use it? After spending countless hours on a project, and who knows how much money on fabric and notions, sometimes I have trouble admitting that my amazing new piece of clothing…well, isn’t so amazing after all.

That’s the case with this pair of jeans that I made a couple of years ago. After only wearing them two or three times, I finally pulled them out of the closet and decided that I either need to fix the mistakes or use the material for scraps.

The original waistband (not pictured above) had lots of top-stitching mistakes as well as some unsightly areas where the ends of the waistband meet the fly at center front. Minor issues in terms of functionality perhaps, but the flaws bugged me enough that I hesitated to wear the jeans. As I type this, I’m starting to wonder if the flaws were what bugged me, or if the fact that I was too lazy to fix them the first time around was what really bothered me. In other words, I failed to meet my own expectations.

So, I got my seam ripper out and took the old waistband and belt loops off. From here I cut a new waistband, belt loops, and leather patch, and put everything back together. Other than a little bit of extra bulk where the button hole and button are placed, this time around I can truly say I’m happy with the results.

selvedge denim jeans

In addition to the waistband problems, I disliked the way these jeans fit through the leg. This denim is really stiff. It’s a 13.5 oz rigid selvedge denim from Cone Mills. One of the things I’ve learned from working with this denim is that once it breaks in, it stretches out a little and gets really soft. As a result, too much ease through the leg makes for slightly baggy looking jeans once the denim softens.

selvedge denim back folded

I got my seam ripper out again, opened the hem, carefully cut through three rows of stitching that held the flat-felled inseam together, and then cut open the side seams. I slimmed the leg slightly on the inseam to remove some of the excess ease, and then put the legs back together. Because I used selvedge denim and wanted to preserve the clean edge of the fabric, all of the leg shape had to be on the inseam to keep the side seams perfectly straight.

I know selvedge denim has been the rage for a while now, and I’m completely guilty of jumping on that bandwagon, but from a pattern drafting perspective, a straight side seam really isn’t the most flattering fit for some body types, including my own. Very few people’s legs are completely straight, so cutting pants with a straight side seam creates a leg that seems unbalanced. These are men’s jeans, not tailored suit trousers, so I’m not too worried about it, but I definitely notice this more when the denim is new and stiff.

selvedge denim fit pic

Finding a balance between absolute perfection and “good enough” that I’m happy with the final garment is always difficult for me. I tend to over analyze mistakes and get bogged down with the curse of perfectionism. Every time I start a project though, I have this voice in the back of my head that says “if you are going to do something, do it right, or don’t do it at all.”

That brings me to my roll top backpack pattern delay. I want to make sure this first pattern lives up to my own standards, and while I anticipated having it completed and released by now, I am going to take some more time to get the directions right, printing format right, and make sure all of the details are in order. There are so many details, things I never considered when drafting patterns for myself.

My take-away from both of these processes (fixing jeans and releasing my first pattern) is to not settle for anything other than my absolute best work. Especially in the case of my backpack pattern. If people are going to be spending their hard earned money on it, I want the final product to be worthwhile.