Beyond transporting sewing projects and good intentions 3000 miles to my parent's house, I even transported them (and my mum's sewing machine) to Cape Cod for our final week. Projects sewn? One. How do people who live near beaches and sunshine ever sew?
This swim cover up (I believe they go by the delightful name of Rash Guards) for Maia was born out of expediency. Deprived of sunshine 11 months of the year, deficient in Vitamin D, and unaccustomed to beaches without dead seagulls and tampons, we spent our entire first day on the Cape at the beach. Although diligent in our sunscreen application (or so we thought), the spray can nature of applying resulted in some unusual sunburns... Two Steven-sized hand prints on my back (which looked excellent for the duration of our holiday and still look awesome now) from where he 'rubbed it in' and a giraffe-like mosaic on Steven's back courtesy of me. I also recreated Face/Off by peeling my entire face off. You'll be pleased to know we did a much better job with the kids.
However. The nature of Maia's physique (and obviously the fact I didn't make her suit this year) meant that her bum devoured her costume constantly, and I did not have the foresight to put suncream on whole shebang. I did not plan ahead for wedgies. And so she got a sunburn.
Unfortunately, there was nary a swim cover-up to be found in the girl's section of the shops, and I needed one that was long enough to both protect her modesty and prevent more burn. So I picked up a bright green one from the men's section and drafted up a skirted version. I kept the neck the same, narrowed the shoulders, moved the sleeves in and slimmed them, made an a-line side seam to the original hem, and folded a casing in for an elastic waist. I kept the original hems so it should have been a really quick and painless project.
People who say 'It's what is on the inside that counts' haven't used my Mum's sewing machine. I don't know what was going on, but it behaved terribly. The thread kept nesting and nesting and snapping and nesting and snapping. And so: the first and last Cape Cod garment.