Finally, I can share my Kelly anorak. This one has been a long time in the making. Both the jacket and the blog post. I started gathering supplies and sewing in March and at the same time I started making notes in a Blogger draft post. The sewing and writing have been an equally slow process, but now finally both are finished. This is a superlong post, so now is a good time to grab a cup of tea.
I've given it subheadings for easier reading/scrolling.
The inspiration
I'll start with a bit of background. I love this shape of casual jackets and have wanted to sew the Kelly pretty much since the pattern came out. But, I generally don't have the patience for time-consuming and involved sewing projects, so I didn't think I'd actually do it. Yet for some reason I ordered the hardware kit from Closet Case Files. Just in case, I guess. That was June 2017.
Then, last Christmas Josh got me a Liberty-lined Barbour Abbey jacket. And it's the best thing ever! There is so much attention to detail, from the pockets lined with brushed cotton (or is it fine fleece?) for warmth, to the top collar being in fine corduroy, which is soft and warm against the skin when the collar is done up to protect against the wind. Not to mention, the Liberty details! The lining back yoke, the inside of the sleeve cuffs, the trimming around the inside pocket. Oh, and of course it's completely weatherproof. Manchester rain (/gale force winds/blizzards) has got nothing on this jacket! It has moved right to the very top of my favourite items of clothing ever and will stay firmly there for all infinity.
I lived in this coat for the first 3 months or so after I got it and I could happily have lived in it for the rest of
Considering how much I love this jacket I was really tempted to buy another Barbour, just the same, but without the padding. (So, essentially a Beadnell.) But I was also a bit tempted to make something similar.
The time had finally come for the Kelly anorak.
The decisions
I quickly learnt that there are a lot of decisions to be made with this pattern. Lined or unlined? Hood or collar? Shell fabric. Lining fabric. Snaps. Etc. I loved this, it makes it easy to customise to your own style and feel like you are making something unique.
I have to pause for a moment here to praise the genius that is Heather Lou. She has really thought of everything with this pattern and it can be varied a lot to fit a maker's style, practical needs and preferences. It's just a fantastic pattern! But more on that later.
Right, back to the decisions. The first decision I made was to use oilskin for the shell fabric. Partly for the challenge of it, partly because oilskin is water resistant and thus very practical, partly because I thought it'd be awesome if it turned out well. And if it failed miserably I could still go back to plan A of parting with a kidney to finance the purchase of the Barbour. (Actually, making the Kelly wasn't much cheaper, see my quick maths towards the end of the post.)
I knew that I wanted it properly lined, and that the lining would be sewn mainly from a Liberty Tana Lawn. This decision was definitively inspired by the Barbour. I learned from wearing it all last winter that a Liberty fabric on the inside feels like wearing a bit of summer even on really grey days. Ok, this statement is borderline cringe-worthy, but it's true.
Next decision, I knew I didn't want a hood. I really, really don't like hoods. No idea why, just don't.
What I didn't know was whether I wanted the drawstring waist, but that decision was made for me when I started sewing and realised just how stiff the oilskin is. Even if I sewed a drawstring in, no way would I be able to use it.
The final decision was regarding the pockets. I knew that I wanted them to close properly as opposed to just have decorative snaps. I often carry things like my train pass and phone in my coat pockets and a) I don't want them getting wet, and b) I don't want to create an opportunity for pickpocketers. So I used the pocket variation extra pattern pieces, which are great.
The materials
Decisions made, I got started. First step: gathering materials.
The shell fabric (and interfacing)
I bought this Scottish oilskin from Merchant & Mills. It's both kind of amazing and kind of strange. It's like very thick paper. Very easy to cut, the scissors just glide through it. It doesn't need pressing as it can just be folded. (!?!) Yet, it is thick and densely woven, and very, very stiff! Which really had me questioning whether I wanted to interface anything at all. In the end I interfaced most pattern pieces that required it, mainly so I could be sure the snaps wouldn't damage the fabric when used. But, I didn't interface pieces L and M (the left and right facings) because these pieces were not going to have any snaps on them.
The sewing tools that made life easier
This fabric definitely needed a suitable needle. I used Janome's purple tipped needles, which are designed to work well on thick layers that need extra penetration power (never thought I'd use that phrase on a needlecraft blog).
For the first few bits of sewing I just used a regular foot, but as soon as my layers started getting thicker that really wasn't working well for me. So I switched to a walking foot, to help the fabric move through the machine evenly. This was especially useful for the facings, which contain lots of layers. Although it was a pain to keen switching between the walking foot and a zipper foot when installing the zipper and facings, it was worth the effort. Now, luckily I already owned a walking foot, but if I hadn't, these are like £45!
It's worth every pound of its price though. The combination of it and the needles really made a difference. When using just a normal foot and normal, but heavy-duty, needle I got a fair amount of skipped stitches. When I switched to a purple tipped needle and the walking foot, no skipped stitches. Moreover, the walking foot helped all those layers move through the machine evenly. If I was going to sew something like this with oilskin ever again this needle+foot combination would be non-negotiable.
The lining
As mentioned above, I knew that I wanted the jacket lined and that I wanted a Liberty lining. What I really didn't know, was which Liberty fabric. I narrowed it down to four that I thought would work with the oilskin and asked the sewing community on Instagram. However, all four options got a lot of votes, so I was none the wiser. In the end the choice was made for me, because two of my options were no longer available on the Liberty website in the colourways I liked. So I chose the Rachel Tana lawn, in a blue colourway.
I only lined the body in the Liberty cotton. The sleeves are lined with regular polyester lining fabric. Just for practical reasons. If you've ever worn a coat where the sleeves are lined in a cotton or similar you will know that the friction between the cotton and whatever material you're wearing just causes the sleeves of your top to bunch up and it's not at all comfortable. A silky material is a must for lining sleeves, in my opinion.
The sewing process
I struggled quite a lot with this coat, but actually I don't think it's that difficult to sew. Yes, there are many steps, but each one is actually ok. The only thing that confused me were the facings around the zipper, so I used the online sewalong for that. This is a fantastic resource! Use it!
I didn't have to do a great deal of unpicking at any point up until the sleeves. I went superslow with my sewing partly to minimise the mistakes I could make. Unpicked stitches on this fabric leave little holes behind, and I really wanted to avoid this. I made a mistake when attaching the front yokes to the front bodice pieces, in that I forgot the seam allowance was 5/8 inch and convinced myself it was 1/2 inch. I can only put this down to stupidity (read the instructions!!). But ok, this wasn't terrible, because my original stitch line fell onto the seam allowance once I'd corrected it, so no ugly holes luckily! I was less lucky with one of my facings, where I had to do some unpicking and the holes left behind are very visible (see photo below)
What was really hard
The other instance of unpicking was the sleeves. Omg! The sleeves! I thought the zipper would be the hardest to sew, but man, did the sleeves prove me wrong. Because my fabric is super thick and stiff, it was really hard to gather the sleeve heads to ease the sleeves into the arm opening. It was also really hard manoeuvring all that material to sew an even line all around. That was a case of unpicking, trying again, unpicking, trying again, throwing the whole coat out the window, sobbing, running into the garden to retrieve it, trying again (while sobbing). Ugh, this step alone almost put me off sewing with oilskin ever again.
Although it's closely followed in horribleness by the flatfelling of the sleeve seams. Flatfalling sleeves is hard enough in any fabric, but this fabric just doesn't move! It was not even a tiny bit enjoyable. If anybody told me I'd have to do it again I might just start crying.
What went wrong
So you won't be surprised to hear that everything that went wrong with this coat affected the sleeves.
First, I accidentally cut out the wrong length sleeves. Ok, easy enough fix. I simply added on some scrap fabric to the sleeves to make them longer. That was a very lucky error, because it allowed me to add some of the Liberty fabric (about 8 cm) to the bottom of the sleeve lining pieces, so that if I want to turn up the cuff a bit, the Liberty rather than the polyester is on display. Happy mistake!
The other potentially major mistake - I accidentally cut two right sleeves. Or rather, I think I cut everything correctly, but because my fabric looks exactly the same on both the right and wrong side, I think I confused myself when sewing and sewed two right sleeves. (!!!) My first thought was of course to cut out a new left sleeve, but I had only scraps left of the fabric, definitely not enough for a sleeve. So I cursed and cried a little bit. And then I realised! Because the fabric is reversible, I could simply turn the second right sleeve inside out and get a left sleeve! Honestly, sometimes the best solution is the easiest one. Ok, so the stitch lines on the felled sleeves give it away, because when done correctly the outside has only one stitch line and the inside two, and I've got one sleeve with one stitch line and the other with two. But honestly, if anybody noticed this I'd be too impressed to be embarrassed.
Now for some of the important questions...
Was it enjoyable to sew?
Honestly, no. I looked forward to making this, but it almost killed my love of sewing. In fairness, I did enjoy the first few steps, but once I had quite a few layers to work through it was pretty hard. The main issue is my shell fabric. The oilskin is so stiff that it just wouldn't move. It was so hard to manoeuvre and work with. The sleeves are a prime example. Now that I've finished it I'm glad I chose the oilskin and think that it was worth the effort, but if I ever sew with oilskin again I'll choose much easier projects.
The other massive issue was time. I didn't have a great deal of it and this is a pretty time-consuming project. Made even more so by my choice of a difficult fabric. So, I did it in painfully slow steps. I ordered the shell fabric in early March. Two weeks later I bought the PDF pattern and sent it to the printers. For this pattern I definitely didn't fancy taping together a billion A4 sheets. Then I was busy again so it took a couple of weeks before I had time to cut it out. Only by mid-April did I start sewing. I was literally snatching time where I could find it. One hour here, half an hour there.
The slow progress of the sewing contributed to the overall feeling of this not being an enjoyable sewing experience. I know some people love slow projects and chipping away at them, but I really don't. I lose patience so quickly.
Now, I'm fully aware that this stress around time is a problem I created myself. I shouldn't have started the Kelly when I didn't really have time for a project like it and instead saved it for a quieter period in the year. A lesson learnt for next time.
I guess the final reason it was not enjoyable is the very visible mistakes. I really took my time with this jacket and spent a lot of time on topstitching. But because of the issues I had with things like the sleeves and other bits with lots of layers, the stitching is not as good as I would have liked it to be. And that's really, really frustrating.
Despite the mainly unenjoyable sewing experience this time around, I do think I'll make another Kelly quite soon. I intended this one to be for spring with a lovely spring/summer floral lining. However, my slow sewing has turned it into an autumn coat instead. That's fine. But it does mean that I do want one for spring. And I want to have a go at making this in an easier fabric.
Now, I don't want this to sound like I'm hating on the oilskin. I am very much not. I love the oilskin and am happy that I chose it and kept going when it got difficult sewing with it. I LOVE the result! The point I'm making is that maybe this particular jacket in this fabric is somewhat above my skill level.
What do I think of the pattern?
I mean, there is a reason that everybody and their grandma has made a Kelly anorak and they all look great. It's a really fantastic pattern! So well-designed. All steps broken down clearly. Instructions supported by a great sewalong. And I've already mentioned all the options for customisation. I have nothing but praise for it.
I only really had one issue with the pattern itself. When the time came to install the snaps I noticed that there wasn't much room to do so. I had to put the snap bottoms (I'm sure that's not the right term) riiight next to the zipper and the snap tops on the very edge of the facing that covers the zipper to get them to fit.
I don't know if this is a problem with the pattern or if I did some previous step wrong and didn't notice. Since the snaps did just about fit it's not a massive issue on this jacket, but I'll have to pay a bit more attention to this with the next Kelly I sew.
Is it comfortable?
Yes, very. During the first few wears it was stiff and awkward and not great. And my disappointment was immense after all that work. But I gave it a chance and the oilskin has softened a little bit and now it's really, really comfortable. I keep reaching for it every time I leave the house.
However, I think the zipper is slightly too long for me. I walk fast with big steps and when the jacket is zipped it does limit my movement a bit. If I still try to walk fast it bunches up at the front. So for the next one I'll use a shorter zipper. For now, I close this one just with the snaps. Which works perfectly fine.
One of the reasons I chose the oilskin for the shell fabric was because I wanted a shell fabric that could handle Manchester weather (constant damp and rain). Having tried it out for two months now I'm happy to say that the oilskin does its job perfectly. It is water resistant and only once has water actually managed to get through it. But it was absolutely pouring, and only the sleeves got wet. So that adds a lot of comfort points!
How much did it cost?
So let's talk cost. I think all of us who sew know that making your own clothes usually isn't cheaper than buying ready-to-wear. However, I don't often think about precisely how much I spend on my homemade items. For this jacket I decided to keep track, so I could see how much I'd save compared to buying a Barbour. (Ha!)
So without further ado, the cost breakdown:
PDF pattern + lining extension: 22 USD (about £15)
Pattern printing: £12.60
Oilskin + postage: £48.95
Liberty lining, 1m + postage: £25.20
Hardware kit + postage: 43.62 USD (about £30) + whatever I paid in customs that I've forgotten now
Extra strong thread: £8.50
Purple tipped needles: £6.49
Grand total: £146.74*
*Not counting the things I already owned: interfacing, polyester lining for the sleeves, walking foot. Which would be about £45-50, putting the total at £191.74-196.74. (Cost increase driven mainly by the expensive walking foot.)
For reference, the classic Barbour Beadnell is £199. And Barbour offer a 15% student discount.
Soooo...this jacket in fact didn't save me anything. Let's not even talk about how many hours I put into this! Just buying the Barbour would have been a far better financial decision.
But, every time I wear this it's with the knowledge that my own fair two hands made an oilskin coat. Pretty cool.
And finally, am I actually happy with it?
So perhaps the overall tone of this post has been quite negative. I wanted to be honest and describe what sewing this jacket was actually like. However, despite the mainly negative experience of sewing it, I am really, really happy with this jacket. It's comfortable and looks great. And I know just how well made it is. So it was worth the frustration of sewing it, totally.
I have posted some Instagram stories of making it over the last few months and gathered them under a highlights category. If you are curious on the process of making it, check out my 'Kelly Anorak' highlights on my profile: @danka.jandric .
