So, you know how sometimes an idea just lodges itself in your brain? That was me with this coat. I’d seen a few around, those sturdy, almost workwear-ish trench coats made from denim, and I just thought, “I need one of those.” But buying one? Nah, where’s the fun in that? Plus, the prices were a bit eye-watering for something I figured I could probably wrestle into existence myself.
Getting Started – Or So I Thought
First off, finding the right denim. That was an adventure in itself. I didn’t want new, stiff-as-a-board denim. I wanted something with a bit of history, you know? I remembered this massive bag of old jeans I’d been hoarding. My partner kept giving it the side-eye, muttering about clutter. “I’ll use them for something, I swear!” was my constant refrain. Well, their time had finally come. I tipped the whole bag out onto the living room floor. What a mess. Different shades, different weights. It was going to be a patchwork affair, but I kind of liked that idea. More character, right?
I thought I had a pattern somewhere. Spent a good afternoon ransacking my pattern box, which is less a box and more a chaotic pile of tissue paper and faded envelopes. Found one that was kinda close. Close enough, I figured. How hard could it be?
The Actual Work Bit – Sweat and Seams
Cutting. Oh my days, the cutting. You ever try to cut through multiple layers of old denim with scissors that have seen better decades? My hand was cramping for two days straight. And the little denim fibers? Everywhere. I was breathing blue fluff for a week. It was like a small, denim-based snowstorm had hit my craft room.
Then came the sewing. I dragged out my trusty old machine. That thing’s a workhorse, but even it grumbled a bit with the thicker seams. Needles were snapping like twigs. I remember one evening, I was trying to get this one particularly bulky seam through, the machine was making this awful straining noise, and I just sat back and thought, “Why am I doing this to myself?” I nearly packed it all up and shoved it in a cupboard. Seriously.
- Figuring out the pockets – that took some trial and error. Made them too small at first. Had to unpick the whole lot.
- The collar. Don’t even talk to me about the collar. It just wouldn’t sit right. I must have sewn and unpicked that thing four times. Almost threw it across the room.
- Lining? Decided against it. Too much faff. This was meant to be rugged.
It wasn’t like following a neat set of instructions. It was more like a conversation with the fabric. The original pattern pieces? Some of them got heavily ‘adapted’. Let’s just say my seam ripper became my best friend. It was less “precision engineering” and more “eh, that looks about right.” A bit like how some folks approach coding, I guess – you start with a plan, then you end up improvising half of it because the framework you chose just doesn’t do what you need, or you realize your initial idea was a bit bonkers.
The Big “Will It Button?” Moment
Finding buttons was another saga. I wanted something substantial, maybe a bit vintage. Scoured my button tin – you know, that tin everyone has, full of random buttons from clothes long gone? Struck gold with some old metal ones that must have come off a work jacket from an age ago. Perfect.
The day I finally sewed on the last button and tried it on properly, I was genuinely surprised. It actually looked like… well, like a denim trench coat! A bit wonky in places, sure. One shoulder sits a tiny bit differently if you really squint. But it was mine. I’d wrestled it into existence from a pile of old cast-offs and a vague idea.
And you know what? I wear that thing constantly now. It’s heavy, it’s comfy, and every time I put it on, I remember the sheer stubbornness that went into making it. It’s not just a coat; it’s a testament to not giving up, even when you’re covered in blue fluff and your sewing machine is threatening to unionize. Sometimes the best things are the ones you pour a bit of your soul (and a lot of your frustration) into. Way more satisfying than just clicking ‘add to cart’.
