*More commonly known as a dressing gown depending on where you live, what your mum calls it or how old you are.
I spent my first 29 years calling it a dressing gown and switched to housecoat like a disloyal friend, after living with a Scotsman. Now, much to the annoyance of my sister, housecoat flows out of my mouth like I’ve been saying it forever. The only other words I can think of where this happened is for products, like Oil of Ulay which became Oil of Olay, but how often does one need to say Oil of Olay? Nike started being pronounced Nikey rhyming with spikey in the UK, less than 5 years ago. And I don’t even know how Opal Fruits became Starbursts. But it was Marathon that I resisted for as long as possible, and before long I had switched to Snickers without even realising it.
Making a housecoat was not on my sewing to-do list but when choosing fabric from Maud’s Fabric Finds, I stumbled upon some Nicky Velour which I just wanted to reach out and touch, it looked so soft. And it just screamed housecoat to me, so housecoat it became. Which was a good idea actually as Scout’s old housecoat which was a hand-me-down from Darcy was getting too small. Shame on me, I hadn’t even noticed.
The colour I chose was cloud blue. I’d call it minty blue, a beautifully delicate, refreshing combination of green and blue with a hint of white. The colour I saw on the website did not do it justice.
It’s as soft, warm and cosy as it looks. Though Scout was disappointed that the softness was not on the inside and was reluctant to try it on at first. When she did, her eyes lit up and she smiled, “Ahhhh! Nice and warm.” She was won over in an instant.
To turn it into a housecoat, I did 4 simple things:
- Sized up
- Lengthened by 4 inches
- Added a belt and belt loops
- Lined the hood
Scout decided to direct this photoshoot. “Show them the inside mummy,” she said…
…she’s really getting the hang of being the daughter of a sewing blogger mum.
Housecoat. Dressing gown. Bathrobe. What do you call it?
Until tomorrow, toodaloo!