Having officially exhausted my fabric supply, it was back to ironing and wrestling with my trusty sheet. After a quick measurement session revealed I was completely out of sheet real estate, I did what any desperate sewist would do: I started chopping up a curtain for the lining, measuring it alongside my remaining scraps like a textile mad scientist.
Next up: a new flavor of chaos. For this, I dragged out the sewing machine. Whipping the curtain lining and the sheet remnants together was beautifully fast and convenient—the real, "riot and a half" level disaster was trying to attach this Frankenstein extension to the 18 pleats I’d already painstakingly folded and stitched.
Once the machine was safely tucked away, I was back on the floor with my high-tech cardboard ruler, a pen, and my newly rescued pins. Honestly? Having only 8 folds left to make felt like an absolute dream compared to that brutal first set of 18.
Once pinned, it was right back to the rhythmic cycle of stitching and stabbing my own fingers. But then, magic happened. I took the shears, trimmed the top into a straight line, and suddenly, it looked shockingly like a real, kilt-esque kilt.
Pure excitement overtook me. The absolute second Will walked through the door from work, I ambushed him, wrapping this nowhere-near-finished garment around his waist to check the pleat fall. Never mind that it doesn't have a waistband yet, and the aprons are still a work in progress—those minor details had to wait. As I wrapped him up, excitedly squealing about folds and alignment, I realized: against all odds, this looks like a resounding success.
Next up on the chopping block: paneling and finally fixing those aprons.
