Guess what I finished...

...or else I will be forced to tell you! I actually dove into the task of saving my grandma's 1950s kitchenette chairs. They were no match for the spiked knees of my children. So we had resorted to some very classy duct tape for, well, a little too long.

(Ahem. This project has been at the top of the to-do list for over FOUR YEARS! The first knee pop attack occurred whilst we still resided in Napa.)


I truly thought I could take on the challenge of recovering the tops of these chairs as well as the seats. So I bought a bunch of restaurant-grade KEVLAR fabric (in a nice warm tone) and defied my children to use their wolverine knee tricks on that. As you can see, my skills weren't super awesome for even the seat part--and after baffling all of my talented sewing friends with the challenge of the tapered chair tops, I realized that I'd need some seat fabric that looked better with lavender. (Which is my fave anyway.)


Realizing I was not an upholstery natural, I checked out about 20 books from the library and finally found the guidance I needed in a section called The Tulip Pleat. So, I tried to file that information in a retrievable folder in my brain. Then I returned 20 huge, heavy, daunting upholstery books to the library and needed to rest my arms and my brain for well over a year.


So, after a couple more general elections and a few months, I found myself wandering through my favorite craft store and the remnant of this fabric literally drew me in with its tractor beam.

This was not bullet-proof Kevlar.
This was sissy quilting fabric. But it was my only hope.
I hadn't found anything else that matched right and stayed true to the vintage look of the brass table with leaf motif on the white tabletop . . .

Almost visible in this pic of flowers arranged by a dear friend!

Perhaps it's easier to see in this delightful shot of the Banana Dogs that Sam (5) insisted I make for him after reading a brochure at Safeway.

So, I bought the remnant, searched the cyber-world until I found 2 more yards listed on etsy for a reasonable rate. And then I actually bought them after losing track of them thrice.

Next, I patiently waited for the right coupon for my second favorite craft store. When it finally came, I got me some medium weight vinyl to put over the wimpy fabric. (Not much classier than duct tape, but a lot easier to clean after spaghetti night than it would be without it. And I guess I am not that classy anyhow, since I said "I got me some" above.)

And then way later--and I mean waaaay later--I got some batting on sale from the same store. Because, of course, I wanted to make the chairs more comfy while I was at it.

Then, in early October of this very year, I measured and starched that rosy fabric--at which time I learned that Millie highly approved of my selection. The panels kept mysteriously disappearing and the words "rosies blankies" kept swirling 'round my home.

And then it began. I failed miserably on the first chair pad until I invited an amazing friend over for support and guidance. She asked if I had a dowel to help keep the pleats taut. I didn't, but I found that The Pampered Chef Citrus Peeler worked like a charm at keeping the vinyl and roses from going their separate ways. A dollar well spent, ladies.

The result was that I was able to make a chair like the one on the left look like the one on the right!














With Amandafied tulip pleats.

Then we had a really fancy set of chairs for a few weeks.

(Perhaps you are wishing I would've just posted the above picture and let you guess the story.)

.......

But I would like to triumphantly state that before Thanksgiving 2010 (and with much gratitude/relief on the part of my patient husband) I somehow made it to the finish line
and I now have FOUR chairs that look like just about like this:

I might currently be icing my hand from the residual staple gun damage or from the typing required to blog this installment of Amanda's Daring Adventures in Crafting Anything.

And I even spared you the Foam Fiasco. You're welcome for that.