Walk of Shame

How to Make a Versatile Skirt

The first thing that I want to point out is that the skirt pictured at the top of the page is, in fact, not the skirt that the instructions tell you how to make. I do concede that there’s a chance the person who made the tutorial is more skilled with safety pins than I thought possible, but I highly doubt that this is the case. That waistband looks too much like the work of a sewing machine.

The first three steps are pretty bland and straightforward — figure out how big the skirt needs to be, then buy appropriate fabric for it. Step four has us laying out our fabric in a big square (yet that is clearly a rectangle pictured), with no mention of cutting or caring about our previously established dimensions whatsoever. Probably because all of that measuring was to make ourselves feel seamstress-y, and we don’t actually know what we’re supposed to do with those numbers. Anyway, no one cares about any of that shit, because we’re making a skirt! Fold that sucker in half!

Don’t ask me why the picture shows the edges meeting near the middle of the rectangle-square. Maybe it’s some sort of abstract art representing how the events of time are all happening simultaneously, and thus, while you have folded the fabric, the fabric still remains unfolded.

So you sew the sides together, hoping that you know enough about the mechanics of clothing so that your seam ends up on the inside, then put it on and go, “Lol, it’s too big!” Maybe you can pretend that you just finished running a marathon and now all of your clothes are several inches bigger on you, and that it’s just a matter of minutes before Subway calls you up and asks you to be their new spokesperson. “Me? Oh, I don’t know what’s so special about little old me, but of course I’ll do it! When do we film my first commercial?” Fantasize to your heart’s content. In fact, don’t worry if you think that you’ll want to keep fantasizing in the future, because that’s as finished as the skirt gets.

Yep, I’m serious. The next step tells you to safety pin the skirt on, and you’re done. Because nothing says hot like an unfinished and fraying piece of fabric safety pinned around your waist.

The level of construction required for this project reminds me of how I used to safety pin together play dresses out of old baby blankets when I was five — the main difference being that my fabric was at least hemmed, and that I knew that I wasn’t making real clothing.