My striped capsule wardrobe began with a jacket-making class—and a memorable trip to New Orleans with my mother.
We took the class together at Paper Maple Studio, using the studio’s Muse Jacket pattern. The fitted casual jacket offers several design options and is suitable for midweight fabrics such as denim.
Although we worked from the same pattern, our jackets were not identical. My mother brought a heavy floral denim that had been in her fabric stash for more than 20 years. I used scraps from her jacket as trim on mine, adding the floral denim to the collar, cuffs, pocket flaps, and other details. Her fabric provided contrast against my striped denim while creating a connection between the two jackets—and between the two of us.
The jacket also received a very personal New Orleans detail. Around the corner from the studio, we discovered Dressed New Orleans, which offers custom chain-stitch embroidery. I chose my initials, “VVC,” along with a gold fleur-de-lis embroidered on the left cuff. It became a small signature on a garment already filled with memories of the city.
One of my favorite memories happened before the jackets were even completely finished. We had an extra day in New Orleans, and the weather suddenly turned cooler. The jackets were the only extra layers we had with us, so we wore them despite the fact that they were not quite 100 percent complete.
Wearing matching jackets felt a little too “Mommy and Me” for our usual taste, but necessity won. We still laugh about it today.
Whenever I wear my jacket, I remember the time I spent with my mother during that trip—the class, the unexpected weather, and how much we enjoyed being together in New Orleans. That emotional connection is part of what makes handmade clothing so meaningful. A garment can carry more than its fabric and construction; it can carry a specific place, experience, and person with it.
One jacket becomes something more
The striped ensemble was not part of a master plan when I enrolled in the class. At first, I was simply making a jacket. By the end of the class, however, I liked the striped denim so much that I purchased enough additional yardage to take home.
Once I returned, the fabric continued to suggest possibilities. Instead of treating the jacket as a single, stand-alone garment, I began thinking about what else I could make to extend its usefulness.
The trousers came next.
I drafted the trouser pattern myself using a three-part drafting technique I learned at the 2025 Association of Sewing and Design Professionals conference. The process begins by drafting a straight-skirt foundation and refining its fit. That foundation is then combined with the leg piece and a fitted crotch curve developed with a flexible crotch-curve measuring device.
The striped denim had enough substance for a full trouser, but it also had a decorative selvage that I did not want to discard or hide inside a seam. I have a fascination with selvage and am always interested in finding ways to make it part of a garment.
Inspired by a Zoe Hong video, I drafted the trousers with a straight side seam so I could preserve and display the decorative edge. I repeated the selvage in the welted back pockets and used more of my mother’s floral denim inside the pockets. That detail helped the trousers relate to the jacket even when the two pieces were not worn together.
Adding the waistcoat
The waistcoat became the third piece in the capsule.
I already had a waistcoat pattern, but it had originally been designed to accompany a pair of high-waisted trousers. My striped trousers sit lower on the waist, so the proportions did not work as they were. I extended the waistcoat pattern so it would meet the trousers appropriately and create a balanced, intentional silhouette.
I repeated the decorative selvage along the center front of the waistcoat and in its welted pockets. Only after the waistcoat was finished did I realize that I had forgotten to include any of my mother’s floral denim.
That omission bothered me because the floral fabric had become the thread connecting the capsule. Rather than deciding it was too late, I created a small decorative flower insert for the upper welt pocket and added it to the completed waistcoat. It was a small detail, but it brought the waistcoat into the story shared by the other two garments.
I also believed I had found the same denim buttons for the waistcoat that I had selected for the jacket during the class. When I compared them, I discovered that they were the same style but different dimensions. Initially, I was disappointed. I had imagined an exact match.
Once the waistcoat was complete, however, I liked the result. The slightly different buttons did not make the garments look disconnected. Instead, they reinforced the idea of variations on a theme.
That phrase describes the entire ensemble. The same striped denim appears in three different garments. The decorative selvage moves from side seams to pockets to the waistcoat’s center front. My mother’s floral denim appears as trim, pocket fabric, and a tiny flower. Even the buttons are related without being identical.
The pieces belong together, but they do not repeat one another exactly.
Three garments, many possibilities
The capsule currently consists of the jacket, trousers, and waistcoat. I can wear all three together, combine the jacket and trousers, or pair the waistcoat with the trousers.
Their usefulness extends far beyond the matching set. I have worn the waistcoat with jeans and the jacket with jeans, skirts, and dresses. The trousers work with blouses, sweaters, T-shirts, and a blue denim jacket.
Three coordinated garments have produced a surprisingly large number of outfits.
Creating this ensemble taught me how naturally one project can lead to another. It allowed me to apply a new trouser-drafting technique, adapt an existing waistcoat pattern, feature a decorative selvage, and find purposeful uses for fabric scraps that might otherwise have been discarded.
Most importantly, the capsule carries the memory of a wonderful trip with my mother. Every piece can stand on its own, but together they tell a richer story—one stitched from shared fabric, developing skills, unexpected variations, and time spent with someone I love.