Rumana Coat. Rumana Coat. Rumana Coat. OK, so I’m a bit excited about this one.

The evening I finished sewing this Rumana Coat went down like this in my house. I put it on atop my pyjamas. Then I danced around in it for at least twenty minutes declaring to my poor husband: look at this part of it, and now look at it from this angle, and then look at it in this light …

Am I the only one who gets a bit worked up at the end of a sewing project? Especially when there was hand-sewing involved in the finishing.

And this military-inspired Rumana Coat, from By Hand London, isn’t just any sewing project. This is probably the most extravagant thing I have ever sewn. It’s a substantial, meaty, challenging sewing project. And if that wasn’t enough, I also splurged on the most expensive fabric I have ever used on a sewing project (more on that later!).

So here’s the low down.

Desperately seeking Rumana

I had been patiently awaiting the release of the lovely Rumana Coat for months. Ever since I first saw a sneak peak of those gorgeous baby pink lines on Elisalex’s Instagram account way back in, what was it, October 2017? A new winter coat had definitely been on my “to sew” list but by the time I got around to cutting my Rumana Coat, it felt a little bit as though the worst of winter had passed here. But I knew I still needed some Rumana in my life…

But how the heck shall I warm my neck???

Plus, while I absolutely love how elegant the Rumana Coat looks exactly as designed, I wasn’t sure of its practicality for my own life. You see, my southern hemisphere blood means that I am always cold.

Always. All the time. Never not cold.

So, come winter, I really need to be rugged all the way up. The Rumana Coat’s collar is just to die for, but I don’t think I could wear something that doesn’t snuggle right up against my chin during the depths of winter. For me, this is the slight contradiction inherent in the Rumana coat, its elegant and dramatic length is totally winter-ready but the open neck gives me chills just looking at it.

Of course, this is probably just a question of climate and lifestyle. I cycle to work, come rain, snow or bitter Dutch winds, so I need something warm to burrow my chin into. If I commuted by car or on over-heated public transport, I would probably be less worried.

Summer lovin’

So when I saw the linen version of the Rumana Coat in the By Hand London samples, I knew that a summer version was the perfect way to make the Rumana Coat work for me.

Now, imagine me typing this part here with a rueful little smile on my face. Even after a decade in Europe, the little Australian buried deep inside me still laughs at the contradiction-of-terms that is a “summer coat”. But, let’s face it, summer in Holland isn’t really summer at all. You pretty much need to wear a coat everyday, all year round. And I knew that having this lovely Rumana Coat to slip on during spring/summer, might somehow make that reality slightly less painful.

Rumana Coat supplies

Let’s talk fabric. 

The immaculate tailoring and lines of the Rumana Coat was what made me fall in love with her at first sight. So, I needed to use a classic high quality fabric to really show it off. In an act of ridiculous self-indulgence, I turned to The Fabric Store for supplies.

The shell is made out of this navy  heavy weight linen. Although, it is called heavy weight, it isn’t actually, objectively, super heavy. Much less so, for example, than the more upholstery weight heavy linen of Merchant and Mills. This linen is lovely and soft, while crisp, and has a slight sheen to it.

By the way, a huge shout out to The Fabric Store for totally saving my life here. The fabric recommendation for the Rumana Coat calls for 3.8 metres. I knew I wanted to shorten it considerably and I always buy less fabric that recommended. I like expensive fabrics so I need to save where I can! So I ordered 2.5 metres of my linen. When it arrived, the lovely folks from The Fabric Store had generously sent me 2.65 metres. Turns out, I needed every last bit of those extra centimetres!!

When lining is not an afterthought…

But now, let’s talk about the lining. Here, I took it to an entirely new level. Even for me…

This Rumana Coat is lined entirely in a Liberty Silk Twill (print Minatoku B), also from The Fabric Store. It is the most expensive fabric I have ever purchased. When it arrived, it looked so beautiful that I almost changed my mind about using it for lining. But, eventually, I decided to be fearless.

I am so happy to have done so. After all, we sew therefore we can! Being able to use an absurdly indulgent lining is exactly why we sew things for ourselves, right? Plus, I ended up having the best possible outcome to this dilemma because I have enough leftover Liberty silk to at least squeeze out a cami, maybe even a T-shirt.

So watch this space!

Buttons up!

Finally, on the supply front, to make things even better, I realised that my Rumana Coat would be the perfect canvas for some military buttons I picked up lightyears ago (before I could sew) from a Flea Market in Amsterdam.

Each button is unique and bears the coats of arms of specific services of the British military. My favourite has to be the button of the “Army Catering Corp”, bearing a bowl of soup and the slogan “We Sustain”.

Well, here’s to sewing, the thing that sustains me best!!

The Rumana Coat: Set Up

OK, so let’s get to the experience of sewing the Rumana Coat. This is by far the biggest PDF pattern I have ever assembled. More than 50 pages each for the shell and the lining. If you have access to a copy service – use it, use it, use it! Please! I don’t have access to printing services here, so cue in a looooong evening of wine, music and sticky tape!

Size-wise, I decided to cut right down the centre between the UK size 12 and the size 14. In the end, I perhaps should have graded out slightly at the hip. The final coat has a bit less ease around the hip then I was envisaging from the finished measurement chart, but it’s still comfortable. It’s probably my own fault. I rationalised that since mine would be a summer version, it wouldn’t need the same “winter” amount of ease, so I erred on the size of smaller. In an ideal world, I’d maybe like an extra couple of centimetres  around the hips, but it’s not a big deal at all. In any event, I feel like my Rumana Coat looks at its best unbuttoned.

One thing that would have been useful is if the finished measurements included the finished size of the sleeve around the bicep. Clothes being tight in the upper arm is a common problem for me. And this is definitely something to be avoided in a coat! As I was scared of this risk, I decided to add a bit of extra width at the widest part of the arm. This turned out to be totally unnecessary. The sleeve actually contained a generous amount of ease. In the end, I took off my extra width and then some. I also took off a couple of centimetres in length, as, for me, the sleeve as drafted was a bit oversized and Grandpa-esque.

The only other initial cutting advice is: watch the length of your notches. I checked the pattern’s seam allowance and, as is typical, it was stated to be “15cm, unless otherwise indicated”. But it is actually very often throughout the pattern that a 10cm seam allowance is “otherwise indicated”. So I was caught off guard, having snipped too far in my notches a couple of times.

Rumana Coat: Instructions

As for sewing this Rumana Coat up, hats off to By Hand London for a job well done on the instructions. I’m not going to say that this is a quick or easy project. It’s not. It is challenging, but in a good way. It felt like it took a long time. But, at the same time, it is nicely broken down into small steps. You can do a sleeve one day, part of the collar the next, without feeling overwhelmed by all that remains to be done. At all times, this sewing project felt totally manageable.

And, I have to say, that, for a project this complex, I had very few difficulties with the Rumana Coat. I am always a bit of “rushed” sewist. I tear ahead and don’t read instructions carefully enough. This  often ends in pain and/or tears!

Well, just like Johnson’s baby shampoo, this was “no more tears” project. Honestly, I’m genuinely impressed that By Hand London has made a pattern this complicated which made me neither cry or swear profusely. No mean feat!

Rumana Coat: The Tricky Stuff

Having said that, there were a couple of places where I would have appreciated a bit more visual guidance in the instructions, by way of more diagrams.

There were some minor steps that were only in the written instructions and didn’t feature in the diagrams at all. As a result, I almost missed them. There were a few times where the diagram was really zoomed in on the area of sewing action, but I would have also appreciated a fuller diagram showing the entire pattern pieces so I could more easily reference whether I had my pieces all in the right direction. Same  goes for a few steps where I wasn’t entirely sure what I should be doing when I reached my facing.

But, while I would have appreciated more diagrams, the written instructions were so well done that I never felt lost or frustrated. In the meantime, I see that By Hand London has just started a sew along for the Rumana Coat, so there should soon be some further photographic assistance available!

For me, the most difficult steps had to do with the sleeves and the collar. For the sleeves,  it seemed as though my sleeves were just way too big and it was really difficult to ease them into the armhole as required. I felt similarly when attaching the under collar to the collar. The pieces at this point were also interfaced, which made them even harder to ease. But, in the end, it all came together. But I would definitely advise basting first for the sleeve insertion and undercollar to collar attachment. It took me a few times to get it right. 

Shortening the Rumana Coat

Let’s talk about shortening the Rumana Coat.

From the versions I see popping up on Instagram, this is a pretty popular adjustment. I chopped 37cm off the length of the Rumana Coat pattern (for reference, I am 167cm tall). I did this just by cutting off at the bottom, but making sure to reflect the shaping/angle of the bottom of the piece. And just a reminder, as I pointed out above, my shortened version used  2.65 metres of a 1.5 metre wide fabric.

A couple of key things to remember when shortening.  A key point is PAY ATTENTION TO THE VENT. I was in two minds as to whether to keep the vent or not. It wasn’t strictly necessary for my length, but I decided that I liked the tailored, slightly masculine look it created.

I kept it, but it didn’t cross my mind to think about whether it needed to be moved. On the pattern pieces, it still looked a few inches long still. I forgot, however, that once the hem was done, my remaining vent was only about 5cm. Which looks a little bit silly. I could have still closed it up at the end, with a bit of extra fiddling about, but since, however small, it helped give a little bit of needed ease at the hip, I decided to keep it as it was.

But please learn from my mistake, if you are going to keep the vent on a shortened coat,  try to move it up a bit, so you actually end up with a proportionally-sized vent!

The other super important thing is that the vent is used by the pattern instructions for turning the coat the right way out after you attach the lining. If you skip the vent or “miniaturise” it, you need to leave another opening for this purpose. I left an opening in my lining side seam and hand stitched it together once all was done and dusted.

Finally, the pocket pieces are quite long. If you want to do an extreme shortening, you may need to check your pocket length. This is not at all a problem with my version – I still have inches of clearance before the bottom of my pocket.

All about bound buttonholes

Finally, since this project was a bit of an extravaganza for me, in terms of fabric and skill, I decided to push myself even more by adding bound buttonholes to the equation!

 

This was my first time ever attempting bound buttonholes. I had no idea before starting that a bound buttonhole is basically a miniature double welt, so my welt practice on my Sasha trousers came in handy.

If you are a total bound buttonhole newbie like me, here is the most important thing you need to know. Bound buttonholes need to be sewn at the beginning of a project. Before you start sewing your pieces together.

Me, I didn’t know this.

So I just got to my buttonhole step at the end of the project, then started googling bound buttonsholes and saw that it was already too late.

“Hmm, bugger!”, I thought.

After a couple of practice attempts, I decided to go ahead anyway by sewing bound buttonholes through two layers of fabric of the assembled coat (i.e. the shell and the facing).

This had one key advantage: in the end, the buttonhole placement which worked on my body had no correlation at all to the original suggestions on the pattern piece. So if I had done bound buttonholes at the start, the position of the buttons wouldn’t be quite right for me. I now understand that this is probably why you rarely see bound buttonholes on patterns. Since buttonhole placement can be very personal, bound buttonholes can inhibit people’s opportunities to place buttons where their body needs.

But, by adding bound buttonholes at the end, I have messed up the totally clean finish of the interior of my Rumana Coat. I neatened the inside of the buttonholes the best I could with navy bias binding. I also hand stitched the edges of the buttonhole flaps to the inside to the facing so that it doesn’t flop around while the coat is open.

In terms of actual technique, I followed the instructions in this bound buttonhole tutorial from Sewaholic. Thanks, Tasia! The only change I made was to interface my fabric strips, as my linen was prone to fray.

And making it my own…

Getting back to the Rumana Coat pattern, I did change the direction of the button holes from horizontal to vertical. I felt that the look of the bound buttonholes nicely complemented the vertical top stitched seam lines. For me, placing the button holes vertically better reflected the lines of the coat.

My final little “make it mine” step was adding this little faux tab with some extra military buttons. And I have to say, I adore this little detail. The whole time I was sewing this, I felt like the Rumana Coat in navy linen was perfectly walking a fine line between being slightly menswear-inspired, especially around the sleeve, but in an ultra-feminine way.  I was so excited by the way my military buttons played with this dynamic, so the idea of adding a few more of them at the sleeve felt elevating.

By the way, these buttons all have a quite high shank and I had some trouble attaching them so that they don’t flop around. Anyone have any tips for securely attaching shank buttons?

OK, I guess I’ll stop here. I’m sure that my Mum is the only one still reading to this point of the post anyway! But, to sum up, I am really proud of this Rumana Coat. A wonderful classic pattern. Gorgeous high quality fabric. A little twist to make it my own.

Really, doesn’t that just about sum up everything that’s wonderful about sewing?

Oh and, finally, a little P.S! If you like to get your blog hits through Bloglovin’, feel free to follow me over there: you can find me here.