It’s definitely getting colder here in New Zealand, but I’m still trying to catch up on blogging about my summer sewing.

One of the things I really got excited about sewing was shorts.  I made the clamdigger shorts, and then I thought ‘let’s make lots of these!’

Since I was on fire, I made two pairs of ‘pants on fire’ shorts.  One with pleats:

And one pair without:

The shirt is also a bit of summer sewing – the simplest, laziest T-shirt I could make, with a turned neck hemming instead of a binding.

Both pairs of shorts have a really ease-y fit, and enormous pockets, so that I can carry around my camera and my phone and a lip gloss and car keys and a few shells or whatever other bits of miscellanea I pick up throughout the day.  They have been great for walks and gardening and tramps, and will also get lots of use as on-the-farm shorts in Hawaii.

We took these photos on one of our Sunday evening walks around the coast.  I can’t claim it was entirely spontaneous as I brought both pairs. 😉

Mr D quite outdid himself as a photographer and got what may be my favourite photo series ever, as I played with a really cool piece of seaweed I found on the shore.

So why are these the ‘Pants on Fire’ shorts?  Not because of photos like these:

But because they are lined in this fabric:

Obviously that fabric isn’t flame patterned, or anything else that would immediately make you think of fire.  Nope.  Nothing so obvious.

Actually, it’s even  more obvious: that fabric has actually been on fire.

About six months ago I walked past an op-shop and noticed that they had a box of fabric scraps outside with a ‘$2 a piece’ sign on the box.  I had a rummage, and unearthed a piece of very pretty 1950s embossed floral cotton – the fabric that is now used as the facing for my shorts.

I took the fabric inside, showed it to the salesperson, and set it down on the tiny counter while I pulled out my wallet to pay for it.  I was just rummaging for a coin when I noticed a funny smell, and suddenly the woman in line behind me shouted ‘Fire!’

I looked down, and my fabric was indeed ON FIRE.

I hurled it to the floor, stomped on it, and in a few moments we had the fire out.

I turned back to the counter, adrenaline pumping, stammering an apology, trying to figure out how on earth it had managed to catch on fire, and then I realised that on the teeny-tiny counter, the only possible and logical place to put your good while you paid for them, a small scented votive candle was burning.

I looked up at the salesperson, mouth gaping, and she laughed and said “You’re the third person to set something on fire today.”

And then she charged me $2 for the  charred fabric.

Not surprisingly, that op-shop closed less than two months later.

There isn’t much you can do with 1/4 of a meter of burnt fabric, but it did make pretty facings for two pairs of shorts!

And every time I wear them I laugh as I put them on.