An Apron for a Chef

Spring is here. Blossom like a wiggle-waggle of white bunny tails up in the trees, everything shiny and peachy and new. The obvious time then to return to the dark, dank days of last winter. Why? To talk aprons, of course.
An ugly word – apron – and not the most attractive of attire either. In my experience, aprons tend to fall into one of three categories.
A) Functional aprons. Laminated in plastic, these come with bits of prehistoric egg welded on from long ago school cookery classes.
B) Novelty aprons. More of a boy thing, these generally feature bosoms and other rude bits to titter over into your late night boozy fry-up.
C) Ann Summers French maid imitation aprons. Sacre cordon bleu.
None of these, it must be said, could be classified as haute couture. They might keep your clothes clean but frankly, wouldn’t you rather a dash of tomato sauce on your jumper?
Thank goodness then that there is another apron out there, one that is beyond mere categorisation – a lesser spotted, polka-dotted joy of an apron.
As soon as I saw the pattern in the pages of Sew magazine I just knew I had to make it. All green dots and red flounces, it was classy and classic and cool - the perfect Christmas present for a kitchen goddess that just screamed out Nats at me.
Given that this was pre-Roz and I could barely thread a needle you might say I was putting the cart before the horse. Not that my sister is a horse, of course. Let's quickly rephrase - putting the apron before the chef. Better? Uh-oh, what now...
Fashion before flavour combinations!!! I hear John cry, whilst beside him Greg places his shiny dome in his hands in despair. But Masterchef is over for the season guys. This is moosterchef, and we set the rules.
The pattern didn’t look too difficult in essence although three metres of bias binding did seem inordinately long. Not quite as long as it should have been, given that I melted the first dozen centimetres to the ironing board but still long enough to tie me in knots.
With a global drought on polka dots, I earmarked my baby blue Rosie Dot fabric for the job and it all looked lovely laid out at 10am on an optimistic Saturday morning, pink bias binding like frosting on a fabric cupcake. Fast forward to Sunday afternoon and my eyes were swivelling around in my head.
Cutting out the basic pattern was simple – just the apron front, a frill and a heart-shaped pocket. Attaching 2m 88cm of bias binding was not easy. At several points I missed the fabric altogether and found myself stitching empty air.
Sewing doesn’t get tougher than this.
We got there in the end. The bias binding was pink and cute and pretty, the icing on a candy-coloured cake. Two flouncy bows gave a saucy finish and the apron was ready for the catwalk.
Wherein lies the rub. Haute cook-ture doesn’t mix with dried egg and splashes of tomato. There’s only one thing for it. I’m going to have to make Nats an apron to keep this one clean.