Working on a Work Apron

Last year when I was home for Christmas, my father, who is a woodworker, mentioned that the woodchipping apron I made for him circa 2004 was "the worse for the wear". I didn't see the apron's current condition myself, but as I know full well, my father's idea of "worse for the wear" means "hanging on by its last few intact threads", so I immediately planned to make him a new one for his birthday.

I made the first woodchipping apron after my father showed me an ad of one in a woodworker magazine or catalogue. It cost $35(USD), which after the exchange rate, shipping and handling and any applicable taxes would have been $50(CDN) or more. Dad said he thought I could make him one for less. He was right. I believe that first one cost $17(CDN) to make.

The idea of the woodchipping apron is that it prevents sawdust and woodchips from getting into the woodworker's clothes via the neckline when said woodworker is using the table saw. The one in the catalogue fastened in the back. My father has a severe case of rheumatoid arthritis and would have difficulty reaching around behind his neck to fasten the apron. I decided to make my version of the apron sandwich-board style, meaning that it would be seamed at the shoulders and neck and open at the sides, with velcro tab fasteners at the waist. Dad would just have to toss the thing over his head, pull the ribbed mock turtleneck over his head by tugging at the bottom of the apron, and then fasten the tabs at the waist, which even with his limited mobility range he should be able to do without difficulty. The first apron was made in navy ribbed knit and navy rip stop nylon, and Dad told me happily that it served its purpose quite well: there were no more wood dust in his clothes, and no more sawdust raining down onto the carpet when he changed his clothes, which I'm sure my mother appreciated. And now it was time to make a new one.

This time I was not able to coordinate the colours of the ribbing and the rip stop nylon, there being a very limited selection of colour available in both materials. I could have done an all-red apron or an all-white apron, but my dad doesn't like red, and white is far too impractical. In the end I settled for a khaki and gray combination. Even with my Fabricland sewing club discounts, the apron cost $32 to make this time, which is still below the catalogue price I suppose.

I remembered how I constructed the first apron, so I made another like it and the project went together with no problems to speak of. I did dislike that I had to use myself and my dressmaker form as models as I didn't have my father there to fit the apron on, but as I kept reminding myself, it's a work apron, not a bespoke suit. It's supposed to have a generous fit in order to provide coverage and to fit over his clothes -- possibly even over a winter coat. My father is 42" through the chest. I made the apron 24" wide on each side and didn't bother with any shaping. I couldn't remember whether I'd put pockets on the first one or not, and ended up deciding not to bother putting them on this one.

The velcro tabs at the waist. My sewing machine doesn't like sewing velcro one bit, but it did the job at my insistence.

My father got the apron for his birthday in August, promptly tried it on, and pronounced it a good fit (though even with all his gratitude he mentioned that the old one had had pockets while the new one didn't), while my mother savoured the prospect of throwing out the wretched old one as soon as they reached home.