It's dumb mistakes like this one that slow me down and make me want to throw a fit. I didn't, though. I just undid the seam and corrected it.
You can see, though, what happened, right? I was sewing a seam on the lining, turned it over in great triumph and -- a bit that wasn't supposed to be sewn into the seam was. Sewn into the seam, that is.
As they say, as ye sew, so shall ye rip. If only life's errors were that easy to fix, you know, like the one involving a cell phone and a fender-bender. (That wasn't YOU behing the wheel of the car that bumped into me, was it? Put that phone down and drive!)
Here's what the wool interfacing in the front of the jacket looks like. There's some padding stitch along the sides to anchor it, and a running basting stitch that just catches the jacket fabric to bind the fabric to the interfacing:
There are two layers of wool interfacing in the upper fronts (on a man's jacket, stiffer haircloth is often used), and the layers are held together with padding stitch:
The front linings were already sewn onto the facings of the jacket shell. Now it's time to sew the rest of the body lining to the front linings:
Turn it all right-side out, and voila, the body of the jacket is fully lined:
With the fronts folded in, the final form of the jacket starts to emerge:
This is the book I've used for years as a guide to tailoring. I sewed an entire suit when I was in high school from a golden brown wool, lined with golden yellow slipper satin. Alas, I don't have the suit any more, but it was a four-piece: jacket, vest, pants, and skirt. This book guided me through the process:
Waaay out of print now, but sometimes it turns up in used book stores.