RTTPYO #14: Making a Slipcover for My Just-Reupholstered Sofa
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About the RTTPYO Series
RTTPYO stands for Removing Things That Piss You Off — the small home problems we tolerate for years before finally fixing them.
In this series, I tackle one everyday annoyance and show how a simple design change can make a space work better.
When I moved to Arizona, I bought a new Design Within Reach sofa.
It was the most expensive piece of furniture I had ever owned—but it was perfect.
Then I adopted two formerly-feral rescue cats who literally clawed the tough sofa upholstery to shreds.
It took me a year of training (water pistols are very effective, BTW) and several scratching posts to get them to leave the sofa alone, but the damage had been done. The elegant flat-weave tweed had become a scuzzy-looking boucle.
When I moved from Arizona to Portland, and bought my condo, I decided to celebrate by reupholstering the sofa. Even after two moves and five years of use, the frame and cushions were like-new.
With new upholstery, my sofa would once again be perfect.
I chose a soft spring-green jacquard. I liked the juxtaposition of a traditional fabric and my sofa’s modern, squared-off lines.
The upholsterer did an excellent job.
I thought I was all set.
Upholstery Round 2
The cats did not scratch the new sofa. They seemed to enjoy lounging on it with and without me, but they kept their thoughts to themselves.
After a few weeks, I began to notice that the new upholstery was becoming disheveled in the cats’ lounging spots. Alarmed, I covered my “new” sofa with an old sheet—which also became disheveled in the same spots.
WTF?
My cats were indoor cats. I cleaned the floors at least weekly. I Dust-Busted the area around their litter box daily. Where the hell was the dirt coming from?
I followed the cats around trying to figure it out. (Yes, I did.)
After two weeks of surreptitious observation (but no insight), I decided to go to Plan B—a fitted (and washable) slipcover.
I didn’t want a shabby-chic style slipcover. I wanted to see the sofa’s clean lines.
But, after a month of looking, I found nothing that would work.
I was really getting sick of looking at my gorgeous sofa disguised by an old sheet.
So I decided to dust off my sewing machine and make a slipcover.
I use a BERNINA, which I've had for years and love. If you're looking for a less expensive machine from the same company, bernette is BERNINA's more accessible brand.
Making My First Slipcover
I learned to sew at age ten. My mom had an old cabinet sewing machine which she primarily used to make curtains and Halloween costumes. I wanted to learn to sew, and badgered her constantly for sewing lessons.
Finally, fed up, my mom handed me the instruction booklet that came with the sewing machine and told me to have at it myself.
Which I did. And I got pretty good at it.
For years I made virtually all my own clothes. I made drapes, pillows, and quilts—but no slipcovers.
When I started traveling frequently on business, I no longer had the time to sew.
For this sofa situation I decided to make the time.
It was that or shave the cats.
Selecting Fabric
First, I wanted a fabric that was machine washable and dryable without shrinkage. I wanted to be able to wash and dry the slipcover and get it back on the sofa in a couple of hours to avoid Kitty Filth Buildup on the expensive upholstery.
Which meant that cotton was out. I had made pillow covers out of preshrunk cotton fabric and the damn things shrunk so much when I washed and dried them that I couldn’t squeeze them back over the pillow forms.
Fine.
Second, I wanted a print fabric that would hide the Kitty Filth Buildup between washes.
Third, I wanted a wide fabric (at least 54” wide) to reduce the number of pieces I would have to cut to make the slipcover.
How much to buy? I measured my sofa and estimated that I needed at least ten yards to completely cover the sofa and to make throw pillows. More if I wanted to match the print (which I did because I enjoy being annoyed).
I also decided that I wanted to add piping to all visible seams (which meant additional fabric). I found when making pillow covers that piping gave the cover a crisp, tailored look and defined the pillow’s shape. Since I liked my sofa’s shape, I wanted to show that off.
A trip to the fabric store (and a lot of squinting at labels) established that a 100% polyester indoor-outdoor fabric would work best for my needs. It washes and dries quickly, is available in wider widths, and holds its shape well.
After digging around on various fabric tables, I ended up with a large stylized floral print for the sofa. For the removable one-piece sofa seat cushion I chose a coordinating stripe to keep the floral print from overwhelming my living room.
Fitting and Constructing the Slipcover
I consulted several of my sewing books and discovered that fitted chair and sofa slipcovers need to have excess fabric built in where the seat back and the decking (the platform that supports the seat cushion) meet. Without that extra fabric, your slipcover back and seat stretch into a mini-trampoline when you sit on it.
Other than that caveat, making a fitted slipcover boils down to draping the fabric over the sofa, marking and cutting it to follow the sofa’s shape, and then sewing the pieces together.
It seemed simple enough. But I had painted myself into a home improvement corner numerous times after saying “How hard could it be?”, so I was suspicious.
I decided to take it slow.
I started by unrolling the floral fabric and simply laying it over the sofa.
The fabric wasn’t wide enough to completely cover the sofa back. I’d have to use two pieces, which meant I would have to match the print at the center seam.
Sigh. The project was already getting complicated and I was just getting started.
LuLu strolled in, jumped up on the sofa, and settled her fluffy self on the new fabric.
I gritted my teeth. This was going to be painful, but it was this or live with 1) a sheet-covered sofa, or 2) watching my new upholstery being slowly but surely destroyed.
I pried LuLu off the sofa, removed the fabric and the sofa cushion, and started draping.
I lay the fabric on one half of the sofa starting at the top, down the sofa cushions, across the decking, and down the front. Then I added 12 inches of extra fabric to avoid the trampoline effect.
No sproinging.
After a little tugging and repositioning, I cut my first piece. Leaving it in place, I draped the other side, pinned it in a few places, cut it, and sewed the two pieces together.
The slipcover adventure had begun.
I paused the draping and fitting to make 5 or 6 miles’ worth of piping for all the seams (then had to make another mile’s worth to get the thing done).
After sewing the front pieces together, I put the them back on the sofa, and started building the slipcover, first the sofa top, then the back, then the arms and sides.
The cats seemed to like it.
Despite my initial suspicions, making the slipcover was much easier than I thought it would be.
Would I do it again?
Actually, I have.
Four more times.
But I never got the piping calculation exactly right.
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