Back when I was looking for pants that fit, I did a search for red chinos. I knew exactly what color I was looking for — a faded, orange-red. In fact, I found some online, but only in boys’ sizes. As it turns out, that shade of red isn’t “in” this season for ladies. All I could find for myself was a washed-out pink color. Close enough, I thought. And they were on sale.

I had a boy in mind for the red pants I had found. I didn’t spring for them until I saw them in person in Branson, MO at a Gap outlet. I knew they’d be perfect for Four, and they were. He wears them for days at a time, and I have to peel them off of him to wash them when they get so dingy I can’t take it anymore.

I got my pink pair several months before I got Four his pants in the color I wanted. When I saw our pants side by side, my gears started turning. I thought, I’ve dyed some different items before, maybe I could just match the color.

Just an aside here, of all the things I’ve dyed – blankets, sheets, clothing – I think I ended up keeping and liking only about two of those things. Usually, dying something a new color doesn’t fix the underlying problem for me, and I end up eventually getting rid of it, or eyeing the item with resentment each time I see it. So this felt like a risky move. I was looking at possibly getting the color wrong and ending up with a pair of pants that I wouldn’t even want to wear.

I spent some time scrolling around on the color formula section of the dye website looking for the right color. I had screen shots of about 10 different colors on my desktop and I kept looking at them and comparing them to my son’s pants, and none of them were quite right.

Before I’d settled on a final color, I got a chance to go to the craft store. I was armed with coupons, and I’d written down the dyes I’d need to mix the colors that were the closest to what I wanted. Of course, the craft store did not have one of the colors of dye I needed. First world problems, right? I got on my phone, and scrolled through the colors again. I picked one that was close enough and required dye colors that were in stock at the store, and headed for home.

The formula was based on 3 gallons of water, and in my haste the day I did the project, I’d already put hot water in my canning pot without measuring it and had it steaming on the stove. I didn’t want to pour it out and start again. I was wearing Seven on my back and every time I started to make progress, I had to kick someone else out of the kitchen. And I was doing this BETWEEN meals, which I realize as I’m saying that, is a concept that doesn’t exist at my house.

Thank goodness for the internet, I found a formula for calculating the capacity of a pot in gallons. I had to measure the pot, multiply pi by the radius, and some more multiplication after that. By the time I was done, I felt really satisfied with my math skills. According to my calculations, I had 3.33 gallons in my pot, which meant I needed to add a third more dye solution to the pot than the formula called for. The formula already called for numbers that were divisible by three, so the adjustment would be easy.

I used the formula for Poppy Red, which is 9 Tablespoons Scarlet and 3 Tablespoons Golden Yellow, which ended up being 12 tablespoons Scarlet, and 4 of Golden Yellow for my pot of water. After testing the formula by dipping a white rag into it, I added a fifth Tbsp of Golden Yellow to give it a little more of the orange-red I was going for.

I threw in an extra item, which I usually do with a dye batch. This time it was the skirt Two wore Easter Sunday. I should have known better than to give Two a white skirt, even a hand-me-down one. Before church that Sunday, she hopped on a bike and headed off down the sidewalk with the back of the skirt rubbing on the back tire. Later, at church, she spilled hot chocolate down the front of it. It would never be the same. I figured in red, the inevitable stains would be much less noticeable, so into the dye it went.

The directions call for stirring the mixture of water, dye, and clothing for 30 mins. to an hour. I did the entire hour. When the time was up, I drained the vat.

I rinsed the pants in the sink in cold water until the water was almost clear, then put them in the washer for a rinse and spin cycle with cold water. I followed that by a warm wash, cold rinse cycle. And then put cleaning solution in my washer to get rid of the red residue, and wiped out the inside of the washer when that cycle was done. You really can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with red dye.

The results? My friends, they are fantastic. Truthfully, they are a little redder than I planned. But pants the color of the Swedish Fish for which this blog is named? Yes, please. And I know from experience that the dye will fade some with time, so the intensity of the pants will gradually dial down a bit. They will get better with age.

I took before photos of the pants knowing this could be a bust, and knowing I committed to myself to write about it either way. I’m glad this time, I can call it a success. There will be future crafting fails, but this won’t be one of them. Unless, of course, everything I put in my washer for the next week turns pink.

What I really wanted was a nice photo of Four and I in our red pants for comparison. But my two big girls were doing schoolwork, and I haven’t yet been able to train Five to take good photos… because she’s five. And usually her sisters are available. So after a crash course in portraiture and how not to drop Mom’s camera, this is the best we got. Which I have to say, is probably more my fault than hers. 

Cool shirt, right? I made it! I’ll be doing a post on my home sewn tanks soon.