That’s how many yards I estimated I’d need to make eight living room curtains. My rule of thumb is five yards of fabric per window or sliding door for two floor-length panels hung high and wide. So five yards times four windows/sliders equals eight panels (two for the big back window, two for each of the two sliding doors to the right as you face the window, and two for the sliding door on the left that leads to the little balcony). That’s where the whole 20-yards number came from. And yes, for those who can’t picture it, that’s a lot of fabric—60 feet to be exact. Even at a good price like $7 a yard, that’s $140 just for fabric (not including hardware). Extra-wide upholstery fabric we prefer usually starts around $15 a yard, which would push the cost up to about $300. Ouch.
So that’s probably why the sliders in our living room sat bare for over six months.
We had a few decorative elements around for a while—the pom-poms from Clara’s party lingered in the sunroom until we moved them to the playroom—but back to curtains. At first we wanted something bold to contrast all the grays in the room: soft gray walls, darker gray beams, and a dark gray sofa. Bold drapery seemed like the right move to break up all that gray. Then we tried out some inexpensive placeholder art, brought in a big green shag rug and bright pillows, added two gleaming silver lamps on the console we built, and realized we no longer wanted bright curtains. The rug and accessories delivered enough color; the curtains could be more subtle.
We decided on tone-on-tone texture—something soft, not flashy, and affordable. A few months earlier we’d picked up tone-on-tone leafy curtains from Ikea on sale—two packs for $29 each (down from $49). We’d tossed two packs in the cart thinking they might hang in the playroom eventually. That meant we already had four panels out of the eight we needed, and at $15 per panel they were a steal. If we liked them we could buy two more packs and be done. We paired the panels we already owned with oil-rubbed bronze rods and ring clips from Target, hung four panels on the two sliding doors on the right wall, and loved the result. They needed ironing and hemming, but the soft leafy pattern and price convinced us: sold.
We were thrilled when John’s mom offered to swing by Ikea the next day to pick up the remaining packs. I checked the Ikea site to find the product name, making up silly Ikea-like names as a joke, but the search turned up nothing. The curtains weren’t online. I told myself some in-store items don’t show online, but the next day I got the call I’d feared: they’d been discontinued and hadn’t been sold since April. Total bummer.
That started a frantic search on eBay and Craigslist. I found a few two-panel packs for about $75 each—way more than we’d paid. I allowed myself a sulk and some Oreo-based consolation, but then I kept looking at the four panels we’d already hung. The issue: they were too wide and looked bunched even when pulled to the side. That’s when an idea struck: what if I cut them down the middle to make eight panels from four?
My inner pessimist warned that halving them might make them look too narrow. Instead of diving in right away, I tested the width by unclipping each panel, folding it in half, and rehanging it to simulate how they’d look if cut and hemmed. The folded look was exactly what I wanted—less bulky and with more visible pattern. Since we never close these curtains (we keep them open to maximize light and because privacy isn’t an issue), they didn’t need extra fullness.
I pulled out my fabric scissors and cut each panel down the middle, following the original factory fold so both halves were identical. Hemming the cut edges with an iron and a sewing machine was straightforward. I folded the hem twice this time—ironed the first fold, then folded again before sewing—which made sewing easier. Hemming all eight side hems took about twenty minutes once everything was prepped with the iron.
After stitching the side hems (which matched Ikea’s original hem style), I washed the panels cold and tumble-dried them on low to pre-shrink before hanging and pinning the bottoms. I clipped them back onto the oil-rubbed bronze rods, which we installed high and wide—about 14″ wider than the trim for most sliders and 8″ wider on the tighter side. The rods hang three inches down from the crown molding so all the rods align visually without crowding the beams.
Once pinned to skim the floor, I ironed and hemmed the bottoms. For the wide 3–4″ base hems I used iron-on hem tape to avoid visible topstitching on the front, which created a clean, roomy hem quickly and neatly. I even hemmed them while they were hanging, without unclipping them.
We didn’t want the curtains to puddle since most sliders are used often and long drapery could get grubby or underfoot. The final length grazes the floor and looks intentional—polished, but practical.
Sunlight can blow out the pattern in photos, but in real life the leafy tone-on-tone texture reads beautifully across the room. They add softness without stealing attention from the other focal points like the console or frame wall.
The leafy curtains contrast nicely with the chunky wood console and the oil-rubbed bronze mirror and complement the room’s layered palette: the bright green shag rug, the gray sofa, the beams, and the textured pillows. I moved some pillows around from the playroom and sunroom for added texture and pops of color without overwhelming the space.
All told, we ended up with eight custom-looking panels for about $58 total after slicing the four $29 packs in half—about $7.25 per panel. That’s a bargain compared to buying fabric and making everything from scratch. The space now feels cozier and more intentional; the curtains add just the right amount of pattern and softness.
We love the result. The panels invite you to flop on the sofa and relax, and they work well with the room’s contrasts and textures. In the end, a little creativity—testing a folded look, cutting down panels, and simple hemming—turned a curtain crisis into a satisfying, affordable solution.
