Do you have your smelling salts handy? If not, fetch them. Quick. Why? Because we have just added fabulous patterns to The Blue Gardenia, nearly 70 of them, and they are sure to have you faint with desire. Shall I share my favorites, the ones that have this little heart o' mine going pittter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter? I shall. You know it.
In no particular order, here they are:
McCall 6370, copyright 1947. This bustle blouse is totally gorgeous. Totally noir. You could wear it for evening or for day. The important thing is to wear it. Absolutely.
And if you need an evening dress, of the tell-me-where-you go-it-now-or-else variety, then look no further than Simplicity 2229, circa 1930s. This one is not cut on the bias, but you could do so, if you dared. It's fully loaded as is, though. And since there are not one but two dresses in it, it's truly an investment pattern. Worth every penny. Truly.
Another outstanding evening dress, with a nod to style maven Madonna, is Vogue Designer Original 1605, copyright 1995. It's designed by Bellville Sassoon, and it is stunning, stunning, stunning, and ever-so-sexy, from its laced corset bodice to its flirty and full skirt. Imagine the rustles if you made it in a stiff satin. Love this one. Love it. Absolutely. Do you dare where it to the office Christmas bash? Mmmmm . . . I say, yes, go for it. Those nerdy co-workers deserve a treat. So let it be your Christmas present to them, Ms. Generosity, you.
And for your ladylike moments — and I know you have them — McCall 9366. So Grace Kelly. So very. Love the flap details. The stole. The slim silhouette. You could even make it out of silk shantung for a cocktail dress conversion. I want this one in my size. I do. Got it in a Bust 36 or 38? Call me. Do. And, by the way, in case you care, it's from 1953. Did I say this one has me salivating? It does. Really.
There
are so many more marvelous patterns! I would not lie. I would not give you, dear, dear readers, false hope. I wouldn't.
So.
Click. Shop. Enjoy. You've been good. You've been shopping, shopping, shopping for everyone else. Now you, my princess or prince, you deserve a present. Or two. Santa told me so. You have been good this year. So very, very.
You'll also find new in Maternity, and there are quite a few ensembles suitable for Betty Draper. And, as always, new additions go at the beginning of each
category to make it easier for our loyal customers (I thank you, I do). And remember, we
take Mastercard, Visa, Discover and Amex, as well as Paypal, to make it easier
for you. So rush on over. After all, I need groceries. I like my Joan Holloway hips.
It's a holiday weekend, and that means I've been cocooning. Snuggling up in a chair, feet on an ottoman, eating pecan pie and watching bad TV or reading silly Southern novels. And my attire? Well, I'm not making Bette Davis proud. I'm wearing yoga pants, a tee-shirt and holey white socks. Now. I haven't done yoga since I impinged my rotator cuff in August. But that doesn't mean I've sidelined the comfy clothing.
Watching Casablanca yesterday, the thought struck: Shouldn't I be wearing a hat? That perhaps is going too far. Way. But perhaps I could kick my at-home wardrobe up a notch. Or even two. Say McCall 4520 and McCall 4803. Both from my favorite fashion era, the 1940s. The blouse in flowy rayon. The slacks in gabardine. Maybe some low platform wedges to kick off by the sofa. I could even comb my hair. Polish my nails. Bathe. Oh, the grooming improvements are endless!
Mmmmm . . . . But the big question, the really big one, is this: Can I give up cotton knit? It's a tough habit to kick. It's so stretchy. So soothing. So wash-and-wear. Am I strong enough? Am I? I must summon all my strength. I must.
It is late at the adult center. Very. The DJ has played horrid music all night. Music he regards, you are quite sure, as youthful. Imma Be is not a rumba. I Kissed A Girl is not a waltz. The DJ is old enough to know better. He is darn close to tumbling out the other side of middle age. He will not see 50 again. Heck, you'd wager your favorite Walter Kerns that 55 has come and gone for him. You won't see 35 again. You won't. And you are one of the youngest people in this ballroom. Sigh. Heavy sigh. Long sigh, dramatically drawn out. Susan Hayward is, after all, your role model.
Fantasy time-out. You are wearing McCall 3440, copyright 1955. The 4-ply silk crepe caresses your skin. The hydrangea pink flatters your softly fading tan. You feel wonderful. You feel irresistible. You feel like you are going to live forever and enjoy each and every moment.
A finger flicks your shoulder. A voice murmurs in your ear, May I have this dance? Your reverie interrupted. Suddenly. Drat. You are annoyed. Oh so. But then, the notes of Noche De Ronda, your favorite rumba, begin. Spanish guitar. You cannot say no. You want to dance. You must dance. You put your hand in your partner's. Rise to your feet. Only then do you lift your eyes. Only then do you realize your partner is Don Draper. None other. Calm. Solid. Handsome.
But is he a polished dancer?
Mmmmmm. It's your fantasy. You decide.
To say yes? Such a commitment, she thinks, as she fingers the pages of Modern Bride. Such a commitment, she knows. She loves him. Certainly. That is not the question. That is not the issue. The issue is union. Solidarity. Taking her eyes off the door. Having no escape hatch. Because to her, marriage means forever. Forever. The word resounds in her brain. Forever.
It's not washing their smelly socks together that makes her hesitate. It's the finality. The limitations. Saying no to other possibilities. Accepting that he is the one. That he will be. Forever.
Accepting that she will be part of a couple. Legally. What is that saying — Buddhist, is it? — we are not two but one, we are not one but two? Impossible, this decision, she thinks. Impossible. As are the gooey confections on the glossy pages of this bridal magazine.
She would choose something simple, should she decide to say yes. Something that speaks to the solemnity of the occasion. Something like Vogue's Bridal Design 2809. Even if she says no to him, she might say yes to this dress. In black velvet and lace. Knee length. No ribbon. Absolutely not.
And if she says yes, yes to that lifetime challenge, perhaps silver satin. Yes. Definitely. Silver. Not white. It is not her color. It's dull. It's boring. It's traditional.
Ahh, but the question. His question. Yes no maybe so certainly. If only marriage was as simple as skipping rope. Well. She will not answer the question today. The laundry beckons.
Does bad taste sometimes relentlessly clutch you and refuse to let go? Do you sometimes want to channel Krystle or Sammy Jo or push Alexis in the swimming pool or yank her hair until she yelps? Or maybe you just want to have fun and rock the '80s? Well, I suggest Simplicity 8358, copyright 1987. With leggings and booties and yachtloads of attitude.
You're planning a trip to the city. A trip for shopping. For dining. For dancing. For seeing
Phantom Sighting: Art After the Chicano Movement. You want a dress that will move from event to event effortlessly. Easily. Timelessly. A dress that is comfortable. A dress that is chic. A dress that is you. Totally. You and no other. Absolutely. McCall 7080, copyright 1947, is that dress. It is. Indeed. In a coral 4-ply silk. Or a retro rayon. You decide. Either way, you can't go wrong. You can't. I promise.
For eleven years — yep, count 'em, each and every one — she's toiled to be nice. Being polite to phonies. Going to lunch with people who bored her. Attending wakes for people she did not like. Keeping her mouth shut when people were marginally prejudiced.
She is ethical. She does the right thing. And she will still do those, even when it pinches or binds. Absolutely.
No. She means nice. She means being pleasing. Agreeable. Socially acceptable rather than authentic.
And you know what? She is done. Done. Absolutely. Completely. Totally. Totally.
And what better dress to announce this than Butterick 6092, from the 1950s. And where will she get this pattern? Why, at The Blue Gardenia.
Of course.
And, no. She will not wear the bolero. The gloves — and the jacket — are coming off.
You are meeting him for coffee. A daytime date. Your first. In the daylight, that is. You've met for dinner. Thrice. The movies. Twice. You're ready to kick the relationship up a notch. Or two. Or three.
To be blunt: He is hot. Sizzling. In fact, his pot is boiling over. He's smart. Witty. Empathic. Successful.
And it is time. Time for him to fall at your feet. To howl at your beauty like a dog in heat. To be your man. (Thank you, Leonard Cohen.)
So. You face that old question. What to wear? Something chaste? No way. Something all out Joan Holloway sexy? Mmmm . . . not quite. You don't want to be too obvious. McCall's 4418, copyright 1957. That is what you need. Perfection. It hints. It whispers. It is perfect. Absolutely. He will step into the ring. For you. And he will not let you down.
So, my friends, today I have the blues. You are doubtless shaking your heads in disgust, saying, "Denise, every day you have the blues. Every day." And sometimes, you know, I feel that's true. Absolutely. I do.
(And if I may quote Townes Van Zandt, I ask you, my patient readers, will you still love me when I'm down and out? Will you stand by me in my time of trial? Or something like that. You know what I mean. Don't you? I know you are doubtless bored to tears by my damp tissue dramas. But. I beg you: Hang in there. WIth me. By my side. Etc.)
Anyway. What's a woman to do? Switch anti-depressants? Toss the Celexa? Try Lexapro instead? Wellbutrin perhaps? Well. Maybe. But, first, there's that unpleasant COBRA situation that must be straightened out. Resolved. In my favor, of course. Faith, my dear readers, faith and action.
Another possibility: Call a friend. No. No can do. They are likely bored with my sniffles. And if they slammed the phone down, think how devastated I would be. That might push me right over the edge. And quickly.
So. I decided the best option, the best avenue to a happier mood, was the gorgeous street of dreams, vintage sewing patterns. I turned first to the 1930s. The Great Depression, yes. But also the era of Carole Lombard. Irene Dunne. Myrna Loy. Just looking at the patterns brightened my day. A bit. But which pattern, if made up and worn, would actually make me feel better? Stronger. More able to competently, coolly, calmly — without raised voice — handle life's sometimes nasty realities? Like health insurers, senators, representatives.
I chose Butterick 6303, view A. All the views are terrific. They are. Each and every one of them. This is truly a pattern to make the accountant smile. But view A has that wide collar that I find so irresistible. It's double-breasted. The sleeves have those ever-so-sassy cuffs. Love them. Love it. Completely. Absolutely. I see it in a periwinkle cotton sateen, with a white organdy collar and huge mother of pearl buttons. Huge.
Yes, I feel a smile playing around my lips. I do. I feel that darn attitude of gratitude Oprah constantly touts swelling in my heart. Oh. Yes. Yes.
Life isn't so bad. Really. It isn't. And with Fred Astaire (lovely, lovely, never ever change) on the CD, it positively — forgive me — sings. Albeit in a whisper.
Oh, sure. It's sweltering outside. At the moment. And the last thing, the very last thing you want to think about right now is a cape. Or any kind of coverup. Unless it has an SPF of 20 or more. But soon, the wind will blow brisk. And you will need protection. And is there anything better than this cape? The collar oozes attitude. So dashing, so sassy turned up just so. A perfect foil for your eyes. Absolutely.
Think how comfortable this cape will be. It's full. Roomy. No need to fret about pulling your dress sleeve down inside the coat sleeve. Egads. That can be so cumbersome. You know it.
Ahhh, yes. Vogue 8416, circa 1970s, fits the bill for winter fashion. It does. And it's very easy. Look. Right there on the envelope. Very easy, Vogue brags. And we know they wouldn't lie.
Oh, I am being a glum chum. Indeed. I should be at the dance. Should be. (Don't you hate shoulds? I do. Although I guilt-trip myself with them. Frequently. We're actually quite close, shoulds and I. But that's another story. For another time. Maybe. But tonight, dear readers, you're safe. I won't bore you with the Denise-Should affair.)
So. I am staying home. (I won't dance, don't ask me. Oh, Blossom, love your version of that song.) Anyway. Here I sit. Black yoga capris. Black tee-shirt. White socks embellished by a touch of soil - the merest smidgen. My ensemble on this night.
But if I had been a good girl, if I had been a dutiful and fruitful student of stitchcraft, I would be wearing this comfortable, yet fit-for-a-1930s-film goddess pajama and bolero number. Simplicity 2509. Is it the most? It is. Absolutely. Love the sash. Adds that touch of carefree elegance so needed to lift a gloomy Friday-night-at-home mood. Just the ticket for nesting. For cuddling. For watching House Hunters. For fryin' up a mess of catfish.
And that, my sweets, is what I am off to do. Just the thought lifts my spirits an inch or so. Or maybe it's Ella and Harold Arlen working their magic. Mmmmm . . . oh, well. This moment, this minute, catfish calls.
Phoenix. Paradise Valley. Scottsdale. 113 degrees. Oh. My. Can you say hot? Or, to quote Buster Poindexter aka David Johansen, hot, hot, hot! Or should I quote Soca musician Arrow, who wrote it first? Mmmm . . . decisions. Questions. Et cetera.
But when the weather is sizzling hot, when you are beyond glistening, this is the dress to wear. Definitely. It's sleeveless. It's stylish. And those flattering princess seams. Yum. Would Galitzine steer you down the wrong fashion avenue? I think not.
Vogue Couturier Design 2162, circa 1960s, is one cool number. Zipped or unzipped.
May I suggest whipping it up in a daffodil linen? I may. And I will.
Have you ever had one of those days? You know the kind. The driver in the scarlet Miata cuts in front of you. Your boss yells at you. You get a hangnail. Your lawyer forgets your appointment. Your dog slips past you at the door and you trip and scuff your left knee and your vintage Levine pumps chasing after him.
Do you want to scream? Holler? Roll on the ground? Stomp your feet? Don't. Wear this instead. This 1940s suit affirms that, yes, you are powerful. Yes. You are. You have presence. Yes. You do. This suit warns: Don't mess with me. Absolutely. Don't. Embrace your power. Enfold it in your strong arms. Claim it with your nimble intellect.
Your enemies have been warned. Your lawyer will return your calls. Your boss will speak to you with soft-voiced respect. Your dog will sit at your feet awaiting your requests. Black cats will be afraid to cross your path.
There. You feel better. You do. And all because of Vogue Couturier Design 309.
And, yes, it is available at The Blue Gardenia.
Ahhh. So.
As you, my dear readers, know, a pink slip was recently delivered to our lovely abode. I didn't like it. In fact — and on this issue I am emphatic — I didn't like it one little bit.
But this pink slip is a different matter. Entirely. It is ever so lovely. Ever so slinky. Ever so sexy. It's from the 1930s, so, of course, it is cut on the bias. It will caress every curve. Lovingly.
I see it in a four-ply silk crepe. A deeper pink, with perhaps just a smidgen of salmon. Can you resist it? Just say no. That is the correct answer. The object — or objects — of your affection will thank you. Passionately.
You deserve a treat. In fact, you deserve many. So. Just for you (and, for me, too, because I have a fondness for a roof over my head and food in my larder), it is update time at The Blue Gardenia. Nearly 70 fabulous, amazing vintage patterns have been added for your viewing and shopping pleasure. May I tempt you with a few choice morsels?
You have a wedding to attend. But there will be no silly, frilly chiffon froth for you. Nosiree. You're in an Irene Dunne mood. You want something different. Something sleek. Something sophisticated. Vogue Couturier Design 346, an exclusive design created in Paris more than 70 years ago, fits the bill. Unusual lines. A slim silhouette. And that blouse. What a blouse. On the other hand, perhaps it is a little mean, a little inconsiderate to wear such a beautiful suit to someone else's wedding. After all, no one will be looking at the bride. Because everyone will have their eyes tuned to you.
Butterick 3226, from the 1940s, is a stunner in the Gene Tierney mode. It is understated. Gorgeous. Striking. Absolutely. Eye-capturing button detail (May I suggest bound buttonholes in a contrasting color? Yes. Yes. Yes.) on the hip and collar. Soft gathers at the waist. Figure-caressing skirt to highlight your assets.
You will channel your inner Jeanne Moreau when you don Vogue Paris Original 1270, circa 1960s, courtesy of Lanvin. It is simple. It is classic. But. It has a twist. Look at the blouse scarf. It is not your ordinary scarf. With an ordinary bow. No. It is — dare I say it, dare I write it — unique. Really. Truly. It is. It references tradition and yet rebels against it. But in a whisper. Ever so quietly. In library tones.
So. There you go. A teaser, if you will, for this update. If these do not delight you, then check out the other additions. I know you will find something. I do. Absolutely. Really. Truly.
And, now, for the tedium. New additions always go at the beginning of each category. And we take Mastercard, Visa, Discover and Amex, as well as Paypal to make it easier for you. And, of course, checks, money orders and cold hard cash. Actually, we take warm soft cash, too. We are so agreeable.
I could say I'm back. I'm here. I'm at the keyboard. But you are smart boys and girls. Very. So you know that.
So. I watched the HBO version of Grey Gardens. Admittedly, in bits and pieces. Here and there. But. I was impressed. I confess I was apprehensive. Why would anyone want to remake the Maysles' 1975 documentary version? I could not fathom. It was perfection. Not only that, it made me feel like, well, a rather superlative homemaker. Ready to star in a Swiffer commercial.
I love the clothes in the new fictionalized version. And you know that I can be quite the ferocious critic when it comes to period pieces. But Catherine Marie Thomas, credited with the costumes, has won the BG seal of approval. Indeedy.
My favorite gown is the cream satin number worn by beauteous Drew Barrymore, who plays Little Edie with ever so much respect and ever so little camp, at a gathering at Grey Gardens in 1937. The snooty hood and the sumptuous fabric make this gown for me. Absolutely. So lush. So sexy.
If you want to emulate this look — and I do — then may I suggest Vogue 5758? It's a 1940s rendition of the look. But oh how wow the drapey bodice would look in satin. Yes, ma'am.
Ahh, period
movies. The clothes so often make me cringe. They make me cry. They make me
sneer. They make me whine. You know it, girls and boys.
But, today, a
pleasant surprise: Cadillac Records. Costume designer Johnetta Boone nailed the
period. Totally. She did not strive for the lowest common denominator. She did
not go for that generic Monkey Ward look that mars Mad Men, that had me
grinding my teeth as I watched Far From Heaven. Ms. Boone reached for
the stars, and she caught a handful.
The clothes
are fabulous. Sexy. Beautiful. Authentic. Of the time. And yet, classic. Gorgeous. For the ages.
And Beyonce, as songstress Etta James, has never looked better. Sorry, Weight Watchers. Ms. Knowles is a luscious
advertisement for packing on twenty pounds. And for wearing a curly blonde wig. Not to mention feline eyeliner. (Alas, I have never once skillfully applied frisky kitty liner. Mine always looks more like the work of a rogue kindergartner left alone with fingerpaint.)
And what is it about Adrien Brody? So irresistible on the big screen, even when his character is a wee bit sleazy, yet so skinny, so limp on the small screen.
You are old-fashioned. You bake your own cherry pie. Your own whole-wheat bread. And a Cinnabon cinnamon roll? Never! They simply can't compare with the ones that you bake with your own hands.
You are a 1950s woman. All the way. You're modest. Chaste. More Doris Day than Marilyn Monroe. No sex kitten you. No games.
Of course you sew your own clothes. Because today's styles are not to your taste. And the quality of today's ready-to-wear isn't up to your standards anyway. You like the perfect stitch your Featherweight makes. You like the beauty of a Hong Kong finish on the seams of your garments. Bound buttonholes. Hand-picked zippers.
You're more Emilie Loring than Dawn Powell. And you'll take Jane Austen over Joan Didion any day of the week. You won't find Play It As It Lays on your bookshelves.
McCall's 9633, copyright 1953, is your dress. It is pretty. Graceful. Delicate. Delightful. Could anything be more right for the county fair? Well, your award-winning fig preserves. But that's another story . . . one that should be served with fresh-from-the-oven biscuits.
It's been so long. It has. A Blue Gardenia update desert. But. At last. It's here. It is. And I hope you won't be disappointed. In fact. I know you won't be. Because I have some magnificent patterns. Just for you.
You'll find additions in 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s and Lingerie this week. Many outstanding additions. Many. Two of my favorites:
For you Lanvin-Castillo fans, there's Vogue Paris Original 1267, copyright 1954. It is so very, very Grace. Rear Window elegant. Sexy and tantalizing, yet ladylike. He'll long to be risque when you wear this, but won't dare – unless you give him permission. And you will. Won't you?
McCall 9034, copyright 1936, channels Irene Dunne at her most fashionable. From its lantern sleeves to its face-framing collar and drapey jabot, it speaks of haute couture ateliers in 1930s Paris. Don't you love it? I do. Absolutely.
And now for the boring details: New additions always go at the beginning of each category because I want to make shopping fast and easy for you, you wonderful loyal clients. And we take Paypal, American Express, Discover, Mastercard, Visa and cold, hard cash. And The Blue Gardenia is a secure site, so you don't have to worry about ordering online. So there. You know it all now. Don't you?
Do you run those pesky errands every Saturday? The grocery store. Costco. The car wash. Staples.
Well. I am here to tell you that I do. And I am more than a little red-faced to share this: I generally wear yoga capris and top unless the weather is quite frigid. Then, I dress up – in jeans and a Three Dots tee-shirt. Please. I beg you. Do not tell the fashion police. Do not tell Stacey and Clinton. Keep this bit of news in the vault. Let this revelation be our little secret. After all, I don't want to be arrested or exposed on national television. The horror.
However. I have plans. I have dreams. I do. And one dream (do not, I repeat, do not say it's a pipe dream) is to make this gorgeous 1930s blouse. I would feel even smarter, even sassier picking out the freshest bagged lettuce mix in this. Absolutely.
And which view would I choose? I am fond of them all. Really. I am. But I think I'll stitch up A1 first. It's stylish. It's comfortable. What more could a woman want?
Vogue Paris Original 2789, Designed by Nina Ricci
There are days when you just don't feel like throwing on your quilted black car coat again. When it simply will not do. When it's too plain. Too ordinary. Too boring. Sure, it's well-cut. Sure, it's comfortable. It's as cozy as a cup of orange pekoe with two cubes of sugar.
Sure, you're only running to the market for mustard greens and peanut butter. But. Doesn't the checker deserve a little lift? Something more attractive than a faded Axl Rose tee-shirt under a tired hoodie? Of course, he does. Of course, she does.
So. What to do? What?
Enrich your options, you stylish cookie, you. Stitch up this exquisite cape by Nina Ricci. Love the scarf collar. So jaunty. So sassy. So perfect. Absolutely.
I will let you, my pretties, decide for
yourselves if Michelle Obama channeled Laura Bush or Jackie Kennedy in her
inaugural ensemble. Sophisticate or sofa? The choice is yours.
I will give you the details — as if you didn't already
know. The dress, coat, and cardigan was designed by Isabel Toledo, stitched up
in the Cuban-American designer's New York atelier by Chinese, Polish and
Spanish seamstresses. It's made of Swiss wool lace and lined in French silk.
Oh, girl, you are going global. Absolutely.
So. If you want to emulate our beautiful First
Lady, I have several suggestions. Of course. You knew I would.
Add a ribbon to the coat in Simplicity 4194,
and you'll have one like Ms. Obama's. The dress is a little spicier, certainly, but you're not
the First Lady, so who cares? Show that gorgeous skin. You can do it. And. I
rather like this bodice. The better to show off a statement-making necklace.
McCall's 6676, from 1962 — speaking of Jackie – offers another choice. Simple. Elegant. And, surely, surely, surely, it's
not that difficult to make. Ya think?
Put your own slant on the inaugural dress and
coat with Butterick 2219. It's full-skirted, sure, but the shoe-string belt
pays homage to Ms. O's ensemble. And you can always make it in lemongrass. Or
yellow, if you're feeling mellow. (Yes. I confess. I was practically imbedded in the TV most of the day. I did rip myself away for a few minutes to paw through The Blue Gardenia archives to find these patterns. I suffer for you. I do. I'll do anything to make you happy. Anything. Almost.)
And then there's Vogue Couturier Design 1276,
designed by Michael. This is the one I would wear. Love the overblouse. Love
the coat details: the flaps, the collar. In fact, know what? I love this
ensemble. Period. Love it.
So. Lemongrass. Lemonade. Sunshine. Maize. Whatever. Wear a dress and matching coat. Soon. Reference our new First Lady. Go forth. Be a glimmering ray of hope. After all. It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It isn't just cliche. It isn't. I insist.
Pictorial Review 8289, circa 1930s
Another shameless plug. Forgive me. Please. But the mortgage must be paid. The pups must have their treats. And His Bertness has a fondness for Haagen Dazs. Oh, the list, it is endless. Truly. So. Take your seats. The curtain's rising. The drums are rolling. Etc.
I announce, without further ado, The Blue Gardenia's once-a-year sale. And it's a doozy. Really. Purchase any three items — patterns, jewelry, mix and match — and get 33 percent off. Yup. 33 percent. Is that fabulous or what? You can buy ten, twenty, thirty items, forty even, and you'll get 33 percent off the total price. And your purchase will come lovingly shipped, as always. The patterns carefully stored in archival wrap with backing boards, the jewelry in classy boxes. And you don't have to stand in line with the riff raff. No pushing. No shoving. No smelly armpits or aching, swollen feet. So. Pour yourself a cup of cocoa, complete with marshmallows, maybe some whipped cream, and drop by. You won't regret it. And you might be wearing a frock as lovely as this one in 2009. Isn't it pretty? Isn't it smart? I think so. I do. Look at that shoulder detail. Yum. Better than whipped cream. And no fat. No calories. Double yum.
Simplicity 2296, Copyright 1957
You thumb through your closet. What to wear to
work today? What? You're not in the mood for a power suit. You want something
that whispers power, gently, softly. You want something that looks smart, that
will look at home in a chic cafe. Something that will be comfortable for Christmas
shopping. Oh, this. Yes. Simplicity 2296. You stitched it up a mere two weeks
ago in that luscious red wool crepe you bought on sale this spring. Already,
you've worn it twice. But why not? It has that Maggie Prescott flair, but it's
as easy as an old pair of Tod's. Yes. This is the one. Absolutely.
