Good girls always win — if they pick up their shears July 15, 2008 17:52 1 Comment

I jumped. I shouted. I danced. I squealed in sheer glee. Why, you may ask? Because. Because I — gulp, breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out — took my measurements. Not just the basic hip-waist-bust. No, the detailed, excruciating measurements Kathryn Brenne touts as the basis for well-fitting garments in the August/September Vogue Patterns magazine http://thebluegardenia.typepad.com/the_diary_of_the_blue_gar/2008/07/hep-me-hep-me-h.html . Yes, it was painful. Where did that 38-26-39 figure go? Where? It’s hiding, you say. Underneath a little flesh. Around the waist in particular. No need to be rude. No need to point out my flaws. But. Forget that. Forget the padding. The important thing is this: I did it. Step 1, Step 1, Step 1 in the actual construction of a garment. Yes, yes, yes! Yes. Then I took a very deep breath and moved on to Step 2: I pulled Simplicity 2925 http://thebluegardenia.typepad.com/the_diary_of_the_blue_gar/2008/06/and-back-to-our.html out of its pretty envelope. Then, yes, sit down for this: Step 3! Yep, I started cutting it out. Naturally, I was so excited I had to come and share. That was after Henry Jones (my Lab-Great Dane) and I danced around the second floor. To Blondie, no less.

Satellites are falling down tonight
I see you far away
I’m floating into this inescapable bliss

So, yes, jump, squeal, dance. Celebrate. I deserve it. I do. Don’t you agree?

The Bathroom Drama, Part 2: I had to laugh July 13, 2008 19:04 2 Comments

I beg your indulgence once more, kind and generous readers, for the bathroom drama continued today. I was reading Diana: Her True Story (I know. I should be embarrassed to publicly admit reading such a biography. Yet . . . ) and sipping iced coffee through a straw. (Again, I admit this willingly. No one is sticking bamboo slivers underneath my fingernails.) I was thoroughly enjoying my Sunday.

Suddenly, I heard hubby yell words that I shall not repeat here, as his dear momma reads this blog with some regularity (bathroom pun accidental). Since he was installing the toilet we purchased yesterday, a beautiful and elegant model by Kohler, I ignored his first outburst. However, my curiosity got the better of me over his next string of expletives. It seems the Memoirs (isn't that a tony name for such a utilitarian device?) was too deep for the space. Yes, the door would swing shut. It would. But a cramped feeling would doubtless ensue, if not overwhelm, once the door closed. And, let’s face it: One spends too much time on that particular seat to be cramped if it can be avoided.

So. Off we motored to Home Depot, where we exchanged our Memoirs model for a shallower American Standard model, the Cadet 3. (Memoirs. Cadet. Memoirs. Cadet. Memoirs. Cadet. Mmmmm. . . Which is the better name? You decide.) Now, let me muse here, please: Why would a company name a product after a student who attends military school? Is this a decorating motif that I have missed? A motif that Elle Décor and House Beautiful have overlooked as well? But American Standard apparently believes this is a decorating look to strive for. Their description of the Cadet: "A timeless look you’d expect to find at an academy." Well, perhaps. But what about the wayward urine spatters?

And the day got even better. Really. We returned home with our new timeless toilet. And oh joy! It fit. I returned to the travails of Lady Di, who never once, I feel sure, had to fret about such a mundane thing as whether a toilet fit into a small space. His Bertness returned to his DIY project. I won’t bore you with all the details. But. He had to return to the hardware store TWICE before I heard the sound of flushing.

Lest you think I spent the entire day in bed with iced coffee and Andrew Morton, I’ll have you know that I went to church, did the dishes, filed (I get gold stars for that) and cooked dinner. So there. And tomorrow, I’ll get back to fashion, sewing, the good stuff. I promise.

You know, the new toilet isn't half bad. And there's not a single spatter on it.

The Bathroom Drama: "And her tears flowed like wine" July 12, 2008 19:25

Let me tell you about my day, dear readers, a day that had nothing to do with sewing, not even a subconscious avoidance of said terrifying craft. Today’s drama started last night, and it seemed much more manageable then, ever so much, well, cheaper. Bear with me, be patient, please, as I tell you this soggy tale. And, yep, it is soggy. Wait and see.
If only I had been sewing. But.
Oh, and I must warn you right here, before your eyes go any further, that if you are an effete, high-minded, sensitive sort, you'll want to stop reading here. I will not be responsible if you proceed.
So. To get back to my story. I was dressing for our ballroom dance last night, and I went into hubby’s bathroom for something. Don’t even ask me what I needed from his bathroom, because I don’t remember. I don’t remember at all. The memory was obliterated by the nasty feel of wet carpet underneath my bare feet. Not squishy wet. Uncomfortable wet. Expensive wet. I quickly left the bathroom to get His Bertness, taking as few steps as possible. I could feel the germs rushing up the soles of my feet, over my calves, my thighs, enveloping my entire body. Eeeeeewwwwwwwggggghhh. I could already see money being sucked down the drain. (Cheap bathroom pun intended.) Hubby thought it must be the toilet. He felt the floor around the base of it, it was damp, B follows A, it makes so much sense. Right? So, this morning, we went to Home Depot, we bought a toilet. We came home.
Oh, and did I tell you we were having friends over for dinner? Well, yes, we were. But.
So, as I was saying, we returned home. Hubby ripped up the carpet. (I interrupt this story to tell you that I am not the kind of person who would ever put carpet in a bathroom. What a dirty idea. What do you do if the toilet overflows? The feces is there, in your carpet, forever, with germs begetting germs begetting germs begetting ever more germs. Neither would I choose the ugly brown vinyl that lurked beneath the carpet. Whatever my flaws — and I have many — a taste deficiency is not one of them.) Hubby took a break. Hubby returned to his task. Hubby discovered the leak wasn’t from the toilet. No. It was so much worse. So very much worse. More detective work (which included the joyous task of peeling down wallpaper — can you beat that task for fun on a rainy Saturday afternoon?) revealed that the southern and eastern walls of the bath were soaked from ceiling to floor. Now hubby thinks that gutters are the cause of the leak. I think expensive. Very expensive. Yes, new drywall will be involved. And probably new gutters. (Gentle, beseeching advertisement inserted here: Buy more patterns and jewelry from The Blue Gardenia, where the patterns are counted, the jewelry is sparkling, yada yada. Oh. I'll make it easier for ya: thebluegardenia.com)
Needless to say, I did not make tortilla soup and chocolate shortcake for friends. Needless to say, we dined out. Needless to say, I did not work on my sewing area. Needless to say, I did not cut out my pattern. Needless to say, I feel bloated from restaurant food.
But as a great poet once said: Life sucks, then ya die.

Editor's hat note: As careful, hard-working writer's hat was doublechecking usage of further/farther, a glass of water was spilled on her keyboard. She has since taken to her bed with the vapors, armed with smelling salts and a tattered — but dry — copy of Madame Bovary.

Salute the sun, but wear the right pants July 10, 2008 17:24 3 Comments

Vogue American Designer 2474, copyright 1990

So, girls and boys, I confess I was a little down today. Heck, I was downright depressed, feeling like the beneficiary of a one-way ticket to the dark side. Express. Nonstop. Cloaked in gloom and doom. Hope was a foreign language I did not speak. Woe, as the omnipresent they might say, was me.

And then I went to yoga class. Wow. The deep breathing. The stretching. The postures. Suddenly — and I do mean suddenly — I felt alive, tingly, all aglow. High even. No exaggeration. Really. I love yoga. Love it. Even though I am not especially good at it. Flexible, yes. Strong, not so much. But I shall keep striving. (My inner perfectionist rarely takes a vacation.) Breathe. Yes, deeply. Hold. Release. Wow.

Wouldn't these Perry Ellis pants be perfect for yoga? And stopping by the grocery store afterward for a loaf of bread? I think they are definitely doable for a beginner. A practical inspiration these. What do you think, you who sew? An attainable project for a novice?

Slowly, my sewing area is coming together. I think it will be ready to go this weekend. I am so excited! (I know you are, too. Sure you are. Admit it. Don't hold back.) This process has involved so much more work — and dust — than I anticipated. Much sweat. Many muscle twinges. A sneeze or two. But worth it all. Ever so. Do, I beg, share any organizational tips you might have. As long, that is, as they do not involve dusting, heavy lifting or broken glass.

Namaste.

Hep me. Hep me. Hep me. Hep me. Puhleeze. July 9, 2008 17:19 3 Comments

OK. Today’s post is short. You decide if it’s sweet. Last night, I read “Measuring Up: What’s Your Correct Pattern Size” in the August/September Vogue Patterns magazine. Writer Kathryn Brenne says that one should choose one’s pattern by chest size rather than bust size. Chest being the circumference right under one’s arms, just in case you didn't know (but I bet you did!). She says one should make a full cup adjustment to a smaller sized pattern if one is, shall I say, bosomy. (Most patterns are made for B-cup femmes, as you, learned readers, doubtless know.) She writes with authority, and as a novice, I tend to believe she knows of what she writes. What do you think? Let me know. Please. I want to cut out my pattern. But I want to follow the proper cutting line. Naturally. Know why? Because I'm a good girl. A good girl who wants to look good. And there ya go.

Why I want to learn to sew: Reason #3 July 8, 2008 19:34 5 Comments

Vogue Special Design 4237, copyright 1961

Now, you might scratch your chin. You might shake your head. You might puzzle over this choice. This isn’t a detailed Schiaparelli. This isn’t an intricate slinky 1930s bias gown that makes the dancers stop midtango and stare awestruck when you enter the ballroom. This is a dress that sneaks up on you like a daydream when you’re standing in line at the grocery store, wondering why the person in front is insisting on a price check on the Smuckers. It's not on sale, dope. This dress takes you away. This dress takes you there. You’re sitting at the table, laughing, chatting, and everyone thinks “She looks lovely tonight, such an elegant cocktail dress.” And then you’re on the dance floor. You mambo to Unchain My Heart. The skirt swirls like a Ricochet. You swing to Hit the Road Jack. You are there. You are in the moment. Totally. This dress sets you free. This dress means it. This dress can keep him in a trance. Or it can go home to meet his momma. Double duty. You love it. You know you do.

Blood and dust in the sewing room July 7, 2008 18:11

I am itching. I am sneezing. My t-shirt and shorts and all exposed areas of my body are covered with visible dust. Why, you ask, probably with palpable anticipation. Because. Because I woke up this morning with a plan, a plan that I could not ignore, a plan that caught hold of me like a tick to a dog. What plan, you ask, eagerly. Why, a plan to organize my sewing books and rearrange my office to make room for a sewing area.

It sounded like such a good idea. Then. Hindsight. I’ve heard the saying regarding the benefit of that a time or two. Or three.

So. My plan involved much work. Much. It meant that the plays had to be moved to the top bookshelf, the detective fiction had to be moved to the shelf the plays were on, and finally, the sewing books had to be moved from the bottom bookshelf to the former home of Raymond Chandler and his ilk, an easy-to-reach spot and eye-level to boot. Of course, I had to dust. I had no choice. There were dustbunnies the size of the Incredible Hulk. There was even a spiderweb hanging from the top shelf. Heloise, help!

There was also blood involved in this unpleasant process. Seems His Bertness did not vacuum after breaking a jar of mustard in the storage room off his office a month or so ago. So, yes, I cut my palm while bending down to forage through some sewing books outside. He’s so lucky I am even-tempered. Especially since this is not the first time he has failed to properly clean up after breaking glass. He seems to feel that simply sweeping or wiping is sufficient. I am here to tell you that is not the case. A vacuum is necessary. An industrial vacuum is even better. I can show you my scarred palm to prove it. And the bloody tissues.

But amid the dust, cobwebs and blood, I found this gem of a booklet, circa 1956. It’s not only as cute as a puppy’s tail, it’s helpful, too. Basic, but I am a beginner, after all. Susan Khalje might not find it of much use, but someone who can barely thread a needle will find it immensely informative. And don’t you love the title? The Young Homemaker Learns Easy Sewing Skills. So retro. So adorable. So optimistic. So perfect for bedtime reading.

Nighty-night.

Fewer seams mean fewer seams to rip out July 6, 2008 17:22 1 Comment

All right. All right. I didn’t sew today. Do not attempt to make me feel guilty. I went to the movies. So there. But I did read a bit. Sewing Basics: Creating a Stylish Wardrobe with Step-by-Step Techniques (Aw, man, that title is a mouthful! A definite stress to those of us whose typing skills may not be up to the level of Della Street. She did type, didn’t she?) by Patricia Moyes. This comes from Taunton Press, who publishes Threads, the magazine most beloved by dressmakers everywhere. And dressmaker wannabes like myself. Ms. Moyes spends some time on pattern choice, and it seems she firmly believes the beginning dressmaker should select a pattern that is loose-fitting. Simplicity 2925 http://thebluegardenia.typepad.com/the_diary_of_the_blue_gar/2008/07/and-the-winner.html fits the bill. So. A pat on the head for that. And maybe a peanut butter treat.

Now, let me ramble. A word — or several — about the movie. Wanted, a compromise. I wanted to see Sex and the City or the latest Indiana Jones movie. My GF wanted to see Wall-E or Kitt Kittredge: An American Girl. Neither of us really liked Wanted. Isn’t that the way with compromises? Anyway, may I get my $5, 108 minutes (plus the time spent watching all the trailers!) and Cary Grant back? Please, oh great movie goddesses and gods. And gas cost reimbursement would be peachy, too. It surely would.

When I want to channel June Allyson and Cyd Charisse . . . July 5, 2008 18:35 5 Comments

Vogue Couturier Design, copyright 1956

I introduce you, dear readers, to my favorite dressy dress, my favorite ballroom dancing dress. It’s June Allyson and Cyd Charisse gently stirred, not shaken. Yes, this beauty does require pantyhose, and that, pals, is a definite drawback. But. I feel so elegant, so marvelous, so irresistible in this frock that I will endure the discomfort. Occasionally. It is, without a doubt, my go-to dress for those times when I cannot weasel out of shaving my legs and slithering into what surely must be today’s equivalent to the girdle, pantyhose. And, no, I do not wear tummy control. Sheesh. Manufacturers make it sound so warm, so fuzzy: tummy control, not abdomen control. Puppies have tummies. Toddlers have tummies. Teddy bears have tummies. Women have abs if they pay regular visits to the gym, stomachs if they don't. Not tummies. Do the packages carry a warning: Wearing enclosed undergarment may severely hamper breathing? I've never read the fine print — I'm too busy stockpiling air before struggling to get the pantyhose over my thighs.

Do I sound like a tomboy? Like I squeal when made to scrub behind my ears? I’m really not. In fact, there was a time when I wore nylons every day. In the humid heat. I digress. Let me get back to the dress. The dress I wear when I want to get my glamour on.

Note the details: The bound buttonholes that form a queenly base for the covered buttons. The peaks that soar almost to the waistline. (The peaks that hide pockets!) The wide collar that so clearly states this dress is more than a just a contender. This is why I want to sew.

I'll make up my own blogging etiquette, thank you very much! July 4, 2008 07:49 1 Comment

All right. I admit it. I don't know blogging etiquette. If someone mentions one's blog and provides a link, does one thank them privately, on their blog or on one's own blog? Is this something the heirs to Amy Vanderbilt or Emily Post have addressed? Perhaps Miss Manners tackled this very vexing issue?

Oh, well. Thanks to comprehensive home training, I shall err on the side of excess. Thank you, thank you, Erin McKean of A Dress A Day http://www.dressaday.com/dressaday.html, Bloglines www.bloglines.com, and a huge, expansive, over-the-top thank you to the readers of both sites who have visited The Blue Gardenia Learns to Sow Her Blossoms. I hope you'll keep coming back!

And, of course, a very heartfelt, and even smarmy thanks to the readers who have been with me from the beginning! I appreciate you. Ever so.

I wish all of you a happy and safe 4th of July. And now, I am off to listen to Dave Alvin's Fourth of July while I prepare a patriotic feast for two. That is, after a nap and an hour or so with a good book.

And the winner is . . . July 3, 2008 16:32 2 Comments

For your viewing pleasure, I offer a line drawing of Simplicity 2925,
the Chosen One, as requested by many of my treasured readers. (I love you, each and every one, yes, all five of you, even those of you who had no wish to see this drawing.) In addition, you’ll see the fabric for said garment — a luscious aqua silk-linen that I ordered from Leandro Fabrics (http://www.leandrofabrics.com) via long-distance, after much quibbling and hemming and hawing and general over-the-top indecision (thank you, Hope, you ever-so-patient fabric goddess). They’re having a half-price sale at the moment. So, naturally, naturally, I ordered fabric for several frocks. And yes, I quibbled, hemmed and hawed and was maddeningly indecisive over each fabric choice (bless you, Hope).

For those of you wise readers who warned that I should not use good fabric: I promise to make a muslin out of something cheap. In fact, the muslin fabric was very cheap, and I've already washed it. I am that eager! I am quivering with anticipation. Or perhaps terror is causing the trembling. Mmmmm.

Anyway, as I watched the last half-hour of The Young and The Restless, my favorite televised guilty pleasure, I could not help but note that femme fatale Phyllis (men are my granola) Newman wore a dress similar to this Simplicity number. It was, natch, out of a figure-loving fabric. Just so you know.

Inspirations: Do I hear Laurence Harvey calling my name? June 30, 2008 17:45 5 Comments

Vogue Special Design S-4544, circa 1950s
Now, this, this is a dress for dancing. The godets — four of them, four, four, four! — will make this skirt float across the dance floor like a downy feather in a balmy wind. And what a graceful neckline — provocative but in a ladylike way — wives and girlfriends won’t be knotted with anger because it's too low. It’s very Liz, but more Father of the Bride than Butterfield 8 (which is perhaps my favorite Liz movie, but that, as the ubiquitous they says, is neither here nor there). And, of course, the fact that this exquisite frock is sleeveless will make it very cool, very comfortable on those nights when Carter doesn’t turn the AC down, despite my courteous pleas. Oh, yes, I do love this dress. I do. I see it before me, calling, beckoning, urging me onward. Sew. Stitch. Or, as the athletic shoe company says, just do it!

Do I have fear of sewing? Or is it fear of failure? Mmmmmm. What do you think?

Possibilities: Back to our regularly scheduled programming . . . June 29, 2008 16:02 4 Comments

Simplicity 2925, Copyright 2008

Oh. Woe is me, she whimpered. I’ve nothing to wear, she sobbed. I know. You’ve heard it before. All of it. Start the violins. Bring out the tissues. (Cliché overload! Forgive me — I stayed too long at the ball this weekend. All right. No more clichés today. I promise.) But it’s true. Really. Saturday night, I wore an ancient but pretty royal blue linen dress made from a 1950s McCall pattern. Big skirt. Flares out like an umbrella when I whip a turn. It’s a favorite, and I love it. However, I have worn it so many times that I am sure the very sight of it elicits silent sympathetic murmurs from my fellow dancers.

Friday night, I wore what has become my ballroom dance uniform: jeans and a slinky knit top. So dull. More boring than rice pudding. So I decided I can’t lollygag any longer. I’ve gotta start sewing right away. I can’t face my pitiful, meager closet many more Friday nights. I can’t! Jeans and a knit top? No, no, no. Pizzazz. That's the way to go.

So. What do you think about this Threads/So Stylish number? The white dress, in the upper right hand corner. It’s current, so it’s not at all my style, but it looks like it would be a breeze to make and to make quickly. And hone my sewing skills, or perhaps develop my sewing skills would be more accurate. And the sooner I can sew a straight seam and handpick a zipper, the sooner I can start stitching up one of my beloved vintage patterns. In the meantime, would Threads let me down? Never!

Shameless plug: TBG adds sensationally fab patterns June 26, 2008 16:53 1 Comment

Marian Martin 9208, circa 1940s

It's too hot to leave the house to shop. I'm sweating — not glowing, sweating! — just thinking about it. The masses at the mall. The heat. The traffic. The gas! So let your fingers do the walking to The Blue Gardenia.
We've just added lots of outstanding patterns, and you won't have to leave your cool house. A few tidbits to tease you into stopping by and shopping:

A slinky Harlow-esque Butterick evening gown pattern with many variations. More bang for the buck.

A smart Butterick day dress that's unusual and will weather the heat well, when you absolutely have to go out.

Sassy, tapered 1950s slacks with sophisticated and sleek overblouse or blouse. So very, very Doris.

And a designer extravaganza awaits in the 1960s category: Belinda Bellville. Dior. YSL. Cardin. And so on. And so on.

There’s a Vogue negligee with a sash to accentuate your curves. So sleek. So sexy. Perfect to take off late in the evening. Or to slip on in the morning to scramble up some eggs.

Totally neat. Totally unusual accessory pattern: Belt pockets from 1940. Love this one! Love it!

And there is so much more! Don’t miss this exciting update. New patterns always go at the beginning of each category to make it easier for our regular customers. And speaking of you all, thank you! Thank you!

And remember, we take Mastercard, Visa, Discover and Amex, as well as Paypal to make it easier for you.

And back to the regular programming . . .

Possibilities: And the Bertness Award goes to . . . June 25, 2008 17:59 3 Comments

Butterick 2240, circa early 1960s

This is hubby’s choice for the first step in my learn-to-sew project. He says that I can wear it every Friday when we ballroom dance. (That sounds utterly pompous, doesn’t it? Why not simply say dancing? Because, after all, is there any other kind of dancing? Not in my world!) And this dress is quite pretty, ever so feminine. I see it in a silk-linen blend. Unlined, of course, because it needs to be cool on the dance floor. It’s easy to work up quite a sweat — I suppose I should be every scintilla the Southern girl and say glow — with a tango or a cha cha. My dance teacher, by the way, is celebrating his 20th wedding anny next week. So mahvelous! But back to the Butterick. It looks a little difficult. I see buttons. And that means buttonholes. I want to learn to make beautiful buttonholes — one day. But I see frustration if I attempt them too soon. Baby steps. Right?

And speaking of Southern women, did you know that Patricia Taylor Allanson, she of the arsenic and pearls and jail cells, is a very skilled dressmaker? So says Ann Rule in Everything She Ever Wanted.

Possibilities: Gidget Visits "Little House on the Prairie" Choice June 22, 2008 18:00 2 Comments

McCall's 4564, copyright 1989

It hit me today: A shortie nightgown! That is perhaps the perfect item for a beginning seamstress. Among the benefits: It won’t take much fabric, hence it will be inexpensive. The construction tends to be simple, which means no alarming spikes in my blood pressure. If a seam here or there isn’t as straight as it should be, what’s the big deal? No tears will be shed. No tissues soiled. After all, it will still be ever so much more fetching than a Houston Rockets tee-shirt, circa 1990s.

And the striped version of this nightie is somewhat appealing — albeit mildly so — in a Kristin Davis down on the farm sort of way. Don’cha think? I see it in a lightweight cotton, which to my neophyte dressmaker mind, will be easy to sew. No jamming of the bobbin. No pulling of the hair.

Why I Want To Learn To Sew: Reason #2 June 21, 2008 17:21 1 Comment

Butterick 8089, Circa 1930s

Last night, I waltzed in blue jeans. I foxtrotted in blue jeans. I cha-cha’d in blue jeans. I even did the rumba — the dance of love and longing (I can hear the sounds of violins, long before it begins, make me thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now) in blue jeans. Yes, they were stylish jeans, freshly washed, dark denim, all that. But still. Waltzing? You get the picture. There are those among my ballroom set who feel blue jeans are not appropriate attire for the dance floor. “Delman says jeans are tacky on the dance floor,” sneered Elaine. “After all, it’s ballroom. Ballroom!” Of course, I looked at her as if she were the result of a particularly nasty science class experiment gone awry. But.

Now, I don’t give a fig — I actually love figs, so perhaps I should say a dried cranberry — what most people think, unless I happen to agree with them. And I do agree that the ballroom dance floor is not the best setting for jeans. But it’s summer, and after a few swirls around the floor, it’s more than a little toasty, and I absolutely refuse to wear pantyhose during this seemingly endless heat wave, so that leaves jeans. In my current wardrobe, anyway. I have jeans, and I have dressy. Dressy that requires one of the most excruciatingly uncomfortable things known to the female sex — pantyhose. Worse than a bikini wax given by the most sadistic practitioner. I hate pantyhose even in the winter. But when the temperature soars to 100? No. Absolutely, emphatically no.

But this dress, shortened to ballet length, would be ideal for summer dancing: It’s elegant; it’s beautiful, and it leaves skin exposed but not in a trashy, slattern-on-the-make way. (As His Bertness said of one divorcee, “Her clothes are so revealing there’s no way to dance with her without touching skin.”)

By the way, if you’re a Young and the Restless viewer, and I am (guilty pleasure, guilty pleasure, guilty pleasure), you may recall that Lauren Fenmore wore a dress with a similar bodice yesterday. Vintage patterns are timeless.

Possibilities: Yet another, and doesn't this one look cool? June 19, 2008 17:59 5 Comments

Simplicity 7563, circa 1980s

Dear, dear readers, you are silent. Furthermore, your keyboards are silent. I prefer to think you are silent rather than non-existent. Am I delusional? You are out there, right? Talk to me. A simple yes. A simple no. A simple . . . something!

Enough pleading. (Although I do have a right to sing the blues over being ignored, a right to sniffle and sob, a right to dampen my Kleenex.) On to my mission. I love this top. It looks simple, and like the Stan Herman wrap dress, no zippers, no buttons. And it’s saucy. Promises a hint of mischief. Would be as cool as a glass of icy homemade lemonade on a sizzling Arizona day. Picnic perfect. I see it in strawberry linen. (Gee, I don’t think we need a PI to detect a food theme here — and I just had dinner!)

At any rate, I’m beginning to feel a shiver of excitement about learning to sew. Just the slightest shiver amid the apprehension about ruining more fabric.

Possibilities: It's smart but is it easy? June 17, 2008 12:16 2 Comments

Vogue American Designer 1167, circa 1970s

I know. I’m supposed to be relentlessly upbeat. I think I can. The little train that could. I am woman. I am invincible. You've heard that song. You know the lyrics. Yadda yadda. But today, doubt is nibbling at my confidence. Heck. It's taken a big bite. Can I really learn to sew, and sew well? Not just Walmart, made in China, loose threads everywhere sewing, but genuine, neatly and professionally finished, look for the union label dressmaking? How long does it take someone to become accomplished? How much fabric must be sacrificed? Tell me.

Oh well. Enough whining. This Stan Herman wrap dress falls into the easy category – allegedly. No zippers. No buttons. Minimal fitting. Those are advantages, in my book. And I love the look: As cozy as an old pair of flip-flops. Hubby’s old comfy bathrobe meets the runway. Seamstresses, I eagerly await your thoughts on this pattern. Is it easy enough for someone with a less than stellar sewing past?

Possibilities: Another candidate for this novice June 15, 2008 17:46 3 Comments

Butterick 2664, circa 1960s

At first glance, it’s boring. But take another look. Think Jackie Kennedy. Think Michelle Obama. Add a necklace with fake pearls the size of bottle caps. Add a vintage ‘80s Donna Karan wide black belt. Or wear it plain and simple and unbelted for optimum ventilation on sweltering summer days.

So, yep, you’ve put two and two together and come up with four. This is another possibility for my beginner’s garment. The pattern envelope promises quick ‘n easy. Do you think that applies to wannabe dressmakers or to those with Claire Shaeffer-level stitching skills?

Possibilities: Yes, no, maybe so June 14, 2008 18:56 6 Comments

Simplicity 5014, Copyright 1972

I admit it: I am smitten with this dress. It’s sexy. It’s simple. It has that Julie Christie vibe. And it’s not only a Jiffy, it’s a Super Jiffy! That means it will be easy for a fledgling seamstress to make, right?

This is one of the patterns under consideration for my I-Will-Learn-to-Sew-I-Will-I-Will-I-Will Project. It’s important, vitally so to my wounded self esteem, that the winning pattern makes up beautifully. So beautifully that awed strangers on the street will stop me, asking “where did you get that gorgeous dress," to which I will coolly respond “this old thing? I made it myself.”

So, what d’ya think? Good choice?

Why I want to learn to sew: Reason #1 June 13, 2008 12:23 2 Comments

Vogue Paris Original 1051 by Schiaparelli, circa 1949

Oh, sure. I could have someone make this. I could. If I lived in the city. If I had a bank balance the size of J-Lo’s. Alas.

So. Since dressmakers are scarce in my small town. Since my apparel budget wouldn’t keep Paris Hilton in pantyhose for a week, learning to sew seems to be the answer. Not an easy one: I’ve attempted to learn sewing before, and the resulting garments were less than accomplished. Let’s see.

There was the Donna Karan bias skirt pattern, so slinky, with a nod to the 1930s. I used a lovely lilac linen. The waist was so big there was enough room for me and my buddy Elsie the cow. Needless to say, it went to the Goodwill store. Immediately. Without even one wearing. Then there was the Vogue dress, sexy, very milkmaid meets Madonna. This one was big enough for me and a Mack truck. Hello, Goodwill.

My last effort was a gorgeous 1950s McCall fishtailed number. Easy to make, teased the pattern envelope. This time, I decided to do things right. I made a muslin. It fit perfectly. It was beautiful. Mr. Gardenia was so impressed with my dressmaking skill. I excitedly cut the fashion fabric, a luscious peacock cotton brocade. I followed the instructions ever so carefully. But something went wrong — a dart. It was off just a tad at the waist. I ripped it out, picking the threads slowly, and tore the fabric! Pelting tears. Heaving sobs. The front and back — unattached — are still hanging in my closet. Need I say reproachfully?

That was a year ago. But I have recovered. I am resilient, if not exactly optimistic. This Schiaparelli ensemble inspires me. It’s the North Star, beckoning, guiding, luring me to try yet again. Can I do it? Can I make something I'll wear this time?