Five Somewhat Unjustifiable Fashion Rules of Mine

Here are five fashion rules I will go to my grave promulgating:

• You may wear watches made by WATCH COMPANIES ONLY. That means made by a company that primarily makes watches, or at least jewelry. Licensed watches are BAD, I don't care how fancy they are. So this means that, to me, a Timex watch is better than a Chanel one. I am particularly fond of Swatch and Hamilton, and these Frank Gehry watches for Fossil. Cartier is okay, I GUESS.
  (That part about Cartier -- you knew it was sarcasm, right? Good.)
  


• Any metal parts on a shoe, belt, or handbag should be completely and utterly without a logo. Yes, I mean Ferragamo and Gucci, too. I'm not a fan of the overt leather or fabric logo bags, either, but I understand some people are. If you have to wear a logo bag, it goes without saying that it must be genuine (not so much for the intellectual property issues -- unlogo-ed style "homages" are fine, in my opinion -- but because of the human misery that goes into their production and transport. Funnily enough, I find that people who say they like the "style" of a bag somehow aren't as interested in the knockoff without that logo ... ).


• If you tug on an item more than once while getting ready to go out, you're not allowed to leave the house in it. Life's too short to wear something uncomfortable or ill-fitting. See this dress? Not only is it so tacky that Elmer's wants it for a new glue, you couldn't walk a step without adjusting it. If you were lucky enough to have a chance to adjust it before the inevitable "wardrobe malfunction." Definitely can't leave the house in this one.


• If you chose to wear the shoes, you're not allowed to complain about them. If masked bandits broke into your home and forced you into those 4-inch stilettos at gunpoint, fine, bitch away. If you're going to suffer for your shoes, suffer in silence. Me and my two-and-a-half inchers don't want to hear about it. I also don't want to hear "they'll be fine once I break them in!" when it's obvious that you aren't breaking in the shoes, the shoes are breaking YOU in. That's just Shoe Stockholm Syndrome. [Image unavailable.]


• If it looks like it something that normally has a function, it should function. This means, much like a Dapper Dan toy, all buttons button, all snaps snap, all zippers must zip and all ties must tie. Want something with corset lacing? Why not have it actually lace? I also prefer that buckles actually buckle, but understand and accept the long tradition of decorative buckles.

Aren't you glad my commission as Fashion Admiral hasn't yet come through?

I don't really have any Fashion Week content today, except that I inadvertently walked by Bryant Park yesterday. There were a lot of big white tents. Whoot! I promise, Fashion Week content tomorrow.

The Hippy Chick Dress. Finally.

I finally finished the damn thing -- the Hotpatterns dress, that is.

I had *exactly* enough of the red flower material for the yoke -- it's Liberty, of course, from a piece I bought in London years ago. (I made a blouse out of the rest and hardly ever wore it, because I don't wear blouses. And then I tore the blouse. Arrgh.) I found it while digging through my Giant Bucket O' Scraps for something else, held my breath and yes! There was enough. The main body of the dress is a remnant I bought for $3 at Vogue Fabrics a couple years ago. (I bought about eight yards of it, and I think I have enough for maybe one more dress.)

I'm planning on doing a write-up of the pattern on PatternReview, because, my god, the instructions made NO sense. I finally gave up trying to follow them and just put the dress together the way that seemed logical to me. (They were also misspelled. $20 for a pattern should buy me at least spell-check!) So if you are a beginning sewer and haven't put in several dozen flat sleeves or can't pull gathering in your sleep, don't try this at home. The pieces fit together great, though, so once you figure out the order, it does go pretty well. I only had to "sew with the iron" (that is, press the hell out of pieces to make them join up well) once or twice, and those were probably my errors, not those of the pattern.

I really think this pattern would work best with lightweight fabric that has at least a little stretch, which is what I will try next time, even though I found three other Liberty scraps that are dying to be put into service! I guess I could always make the main body in stretch and keep the yoke and waistband Liberty.

I'm a little unhappy with the neck--I have to look up that article in Threads about what to do with gappy v-necks; you can see in the picture that it doesn't lie as flat as I would like. And the midriff band is not completely even. But hey, it's done, it fits, I really need to find a heavy jet bead choker to go with it, and I'm wearing it tomorrow. And I'm sure that this will be construed in some jurisdictions as "permission to stalk", but if you happen to be in New York (where I will be on Tuesday--not for anything to do with Fashion Week, I hasten to add), and you see this dress on some random person, feel free to say "Hey, aren't you A Dress A Day?" Whereupon I will blush like a rouged radish and stammer a confused affirmative.

Here's a somewhat fuzzy closeup of the fabrics:



If I have time to hit Paron's while I'm in NYC (doubtful) maybe I'll grab some stretch lightweight black silk and see if I can resurrect the pink stretch silk camouflage print that I sacrificed to a failed project last year. I swear, the best part of this pattern is being able to use all the bits of fabric I've saved as too nice to throw away but too small to do anything with. (I don't quilt--rather, I don't quilt WELL.)

The State of the Fashion Union

So I got invited to blog as part of the Fashion Week Blog Carnival over at Almost Girl, and of course I said yes -- who *doesn't* want to pontificate about fashion? And the first topic is supposed to be The State of the Fashion Union.

And then I thought -- heck, what on earth do I know about the State of the Fashion Union? Sometimes I think it's pretty dire. The models get younger and thinner and shaped less and less like the average woman; the logos get bigger and bigger; the clothes barer and barer so that even daywear looks suitable only for the boudoir since it requires abandoning even the pretense of undergarments; the heels get higher and spindlier, making a ten-block walk more daunting than a marathon; the prices soar and yet there's a hundred-person waiting list for whatever the "it" bag or coat is.

Sometimes, I want to quote Elizabeth Hawes, and say "fashion is spinach," and I want to say to hell with it.

However, when talking about fashion, I insist on making the distinction between fashion and style. Fashion is of the now; style is perennial. Fashion is something you follow; style is something you forge. Fashion is about being part of the herd; in with the in-crowd; style is about one's own vision, about idiosyncracies and quirks. Stylish people often set fashions--in fact fashion designers often have incredibly narrow personal styles: look at The Lagerfeld, Elbaz, and Carolina Herrera and try to tell me they are fashionable rather than stylish!--and fashionable people may in fact have style, but one does not necessarily follow from the other.

In fact, even though fashion may be anemic, style is bigger and better than ever. People are more and more comfortable with the idea of a personal style, one that may or may not flirt with being fashionable, and are convinced that such a thing is within their grasp -- even if they have to hire a "stylist" to get them there. (In my haughty opinion, a stylist is someone who should interrogate you to find out what you want to look like--REALLY want to look like, not just "I want to look good"--and help you find the look that is most YOU. I don't think a stylist is someone whose job is to make it easier for starlets to look like someone dragged them backwards through a hedge. A hedge filled with oversized sunglasses.)

To someone who is fashionable (or someone who has a crappy stylist), Fashion with a capital-F--the runway, Vogue, Chanel-Gaultier-Dior Fashion--is like a menu. Choose an appetizer (bag), main course (dress), and dessert (shoes), and gobble it down. Next day, do it all over again. To someone who is bricolage-ing a style, Fashion is the Greenmarket. You take a color here, a shape there, a heel height from someplace else, and you cook it all up together, along with stuff that's already in your pantry and cupboards -- YOUR shade of lipstick, of course, or the bag shape you have always carried, or your trademark watch. And you eat off that for a long time. Capital-F Fashion is one big kaleidoscope of possibilities and inspiration, even if you never buy a single "designer" item. (I think I have *one* fashion-y possession -- a green Cynthia Rowley handbag that I bought mainly because the pockets were perfectly sized for my Treo and iPod, and didn't have magnetic clasps--why on earth would I put something that is essentially a tiny hard drive near a magnet? But I digress.)

Some people's styles become set (La Vreeland and her rouge and her Balenciaga); some styles revolve around a theme (one Hepburn mannish, the other gamine; Chloe Sevigny always circling a kind of deliberate awkwardness); some evolve (Jackie Kennedy to Jackie O) but real style is always a projection of the wearer's personality, not the designer's. When I wear something, I want people's first reaction to be "That's so ERIN," not "That's so [insert designer name here]!" When Audrey wore Givenchy, it was because Givenchy was right for Audrey, not the other way around.

When a fashionable person sees a dress, or a bag, or a shoe, they tend to think in absolutes: "love it!" "hate it!" After long [over]exposure, love can become indifference (think Uggs, which were once fashionable but have never been stylish) or sometimes hate can become tolerance (high-waisted jeans are on the way back, mark my words!) but mostly it's black or white. Yes or No. In or Out. Fashionable or Unfashionable.

Now, when someone whose goal is not fashion, but style, sees a dress, her reaction is apt to be "I like this and this, but would change this, that, and the other." For instance, I saw this sweater in a magazine:


I *love* polka dots. And I love short-sleeve cardigans. Adore. Am always looking for them (and I am totally offering a bounty of really good chocolate for people who track them down for me). But they have to be round-neck (which this one is) and have waist and sleeve bands (which this one does). However, I hate fake-button plackets that fasten with snaps, so this one is out. Gone. Can't countenance it. So I'm not plunking down money for it, even though you might think "two out of three ain't bad, plus POLKA DOTS!" But it would irk me so much I wouldn't ever wear it. (Goddamn you, Tommy Hilfiger! The number of things you have kept from being perfect by one tiny flaw--or usually, one big-ass logo!)

Now from all this ranting, it might seem that I am privileging style over fashion, which is not the case at all. Without fashion, I don't think there could be style, because there has to be interplay, tension, between what is being worn everywhere and what you are wearing. An allusion, a wink, a nod, at least. And being fashionable, truly fashionable, requires a kind of very complicated pattern-recognition and predictive ability, to choose which of the hundreds of possibilities, in what combination, will be the one absolutely au courant ensemble, and the will and the discipline (or the very, very good genes) to conform your shape to the shape that the clothes were built for. The stylish really only have to satisfy themselves, where the fashionable have to satisfy an ever-changing and always-judging audience. I would like to think that the fashionable get the same thrill from being fashionable that the stylish get in coming ever-closer to some Platonic ideal of how they OUGHT to look, but I don't really know.

That's my take. Fashion is both a sport for those who want to play it (but a sport that's becoming more and more difficult to play without performance-enhancing drugs) and a smorgasbord of possibilities for those who want to use it as a basis for improvisation. And, of course, something treated with complete indifference by a large majority of human beings. Always remember that!

More midriff! (Covered, of course.)

When something grabs my attention, I'm not easily shaken. This is essentially the same dress I posted a couple weeks ago -- only with-set in sleeves and a couple of different skirts (and in a smaller size, so I can't go buy it the way I did the last one--egged on by Francis I might add).

If you can wear a bust 32, or grade it up, go for it. Look how cute the box-pleat skirt is!

I actually cut out the other dress (oh, hell, I'll repost the picture) in poplin in a color I call "old lady lavender". It's a color also called "orchid" or "that color Erin looks like death in." I figure it will make a decent muslin and I can always wear a black cardigan over it to keep the eeeevil away from my face. I'm thinking about putting black rickrack trim along the midriff seams and between the front and side (and back and side) pieces -- what do y'all think?

I don't know why I bought it, other than my innate sense of perversity and the fact that it was $1/yd. I swear, put anything remotely wearable at $1/yd and I will buy ten yards of it. In fact, it doesn't even have to be remotely wearable; it just has to make me *think* it's remotely wearable, like the twenty yards of iridescent pink paillette trim I bought more than a year ago and still haven't done anything with. And the crazy knits that I never, ever sew ... Oh, well. I suppose recognizing the problem is the first step toward solving it.

I am supposed to start blogging about NY Fashion Week today. I think that it will have to be tomorrow. Tune in then for a stunning exegesis of the entire Fashion Week phenomenon! Or not.

"You know you're somebody when you start getting press releases."

Celestial Seasonings Tea commissioned Brett Cooper (he helped design the costumes for Priscilla: Queen of the Desert) to make a red teabag dress to "heighten awareness" of heart disease in women, and to get publicity for their largish donation ($100,000) to WomenHeart, a women's heart disease patients advocacy group. And not-so-incidentally, did you hear that drinking just TWO CUPS of black tea a day can lessen your risk of heart disease? What a coincidence!

I am all in favor of devoting time, money, and effort to fighting heart disease, considering it killed my grandmother and has a better-than-even chance of getting me, too (although considering the number of times I've joked about getting hit by a bus, any higher power with a sense of humor would take me out with the 49 Western).

It's a good thing this dress is for a good cause, though, because Cat Chow this man is not. In fact, it's godawful, and the woman looks as if she's mere seconds away from ripping that comically shrunken New Year's Eve party hat right off and cramming it in the designer's pie-hole. And then going out for a good cup of coffee, prophylactic antioxidants be damned.

Click on the image to see more about this dress than you ever needed to know, including a movie, closeups of the dress, and pictures of the (also teabaggy) shoes. (Don't tell The Manolo about the shoes, though. He might have the vapors and have to be revived with the salts of the smelling.)

This is the first time I've been sent a press release as a "Fashion Blogger," (ha!) and I have to say I'm flattered, nay, honored, to now be part of the Publicity Industrial Complex (as someone I used to know once put it). I can't imagine I'll get many more of them, though -- how many publicists could be pushing something suitable for the rarefied topic matter of A Dress A Day?

Executive Summary: Heart Disease: boo! Tea: yay! Dress: eh! Press releases: no comment!

Once more, with feeling.

I hear you saying "isn't she tired of that dress yet?" and I answer, no, no I am not. Look at this one, will you? Indulge me once again? The fabric is not all that great -- I'm not a huge fan of hand-painted silk, which is what this is. (Give me a nice machine-stamped geometric print every day, that's plenty wabi-sabi enough for me.) No, what I'm looking at is the front band, which seems to be cut in one! No, really, look at it closely and tell me where the seams are. It is probably seamed on at least one side of the waist (because that's where the zipper is) and maybe, maybe, the back of the neck. But that's it. The vee of the neck is part of the waist. Isn't that great? And so wasteful of fabric, which is probably why this dress, on sale, costs almost $700 at Net-a-porter. Oh well.

I wonder how you draft that, especially if it *doesn't* have a seam at the back of the neck. I bet you have to drape it. Hmmmm. I've never tried draping, but now I see new and even more alluring vistas of sewing foolhardiness ahead.

It's a Dress!

Dress A Day is pleased to present its first offspring -- that is, the first dress I know of that was made specifically in reference to a post here. Isn't that a great dress? [Name removed by request] of Hong Kong saw the post on Duro Olowu and thought "I need me one of those!" and -- boom! -- she got one made. (The benefits of living in Hong Kong!)

Needless to say, I'm very proud. I'd be passing out pink bubblegum cigars if I could. And I *love* the dress! Look how nicely the zebra stripes are placed. And that blue is just perfect!

She thought the background of the picture was too messy, because it was taken in the workroom, but I think the books and fabric and other dresses in the background just add to the coolth of the entire undertaking.

Have you made or found a dress because of something you've read here? Send me pictures! I want pictures! I may have to add this to my iPod photo album. "Here's my son, and here's Mr. Dress a Day, and here's a dress someone made because they read my blog!"

Finally looked at the Golden Globes pictures

I don't know who this guy is, and I certainly don't want to tread on the toes of Go Fug Yourself, but really, what a jerk to drag that woman out of the house in her nightgown! She didn't even get to grab her robe. And to make her carry her Maltese like that, too! Poor dog!

It's a perfectly nice nightgown, but it's not an evening gown. Or even a "late afternoon" gown, considering when the Golden Globes are taped. If it weren't for the wide bands of "oh, I'm so sleeeeepy" lace, MAYBE I could see it as an evening gown. But those shoes? HAVE TO GO.

Seven things I [hate | love] about sewing

Seven Things I Hate About Sewing

1. When I have exactly, and I mean exactly, one half-yard less fabric than I need to make the dress I want to make.


2. Bad pattern instruction writing, so incomprehensible that it would make more sense if it read: "At this point, close your eyes and wish hard for the dress to be completed by the brownies. (Note: you will need a bowl of milk.)"


3. Spending five hours on something (including visualization/hoping time) and having it turn out to be a very large and brightly colored dishrag.


4. Knowing I have a [bodkin|bias-tape maker|pair of pinking shears|package of turquoise seam binding|etc.] somewhere, but not being able to find it when I need it.


5. Making something that looks unexceptionable to the untrained eye but knowing that the stripes aren't matched exactly or that there's a bobble at the top of the zipper placket or that there's a ripple in the hem. *I* know. (Thankfully, I've mostly overcome the urge to Tell People About Garment's Blindingly Obvious Flaw when complimented on something.)


6. Hemming.


7. Mending. (Mending isn't sewing. You might as well ask a automotive engineer to fix your alternator. They probably can -- they just don't WANT TO.)

Seven Things I Love About Sewing

1. The meditative state that starts after the pattern is laid out and pinned, a state that lasts from cutting out pieces, through sewing and assembly, and often all the way until hemming. I solve a lot of problems unrelated to sewing when I have my hands on the machine and pins in my mouth.


2. Running mentally through the possible matchups of available fabric and patterns left to be sewn means I am never at a loss for good daydreaming material when waiting in lines.


3. Saying "This? Oh, I made it."


4. Never, ever, ever, wearing the same dress as someone else at the party.


5. Never being held hostage to a particular season's silhouette or color palette ... or prices. Last time I spent $300 for a dress, I got married in it.


6. Fabric stores, both online and brick-and-mortar. (Speaking of which, anyone have a good source for cheapish broderie anglaise? I'm thinking more eyelet for summer ...)


7. Clipping the last stitch and trying on the finished dress for the first time, doing that mental cackle and Hannibal-like muttering of "I love it when a plan comes together." (Somebody tell me I'm not the only one who has internalized that particular bad 80s catchphrase, please! I know I'm the only one who wants to say "so where's the man and the canal?" whenever someone says "That sounds like a plan!")

Secret Lives of Dresses, No. 2

She was alone at the hotel bar, and she was smoking, neither of which I think she'd ever done before. She didn't smoke alone, and she didn't sit at hotel bars. And she was drinking, too. Smoking without a cigarette holder, smoking the bar cigarettes and not her own, drinking straight gin and not martinis. Her silver minaudière was open in her lap, and she kept looking at the scrap of paper sticking out of it. It said "Ambassador Hotel, 7:30."

It was 7:35 now.

From where we were we could see the front entrance of the hotel, and she didn't take her eyes from it. Even so, I saw him first, and then I knew why we were there, alone.

Five strides, her heels striking hard on the floor. The drink in his face, followed by the glass smashing on the floor.

"Don't come home tonight," she said. He looked green. "I'm changing the locks. The lawyers will call you in the morning." A look at the floozy on his arm--definitely a floozy, in a lamé dress and a bad wave. "He doesn't have any money, you know. It's all mine. Bad luck for you."

The bartender had her bag and a sympathetic look. "That last drink was on the house," he said, and she almost smiled.

The driver was waiting. He steadfastly pretended she wasn't crying. "Home, ma'am?"

When we got home, the maid took me from her and I was brushed and aired, because I smelled terribly of smoke.

This is the process.

1. Fashion magazine arrives.
2. Dress #1 catches eye.
3. Internet search commences.
4. Collection found.
5. Hey, why'd they spend a kajillion dollars advertising THAT dress when THIS one (dress #2) is so much nicer?
6. Post dress #2.

This dress is wonderful -- look at how it's cut to take advantage of the stripes. You don't see much of that anymore. And it's from Bottega Veneta, which I've never really paid much attention to, before. (I think their handbags are too fussy.)

For those of you who are curious, this was dress #1:

The top dress is so much more striking, isn't it? I liked the general lines of this one, but not the nipple action (I can't think of anyone, personally, who goes out shopping for dresses with the idea "my nipples must be CLEARLY VISIBLE at all times"). Nor did I like the ruffles, which, when mixed with nipples, give that sought-after "trampy milkmaid" look. But hey, there was a midriff band!

I expect to repeat this process several more times this month. I haven't read all the February issues yet.

What I Didn't Buy in Japan

I had absolutely zero chance to buy fabric in Japan, which was slightly demoralizing. However ... eBay to the rescue! It seems as if there are lots and lots of sellers of kimono silk on eBay. This gorgeous piece is 184 inches long, 14 inches wide, and selling for $15 (plus shipping from Japan, which seems to be an improbably low $1.50). There's tons more -- silks, cottons, synthetics, and even wools! Entirely new vistas of fabric craziness have opened before me.

What you could do with something not even fifteen inches wide is an exercise left to the reader. Feel free to answer in comments, and please show your work.

You Totally Thought I Was Kidding About Ebay Australia, Didn't You?

I probably wouldn't be as excited about this pattern if it weren't in French. Now that's a language that has an excellent PR department! I also like the complete insouciance of this pattern. The woman in this dress will take a break from cursing at you like a sailor to put on another coat of red lipstick. The woman in this dress can make a three-course meal in ten minutes from ingredients already in her refrigerator. The woman in this dress never lacks for conversation, and can make the most stolid person in the room light up like the Eiffel Tower on New Year's Eve. The woman in this dress will wear it in the morning with a bandana and flat canvas shoes to walk the dog, and twelve hours later with pearls and heels and a dollop of perfume to the theatre (she never goes to the 'theater', only the 'theatre'). The woman in this dress is conducting three serious flirtations simultaneously, and each of her flirt-ees wants to kill the other two men, messily.

I checked -- this seller will ship internationally, and, well, the exchange rate is in your favor. Might want to add eBay Australia to your list of places to check for patterns. Not a lot there, but what's there is plenty cheap.

Japan, Schmapan

Yeah, I'm still in Japan and I actually took a picture of a dress in a shop window last night, but I'm worried that being here has corroded my visual sense and that it's not actually a great dress, but instead is just A DRESS, and not the inevitable combo of military-style jacket, knee-length skirt, and knee boots that seems to be the uniform-inspired uniform of the younger women on the train and the street. I can't tell by the women I see in the offices, because they're all (with one exception so far) receptionists and have an actual uniform, not just something that looks like a uniform. Anyway. What I really wanted to say was (courtesy Mary Beth) THERE ARE A THOUSAND NEW PATTERNS at Vintage Martini! Yes, let a thousand projects bloom. Or maybe they're the equivalent of a thousand paper cranes? Whatever. This one above is the first one that caught my eye. Yep, square neck, cute little sleeves, full skirt: it might as well have "Reserved for Erin" on a post-it on the back. But then I saw this one:


I've never seen this brand before! It's Australian! (New thing to search Ebay.co.au for, huh?) And I love that yoke ...
But then, there was this:


Game over. Look at that! I don't think I'm going to buy it, because I'm not sure I could make it, but man oh man, is it going on my "life list" of patterns I've seen.
Now I have to go put on my uniform, I mean my suit, for my meetings today. But I'll be thinking about this dress.

Harajuku Sunday

Sorry, no pics of the wonderful amazing Harajuku kids in their astounding outfits, you can get plenty of those on Google--all the westerners taking pictures of them like they were zoo animals (that phrase always makes me think of the "Zoo Animals on Wheels" episode of genius Chris Elliott's Get a Life) kinda made me feel oogy. I mostly ended up taking pictures of incongruous signs, anyway. Like this one. What I wouldn't give for a REALLY smart clothing store! I'd want it to be smart both ways -- in the 1950s sense of "well-tailored, appropriate, elegant" and the modern sense of "adaptable, technologically advanced": my "smart clothing store" would make me a 1950s day dress from a tabletop fab (for 'fabrication', but also 'fabulous') machine, adjusted to my exact measurements, in fabric worked up from my rough sketch. It would be dirt-repelling, have built-in ubiquitous computing (an off-the-cuff email would be literally OFF THE CUFF), and tell me the time and temp in eight languages. Plus the collar would morph into iPod headphones.

There's nothing like Japan to make you want the future, NOW. It feels so much closer here, like you'd just turn a corner and all of a sudden you'd see Cory Doctorow and William Gibson sitting at a sidewalk cafe table, being served tea by robots. You'd see Harrison Ford chasing a couple of replicants while a "take us to your leader" ship lands down the block. Utopia, dystopia, I don't care. Just hit fast-forward for me, 'kay?

One funny thing I will report to you: while waiting for our new glasses (yes, in Tokyo you can buy new glasses in a hour, start to finish, for $75 -- my new ones are ORANGE and they ROCK) my co-worker marvelled that women here dress up in a "skirt and hose to just wander around on a Sunday ..." here he trailed off, laughing, as he had just noticed my pale pink wool skirt and pink fishnet tights (which I wore with a yellow tee and teal cardigan sweater, paisley belt, and flat loafers).

Oh, and for all of you that asked, here's the scary mannequin from Shanghai. Don't think about it coming to life, or you won't sleep tonight:

Although, I guess, looking at it again, the most it would do is say something scathingly catty, turn on her heel, and walk away. And then come back and kill you later.

UFO alert

No, no flashing lights or little green men -- see that dress there, on the right? The one with the interesting neckline? That's a UFO. An "unfinished object". I was clicking through the Blue Gardenia site looking for a suit/skirt pattern that Madelene sent me (thanks -- it's REALLY cute!) and was arrested by this image. Why? Because it's hanging in my sewing room (okay, the rod of the disused shower in the bathroom NEXT to my sewing room) waiting patiently for me to finish the skirt. I didn't have enough fabric for the pattern's actual skirt, and the Frankenstein solution I found was not a good one, so I need to take the (shambling, bolt-necked, fearsome and unloved) skirt off and try again, and I don't wanna! The bodice is all done, and really cute, and the fabric is this great atomic print vintage rayon, a warm grey with all sorts of wacky colorful dingbats and whizbangs all over it, and if I just spent an hour on it (granted, a HIGHLY UNPLEASANT hour) it would be DONE, and I could wear it. But I have not, and since I am in a hotel room in Tokyo (although I am NOT lounging around in transparent panties and sulky ennui, a la Scarlett Johansson's character in that movie that was referenced, oh, only about ten GAZILLION times in the Time Out Tokyo guidebook I brought) it isn't going to happen any time soon.

If you want to make your very own UFO of this pattern, click the image -- you can buy it from The Blue Gardenia for $25. B38. Proceed at your own risk.

What are some of y'all's UFOs? Tell me, please, of dresses started in high school and still on the project list; of unfinished presents for in-laws you lost in divorces; for-the-want-of-a-button ten-minute fixes that have been languishing for years in the mending basket. C'mon, make me feel better about my shortcomings!

(I've been in Tokyo, like, three hours and spent most of that on a bus, being chatted up by a Hong Kong banker who told me I had "cat's shoulders" and who also took the liberty of adjusting them for me. Was too boggled to stop him. Have never undergone amateur chiropracty on a Japanese bus before. May never again. Hope to go eat soon. Unless I explode from the loop of "OMG I'm in TOKYO!!!" in my head!)

If you are on dialup, I'm SO SORRY

Because: Pictures!

So my morning meeting in Shanghai went well, and we had the afternoon off to sightsee. It was pouring rain -- which is my second favorite kind of weather, after "lightly overcast and drizzling" because first of all, I hate glare, and secondly, as my mama always said, "You're not made of sugar, you won't melt." Rain clears out the streets and makes everything look even more picturesque, anyway. Every city is romantic in the rain, even Harlow New Town, so Shanghai is practically the LD-50 dose of romantic when it's raining.

Sadly, my traveling companions didn't feel the same way about the rain OR ecstatic at the prospect of fabric shopping, so they bailed to go work (or work out). I grabbed a cab to the Shanghai Dongjiadu Lu Fabric Market, where I promptly bought sixteen meters of fabric for about $40.

Here is the nice man who sold me the first four meters. (I apologize for my poor camera skillz. They are to be ph34r3d, but not because they are at all l337.)


It looked like this, a nice brown, cafe-au-lait, and red print. The fabric has a nice hand, might be a cotton-silk blend, might be a cotton-rayon blend. I decided NOT to buy any silk charmeuse this time, as I hadn't sewn any of the silk I bought last September in Beijing, and because I didn't want to go home with a lot of chinoiserie that I wouldn't wear. I was looking strictly for cotton or silk/cotton prints, the wilder the better.


I see this turning into a late 1930s, early-1940s-ish dress with maybe a little collar, gathering under the bust, and a quarter-circle skirt, below-knee-length.

Then I passed the Stall of the Crazy Skirts, or maybe The Home of Shanghai DanceSport -- not quite sure what was going on here but I was SORELY TEMPTED. Then I remembered just how little space there was in my luggage or my life for a two-tone black-and-red sequined flared and ruffled trumpet miniskirt. Sadly.



Then I bought the next piece of fabric, a beautiful kind of deco-y blue print. (This picture is especially bad.) It's a heavy twill weave; I'm pretty sure it's silk or at least silk-cotton. They had it in three colorways (blue, cream, and green), but this reminded me of the first piece of Liberty Tana Lawn I ever bought, so I chose the blue. I think it wants to be a tailored 50s dress with welted hip pockets and a vee neck.



After this I realized that my careful plan to walk down every aisle in calm consideration had evaporated and that I had no idea AT ALL which aisles I'd been down already (okay, I recognized the stall of cartoon character bedding, and the stall of fake fur with arguing people, and the stall of the really cute green corduroy jacket when I saw them again) so I stopped trying to be systematic and just wandered. I found this in a stall of shirtings -- it's 54 inches wide or so (all the rest were 45):


This one wants to be a hippie chick dress banded in brown. Or possibly that celery green. I think. For a while now every piece of fabric that I buy wants to be the hippie chick dress, but last summer everything wanted to be a circle skirt. Sometimes you just have to look at the fabric and say, sternly: "Listen, you know I love you, right? And that I want you to be happy? But I already have [insert astronomical number here] of that pattern made up -- here's a nice stack of really pretty patterns. I'll leave you alone with them for a while and you can make up your mind, 'kay?"

Finally, I was either about ready to go, or ready to really splurge and buy a piece of double-faced cashmere, even though it weighs about a gazillion pounds and even though I would never have the strength of will to cut into it, when I saw this:


It's a very low-quality voile, which means it's not heavy enough for a dress (unless I pin-tuck it, said the crazy woman), but hey! Cherries! Really, really cute cherries! I bought 3.8 meters of this -- all that was left of the bolt. I had lost my will to do the haggling thing by that point; the whole "look mildly interested, shake head ruefully at price, prepare to walk away, wait for next offer, make lower counteroffer, respond with more head-shaking to new price, blah blah blah" seemed crazy for a difference of, at most, two or three dollars. I barely made an effort with this fabric, so I think this was more expensive than the silk twill!

I did spend a little more time there, mostly watching other westerners get measured for shirts and suits (I had brought a suit pattern on the off-chance that I'd have time to be fitted and have it made up, but decided I'd rather spend the money on fabric), but then the vendors all started packing up, in a foul mood because of the wet floors and leaky roof, so I left and walked a few more blocks in the POURING RAIN, enjoying myself immensely. Then I realized, hey, all the buildings on this particular street are completely burnt out, roofless, and uninhabited (and that would be the BEST CASE SCENARIO) and all the folks here are staring bemusedly at the western woman in the bright pink raincoat and orange tights, so maybe I should get a cab. So I did.

I also took a picture of The World's Scariest Mannequin, which must have been purchased at the fire sale of the Nazi Uniform Supply Company, but I didn't upload it. Maybe later if you're all very very good.

It's 5 a.m. here and I have been up for an hour--topped myself up on sleep yesterday and so the needle pointed to full a couple hours early--and thus you all suffer. Next entry will probably be me, live from Budokan, I mean Tokyo.

Motivation.

I've never really been motivated to knit before, but this may change my mind -- wow, what a dress! Of course, you can't see the skirt and the model looks just a bit as if she were planning a tri-state kill spree, but I'm sure that's not the fault of the dress. Maybe it's the fault of having to KNIT the dress. Hmm. I may have talked myself out of knitting again.

If you're still motivated, click on the link to see the eBay auction for this pattern book.

I didn't pack anything like this -- do you think it's a going to be a problem?

Minutes until I get on the plane: 10
Number of times people have made "shanghaied" jokes to me: 26
Dresses packed: only ONE! I have to wear suits, this trip.
Meters of fabric intended to purchase: God Only Knows.

Updates as the situation warrants. Click on the image for a NYT review of this movie.

One of my many personal problems

Is that I really, really, don't like to go on a trip without having made a new dress. (I also don't like to go to a wedding unless I've made a new dress. I feel the opposite of Thoreau -- instead of "beware of all enterprises that require new clothes," I feel "if it's not important enough for a new dress, why bother?")

Sadly, because of the pressures of work, I take off for Shanghai and Tokyo tomorrow without a new dress in my suitcase. It's more of a suit trip, anyway, but that doesn't make it any better. And, I know, I know, I should be ecstatic to be going with or without a new dress, but it would be BETTER with a new dress! Because everything is better with a new dress.

If I did miraculously get another day to make a new dress in, I think I'd want to make this one:


Only in a charcoal springy wool, for maximum packability. And I'd make the pocket welts contrasting, and maybe pipe the midriff of the dress in a contrasting fabric, too. Pale blue? That would be pretty.

Okay, must go prep for trip WITH CLOTHES I ALREADY ACTUALLY HAVE. Dammit.

Oh, and btw, click on the image to buy this pattern. It's cheap (starting bid $2.50) and cute and B36! I'm tempted to buy it myself, but I've sworn no new patterns until I sew that hippie chick dress.

Somebody has a lot of time to spend in Photoshop

Or maybe an X-acto knife? I dunno. I prefer auctions that show the pattern envelope, unphotoshopped, especially if they show the back too. But I do know that this dress is ADORABLE, right? Especially the one on the right.

I really like the keyhole-plus-collar combo. I'd love to make this is a crisp pique or even a polished cotton. It would look smashing in one of those tiny-repeat Japanese blue-and-white prints, which I'm sure have a name. (You can tell I'm starting to think about fabric shopping in Tokyo, right? If you have recs please email me!)

Unfortunately, this pattern is only a size 12, which means size 30 bust. Which means it won't fit me without major surgery. If it fits you grab it, it's $12.99, or best offer. I'll probably feature another pattern from this seller tomorrow, so don't snoop in her listings if you want to be surprised. Otherwise, have at it!

Vaguely Related

The Eskimos, I'm told, have seventeen different words for shades of white. This is even more than there are in my imagination.

from DV by Diana Vreeland (italic hers), which I am enjoying more than I even thought possible. The only problem is that I can't read too much at once or else I start to talk like DV herself, and frankly, even she had trouble pulling that off at times!

Everyone who still believes that the Eskimos have X words for snow should go read The Great Eskimo Vocabulary Hoax, right now. Or check out Geoff Pullum's Language Log postings here and here.

Shameless Nomination Trolling

'Cause if this blog WERE nominated for, say, a Bloggie, I sure wouldn't refuse the honor. (I'm just saying.)

The only thing that would make it better would be if there were a huge awards ceremony that involved making a new dress. Maybe a red chiffon one?

Unholy.

I want this with an unnatural and possibly unholy desire. The dress on the left, natch. Which I want to make in sheer red organza with a red satin sash, in order to take it from "terrified (and heavily drugged) child bride" to "whore" in one short step, but either way it's wrong.

I could also see it in black organza, but that would be "I killed four husbands, but they can't prove anything! Want to come up for a drink, big boy?"

Somebody, do me a favor and click on the image to buy it before I lose all reason, 'kay? Cause it's my size and I might not be able to hold out much longer. It's $26, which is a small price to pay to avoid having to see me in red organza with ruffles. (Or, ooooh, grass green lawn! With a floral chintz sash!) Hurry! There's not much time.

I could do that.

I love how belligerent the women in this illustration look. They are just one sidewise glance away from a real, cinematic-quality, GLOW-style catfight.

But I'm not buying this pattern, even though I love the design (and the illustration) because I think I have all the parts and I can do that trim effect on the neck and sleeves myself. And probably will, very soon.

I'm pretty lazy -- I think I told Jonquil that I'm perfectly happy to pay Vogue Patterns $20 to do math for me so I wouldn't have to figure out how to make a tiered skirt -- but I won't pay for a pattern that just tells me how to add some bias trim or a shaped facing.

If you don't already have this bodice and skirt kicking around in your collection, go ahead and click on the image!

$15 worth of joy.

There's no fabric description on this, so it might be polyester -- nobody "forgets" to mention that something is silk -- but I love the print. It has a zipper up the back (which I hate) -- but I love the print. It might be 1980s -- but I love the print. The only reason I haven't clicked "Buy It NOW"--it's only $15--is that it's just slightly too large for me (38/32/38) and I don't need any more reasons to eat the leftover Christmas candy than I already have.

I've also resolved that I'm not going to apologize for my taste in wacky prints any more. Doesn't it leave more plain black clothes for everyone else? I am performing a public service, even if it sometimes confuses people. Like the time I was in Nordstrom's, wearing an orange striped skirt, orange tights, and an orange sweater (I also really like orange, so sue me) and I heard the salesclerk say "Oh, it's right over there, just past the woman in the .... black boots." I managed to make it down the escalator before cracking up.

Anyway, if this is your size, it's probably worth asking the seller (Maggie Flower's Vintage Clothing) what the fabric is, and if it's not polyester, it's certainly worth $15!

More Raw Materials

It's a good thing that it didn't even cross my mind to resolve not to buy more fabric in 2006, because it's what, Jan 3? and I have clicky fingers on eBay again. Isn't this gorgeous? It's Marimekko fabric from the 1990s. It's not actually what I bought, though -- at $55, plus shipping from AUSTRALIA, it's a little too pricey for me for 138 x 100 cm. Also, although I love Marimekko, like all right-thinking individuals, you always run the risk of blending in with someone's couch and pillows when you sew with home dec fabric (it's usually a risk I'm willing to take, if the fabric is cheap enough). However, I wasn't able to resist this:


Isn't that great? It was much cheaper than the Marimekko too, if also a bit smaller. I'm sure I have that 1-yd skirt pattern still lying around somewhere, or I can use it as a accent fabric for that Hippie Chick Hotpatterns dress.

Go check out Retro Age--they have tons of amazing fabric. And it's a good exercise in patience, to wait the weeks that it will take to have the fabric come from Australia!

A Big Beautiful Dress

Sorry for the sidewise view, but the full-on was a bit fuzzy. Go check out the auction for a better look. And do it in a hurry -- this one ends Jan 3. I don't usually post things that are ending so soon, but this is B49/W37, in perfect shape, and the starting bid is $39.99. So go!

It's hard to find larger sizes in good condition; one theory is that they've always been so sparse on the ground that they get worn to death. The other is that, since they're larger, they get cut down into smaller garments. I'm sure there are other theories out there, some of which probably involve the old socks-and-the-dryer chestnut, but hey, if you put a dress like this in the dryer you deserve to have it disappear!

The dress is rayon, the buttons rhinestone, the dots heavy net. Really a stunner. Check out the other VintageTrend auctions while you're there; lots of good stuff!

What [were] you [wearing] New Year's Eve?

New Year's Eve is probably one of the few nights of the year where people really dress up. So, while you are all gulping coffee and having a morning after the night before, why don't you take a moment to comment and tell me what you were wearing yesterday? Don't be shy!

Me, I went out to dinner with Mr. Dress A Day (at Frontera Grill yum, plus: mariachis! Everything is better with mariachis!). I wore an ankle-length half-circle black silk skirt (yes, I know, not a dress, but the restaurant wasn't fancy enough -- or the night warm enough -- for my usual NYE dresses), a white tee, a pale gray cashmere cardigan, a double strand of choker-length Carolee pearls, a big new pink-and-silver Swatch, pale pink fishnets, my silver 1950s lunchbox handbag, and these shoes:

I topped the whole thing with my 1950s velvet clutch coat with the big collar. I'm really, really fond of those shoes; too bad I only feel justified wearing them once a year!

So: what about you?