A Rejoinder and Statement of Principles

I don't usually take the time to reply to negative comments that are left on this blog -- why encourage people who are spoiling for a fight? I'm not bothered by their criticism, for the most part (and if it's justified I do try to take it to heart, however unpleasant it may be to do so!). But most of the time replying to negative comments falls under the heading "Never wrestle with a pig. You get dirty and only the pig enjoys it."

However, there have been a few comments on a recent post which I feel I need to respond to, if only for clarification. A commenter, mainly anonymous, but also signing one comment "7/10 split", suggested that I am a "professional what? writer/ advertisers? whose goal is to sell things", and also a "shill."

For the record: I am not a "professional advertiser". I am a writer, but of a very particular kind.

The same commenter (who may be this blogger) also suggested that I don't sew the dresses that I post here. If you would like to see pictures of ME in the dresses I have sewn (and I admit, I don't often post pictures of myself here because, all things considered, I had a better time in labor -- and I didn't have an epidural! -- than I do having my picture taken) you can see them in five out of the first six pictures here.
(The dresses shown in that link include a Duro, the pink jellybean dress, the blogiversary dress, the stunt Valentine's Dress, and the yellow-bird dress.)

Whether you enjoy my posts or not, I would like to state unequivocally that I do NOT accept money to post about any particular dress, fabric, pattern, pair of shoes, etc. There is NO payola or kickback scheme in effect on this blog.

For book reviews, I am, as is common practice in publishing, often provided with free copies of the book in question, to review or to give away.

The advertisers on the right-hand side are just that: advertisers. They have no influence on content, and I do *not* ask them for free stuff.

I accept pictorial ads ONLY from people who sell patterns, fabric, or vintage clothes, or are otherwise related to sewing. I must approve the ad before it will run. My ad rates are very low; $25/month (with a minimum three-month commitment, because I'm lazy and don't want to be bothered putting up and taking down ads all the time). I also participate in Google's AdSense program, which are the boxed text ads you see on the page, and in the Amazon Associates program, which gives me a commission on books purchased by Amazon customers who clicked on links to books from this blog. (To give you an idea of the revenue from those two sources; my last "payment" from Amazon was a $35 gift certificate which I used ... to buy more sewing books. Google pays every two months or so; I think my last check from them was in the $125 range.)

I have set up "Dress a Day Inc" as a LLC company, so that, if I say something libelous and am sued, the company will be the target of any lawsuit (and not my family). This means I file taxes on all the income from this blog -- if there is any, after paying hosting fees to my internet service provider.

As for the comments about the sweater in question, I am doing a little research on the subject; the commenter suggested that the sweater probably cost less than $1 to make, and that all the labor involved was sweatshop labor in Asia. I don't think that's right, given that the cost of a pound of even low-grade cotton is about .71¢ -- that's a pound of unspun cotton. From what I can tell, the spinning of one pound of raw cotton fiber produces 840 yards of yarn. That seems to be on the low end of the number of yards you'd need for a sweater -- any knitters want to jump in here? -- and the sweater I posted about was 14 gauge, which is a fairly fine knit). So, at least .71¢ in raw materials, plus the spinning cost, plus the fashioning cost, plus the cost of the buttons -- I think it would be hard to get the raw goods cost of this garment under $1. Even leaving aside that the garment is made in China (I called and asked) -- there's the cost of the coming up with the design, a job almost certainly done by an American at American wages. (J.Crew employs about 7600 people.) The same commenter said that the sweater I linked to could be found in discount stores for under $20; if, in fact, that is the case -- why haven't I found it there? It's not like I haven't been looking! Do you factor the salary of the designer into the cost of the sweater? If not, why not? Do you factor in the jobs of the catalog writers (Americans), shop employees (American and for the stores in Japan, Japanese)? The distribution center employees (in Virginia and North Carolina)? The UPS guy who will bring it to me? (Hi Luis!) The short answer, it seems to me, is that a narrow focus on manufacturing jobs is not helpful; if the company can't manufacture goods at a reasonable price, then all those other jobs I mentioned above -- they go away, too. Despite conjecture about how much of the price of the sweater is pure profit, large retail chains have VERY small profit margins -- one source puts it at 2%. Another source (from 1998!) puts the apparel profit margin at 5.4% ... and given the rising costs of commodities since 1998, I can't imagine that margin has gone up.

I apologize for such a long and tedious post, without even any pretty pictures to enliven it; I promise not to make a habit of this kind of thing. However, I do treasure the trust you place in me by visiting this blog, leaving comments, and contributing to a little oasis of dress-loving camaraderie online, and I didn't want to give credence to accusations of shilling, payola, and "blogging under false pretenses" by letting them go by in silence.

(Comments of the kind "all her taste is in her mouth," "this is soooooo ugly lol", and "i cant believe u wear this!" will still be ignored. De gustibus, etc.)

If you ever have any questions about me or this blog, well, my email address is on the right-hand side, towards the bottom. I do try to answer all the email I receive.

Days of Miracles and Wonders

Every time I worry that we are, in fact, in the end times (trying to remember if those wackaloons have bred their red heifer yet, and then beginning, ridiculously, to wonder what exactly would be the best thing to wear to the Apocalypse -- certainly it would need a lot of pockets, and of course if you are facing the Apocalypse surely you wouldn't care about eventual lung cancer, but could use asbestos cloth ... and would red be too matchy-matchy?) I remember that, even if we are rapidly approaching the time of Peak Everything; there are consolations; even if the world is running down, we can make the best of what's still around.

Like, for instance, the Internets. Which lets me, with the click of several buttons, browse through an exhibit from the Met back in 2002 -- Blithe Spirit: The Windsor Set, and see the dresses of another time when some had it that there was no use planning for the next year, much less the next decade; a time when they were going to party like it's 1939.

It always surprises me that mere electrons can manage to carry such treasures to me through wires and waves; treasures nearly as ephemeral as those electrons. How improbable, how ridiculous! What petite main in Vionnet's studio would believe it, if she were told that some American woman would, seventy years in the future, look at this dress--basically over the telephone? She'd stick you with a pin, and tell you to stop wasting her time. The woman for whom this dress was made would snort -- she'd believe that in a year, maybe two, her dress would be hopelessly out of style, and not worth anyone's attention.

This dress is black silk satin and black silk net, with sequins. (A dress made of wet toilet paper would probably be less fragile.) And yet -- it's still here. Its maker is gone; its wearer is gone; every man who guided it through a foxtrot, long gone: but it's still here. Still here, and since it's in a museum, safe and protected from everything from excess humidity to violent video games, likely to continue to be here, and through various generosities and some very clever engineering, we can up our brass periscopes outside our daily concerns and just, for a moment, look at it.

It might be taken (black birds, so ill-omened!) as a memento mori, but it might also be taken as kind of defiant monument: if something so delicate could abide through such terrible history, why shouldn't we? I'd like to call this a reverse Ozymandias; no "look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" but instead, a quiet invitation to rejoice.

Answered Prayers

I know this isn't a dress, but regular readers will know of my preoccupation -- really, obsession -- with short-sleeved cardigan sweaters. I *love* them. There is no better A/C-fighter/shoulder-coverup in the summer than a short-sleeved cardigan. A cardigan, a nice tee, and a pretty skirt is perfect for nearly any occasion ... but it's been so hard to find decent short-sleeved cardigans! (Searches tend to turn up these horrors.)

And now, in answer to unarticulated prayers, it seems that J. Crew -- yes, that J. Crew -- has them. In TWELVE colors, including orange, kelly green, and TWO different yellows.

They're not cheap, unfortunately ($65) but they're not insanely unreasonable, and I've been satisfied with J. Crew quality in the past. But here's the most important part: I called to get the neck-hem measurement, and it's 21.5 inches in the medium. Yep -- if you're shortwaisted, as I am, that should hit you perfectly at the top of the hip, which is where sweaters should fall. (Honestly. They've done all sorts of calculations, and invoked the golden ratio, and everything. That's where they should be.)

Sadly, about half the colors (including the green, the orange, and one of the yellows) won't ship until 6/16. (I really want ALL OF THEM, but I'm going to limit myself to one or two and see how they work out. I'm even tempted by the bright purple, and I hate purple.)

Now if I could only find mesh polo shirts that measured 21 inches or less, shoulder to hem, in nice colors, WITHOUT some big honking logo, my (sartorial) life would be nearly perfect.

Calling All Steel Magnolias: Come Out From Behind Your Ruffles

Lisa sent this to me from her store, telling me it made her think of Bozo. Which is a reaction I completely understand, but don't share -- this dress makes me think of a particular kind of woman who is all ruffles and sweetness on the outside, but inside is made of pure Kevlar, reinforced with carbon steel.

You know the type, I'm sure -- they're a staple of soaps both day- and night-time -- pretty, frail, completely ruthless. They (or their costume designers) like pastels, ruffles, bows, matching bags and shoes ... and, occasionally, for a change of pace, red negligeés. The storylines write themselves.

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that you can't look pretty and have power. Quite the opposite. What I'm saying is that you shouldn't use looking pretty to pretend you DON'T have power ... while wielding the equivalent of a ten-megaton bomb. If you can make or break multinational corporations and destabilize smaller republics while trying on marabou slides in the shoe lounge at Saks, fine. Just don't put on a "little ol' me? I don't have two brain cells to rub together!" act while doing it.

I see less and less of the "little ol' me?" act these days, and that's encouraging. Because it's only by acknowledging that, yes, in fact, you DO have power, that you can accomplish things directly, that you can say "Do this because I said so," that the game will change so that direct power, wielded by women, becomes an everyday occurrence. When people ask "How did she make that happen?" and are interested in the actual work, and not any purported relationships of the woman in question, the world will be safe for ruffles as ruffles, and not as camouflage netting over machine-gun emplacements.

And, as someone who likes both ruffles *and* running the show, and makes no secret of either, I'm hoping that day comes sooner, rather than later.

Ooh! Sneakers!

Are these, or are they not, insufferably adorable? Seriously, these are the cutest things I've seen since my son was two.

And I know, I know, I've sworn undying devotion to the shoes of Jack Purcell, but a girl can LOOK, can't she?

I think it's the extremely low vamp, which I think always looks feminine and dainty. (YES, no matter HOW big your feet are. Seriously.) In fact, this reminds me of a holy-grail pair of shoes: the very-low-vamp saddle shoe. There was a girl in my junior high who had a pair, and damned if I can remember her name, what she looked like, whether she was even in any of my classes ... but I remember the low-cut two-tone saddle shoes she had. In detail. It was a sad, sad day when I finally figured out where she got them (Thom McAn! Back when they had standalone stores!) and got my folks to take me to the mall ... only to find they were sold out of my size.

Anyway, nostalgic digression aside, these are some darn cute sneakers. (Click on the image if your first reaction is OMG MUST HAVE NOW.) And if you were one of the folks who emailed me last summer about what sneakers go well with skirts? Here's the answer. (But, purist that I am ... I'd put laces in 'em.)

Cleaning Out My Closet, Part 1

I spent a few hours yesterday moving the winter clothes OUT and the summer clothes IN. This involves a great deal of dusting, both mental and physical. (For instance, why did I let another year pass without wearing my turquoise shantung hostess coat?)

Every time I make this switch I *vow* that I will finally pare down my closet to essentials. Just a few well-chosen pieces, blah blah blah. The truth is that I am not a "few well-chosen pieces" kinda gal. I am the kind of gal that has fifty cotton summer dresses and wears a different one every day, if she can.

However, I *am* getting rid of a few things, such as this brown-and-gold wool crepe wiggle dress. I made it several years ago (maybe even five or six?) and wore it, I dunno, once. I was having a wiggle-dress moment, back then; I don't know why. (Perhaps it was the joy of no longer looking mildly pregnant?) Anyway, I spent a lot of time on it and figured I should now set it free to live a full life with someone who will love it the way it ought to be loved.

Here's a closer view of the bodice:



The points on the tabs are a little lumpy, I have to say. Luckily the buttons are so nice (vintage!) that it draws the eye away.

This dress measures B 36-38, W 32, H 46, and the skirt is 28 inches waistline to hem. From the front neckline to the waist is 13.5 inches; from the back neckline to the waist is 14 inches.

So here's the plan: I'm going to put it up on eBay, at a very very low starting bid. If it sells for that, fine. But if it sells for anything upwards of $25, anything over that will go to charity -- I'm thinking helping victims of rape in the Congo. How does that sound?

Here's the link: Brown Crepe Wiggle Dress.

Gathering My Thoughts

Carol, a little while back, sent me THREE BOXES of patterns. Just because. (I know, am I lucky, or what?)

The boxes were FULL of treasures, but this one in particular caught my eye, even though I'm not a huge devotee of this era. But look at those gathers, and the sweet curve of the neckline!

So the plan is to go ahead and make the bodice, slap it onto a plain circle skirt, and see what happens. I'll have to change the waistline gathers to small darts (I don't like blousiness at my waist), and there will be some fiddling involved with the sizing (this is a B32; I ... am not). However, I figure that the 1940s propensity for shoulderpads will work in my favor; by leaving them out I will get more room through the shoulder seam and the gathers should help with fullness over the bust. (And I have the "make the waist bigger" alteration down pat.)

I'm sure La BellaDonna could tell me why I want to put a circle skirt on this one -- I think this straight-skirt cut is probably fine for those shaped like Rulers and Vs, but I need more sweep in the skirt to balance out what I insist is an Hourglass (but may in fact be a Pear -- or perhaps just an Hourglass that needs to be flipped over?)

The only thing I can't decide is what fabric to use. I was thinking "huge floral!" (because I always think "huge floral!") but this might also be adorable in, say, gingham. Or seersucker. Or even eyelet. Ideas?

Oh, if you want to see the back of the pattern, it's here.