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.

By the Numbers

Remember those nursery curtains I bought at Target? They turned into this:



It's Butterick 2626, the same dress as the one in this post. It's not ironed -- this is how it looks after being hung up wet from the dryer.

I didn't realize until I took the picture how ... prominent ... the numbers are on the bodice. In my mind, it's an alphabet dress, not a numbers dress, but I don't mind. (And since I'm going to be wearing this mostly for work, I hope I earworm everyone I meet with Dolly Parton's "9 to 5".)

It took me forever to figure out what buttons to use, until I remembered I bought fifteen packets of covered-button forms at the last Hancock's notions sale:


The covered buttons were EASY. There's a template on the back of the package and then all you have to do is get the fabric wet and put it in the mold. It took less time to make the buttons than it did to sew them on. (Just remember to check the orientation of the shanks if your buttons have a definite up-and-down ... a couple of mine are sewn on an angle for that reason!)

If I had it to do over again, I would, and with a glad heart, but this time I'd unpick the curtain hems BEFORE washing them; the sizing made the fabric stiff and in my haste I ripped one of the hems along the seamline, which made cutting-out a bit awkward. (If you have rips or stains in your fabric, you can mark them the way I do, with blue painter's tape -- it's stiff enough so that you can feel it from the wrong side but it comes off easily without leaving any sticky stuff behind.)

The obligatory "Let me show you where I screwed up" part is here:



The skirt has an interesting slashed/darted opening on the left for the zipper, and the right-hand side is supposed to have just a plain dart. Which I forgot to make. Which means the back skirt is not centered on the back bodice. To which I say: big whoop; I gave up being worried if people were staring at my ass a decade ago.

Here's the full back view:



Despite that annoyance and assorted others (if you remember, this is the dress where I turned front and back bodice gathers into darts, plus I had to let out the waist an inch, which is irritating on a skirt with side-seam pleats) I will probably make this pattern at least once more. It's so comfortable!

If you're playing "spot the pockets", they're set in the front skirt seam, between the third and fourth outermost pleats. Very convenient!

Shirtdress #3

When you make the same pattern multiple times you really begin to understand how a few small changes will change the look completely, to wit:



This is Liberty babycord (sometimes called Kingly cord; I'm not sure if that means they think kings are big babies, or what); as usual, I forget the style name. I went to eBay to see if I could find any and ended up buying four more meters of a *different* print, so I think I'll leave it as unknown for now, thank you!

The buttons are olive plastic (all the buttons on these three dresses have been just standard off-the-revolving-rack ones from Hancock's Fabrics; I have tons of vintage buttons, of course, but not TEN of any one kind, which makes it a bit difficult to use them up with shirtdresses). I also had a set of bright teal ones under consideration for this dress, but they were a little headlighty against the swirly print.

The cuffs were actually not as much of a PITA as I thought they would be; there's a slight bobble on one of them where the brown ribbon that edges the placket meets the cuff proper (which of course I didn't think to take picture of). But considering I move my hands so much when I talk, no one will ever notice.

Here's a slightly better look at the fabric:



I also have a midriff-y dress made in this same colorway, only in lawn. I can't remember if I've ever posted it, though. Right now it's waiting for a button fix, sadly.

Sewing with Liberty cord isn't hard; it's very fine and lightweight, not bulky at all. The print obscures any nap problems and the wales are so fine that you don't get that weird separation you sometimes have at the seams with wider-wale corduroy. Also, it is sooooo soft, like very thin velvet. If you wear Liberty corduroy, people WILL pet you. Be prepared.

I used sewn-in organza again for the interfacing; worked fine. It helps the collar keep a soft shape without me having to mash it with the iron (not good for corduroy). And this one, unlike yesterday's version, is VERY warm and looks good with a (cream-colored) t-shirt under it, too.

To answer one of the questions that came up yesterday; these are all throw-in-the-washing-machine dresses. If I get to the washing machine before Mr. Dress-A-Day does, I hang them up when they're damp; otherwise they go in the dryer, too. (Since we both work from home, we tussle a bit over who gets to procrastinate by doing the laundry. My office is closer to the machines, but he can actually remember when the cycle is up, so he usually wins.)

More shirtdresses/shirtwaists are in the works ... watch this space for further installments!

Shirtwaist #2

So, after I finished yesterday's shirtdress (that is, the shirtdress I posted yesterday; I didn't make a damn thing yesterday except trouble) I was pleased enough by the results to jump in with another, this time in Liberty lawn. (I did wear the first dress once before making a second -- you never really know how a dress has turned out until you wear it for a whole day.)

This one is a very lightweight Tana lawn, which is killing me ... because I made it back in January to wear on a quick trip to sunny California, and since then it's been too friggin' cold in Chicago to wear it here! I take comfort in the fact that the Trib's weatherguy has pointed out that March usually sees at least ONE 70-degree day each year. I'll take mine March 1, please.



Again, I shortened the sleeves and added pockets. Also, I forgot to mention that the gray dress was about 5/8ths of an inch too short in the bodice (I overestimated my short-waistedness, for once) so for this dress I let it back out again. This dress, too, has a button at the waist!

Instead of using the Pellon Shirtailor interfacing on the collar and button/buttonhole facings, I used silk organza, which turned out to be the right idea. It's not too stiff but it does reinforce the fabric just enough. I can't remember where I purchased the organza I used for this dress (I have a suspicion it was left over from a fancy dress I made in 1995), but I just bought some more from Dharma Trading, which seems fine. Since I sew with a lot of light colors I mostly just buy off-white organza and use it for everything. If I did more dark sewing I'd probably buy a couple yards of black silk organza to have around.

Because the lawn and the organza are both so light, I just basted the organza to the facing (just inside the fold) with a long running machine stitch, and then finished the edges by zig-zagging all around them. It sounds more complicated than it is, believe me.



I forget the actual name of this Liberty print -- in my head I call it "martini olive." I bought it on the first trip to Shaukat, I think.

Tomorrow: a long-sleeved corduroy version.

Shirtwaist #1

So far, in my new obsession with shirtdresses, I've made the pattern above three times.

Here's the first version I made ("the beta"), in the gray polka-dot cotton I bought in Japan:



I was pretty ambitious for a beta version; check out the rickrack on the collar and the inserted cording along the front dress edge:



I did make some alterations to the pattern: I added pockets (they're hidden in the front skirt seam, under those pleats); I shortened the sleeves (a LOT), and I gave myself more room in the waist.

Of course, it being the first go-round, I did screw up a couple things. First of all, Pellon Shirtailor interfacing could probably compete in an Ironman. (Heck, it's probably used in IRONMAN's suit!) That stuff is STIFF. I didn't really want the dress to stand up by itself ...

Also, I messed up the placement of the buttons. The pattern suggested the spacing I used, with no button at the waist, since it will get caught up on your belt. But I forgot that I don't plan to wear a belt with this. This means I don't have a button at the waist to hold it together, and have a hook-and-bar-tack closure instead. I *hate* hook-and-bar-tack closures. (I suppose I *could* break down and wear a belt, but I have a huge ranty post coming up about the current belt insanity, and I'm afraid wearing a belt now will hurt my credibility later.)

Of course, looking at the picture, it looks like I could sneak in one more button just a teeeeeny bit under the waistline, and have the buttons still look more-or-less spaced. Hmm. Must consider.

Despite these gross errors, the dress is still wearable -- I've worn it two or three times. I like to wear it with bright tights and a matching cardigan (that is, a cardigan that matches the tights -- especially a yellow tights/yellow cardigan combo).

Tomorrow: version #2, in which I make significant improvements.

More from the closet

Here's another example of mid-90s Erin sewing. I can't remember where I got this fabric, although Unique Thrift is a good bet. And I can't remember what pattern it was, but I'm pretty sure it was a New Look that was chosen specifically because the yardage I had was so narrow and short.

This was also from a period where I was trying to serge EVERYTHING, so the seam allowances are not what you would call generous. I gave that up pretty soon.

I wish I'd been patient with this fabric and not jumped so fast to sew it into something, anything. I really love it (and the buttons, which I'll probably salvage for something else -- they're opaque blue glass and really lovely). I can think of all sorts of things I'd rather have done with it than this dress!

Also, while I'm being all Complainy McDisgruntledpants, the sleeves are too long and I didn't even get it to hang straight on the mannequin.

Here's a closeup of the bodice:



And the fabric:



See what I mean about the fabric? Sigh.

And, can I just say -- you guys have been AWESOME about the new wiki. The number of articles has tripled in just one day, and several other sellers have thrown their images into the ring! (I'll update the list of sellers and links later today, I hope.)

The best part about the wiki -- the one I forgot to emphasize yesterday -- is the ability to assign categories to the patterns. Even if you don't feel you can upload images or create pages, please feel free to EDIT the pages to include new categories (way down at the bottom). That way we'll get pages like this one! Won't that be cool?

I am so tempted to spend the rest of the morning uploading images from my hard drive, but, sadly, actual work is calling. Once you start making new pattern wiki pages, it's totally addictive ... give it a shot!

Everything's coming up roses

I'm trying to be better about posting more pictures of stuff I've sewn. This is a dress from several years ago (maybe three? I remember wearing it to see Simon Winchester reading from Krakatoa at the NYPL, so a while back). I had this crazy desire for a VERY ROSES dress and then I found some quilting cotton at eQuilter, and the rest is history.

It's from this pattern, only short sleeved.

Here's the bodice:



And, for all you covered-button fans, here are the buttons:



And speaking of roses-dresses, Pamela (Glamoursurf on eBay) sent me a link to this wonder. Roses AND black chiffon! I think there are several states where that combination is illegal, so be sure to read the terms and conditions before bidding.

AND, before I forget AGAIN, Miss Helene has put up a Squidoo lens about sewing patterns! What's a Squidoo lens? A list of helpful links on a particular topic, put together by a real person (in this case, the topic is sewing patterns, and the real person is Lisa at Miss Helene's). Check it out! You can't edit it yourself, but you can add suggestions in the comments ...

Was That 1996, or 1997?

This is a floral voile dress I'm pretty sure I made in the summer of 1996 or possibly 1997. I made it to wear to the wedding of a friend -- he's Orthodox, so the dress originally had long sleeves, and I trimmed a cream straw hat with a pink flower and brown ribbon to wear with it. (Although I cut off the sleeves after the wedding, I left the skirt very long -- nearly ankle length.) I suppose I could just email and ASK "Hey, when did you guys get married?" but that would take all the fun out of trying to place the date from memory.

Here's an almost-closeup of the buttons, which are vintage pink glass:



I think I bought this fabric at Vogue Fabrics here in Chicago, and the buttons at a much-missed vintage button shop that used to exist on Armitage, near Halsted. The pattern is, I'm fairly sure, either a New Look or a Style pattern, and if you're desperate, I could probably dig up the number without too much trouble.

I know I made this dress at least twice -- the other time in a white-and-yellow daisy print quilting cotton with large green-and-white dotted dome-shaped plastic buttons. I still have the daisy dress, too ... I found both of these while trying to switch my closet from summer to winter.

If you're ever called upon to date any Erin creations, you should recognize that this is firmly in my middle period: the early period (jr high/high school) was nearly exclusively cotton dresses with kimono-sleeved minimally-darted boatneck bodices attached to full gathered skirts, with inseam pockets and little, if any, waist shaping, often in shades of blue and green, and A-line long skirts with a zipper and attached waistband. I think I occasionally indulged in the heady thrills of the McCalls NYNY patterns, but not often. The middle period (of which this is a prime example) involved trying to find retro-ish current patterns to make with vintage-y details (thus the glass buttons here). Late middle period involved my first forays into vintage patterns (such as the cherry dress).

One of the quirks and/or hallmarks of middle-period Erin sewing is an abundance of collars -- and making the collar in this voile was very tricky. It's so thin (and yes I wore it with a full-coverage slip that could have been a dress all by its lonesome) that the seam allowances looked far too bulky on the first go-round. I think I ended up doing three rows of very tiny machine stitches, very close together, and cutting the allowances off at the outermost row. There was probably a better way to do it, but I was also, I'm sure, pressed for time.

Late-period Erin ... well, I think you can all identify late-period Erin at this point. I firmly intend for my 'late period' to last about forty more years (if I'm lucky).

Why not plaid?

Remember this pattern?



Well, I really wanted to try it out, AND I really wanted to make a new dress to wander around the Renegade Craft Fair in, AND I had a bunch (as in, more than six yards) of this weird yellow-and-gray plaid fabric I wanted to use, and ... well, I did this:



Here's a bigger view:



And here you can see the almost-matched plaid at the center front:



I want to make this again as it was fast (I cut it out in about an hour, and it took about three hours to sew; if I weren't doing plaid it would probably take less time) and fairly easy, and fun to wear. I cut the front bodice on the bias, so that the plaid would purposefully not match at the waist seam. I think it would look better with a belt (I'm planning to try to find the gray patent belt Summerset bought at Target for her shirtdress).

Other than cutting the bodice on the bias, the only other change I made was substituting a center back invisible zipper (running from about the bra-strap line to 6" below the waist) instead of the side snap placket the pattern calls for. It wasn't fun to set in, but by moving the zipper to the center back, I could put in pockets on both sides of the skirt, instead of the one-sided pocket the pattern allowed.

Next time I make this I'm going to lengthen the bodice by about an inch, and widen the sleeve a bit to accommodate my, um, muscular upper arms. I'm also going to try to figure out why the shoulder seam was a bit forward of the top of the shoulder when I was wearing it. Something was pulling, but I can't figure out what!

My camera ran out of juice before I could shoot the buttons in the back, but they were just plain plastic yellow buttons, anyway. I could have sworn I had some lovely gray buttons in my stash, but they managed to disappear.

The best part of this dress was the fun of applying the bias edging to the neck and sleeves. I love doing that. And although the neck is pretty high, I found it quite comfortable.

(If you saw the BurdaNews post yesterday, I'm wearing this dress in that picture, with a gray cardigan.)

All in all, it was probably not the Best Idea Ever to make a brand-new pattern (and one where I made so many little changes right off the bat) in PLAID, but, hey, why not? If something's too easy there's no fun in it, right?

Closet Excavations

I thought I'd posted this before but a trawl of the archives didn't turn anything up.

I am in the process of tidying up the sewing room (a never-ending process) and came across this dress, which I haven't thought of in ages. This dress was one of the first major vintage projects I ever did -- I had to order the fabric from Britex in San Francisco, as it was WAY before the whole cherry-print thing went mainstream.

This dress probably took me three weekends, what with the covered buttons, the belt, and so on. I believe I had made a trial version in a black and white quilting cotton, and I should dig that one up to photograph, too. (I ripped the underarm on it, but luckily the print was so busy my patch was undetectable, and I kept right on wearing it ...)

This probably dates to at least 1996, maybe earlier -- I made it to wear to a friend's late-summer wedding rehearsal dinner, I think.

I would probably still wear this, if I ever thought about it. (I think I was a bit heavier in the mid-90s than I am now, so it might not fit now.) But I should really start dragging out more of my more tragic early efforts to post, shouldn't I? Those will be good for a laugh!

Oh, I Forgot!

Do you remember that bird fabric I was moaning about missing? And how y'all helped me find some (I bought five yards from CraftyPlanet, which, if you remember, was the place that featured the sock monkey dress in their windows).

Anyway, before I went traipsing about the globe, I actually made it up into a dress, to wit:



Here's the full-length view:



Annnnnnd the close-up:




I can't remember (or find, in my messy sewing room) the patterns I used -- it was another bodice-from-one, skirt-from-another Erin Special Combo, though. When I dig them up I'll post them.

At first I was a bit dismayed by exactly how much it looked like the waitress uniform at a diner called "Birdland" or "Nettie's Nest", but the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I was by my own first reaction. How sad and telling is it that clothes that remind us of honest labor (and let's be honest: low-paid, female honest labor) are somehow less beautiful? Why is is denigrating to say that a garment looks like the uniform of a waitress, or a nurse, or any other female service job? Why is the ideal to look as if you've never done a lick of work in your life? Why are clothes that actually facilitate Getting Stuff Done less worthy than clothes that actively Get In The Way (stiletto heels, I'm looking at you)?

Anyway, after getting myself comfortably indignant (it's good for the liver) I resolved to wear this happily, and if anyone points out the entirely-fortuitous resemblance between this and the traditional uniform of the great American waitress, I will pull a little pad out of my (convenient) pocket, take the pencil stub from behind my ear, and write them a thank-you note. After which I will continue on my merry way, working.

Busy, Day Dress (or Busy-Day Dress)

Okay, so for the last day of this incarnation of fabric week, I thought I'd show something made up ... I bought this fabric on eBay, I'm pretty sure, a decision based solely on that color green. I love that shade of green.

Of course, as with all fabric I bought in 2006, it was supposed to be part of a Duro dress. I could never find anything to match that raisin-y brown, though, and I thought matching the pink or the green would be too Lilly Pulitzer. So it sat in my fabric closet (which is not of Tardis-like proportions, despite rampant speculation in the comments, but is pretty darn close) for a while.

Then I needed some fabric to "test" a new pattern -- this is in fact the bodice from one pattern and the skirt from another; I'd show the images but I can't find them, arrgh -- and thought of this stuff. The idea was the pattern would be SO BUSY that any bobbles in the construction wouldn't show.

Of course, I wasn't able to match the large medallions right on the bodice:



But the pockets turned out okay (they're curved!):



Despite the many flaws of this dress (the facings like to turn out, despite practically supergluing them down, and for some reason I got a bad spool of thread so the seams are weak and constantly need repair) it's actually incredibly wearable. The pockets are just the right size and the bodice is very comfortable (it's the same bodice as this dress). In fact, I'm thinking of making this again but in red with white polka dots ...

I'm Not Sewing

Seriously. I am not sewing right now. I mean, I'm still thinking about sewing, and planning to sew, and still doing the occasional bit of mending, and Lord, am I ever still buying fabric (look here soon for something made of REAL DOTTED SWISS) but I'm not actually sewing. Too much work right now, and the weather's still too crappy for the instant gratification of make-summer-dress, wear-summer-dress.

So this, then, is not a recent creation, but a 'test garment' that I did several months ago. It went together fine, and then I realized that I didn't have enough of the 'real' fabric to make the dress now that I knew it actually fit, so the project was abandoned. This test dress is wearable, though! I need to hem the sleeves (or rather, tack down the facings), shorten the skirt (and eventually hem it), and I have to take the front of the skirt apart and add big flappy patch pockets, but that's not a big deal.

I'm calling this the jelly bean dress, because it reminds me of nothing so much as it does Yarnstorm's lovely jelly bean cushions. I think if I ever were lucky enough to meet Yarnstorm I'd have to wear this dress ... and then we'd eat candy-covered cupcakes that matched it. I'd better get cracking, right? Always better to be prepared.

The fabric is from the remnant table at Vogue, from the depressingly tiny "60 inch wide cotton prints" section; I'm there so much I should really send the nice remnant-watcher lady a Christmas card. And this is a vintage pattern, but I don't remember the number and if I go upstairs I'm going to wake my little boy, and if I wake him he'll wake my husband. The boy doesn't have school today, so might as well let 'em sleep ...

Documentary Proof

I didn't think I had a picture of the first dress I ever made, but I do. The only thing is, I'm not wearing it.

That's me, on the right, in full nerd ectasy, clutching the ribbons I won at the NJCL Forum in 1986. I don't know if that was the year I got a first in Phrases and Mottoes, or if that was the year I got eighth in Latin Grammar by christmas-treeing the ScanTron bubbles, or if that was the year I got eighth in girls' shotput by the simple expedient of there being only eight competitors in the girls' shotput, but it really doesn't matter: I was very happy to be there. Can't you tell?

I'm wearing the dress my mom made for me (while I watched her do it, so I could learn how to sew). It was very long, almost ankle-length, and made of baby cotton with pink rosebuds on it, and I had never loved a dress in my life the way I loved that dress. Even Keith Morgan (who made homeroom "interesting") announcing that it made me look pregnant (and asking me, repeatedly, who the father was) couldn't kill my love for that dress.

My friend N. is wearing the dress I made. She hadn't packed a dress for the dance, so I lent her mine. It was almost the same pattern as the rosebud dress, but with more scooped neckline, and shorter. Why I didn't lend her the longer one, as she was so much taller than I was, I don't know. I'm sure I had a good reason at the time.

It's weird to see the embryonic Erin-style in this photo, to see what's the same and what's different. I always wear my glasses now (I always wore contacts then). I no longer have braces, thankfully, and I haven't been that tan since I stopped living in Florida. I still wear hoop earrings (smaller ones). I'm still obsessed with Swatch watches, and I still have that paisley one. I think if I could find that fine baby rosebud-print cotton again, I'd probably make another dress out of it.

And, in case you're wondering, we had a great time at the dance.

4 Across: Prepare for Roasting

I am not a puzzle expert. People are sometimes disappointed to learn this, because, obviously, as a lexicographer, I should be good at everything to do with words, including crosswords, Scrabble, and handwriting. (Note: I am not good at any of the preceding.)

I enjoy crosswords, but I'm not competitive, and if it's a choice between spending two hours hurting myself with the Sunday puzzle, and making a new skirt, I usually go for "make a new skirt."

So why am I wearing this dress (RIGHT NOW, I'm wearing this dress) at the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament?

Well, it's complicated, but it boils down to "I'm working for some folks making a words documentary and they got me to talk puzzle-guy-extraordinaire Francis into making a crossword with a bunch of underused words in it for me, and they're filming people solving it tonight."

Of course, once I knew I would be attending, the important question was "what will I wear?" Then I saw this fabric and, well, I *never* turn down a chance to make a stunt dress.

This is roughly the same pattern as this dress, which I made last year, but I couldn't find the skirt pattern pieces, which I think I had reassigned to another pattern last summer. So I Frankensteined it up with a different skirt pattern with has a scalloped bottom. (Which: never again! I had to HAND-SEW the edge binding on it! The skirt sure looks cute, though, so I'm sure I will eventually forget what a pain in the ass it was to do and try and make it again someday. Although you can't really see the scallops in the picture.)

Anyway, since I'm here, I thought I may as well compete, and thus give a whole lot of people the joy of beating a real, live dictionary editor in a crossword puzzle contest. Perhaps next year I will extend my altruism to the Scrabble tournament, where I would also be roundly shellacked.

Here's a closeup of the bodice (which is not exactly perfect, just like my puzzle-solving ability!):


The piping's a bit uneven (again, like my puzzle ... you get the idea).

I'm having a great time here so far, though! Although that's probably because the contest hasn't actually started. I expect to be tearing my hair out and groaning within the hour.

First Prize!

So, I forgot (again) to tell you (or at least the Chicagoland-area you) that I would be on Chicago Tonight on WTTW last night. (I was only talking about txt-messaging abbreviations, LOL.)

But, I figured, I might as well wear a Duro. (A Duro, as some of you have asked recently, is a kimono-style dress with contrast banding, as popularized by the designer Duro Olowu. That makes 'Duro', like 'cardigan', an eponym.)

The Duro worked fine on TV (as far as I can tell, being no expert on production values, and only being able to watch myself for a few minutes post-show, before it was time to put the little boy to bed). I'm sure someone helpful will tell me if it didn't ...

The only problem with wearing dresses on TV is that the mic guy doesn't have a super-convenient place to put the mic. With a Duro, though, you hang the box on the back sash, and run the cord & mic through the wide sleeve to the front vee. Works fine! (Occasionally when I've worn dresses to speak they have to hang the mic box from my back bra strap. Not ideal.)

The print fabric here is Liberty, a pattern called "First Prize". Here's a non-flashy photo:



The banding is quilting cotton. It's a little rough next to the fine lawn, but I haven't been able to find good colors in cotton lawn, unfortunately. And it's probably one of those things that I'm the only one who notices, too. I'm also convinced that either my mannequin has a decided list to one side (or maybe I do?), or the floor of my sewing room is slanted. (Or maybe I just can't hold a camera straight? My worldview is skewed? Something's going on.)

I'm also showing it here with the tank I usually wear under this one; a plain milk-chocolatey one from H&M. (I don't think you can tell here, but it matches a brown tone in the center of the First Prize rosettes.) Lots of you have commented about how deep the Duro necklines are, and I wanted to show you how I manage to wear them without being, in the classic words of somebody-or-other, a "cleavage-y slutbomb." (Not that I think cleavage is necessarily slutty, and of course it's the patriarchy that defines sluttiness anyway, always with an eye to perpetuating itself and controlling uppity women, but I just really like the word slutbomb. ) I also like having a chance to throw another color into the Duro mix with various tanks. Not to mention being far too lazy to alter the pattern to have a higher neckline.

I can't remember if I posted this one before, or not! (Do I repeat myself? Very well then, I repeat myself.) If I have posted it before, I'm sure someone helpful will post it in the comments.

No, Luke. I am your Duro ...

So, here, finally, is the Darth Vader fabric Duro. It's not really pressed, and until I uploaded the picture I didn't realize it wasn't straight on my mannequin, but, nevertheless, here it is.

I showed it to Mr. Dress A Day last night, and his reaction was, "Well, the houndstooth certainly distracts from the Darth Vader heads." (Mr. Dress A Day sometimes has a hard time ginning up the appropriate amount of enthusiasm for my sartorial flights of fancy.)

I am very pleased with the houndstooth, because the background isn't white -- it's gray, like the Darth Vader heads, as you can almost/maybe see here:




I like that I could use this fabric in a Duro, because what I'm really hoping for is the double-take. That it just looks like an abstract print at first, and then suddenly there's the realization, that no, it's not abstract, it's DARTH VADER. (And then they find an excuse to move away from the obviously unbalanced woman in the Star-Wars-themed dress.)

If I were really ambitious (or really a lot more geeky than I am right now) I'd find one of those Darth Vader-breathing chips that were in the magazine ads for the re-release of the first trilogy, and keep it my pocket to jolt that realization, for people slow on the uptake. But I won't. Or, at least, I probably won't.

Here's a closeup of the bodice, just because:



And, yes, I know, that in the movie Vader really says "No, I am your father," with no "Luke" in there at all. How do I know this? I looked it up.

Stunt Dress (Don't Try This At Home)

As you may or may not know, I recently wrote a book about love words in other languages (That's Amore). As part of the giant publicity blitz for said book (you may have also heard me on the radio in Michigan and Albany, NY), there was a short feature in Chicago Magazine about it. With a photo (of me, not the book jacket). For which the photographer asked if I could wear something red.

Well, that, of course, was like a flag (of the same color) to a bull: why not, I reasoned (although I'm not sure if "reason" really came into it), go all-out and make a Valentine's-themed dress? Something I'd never wear in civilian life, but would be fun for a photo shoot? I'm not usually a fan of stunt clothing, but this seemed easy enough to do, so I did it.

The fabric is Alexander Henry "Tattoo Hearts" (sadly, no longer available in the red colorway from eQuilter, but the buttercream is now on sale ...) and the pattern is Simplicity 4532, which was quite easy to make.

Here's a closeup of the bodice:



Now, I probably won't wear this dress very much (not even today, because even though it's Valentine's there's about a foot of snow outside). I might even cut it down for a skirt, which would be more wearable. But making it was a fun way to spend a few hours, certainly ...