sewing

Dear Dresses,

You all kind of suck. Here’s why, in excruciating detail:

Dear Brown Wool 9-to-5 Dress,

I am a broken doll.

I AM A BROKEN DOLL!!!

I like you, Brown Wool 9-to-5 Dress, I really do. You are comfortable, you actually fit remarkably well, I get to be proud of you for making you without having first made a muslin. I guess the only thing standing in the way of our love now, Brown Wool 9-to-5 Dress, is that I have to go join a Bridge Club and then wait for our least-liked member, the Secretary, or perhaps the Financial Manager, to die, so that I can wear you to her wake. Because there is nowhere else to wear you, you boring conservative (comfortable! well-fitting!) mess.

(Dress from Built By Wendy Dresses, my new/current favorite sewing book. This was my very first try with this dress and also with this book – no muslin. Fit just about perfectly. Will totally make this again in a less uber-boring fabric.)

Dear Apple Courderoy 9-to-5 Dress,

Oh man you turned out so fucking cute. Your zipper’s too short so you’re hard to get into and your belt is too long and the button isn’t placed properly, so I need to redo that. But damnit. You are a cute motherfucking dress. Totally wearable, too.

(I totally bought those buttons at the shitty fabric store in Spanish Harlem by my old apartment. They’re gold and have old-fashioned airplanes on them for some reason. I got those other buttons, the old-lady buttons on the old-lady dress, from there, too. I probably need a giant glass mason jar full of interesting buttons. That’s something I should really be working on right now.)

Dear Crazy Brown Paisley Uptown Girl Dress,

You’re way too small! But that’s okay, seeing as you were really just a muslin for the Blue Linen version of you. (Though not like you really WORKED in that sense – I made you bigger for the Blue Muslin version, but then you were like two sizes too big. I apparently do not understand how sewing works.) You’re also kind of ugly. But I think in an endearing way, maybe? I don’t know. I WANT to like you, Crazy Paisley Dress, I DO. Also, you are so tight in the shoulders that I almost literally cannot zip you up by myself. Boys: here is a secret. We can zip our own dresses. The only reason we ask you to do it is because we’re flirting with you. Your role there is to zip, kiss us on the neck, and tell us we look pretty. There. I am a traitor to my sex. (Or else we’re being lazy. That happens, too.) But this dress is so tight I almost sincerely literally can’t zip it. Fascinating!

(Another Built By Wendy. I’m def going to make it again, or a version of it. I really dig this book. Makes it really easy to alter these basic shapes into new things. Fabric was part of an ebay lot of “vintage” stuff, before I learned how to buy vintage fabric on ebay. Everything from this batch arrived smelly and cheap and more “old” than “vintage.”)

Dear Blue Linen Uptown Girl Dress,

Hey! Neat! I mean, you’re way too big, even after multiple alterations, and I really have no idea why you, as a pattern, do that giant weird gapey thing at the front of the neck. But you basically look all right! Nice going, Blue Dress! I’m totes going to wear you to opening night at our summer theatre this year! It’s a date!

(I luuuuuuuv this fabric! It makes me want to buy ALL my fabric from the not-cheap-ass store! It feels NICE when you touch it! Fabric.com, originally intended for one of my shirtwaist dress patterns, but they’re too scary and intimidating to use such nice fabric on, yet. And the underskirt is the very definition of cheap-ass: it’s made of, like, used plastic grocery bags and toothfloss, and unravels like the dickens. However, it DOES feature an amazing gold print that says shit like “Criscione loves the rodeo!” and “Criscione loves pizza!” and “Criscione loves to travel!” next to little cartoon drawings of cowboys and pizza slices and Eiffel Towers, respectively. I guess it has something to do with this? But I think it’s cuter if you have no fucking idea what it’s supposed to be about. [And, frankly, I really still don't.] I got it on the $1.99 floor of the cheap-ass fabric store near my house. Also, I wasn’t actually trying to mimic the pose in the illustration – I’m holding the back of the dress pinched together so that it doesn’t look as baggy as it really is.)

Dear DVF Dress,

YES.

(I got this pattern for .99 cents on ebay! I’m pretty convinced this was a fantastic deal – vintage designer patterns go for $50 not infrequently. This came out VERY vintage-looking, admittedly, and it won’t be easy to alter. But still. Now I can say I own TWO DVFs! Also, this is adorable:

Dear Low-Waisted Crazy-Darted Lobster Dress,

What the fuck? Why did I think you were a good idea, Crazy Lobster Dress? You are made of sweatshirt material, and you have blue lobsters on you. When and where and why on earth would this be an appropriate thing to wear? You just don’t make any damn sense, Crazy Lobster Dress.

(But I kind of love you!)

(Not hemmed yet in this photo. Pattern via an ebay lot, fabric via fabric.com – I was under the impression that it was just quilting cotton when I bought it, not sweatshirt material. …Not like that would have made the purchase any more reasonable, I guess.)

Dear Low-Waisted Crazy-Darted Less-Insanely-Printed Dress,

You are pretty! But sort of Mormon-y. I was going for 1962 office girl, but think I accidentally ended up with 1982 office mom, instead.

(Also not hemmed yet in this photo. Scratchy as hell. Should have lined it. Will I wear the dress? Yeah, maybe, if the hemming works out okay. Will I ever make this pattern again? Probably not. I don’t think the low waist is a particularly good idea.)

Dear Slutty BurdaStyle Dress,

Oh my god, Slutty BurdaStyle Dress, you were such a fucking pain in the ass. You’re cute and all, but god, you look so much easier than you were. You were like 4 sizes too big! Very, very big, was how big you were. Then I did all sorts of crazy wrong things to you before I figured out that I just needed to make you way, way smaller. Then I accidentally made you a little slutty, because maybe I made you TOO small? Now I have to stand with my ankles crossed and not breath if I want to look skinny in you. Sometimes life gives us a hard row to hoe, Slutty BurdaStyle Dress.

(Get it, Slutty BurdaStyle Dress? “Ho.” It’s a play on words.)

(From BurdaStyle, for free, made with what was basically a bunch of misshapen scraps of fabric from other projects, so at least I got what I paid for? It’s worth trying again. I think it’s a good IDEA, at least. Will I ever wear it out of the house? Probably not. I don’t know. Maybe? I own Spanx.)

Dear Horrible Print Booby Dress I’ll Never Wear,

Oh my god, why on earth did I think this was a good fabric choice? This was some of my New York City fabric, I think, wasn’t it, Shena? (Why did you let me do this??) Ugh – why do your instructions think I should tie you in the back? All it does is make me look like a big psychadelic teepee. Also, why do you want everyone to look at my boobs! Quit making them look at my boobs so much! Is it revenge? Are you taking out your anger because I accidentally forgot to cut the front of you on the fold, so now there’s that weird seam running up the front of you that, for some unknown reason, leans way, way over to one side, so that it’s not even at least unobtrusively going up the middle? Because I’m sorry about that, I am, but – I mean, come on. Be honest with yourself. It’s not like anyone’s ever going to NOTICE it in all that print up in there! It’s not like anyone can even bear to look for that long! God, I’m getting a headache just thinking about you.

(Fabric from NYC. Pattern from the shitty store in Pawtucket. One of my very few modern patterns! Ian keeps telling me I should buy more modern patterns – that I look weirdly church-y and conservative in all these dresses from the 50s, rather than Mad-Men-y as is my intention. Meh.)

Dear Other Booby Dress,

You are less awful, especially tied in the front. Though I very specifically had planned to make you less low-cut, and then I…forgot, I guess? I will wear you, though. We will have awesome good times. People will look at my boobs. It will all work out in the end.

(You might not be able to see exactly HOW boobie-tastic these dresses are in these photos, but if you look closely, you’ll see that the seam that SHOULD go UNDER my boobs is actually resting somewhere in the middle of them, because I’m being shy. In real life, I’ll probably wear these with tank tops, so that I can wear the bodice the way I’m supposed to.)

The most recent thing I’ve made is the Walkaway Dress, but I’m pretty sure it deserves its own entry. Also, my fucking forearms are sore from typing. That means this was too long an entry. Sorry! PRETTY DRESSES ZOMG!