Something to Cluck About

I have a small show coming up on Saturday, so of course I should be working flat out to get ready for it, right?

Nope, not yet.  For a couple of days, I worked on Christmas stockings, just to feel like I was getting that under control, and today, when I should have been finishing a few other half-completed items, I started a new baby dress.

This one is going to be a size 3, in a soft denim, with a red and white polka dot chicken on it.

I have a fondness for chickens - I have one in my back yard (there were 2, but Bonnie doesn't seem to be a flock animal) - and I just like them as a motif, fresh eggs completely aside.

This little bird was cut more or less freehand from the polka dot fabric, then stuck down to the previously cut dress front with Wonder Under.  I've had that stuff for so long I'm actually surprised it still works.  Then I zigzagged the edges, for security and interest, and now that I've stopped for the night, I'm debating the rest.

The inside facings will be in the red and white polka dots, and I'm still trying to decide about the neckline trim - white rickrack or red.  Probably red, since I'm on a kick here, but I want to add some embroidery to the rickrack to mimic something I saw online.  Can't find the photo for that, so I'll just have to show you.

Or find the photo and show you.

More chicken to come.  But no eggs.  Sorry.

Down Mexico Way

There's a little packrat problem in my house.  I came by it honestly, last in a long line of packrats.  Mario's more minimal, but I think I'm rubbing off.  And our housemate, well, her level of acquisition could qualify her as a blood relative.

We've been trying to clean out a bit recently, and when she came downstairs with a few bags loaded for the thrift store, I naturally had to rummage through them to see what she was getting rid of.  (Needless to say, she was doing the same thing with my boxes).  Turns out she was getting rid of some old linens.

I have a weakness for old linens.  And because I have to choose the most difficult thing to try to make work, the one piece that really called out to me (though I took 4 pieces) was a 1950s-60s era kitschy Mexican-themed tablecloth, square, 4x4, with several spots and a nice tear in it.  But I loved the print and I wanted to try to save it.

I used Simplicity 5204, my TNT blouse pattern - it's a basic shape, doesn't use too much fabric, and it has vertical darts in the front which, as it turned out, could be finagled to lay right over the tear so that I could use the motifs around it.  Somehow, I managed to cut the entire blouse from the tablecloth - I only had to piece the under collar and the very bottom of one of the facings.  I do wish I'd been able to place the motifs a bit better, but again, the fabric limited what I could do.  When I was finished, there weren't enough scraps to make a matching dinner napkin.

Once I got the blouse constructed, I knew I had to go further.  The colors, while still good, were somewhat faded.  I decided to indulge my latest obsession and got out the embroidery floss and outlined the motifs with red, yellow and green stitching.  The final touch - little red buttons that look like candy.

And the result?  It's kitschy - good grief, it's almost choking on its own kitsch - but it makes me smile.  I think it'll be a rainy day top, something when I need a little brightening up.

Retrofit

Sometimes a project needs a little tweaking.  A few years ago I made a shirt for Mario that has gone almost unworn (as in once per summer, to humor me).

This may be because I think the fabric is fabulous and he does not.  I think it looks like Jackson Pollock in Space and he does not.

I jokingly asked if it would be better if I embroidered a rocket ship on it.

He said it would.

Really?

And could it be the rocket ship from Futurama?  

So I did.  I found a picture online, copied it and drew it onto some scrap fabric, and embroidered it in odd moments this weekend.  Then I cut out the ship, got him to put on the shirt and pinned the applique to the left front.   

I stitched it on with the machine, then added some final embroidery - the gun turret on top.

He likes it now.  Go figure.

The Rooster Crows at Midnight

I feel like my sewing is changing.  I've always loved prints but I now think that maybe part of the reason I love sewing with them is because they serve the purpose of embellishment without having to go to the trouble of actually doing anything.  Who would embellish a garment that already had that many colors or patterns going on?  But lately I've changed - I'm enjoying the work of making my garments more interesting, not relying on a print to make a statement.


Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up on prints - you only have to look at my stash shelves to realize that's not happening - but I'm thinking about ways to make my garments speak softly, and say interesting things, instead of being a somewhat loud and rowdy party.  Does that make sense?


In that regard, here's my latest skirt - certainly not a print, but definitely not just a boring blue linen skirt either.  The pattern is Burda 8677, and it's one of the first patterns I bought after I joined Patternreview and discovered there were pattern companies out there other than the Big 4.  It's a pretty good skirt on me - not a full circle, so I don't have to deal with all that bias sag, and from a wide yoke rather than a waistband, which is always more comfortable.  And since I generally wear my tops untucked, no one will be the wiser, except you all.


Why a rooster?  Why not, I guess.  Because even though I don't have a great emotional attachment to my chickens, I think they're cool-looking and there are even more interesting looking ones than my girls.  I've also been looking at a lot of vintage embroidery lately, though most of that has been linens.  And I've been doing a lot of picky handwork because of the 1912 Project but I didn't feel like working on one of their patterns.


The original idea was to do a reverse appliqué (a la Alabama Chanin, whose projects are all over the internet these days and whose work I like, though I don't know as it's totally me).  I've tried reverse appliqué in a knit and didn't much like it, but I thought about doing it on this linen skirt (which is sturdy enough to have holes cut into it), and then when I was rummaging around for an appropriate background fabric - I wanted loud stripes - I ended up finding this vintage yellow cotton from my great grandmom's remnant bin, and it had chickens on it!  Perfect, right?


Except as I started outlining the stencil (which I made), I started liking how just the red outline of the rooster looked on the linen.  I chose red initially because there's some red in the vintage cotton; I also think it looks good on the gray/blue - it perks it up a little.  When I realized my bright idea might be going sideways, I just kept going.  What else was there to do?  When I finished the rooster, I decided I really liked him plain.  Then I added some green "grass" on either side of him.  Then I got another idea.


I could still do the reverse applique, but in a less obvious place.  How many people are going to look at this skirt and think "rooster?"  They're going to think "chicken."  And chickens lay eggs.

Coolest vintage fabric EVER?

So I drew an egg on the back of the skirt, embroidered some more grass around it, and outlined the egg in red thread.  I backed the egg in the vintage chicken print, and this time I cut the linen away - an egg with a chicken in it.  I guess that makes it a fertilized egg, and I guess that means the rooster needs to be there after all. So where's the chicken?  Maybe that's the subject for another skirt.

Tumbling Blocks Skirt

A funny thing happened on the way to this skirt . . . it turned into a different skirt.

Funny how that happens sometimes.

This was supposed to be the Cityscape Skirt, with blocks and strips of grays and blacks and silvers mimicking a city skyline.  This, obviously, looks more like a prehistoric computer game clumsily dropping blocks onto a grid.

If it was in color, I'd call it the Tetris skirt.  You get the idea.

Anyway, it's done, and I wore it on Tuesday.  This is the stunning bathroom shot which is actually the best of the 3 photos I had taken.  The ones outside came out awful, and usually those are the best ones.

I used a pencil skirt from an old issue of Burda for this - not sure which one, offhand, but it's completely unadorned by random seamlines or any of their other "features."  This just has darts, front and back, and a waist facing.  The bottom 3" or so of hem is alternating blocks of gray RPL skirt fabric and silver coated cotton, with a light layer of batting and then some quilting stitches.  I gathered the silver blocks to enhance the metallic effect.

And then, for good measure, I added  the few tumbling blocks on the left front just to break up the thickness of the hem.  Those are my favorite part of the skirt, and I'm thinking about maybe just a few more . . . or maybe not.  I think I need to decide how much I like this skirt before I commit to tinkering any more with it.

Let it snow

Don't worry, the next post won't be titled "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire," or anything cheesy like that, at least, not unless this dress takes a drastic turn.

Yes, it's a dress.  It was actually on its way to becoming a dress by late last evening, but I had the post scheduled to publish and never got back to tweak it. 

And once I decided what pattern it would be (BWOF sheath dress with V back, the one I based the wedding dress on), it immediately started to bother me that it needed something else.  Something . . . more.

And since it is the season of glitter and excess, I had some beads leftover for the craft show and decided to put them to use here by adding some "ice" and "snow" embellishment on the bare branches.  I think it's fairly subtle, and it strikes me as somewhat vintage, as well. 

I started playing with the beads last night around 10:00, and all of a sudden it was midnight! I guess that proves that you can do some things successfully after 10:00 p.m.  I'm glad I got the cutting over with earlier; I don't think I'd have tried that since there's almost no fabric leftover.

I underlined the bodice front and back with white batiste, for structure, comfort and also because when I decided to add the beads, I knew it would work better that way. 

Tonight I spent another 2 hours beading the bodice backs.  So that's 4 hours down now, and not a machine stitch has been sewn, other than to baste the two fabrics together, and to sew the bust darts. 

Tomorrow night I would actually like to start sewing, but that may not happen.  The neighborhood theater is having an opening, and whether or not I've been involved in the costuming (I haven't this time), I still like to go.

On the other hand, I'd like to wear this to a holiday party next Friday night, so I'm going to have to wedge it in somewhere.

Passage to India

Another few pictures from my random collection of pretties.

Now the whole "India style" thing tends to get on my nerves. Burdastyle does it almost as often as they do "safari," and just as "safari" means tan clothes with pocket flaps and random epaulets, "Indian" means bright colors with some beads and sequins thrown on for good measure.

There seems to be no real attempt to tie the "Indian" fashion feature to actual Indian style; in fact, a lot of the clothes featured in those types of fashion spreads probably wouldn't be worn by many Indian women brought up in the culture that the fashion purports to represent. Go figure.

These photos, from an Azeem Khan fashion week collection of at least 5-6 years ago, don't bother me in the same way. First of all, what's shown here isn't being touted as "Indian" style. India-inspired, maybe, and that's fine. Fashion takes its inspiration from a lot of places, and actually what this feels like to me is some bizarre hybrid of 18th century Europe crossed with what we think of when someone says India.

Either way, Khan's embellishments, particularly on the jacket above, are gorgeous and qualify for keeping for that reason alone.

And yes, I do love the bright colors, and the sparkly bits. My mom called me a magpie growing up because I was always attracted to shiny things. That hasn't changed, and I have about as much use for these kinds of embellishments in my life now as I did when I was 10.

But I stand by my magpie taste: shiny is pretty. At least in this case.

Totally Tubular

I could have taken the easy way out while waiting to post wedding photos and done another post on the random pretties I've accumulated over the years, but I didn't. I wanted there to be some kind of flow to all the wedding posts, and besides, I was still too tired to string words together in a coherent fashion anyway.

But I've had this piece on my sewing table for a while now to show you all, and it finally nagged at me enough the other night that I took a few pictures to share.

This was an embellishment (faux pocket) from a vintage dress I bought years ago. Probably 20 years ago, and it wasn't in good shape then, but I loved the color and fit, at least until the seams gave out from age and mistreatment prior to my ownership. When the dress died, I removed the embellishments thinking that I would eventually put them on something else. It hasn't happened so far, and I'm not likely to find anything to match these. The color is much more of a solid than it shows up in the photos - not sure what happened with the camera when I took these. The color is very similar to vintage face powder; think of one of those 1940s rhinestone studded compacts and this was the color of the pressed powder inside.

As far as construction of these pockets, can you even imagine spending that much quality time with the tube turner? Or whatever passed for a tube turner in the 1940s? Looking at them, I can see the stitching line and it's machine, so they were somehow turned out, and then curved/curled into position and hand-stitched together around a central piece.

Very elaborate embellishment on what I recall as a very simple dress, but that's the point, isn't it? An elaborate dress would have eaten these beauties alive; a dress with simple,sleek lines would show them off to perfection.

I might consider constructing something like this out of a pre-made trim, like rat-tail, but I can't imagine doing it from scratch, can you?

Something Completely Different

Not a lot of sewing this week. The dress is basically done except for some handwork, but I'm going to leave off posting about it until after the wedding. If Mario can't see it yet, no one else should; it's only fair.

I didn't sew for 2 nights because I couldn't decide what to make, and then when I did finally pick a project, my stash ate the fabric I wanted to use. Isn't that the worst, though, when you have the will to sew and you can't decide what to sew?

Yesterday some inspiration arrived in the mail. When at the bookstore last week, I flipped through Natalie Chanin's Alabama Studio Style. I already have her first book, and it's a lot like the Mary Adams Party Dress book - not really my style, but the creativity and energy are contagious. Alabama Studio Style's projects and stories are similar to those in the first book, but for some reason they really intrigued me this time. I think things strike us differently at certain times, and maybe this resonated because I had a lot of pent-up sewing energy and no direction.

Chanin works mostly in cotton jersey - tshirt fabric. She started out working with tshirts and has expanded into larger projects that require actual yardage, but it was the projects that involved taking apart and piecing and applique that really attracted me. As I was rummaging in the workroom last night, fruitlessly hunting that elusive fabric, I came across my bag of thrift store donations. (Actually I tipped it over). These are the clothes I'm taking to the store, not all the ones I bring home.

What fell out of the bag was an olive green V-neck tshirt from Old Navy. I liked that shirt. I wore it a lot. And I wore it while painting my hallway last year and didn't notice the smear of terracotta paint on my left side until it was dry. I couldn't clean it, but I didn't get rid of it either. When I saw it on the floor, something in the back of my head said, "You don't have to throw it away, you can cover it. With an applique."

Hmmm.

The book was out in the living room, and I decided that rather than attempting to directly copy something I would work with what I felt I remembered. I started digging through my box of knit scraps and I pulled together 3 colors that coordinated with my shirt. I cut circles in random sizes and then cut them into spirals and stretched them out.

I put the shirt on Evelyn and started pinning. I had no set design, I just started by covering the paint smea with a spiral, then working outward so there were no obvious spiral-on-boob issues. I took them over the shoulder and partway down the back. It seemed a little empty in spots, so I cut tiny pieces, like leaves, and pinned them in the gaps.

I stood back and looked at it, and realized that the right looked more than empty, it looked lost. I didn't want to take the entire 3 color design onto both sides, so I cut one larger spiral and pinned it so that it extended over the shoulder and down the sleeve. At that point I decided more might be too much (though I wasn't sure the whole project wasn't too much already). I retreated to the living room to watch TV with a shirt stuck full of pins and 3 spools of thread.

Each applique was whipstitched down in a contrasting color: orange with dark green, tan with brown and green with tan. It should have been annoying, but it ended up being a very pleasant, contemplative way to spend a few hours. I forget how much I enjoy hand sewing, especially when there's no requirement for perfection; if anything, uneven stitching just added to the feel.

By bedtime, I was pretty certain that I was on to something interesting.

I finished it last night and tried it on. The handstitching keeps the appliques stretchy, so the shirt fit just the way it had, and it's certainly wearable again. The colors work with most of my wardrobe, even if the shirt will probably only get worn on weekends, and in nicer weather.

I admit, it was kind of pointless to do all that work on a shirt that was destined for the rag bag, but you know how the sewing gods are - if I'd made a snazzy new tshirt or pulled a good top out of my drawer to try the technique on, it would have been one huge cheeseball mess of cutesy. And I woudl never have thought to try it on a nice shirt - it was the green one falling out of the bag that sparked the whole process anyway.

As it was, this was an interesting project for me - it stretched me to try something different, to do a technique (applique) that I haven't done since grade-school sew-on patches, to save a shirt from the rag bag, and to practice a technique that I can absolutely see myself using later on a more serious project. Not to mention the almost meditative hand sewing time - I really enjoyed that.

Can you see a dress with an almost tone-on-tone floral applique? Or maybe a little black dress with a vivid white flower? Maybe there's a reason for all my remnants after all.

This may just be a really strange progression from my last post where I lusted after Schiaparelli's roses. Things go into the brain on one side, and by the time they make it out again, they aren't recognizable. But wherever this came from, it took me to an interesting place, and one I don't know well. I think I'll visit more often.

Nothing succeeds like excess

Because of the recession, everyone's talking about austerity. I totally get it - and I'm the first one to admit that making my own clothes isn't always the best way to save money. But think about the Great Depression. Okay, so normal women were making do and mending, and using feed sacks and whatever else they could lay hands on, but what did they want to see when they could scrape together a nickel for the movies? Glamour. Fantasy. Fred and Ginger.

I was looking for a photo tonight and realized that I have a ridiculous number of totally random pictures of embellishment techniques I'm never likely to try - or have a reason to wear, which is a whole different issue.

So in order to share the joy (insanity?) of my collection, I'm going to try to share a few with you on a fairly regular basis and solicit your opinion as to whether or not there is any way that this technique (or simply this particular garmental gorgeousness) can be incorporated into a normal, 40-something, business-casual office environment or a mostly home-and-garden-and-kitchen oriented weekend life. Can I sew in sequins? Do Dior roses actually work in the garden?

Right. And I start with Elsa Schiaparelli. (Actually, quite a large chunk of my collection is Schiaparelli, but how can you talk about embellishment without mentioning her? This is, after all, the woman who gave us the lobster telephone. And who said something to the effect of, "Women dress alike all over the world. They dress to annoy other women.")

Well, I'd be annoyed if I saw that rose-embellished beauty walking down the street ahead of me. At least until I knocked her down and ran away with her jacket.

Looking at the photo at right, you have to give her this: she's no skinny model type, and she's not twenty-something either. Proving you can be forty-plus and still wear a circus jacket.

Of course, who would have dared tell her she couldn't?

A conversation about sewing

"Isn't she going to regret giving you that pattern?" he asked, looking away from the combined allure of the television and his iPhone.

"It's not a pattern," she explained, thinking that the phone's bluish glow was not all that flattering. "I just took a picture of her skirt and drew out the design. I'm using my own pattern."

His brow crinkles, he looks confused. "But I thought you sewed because you didn't want to dress like anyone else?"

Hmm. Proof of listening, at least on some level. Perhaps she will allow him possession of the remote for another hour, though that will sentence her to time alone in the sewing room.

Patiently, she said, "Well, that's true. But the other reason I sew is when I see something I want - that I can't have - I can come home and spend a weekend making one for myself."

"I don't understand." He changes the channel while simultaneously reading his email.

The conversation does not so much end as it is drowned out by the other voices in their heads. His voices sound a lot like Steven Colbert; hers are muttering very quietly about future projects.

She leaves, so she can listen to the voices in peace.

As you can see, I finished the skirt Sunday night. When I woke up this morning, it was chilly, rainy and I didn't want to get out from under the covers. Since I had to, I decided to wear my new skirt to cheer myself up.

Not much changed since yesterday. I got the skirt put together, I debated adding centers to the yo-yo flowers (and decided not to), searched the trim stash for something that would replicate the original crocheted trim, didn't find anything and decided against it anyway because at my height, I don't think anything that might end up looking like a ruffle is a good idea.

Unless of course it's my good idea, and I'm adding 2 layers of ruffles to an entire skirt.

But that's a different thing entirely.

And in other news, Denise of the Blue Gardenia blog has asked me to participate in her Sewing Spaces series. Yikes. I've enjoyed the series and loved peeking into the creative spaces (and the minds) of my fellow sewists, but allowing you all into my messy world?

Let's just say I did some really fast organizing. When Denise posts my space, please don't look too carefully at the floor or in the corners.

It's coming along

First of all, let me say it: I LOVE HAVING A STASH. Remind me of that when I grumble about occasional workroom avalanches, okay?

From my last post, you all know I was mightily inspired by Andrea's embellished skirt on Friday, to the point where I sketched out the design and then enlarged it on the copier for ease of transferring it to my skirt. (Carolyn, I didn't actually have the free time at work, I just pushed a pile of stuff over to be dealt with Monday, and didn't get caught!)

When I got home, I went to the shelves. I wanted something of a similar color, not so much to be a complete copycat but because Andrea's skirt would fit really well with my wardrobe. Up on the top of the shelving unit I found several yards of a tobbaco-colored linen purchased years ago for a specific project. After I'd washed and dried it, I found that the wrinkles it sustained in the wash had set into the fabric as it dried. It's a nice distressed look, but not what I wanted at the time. I used another fabric, but this stayed on the shelf, waiting . . . apparently for this skirt to come along.

I cut out the pieces for my skirt, and then got my design and put it on the reverse of the skirt front. I had some old tracing carbon but it was too tired to transfer, so I borrowed some charcoal from Mario's art supplies, rubbed it on the back of the paper and then went over the design with my tracing wheel. The charcoal transferred well, if a little smudgily, and I went over the lines with white tailor's chalk. I quickly thread-traced all of the design that was going to be embroidered. I didn't bother transferring the flowers and leaves; they're embellishments to be added later.

Since I don't have an embroidery machine, all the green part was done with my standard Singer's zigzag stitch, set on a narrower width. I practiced a bit to get the curves down. It's not perfect on the final version, but I don't mind that. It's meant to look hand done.

On the inspiration skirt, the leaves are embroidered. That wasn't going to work for me - no way was I doing that much hand embroidery, and even if I were willing, it wouldn't look that good. Applique was the way to go. I had a chunk of chocolate brown suede left over from a craft show project, so I cut all my leaves from that, stuck them down with leather glue, and then anchored them with a line of hand-stitching in the same shade of green as the satin stitch. It works for me.

The flowers on the inspiration skirt were three dimensional. Crocheted, I believe. Something I do not do, though Andrea keeps threatening me with lessons in all things yarn. I'm afraid of another skill that would cause me to acquire a stash, so I think I'll stick to sewing.

I went with something fairly obvious, but by the time I'm done I hope they'll look like what I want. I made yo-yos (or granny circles, depending on what the older women in your family called them) using a leftover ivory lining fabric, and then I spritzed them with tea to take the color down a notch.

They've now been hand-sewn down (no photos of that yet) and I'm taking a break so I can figure out how I want to do the centers. The last photo here is pre-flower; I was using buttons as place-holders just to get an idea of how it was going to look.

This afternoon, I'll probably sew the skirt together. All the work that needs to be done flat has been finished at this point. The centers, when I decide on them, can be done by hand on the couch.

I'm noticing a trend here of a lot more handwork. I've never minded hand sewing, I just don't know where it's all come from lately.

And I guess by this project we can conclude I've overcome my fear of embellishment.

What's it going to take to get me over welt pockets? I can't even imagine.

Coming Attractions

Things are moving along steadily now with the pinstriped skirt. I've gotten past the boring straight sewing and am now into the mindless embellishment process.

I'm using the technique from BWOF's July issue. Remember that fluffy pink skirt I was in love with? It looked like ruffles or flowers or something embellishing the hem. Well, turns out it's nothing of the kind. BWOF being what they are, it's something completely other.

Try circles. Lots and lots of circles. Cut and folded and folded again and then stitched down. Think fabric fortune-cookie, without anything inside.

At last count, the 2 layers of trim on this skirt consist of 81 circles.

But you know what? I like it. It's idiot work, but I like it.

It's completely different than what I'd intended, but it still has the same feeling, and it's a lot more interesting than the original ruffle that I'd planned on more-or-less duplicating.

And since I have an abiding love of (and inability to successfully wear) ruffles, this has a girly sensibility without being all pink and fluffy about it. I like cute done in a traditionally non-cute fabric, to soften the blow, and I'm pretty sure there's no fabric less "cute" than lawyer's gray pinstripe.

While I was mulling over exactly how I wanted the trim to look, I decided that for all this work, this skirt needs to be part of a suit, and since I knew there would be limited fabric left, I went searching for a pattern that would take as little as possible. I came up with McCalls 5859, the short-sleeved version. I fell in love with Kisha's version last year. (Even with short sleeves, I'll still be cutting the inside peplums from lining fabric, not pinstripe, there just wasn't enough left. Might have had something to do with all those damn circles.)

I'm partway along on the jacket now, but nothing complete enough to show yet. If I decide to blow off book club tomorrow night, I might get something finished. Then again, it's supposed to be 94 tomorrow, which means it'll be 94 in the workroom as well. So maybe not.

BTW, will the Anonymous who left a comment on my last post please email me - you said you were in Belgium and I'm going there in October. I'd love to pick your brain for any fabric stores in Brussels/Bruges. Thanks!

Not your granny's circles

Let me preface this post by saying: DON'T GET ANY BRIGHT IDEAS.

Just because I am posting photos of bridal-type stuff does NOT mean I'm intending or planning to wear any of it any time soon. I just saw this on Sunday and had to share it because it certainly made me look at granny circles in a whole new way.

I gave up the better part of a perfectly good sewing Sunday and went downtown in the 90-plus degree heat to attend a friend's book-signing. Somehow the bus got me there early, and rather than wait around, I wandered around the neighborhood and window-shopped.

This dress was actually in the front window of a flower shop that specialized in bridal flowers, and there didn't seem to be any information on the maker that I could see. I crossed the street to look at it - my first thought was, "Pretty, let me see what the embellishment is." When I got there and realized that the entire train and a good part of the dress was made up of granny circles in silk and organza and tulle and random other fabrics, you could have knocked me over with . . . well, a granny circle.

I've seen them upscaled before, but I have to say never to this extent, or with this much sophistication (did you ever think you'd hear that word applied to a granny circle project? Really?) The colors were so muted and lovely, and the thick application of circles made them look like something other than what they are, at least from a distance of a few inches.

From across the street, I have to say it was stunning.

There were a few other stores in the area, and I did take a few more photos of interesting embellishments, but I'm going to save them for a day when I can't think of anything else to say.

For now, I have to say that while I don't have a use for this technique, and certainly can't imagine decking myself out in what has to literally be thousands of granny circles, I appreciated the opportunity to see something I've never taken seriously in a whole new light.

What about you? What do you think of when you see granny circles? Kitsch? Fond memories of grandma? Wedding gowns?