Solstice Dress

First of all, happy holidays to all - whatever you're celebrating or not celebrating.

It's been rather celebratory around here, and one of the things I'm happiest about is that I finally finished my Solstice dress.  I started it last year with the intention of wearing it to my office's holiday party, got bogged down in a few details and then decided they didn't deserve it anyway.  

This year, they still didn't deserve it, but we had made dinner plans for the holiday that required a special dress, and I decided to finally get in there and finish this.

Which basically entailed hemming it.  Why did I think for the last year I had loads to do on this when all I really couldn't decide was how far below or above knee to do it?  When I generally always stick to the same length for this type of dress anyway?

Friday was pretty quiet; I had to work the entire day (to make up for having Christmas Eve off and the glory of a 4 day weekend).  We meant to go to the craft show closing party, but got too comfortable on the couch.  I did a little sewing later, which felt pretty festive to me.

Saturday we ran a few errands, loaded out the leftover craft show items (not as many as expected - this year was a definite improvement over last year) and came home to rest up for dinner.

The last of my aunt's estate is being cleared up, and while she changed things at the literal last moment so that all I ended up with was the contents of her apartment, I was the beneficiary of a very small life insurance policy.

Very small.  Not life-changing; not even month-changing.  So I took a good portion of it and splurged on our favorite French restaurant's Christmas dinner.  A meal that would have sent my aunt into shock for many reasons, and which made me enjoy it all the more.

Five courses, with wine pairings.  We walked in hungry, and rolled out several hours later thinking we might never want to see food - or drink - again.  Of course that wasn't the case, but it was a nice thought for a while.

Here's the menu, just to pass on Christmas thoughts of gluttony:

5 oysters served with preserved lemon cream and chives.

Seared foie gras, served on Burgundy spice bread with candied orange peel and arugula puree.

Butter-poached lobster with grilled white asparagus, black trumpet mushrooms and American sauce (basically lobster stock with tomato and other yummy stuff).

6 oz. filet mignon (was supposed to be venison loin, but the meat delivery failed to appear; wonder if the reindeer had anything to do with that?) with Bordelaise sauce, chanterelle mushrooms, brussel sprouts and potato croquettes.

Buche de Noel made with chocolate cake, hazelnut pastry cream, a tiny meringue mushroom and pistachio ice cream with white chocolate shavings.

Remember, each of these courses had a wine pairing.  We were okay until dessert, which was a struggle except that it was so good.  Then they brought espresso, which helped, and finally, with the bill (thank you, Aunt Betty), two house made chocolates.

Which we could not eat.  But they went well with Sunday's breakfast.

On Sunday evening, further festivation occurred.  Some neighborhood friends were having a performance of Dickens' Christmas Carol at their house - a one man show by a local actor.  We attended that, ate, drank and made merry, and finished the evening by listening to carols on their victrola, including a 1909 version of Silent Night in German.

For Christmas Eve, we visited Mario's family in NJ for a full Feast of Seven Fishes.  By this point, we're beginning to feel a bit like Weebles, but we did ourselves proud anyway.

Tonight is our Christmas, home alone, with yet another glorious meal.  (We don't do gifts for Christmas, since we don't need much and tend to get what we need during the year anyway, but for the last 5 or so years we've hunkered down at home on Christmas day and made ourselves something excessive.)  Tonight's meal is duck legs cooked in Belgian beer with onion, garlic and dried apricots, served over rice.  With wine.  Because we can.

I'm glad I wore the Solstice dress while I could still get it zipped.  

A Gift finds its Home

Remember back in October, when I went to the homesteading workshop in NY?  

Well, one of the stockings I made this season got sent to Jenna, the ambitious, hard-working and hard-headed young writer and farmer who hosted us.  

She wrote a post on her blog, Cold Antler Farm, thanking her readers for their cards and gifts, and posted a photo of my stocking. Please check out her post to see Maude, her grumpy sheep who inspired the sheep on the stocking.  

That 70s Jacket

I'm still sorting through all the rubble we brought home from my aunt's apartment.  There were knicknacks galore, a good bit of costume jewelry and very little clothing.  Most of what was left was really worn, not even worthy of the thrift store.  A few of her cotton blouses I threw into my scrap bag to be taken apart for other projects.  Only one or two things are worth mentioning, and I'm showing one of them here, not because I've listed in my Etsy shop (which I have) but because I feel the need to share the 1970s technicolor glory of this piece.

My aunt knitted, crocheted and sewed, and she made this jacket herself.  I seem to recall that there were coordinating pants, though I've blocked out whether they were pink or orange.  Probably pink, because she was a redhead and occasionally stood up to her (redheaded) mother who said redheads couldn't wear pink.  Of course, she was in her 40s when she made this, which shows that you're never done trying to prove your mother wrong.  

She didn't wear it too often; whether that meant she really only made it to spite her mom, or because because my mom (who was her cousin), tormented her like they were 10 years old, I don't know.  There's certainly no photographic evidence of her wearing it, which is a shame.  I do remember seeing her in it a few times; I also remember my mom making her cry by singing "I'd rather be dead than a redhead."  Only your nearest and dearest can drive you that crazy, right?

It's made from that wonderful/awful 1970s spongy doubleknit.  The zigzag texture carries through to the inside; of course, that fabric was more plastic than fabric, so I'm not surprised. 

From our point of view, it's a nice bit of sewing.  The inside is finished with a red knit binding at the back neck and red lace hem tape.  All seams are zigzagged, which is the best her machine could do at that time.  The pattern matching on the center front and pockets is perfect.  The lapels are interfaced with muslin, and the collar, although freakishly 70s wide, is well done.  The gold metal buttons are better than most of what I see now.

I wish I had more examples of her work.  I know she made massive wardrobes for my Crissy dolls when I was a kid, but those got given away with the dolls, and I only have scraps of the fabric left (because she always gave me the leftover fabric in case I wanted to do things with it).  

Everyone gave her grief for this jacket, yet it was one of the few self-made things she kept in her closet.  For more than 40 years.  

It makes me wonder what it meant to her.

Is it Wrong?

That the look of this machine makes me palpitate . . . just a little?

I've got a nice new(ish) Singer that runs well, does pretty much everything I ask of it.

I've got a Featherweight downstairs in the dining room that needs a going over but otherwise would probably do everything I asked of it.

So why does the combination of the two - nice new machine, loads of stitches, but that sleek black paint job and the fiddly gold bits - make me just a tiny bit dizzy?

For the curious, the acquisitive, here's a link to the Singer site.

Almost Ready

So when I left work last Thursday, I had 44 pieces finished and waiting for the craft show.

I had off Friday.

When I went back to work Monday morning, there were  67 pieces finished and waiting to be priced and tagged and inventoried.  I got that done last night, and tonight, I set up my little corner of the gallery where the show will take place.  Being early has its privileges; I scored a table end, with a nice bit of wall overhead that will be taken advantage of before I'm done with it.

It was warm in Santa's little sweatshop this past weekend, yes it was.  But it was productive, as well.

I wish I didn't put this work off until the last minute, because I do enjoy making things, I just don't feel like working on those particular projects until I have to, and then I realize it's nearly too late and hey, I'm actually having fun with it and now it's almost over.

The continued challenge of working with recycled fabrics and remnants is trying to find enough of any one fabric, or finding several that coordinate (or fight nicely) to make up a specific piece.  Some of the most rewarding time spent in the workroom is laying out bits and pieces from various old projects or things I've pulled from the donation bag, walking down memory lane while piecing together something new.

Not all of the photos here are my stuff, obviously.  I'm only the top photo, and it only looks a little minimal because half my stuff is reserved for the second show on Saturday afternoon (which means I'll only look minimal at this show for the members-only opening night, which is usually lighter than public opening, on Saturday - and by then, I'll have added all the stuff that didn't sell on Saturday afternoon.  Unless - if the sewing gods are smiling - it all sells.

Fat chance.  It's the holiday season.  The sewing gods are snarky at the best of times.  At the holidays?  They're just like the rest of us: grumpy, possibly a bit hung over, a little sleep deprived, stressed and probably pissed at their co-worker sewing gods for being such godawful elves.

In non-craft show (and shopping) news, I somehow wandered onto the Style Arc pattern site the other evening and bought myself some patterns.  I'm still not sure how that happened, but if I'm going to pay hideous Australian shipping rates, I might as well justify them by buying a few patterns, right?  Dress, jacket and pants coming my way, along with a free top pattern.

To be sewn in January, when I have a brain again and the sewing gods have gone to the Bahamas, to recover.  I'll be recovering at home, with my stash and some new patterns.

Santa's little sweatshop

I'm feeling a bit better about the upcoming craft show madness. First of all, because during my four-day weekend I did manage to get a lot of stuff done, and I also dragged out what was left from last year and some things I made during the year for that purpose (and which I forgot about) and discovered that my inventory was not as dire as I thought.

I've got about 45 pieces so far, in categories as random as baby clothes, handbags, scarves, potholders, embroidered pillow covers and Christmas stockings, all from recycled/upcycled fabrics.  I'd like to get that number up to 60, but we'll see.  I'd also like to eat, sleep and have a social life.  And I guess I have to go to work, though I'd really rather stab myself repeatedly with straight pins.

The second show I signed up for is only a one day event, shoehorned into a neighborhood library's book-and-cake sale and wreath-making workshop. I'll have a table at that, and aside from promoting the OTHER craft show, which starts the night before, I'll be trying to sell more Christmas-specific items. I figure with wreath-making, I'll be getting the elves, not the humbugs like me. So I made stockings all weekend.

Embroidered ones out of a crinkled dark red taffeta evening skirt, combined with the leftover satin and velvet from my friend's theatrical costume, plaid flannel ones ornamented with felted wool sheep that say "baaa humbug."   And now, I found some moss green crushed velvet, which I'm going to combine with some remnants from a Burda blouse project in moss green, black and gold stripes.

They come in two sizes, classic (to be hung by the fire with care) and gift bag size. Lined with muslin. They're going together quickly and I'm hopeful that they'll appeal.

So I'm still a bit stressed (it is the holidays, after all), but since most of it is of my own making, I'm okay. I'm always better with self-inflicted stress than stress from outside.

Ceil Chapman: Something to Drool About

Someone gave me this dress a few months back, knowing I've been selling a lot of vintage on Etsy.  She said she bought it years ago and felt that she paid too much at the time, because there's some damage to the dress, but she thought it was worth if it she could take it apart and make a pattern from it.

When I saw the Ceil Chapman label inside, I was so glad that she realized her skills weren't up to the task.  It  remained in a bag in her closet for probably 15 years before she gave it to me.

I lent it to another friend recently for a photo shoot.  I needed photos of the dress on someone, anyway, if I intend to sell it, and she's certainly more photogenic (and more suited to this dress) than I am.  She's in a play and the 1940s-era costumes aren't complete yet, so she needed a glam dress for the promo photos.

Glam is something this dress definitely is.

And can I tell you, I would have absolutely no idea how to take this apart and make a pattern from it either.  The very idea makes me weak in the knees.

The damage, I think, is moth - the dress is a light wool crepe, and I'm sure over all the years of its existence it has tempted more than one moth to take a bite.  All things considered, the damage isn't bad, except for the location - right smack on the front.

It figures, doesn't it?

But look at that drapery.  Look at that neckline, front and back.  If this dress doesn't make you feel like you're queen of the world, you just don't have it in you.

It weighs a ton.  I don't want to think how many yards of fabric are involved in that kind of draping, much less the skill involved in draping that many yards of fabric over a body and somehow making it look both more slender and curvier than normal.

I've tried this dress on and even though I'm about 4 inches shorter and 25 pounds heavier than my friend here, I felt like the freaking queen of the world in it too.

The pin on the front came with the dress when it was purchased, and from the look of the inside (professional-looking stitching) it may have come with the dress when originally purchased.  It makes a lovely feature over the left hip where the drapery just flows down.

I know that even in it's time, this was an expensive, dress-up piece.  But why don't people (other than celebrities) have occasions to wear things like this anymore?  Why is our version of dress-up, at most, an LBD that we can dress up or down?  Would the owner of this dress have even considered "dressing down?"

Rant over.  Look at the pretty.  Once I get it back so I can do a few more detail photos, including the label, it's going up on Etsy.  I just wanted to share it with you all because there aren't many people out there who (a) know who Ceil Chapman is; (b) can appreciate this kind of fabulousness; or (c) would try to wrap your heads around how to make something like this.

Life is calming down, sort of.  Took some time this weekend to have coffee with friends, went to see Lincoln last night (fabulous), and today I'm doing some craft show sewing and (obviously) some non-productive playing on the computer.