Design Notebook: Frilly Things

  

As I've grown older, sometimes I find myself shying away from some of the parts of fashion and design that drew me to it in the first place - pink, sparkly, ornate or frilly things in particular - for fear of engaging in this strangely infantilized/sexualized and strictly gender normative vision of femininity that, in my opinion, is relied on way too heavily in both fashion and culture.

At the same time, the sparkly stuff was my fashion gateway: I have strong tactile memories of my favorite pink nightgown as a little kid; the fluffy tulle skirts we wore for ballet class; the seductive glitter of my grandma's costume jewelry drawer. The substance of those memories make me quite fond of the materials that shaped them.

And as much as I gravitate to the experience of unusual shapes, bold color pairings, or contemporary fashion and art, the classic and the pretty will always be my north star. Occasionally, as I find myself thinking a lot about avant-garde fashion, or feeling really inspired by a contemporary artist, I wonder where and how Classic Pretty can possibly fit in with everything else in any sort of logical and genuine way.

What I'm slowly coming to find is that it doesn't have to; that maybe it's actually the duality of our nature that is endlessly fascinating and inspiring. And so, maybe it's time to party down with my badass frilly self.

So with this in mind, I grabbed some some special vintage pieces from my closet, some pink polka-dotty novelty stuff, and a bit of alpaca boucle yarn for inspiration, and set out to make a fluffy, girly, absolutely ridiculous Peter Pan collar to spiff up some of my plain sweaters.



And your know what? I think I'm onto something.

Happy Friday.

<3

Cory

Creating Space, Part 4: A Bright Little Nook

  

In the past few weeks, as Lumberjack and I have talked about some of our intentions for our relationship and life in the next year, I've been coming up with some ideas to make our home a more welcoming place to be.

It's important to me that form and function exist together in equal amounts. A beautiful space that feels stiff, or has no storage space, just doesn't work with our lifestyle - but at the same time, I am super aesthetically needy, and a space that is functional but ugly makes me feel uninspired and sad.

Especially with the short, dark days of winter taken hold, I really gravitate towards bright, colorful decor. As much as I appreciate a clean, neutral palette, I find it too limiting and impractical for our daily life - I love color, and I can't imagine living in a house without it! So instead of going for a straight-up minimalist look, I've been thinking a lot about working with a more eclectic, bright aesthetic that still relies on white space and functional, high-quality and/or handmade items.

With that in mind, I've been combing thrift and consignment shops - Ballard Consignment is a favorite! - for colorful vintage and contemporary art, accessories, and furniture. It's important to me that this process is slow and thoughtful, and relies on reusing and reimagining old things as much as possible. I have a lot of issues with the high-volume, low-quality manufacturing and consumption patterns that have become so prevalent in this country, and because of that, I'd like to put our money towards local and sustainable goods as much as we can.

(At the same time, we need to be mindful of our budget, and sometimes that means compromising on some aspect of that philosophy on certain items, especially big-ticket furniture like tables and couches. Which can be frustrating, sure, but it's also the reality.)

So a few weekends ago, I found this little corner shelf, which is the perfect size and shape to take advantage of the landing of our second-floor staircase. It now houses not just cute things - Lego figures, a little collection of silk flowers - but also high-usage items like mailboxes, card & photo storage, pens & pencils, and coins.

That, combined with these amazing framed vintage Vogue covers - which will eventually be hung on the wall! - have turned what was a dark, empty corner in our house into a bright, functional space. It makes me smile every time I look at it - and that's exactly what I wanted.

Other thoughts on creating space:

Part I: Minimalism, Stuff, and Reclaiming Space
Part 2: Studio!
Part 3: Bookshelves for the Aesthetically Needy

Happy Monday!
<3
Cory

Stash Matching

  

In the last few months, as I've made serious efforts towards clearing out my WIP bin, I've been a bit more judicious with my stash enhancements. But as one last hurrah before ballgown, I was a rulebreaker! I went down to Makers' Mercantile last weekend with Lumberjack and my friend Sooz and picked up a special skein of yarn.

We shared some delicious orange cake and coffee from Ryliecakes, then wandered around the shop for a while. Every time I go to Makers's Mercantile, I find something inspiring: a shawl, a pattern book, a new-to-me yarn. I absolutely love hard copies of patterns, so I was super excited to find Mormorio in their pattern notebook and immediately snapped up a copy. And as for the yarn, it's a skein of Schmutzerella Yarns Spectacular in the colorway - dun dun dunnnn - Makers' Mercantile! As soon as I picked it up, I realized that it matched my dress perfectly, and it has just the right amount of sparkle. I'm planning to make it into some kind of garter stitch shawlette, perhaps a Hitchhiker or a Holden.

I'd better make a decision soon, because I think it's going to be my brainless knitting project to work on during ballgown!

Finished Object: Oh, Zelda!

  

Hallelujah and pass the corndogs - at long last, Zelda is finished!

After all the ripping and trying on and pinning and reknitting and nose-wrinkling and reknitting again, I can say that I am super, super happy with this little blouse. She's cute! She's flirty! She's the best damn pink! I'm so glad she's out of my WIP basket!

I've learned a lot about my knitting style from this project. As I was knitting the sleeves, I realized that knitting sweaters is on par with sewing clothing in my crafty hierarchy of enjoyment; I like it, but unlike with other knitting projects, I really do it for the end product. Fit is so important to me - and making garments to fit so often involves reworking them multiple times - that the actual process isn't fun so much as a labor of desire and obsession. On the other hand, I like to knit shawls, socks, and other non-fitted garments for the sheer enjoyment of knitting, and the end product isn't so important.

So given this newly discovered information, it's kind of ironic that I'm currently hooked on knitting sweaters. I like the control of making my own fabric so much that I already have another little blouse on the needles!

Blouse Details

Pattern: Zelda, by Joan McGowan-Michael. Such a cute result, but be sure to check for errata on this one - the magazine it was published in changed hands, so Ravelry notes are your best bet for errata notes and mods.

Ravelry Project Page: Oh, Zelda!

Yarn: Mirasol Yarn Tupa, a 50/50 merino/silk blend.

Needles: Size 5 (3.75 mm) & 7 (4.5 mm) US

Yardage: With 2 extra sleeves fully knitted, this took 8 skeins (1096 yards) but could definitely be done in 7 (960 yards).

Modifications: All my notes and modifications are on my Ravelry project page. I sewed the little tulle shoulder pads for support as written, and they give a lovely little boost to the sleeve caps!

Brooch: Thrifted

Skirt: Cory Ellen Spring 2013

Shoes: Fluevog Miracle Cana

Outfit: That '70s Thrift

  

Last Friday I went on an epic thrifting outing with a friend, and came up with this layered, easy on-and-off outfit for the occasion. I always try to wear full-coverage leggings and a camisole while thrifting - for the times when there aren't any dressing rooms and you try on clothes willy-nilly in the aisles - so even though I looked a little more dressed up than usual it was actually the perfect thrifting ensemble! I also found out that this vintage skirt from the '70s goes with practically everything - it paired nicely with tons of colors, from fawn to deep turquoise. It's my first vintage skirt that fits my smaller waist, and I have a feeling that I'm going to get a lot of wear out of it.

For some reason, I've been finding myself really drawn to '70s silhouettes and colors. Something about prairie blouses, earth tones, and collegiate plaids have been really resonating with me lately - they make me think of crisp spring afternoons in Oberlin and pictures of my mom when she was a long-haired teenager. I think it's interesting how vintage clothing as objects are reflective of the sociopolitical context of the time, and something about the '70s aesthetic feels more positive and progressive than other vintage eras. There's a softness to it, but also a strength; Victorian-inspired crochet blouses are beautiful and feminine, but they're also a marked upgrade in comfort from the fitted styles of earlier decades.

I've been thinking a lot about it lately, because although I absolutely love fashion from the late '40s to the early '60s, I can't quite separate the beauty and craftsmanship of those garments from their more problematic aspects. Much of the New Look aesthetic feels deeply tied to the walking back of women's rights in the post-war era - the clothing, while beautiful, created and enforced physical restrictions on female identity and mobility, with full, unwieldy skirts that made movement more difficult; girdles to make the body smaller and more shapely; and cute, lacy aprons to normalize and beautify domesticity. Although I still love my mid-century vintage garments, I find that I have to mix them with contemporary clothing or vintage from other eras to enjoy them fully.

These two garments from the '70s, on the other hand, have an easiness and confidence to them that I really enjoy, to the point that I don't mind being era-matchy while wearing them. Plus they complement our giant owl coffee mugs nicely, which is pretty great (and pretty '70s) too!

Cardigan: Cynthia Rowley cashmere

Blouse: '70s, from Trove Vintage in Ballard

Necklace: Love Nail Tree

Skirt: '70s, also from Trove

Socks: Kai Mei by Cookie A

Shoes: Fluevog Bellevue Laura Evans

Design Notebook: Details & Materials

 

These past few weeks, I've been sourcing swatches, trims, and buttons for my ballgown presentation and tailored jacket for school, which has taken me on adventures all across Seattle: from the drool-worthy District Fabric in Fremont, to the charming & friendly Artist & Craftsman Supply in the University District, to the magical ribbon room of Nancy's Sewing Basket on upper Queen Anne.

I think at this point I've crossed into Deeply and Hilariously Scattered Artist territory. I have a Ziploc baggie full of crystal embellishments, printed silk georgette, Copic markers, and bits of French lace that I carry around my purse and occasionally whip out at random moments to stare at. I'm considering doing major research into home bookbinding. The other day, I spent an hour in the cardmaking section of Paper Source waffling between four colors of pre-fab folded cards to best complement the color of my swatches. Plus, Sparklepants and I are both working on our ballgown presentation projects at the same time, so it's become common for one of us to punctuate a completely normal conversation about sandwiches or television with things like, "I really just want to find tulle the color of the mist from that one Tarkovsky film and it's stressing me ouuuuut" (And then I have a moment where I wonder what kind of floaty goofball says stuff like that and realize OH HEY IT'S TOTALLY ME)

   

In the midst of all of this sourcing, I find myself focusing on the most minute of details - in particular, these past few weeks I got really fixated on finding the right buttons for my jacket. I had this beautiful Balenciaga suit in mind when I designed it, and as a result, I have a very specific vision of the materials and feel of the final garment. I knew that I wanted vintage black glass, Czech if possible, in a faceted style, but beyond that I couldn't tell you what they looked like. And I needed 5 or 6 big ones, and 8-12 little ones. Easy, right?

Yeeeeeah.

So I went to every fabric store in the greater Seattle area and a couple in Portland, and...nothing. Each time I walked in determined, and each time I deflated a little as I faced the button wall and was not immediately drawn to my Destiny Buttons. (Who knew being weirdly specific about buttons that may or may not exist would be a complicating factor?) Then, in the stroke of luck/fate/timing, I was able to attend a trade show through the school last week, and not ten minutes after we arrived, I walked into one of the vendor's rooms and there they were: two different sizes of vintage, cut glass Czech buttons with a gentle swirl motif that set off the herringbone of my jacket fabric perfectly, with just the right weight and sparkle, that walked that fine line between beauty and functionality.

And the funny thing is: in the midst of all this scatter and distraction and stress, that single moment of clarity - that moment when the last detail softly clicked into place, and my jacket turned into My Jacket - it made it all absolutely worth it.

Quick Post: Karaoke Party Dress

 

This last Saturday, we had a karaoke party at my school, where we all ate chips and busted out our favorite songs in front of friends and total strangers alike.  I used to sing a lot in high school, so it's always really fun to do karaoke!  I haven't dressed up for a bit, I thought it would be fun to wear this dress, a little number I bought a while back that I think is either from the '30s or '40s.  It's an old-school rayon crepe, and it's wonderfully swingy and fun to wear.  I just love the softness of the dolman sleeve and slightly blousey bodice, combined with the nipped-in waist detail.  Of course, I couldn't resist adding footless tights for warmth and maximum dancing coverage, a pair of Fluevogs, and a pendant necklace - although, by the end of the night, I was running around in red sneakers!

Vintage Fix: Printed Sundress

  

I bought a little sundress back in December or so, in that twilight time before I started preparing for the show when I was still dreaming of spring.  It was a cute shape, but what really grabbed me was the print: stylized trees, hearts, leaves and polka dots in one of my favorite shades of green.  The dress was in great shape, but the hem was coming apart in some places, a patch near the armhole sewn on by the previous owner was falling off, and there was a little hole on the left shoulder.

So finally, last Saturday morning I took a few minutes to iron and re-sew the hem, apply a bit of strategic interfacing, and re-tack the patch back on.  It was fun to look at the inside of the dress - it's very well-constructed, and even the patch is clever.  I barely even noticed it was there except that the stitches were pulling out.

  

The hole was probably the most difficult to deal with.  I cut a little scrap of fusible interfacing, placed it over the hole on the wrong side, and hit it with some steam, then satin stitched the hole closed with some black thread.  It's not perfect, but it's enough to keep the fabric together.  It's not in an area of high stress, so I'm not too worried about it.

 

I think vintage repairs are my favorite type of sewing project.  It's always a fun puzzle to figure out what the garment needs to be functional, especially without compromising the original work, and I'm a lot less fussy about leaving stains and patches in vintage pieces than I am with new things.  Vintage treads the fine line between old clothes and artifacts, and I love that there are so many secrets and skills hidden in each one.

Plus, I'm pretty excited to have this dress ready to wear this summer!

In Progress: Yellow Prom Dress Fix

This last Saturday I spent about three hours working on the yellow prom dress.  In my mind, the biggest problems that date this dress, and not in a good way, are:

1.  The high, frilly collar.

Although I had been thinking about cutting off the lace panel at the neck entirely, I reevaluated that plan after taking a closer look at the construction.  That lace panel is actually a continuation of the lace on the bodice, and there is another stabilizing layer of white tulle underneath.  If I were to remove both, I would need to leave a seam allowance and either bind the edges with bias tape and sew it down or do some sort of other hem binding or facing.

So, instead, I opted to pull off the ruffle at the neckline.  It keeps the whole high-necked Victorian feel, but feels a little less over-the-top.  There is a little extra fabric previously kept in place by the stitching that held the ruffle on, so I'll need to tack that down, but that's a pretty easy fix.  The only other potential issue here is that the neckline is still pretty tight.  I'll have to figure out whether there's a way to change it, or if I'll just have to live with it.

And the second problem...

2.  The too-long, scungey hemline.

I tried the dress on a few times, measured and pinned up the excess to the inside of the skirt, and played with the length until I settled on just about tea-length.  I had Lumberjack help by marking my desired hem length with a pin, since anyone who has ever tried to mark lengths while wearing the garment will know that it's a total pain.

After settling on moving the hem up by about 13 5/8 inches, I subtracted a quarter-inch turn and an 1 1/4 inch plain hem to get a cutting line of 12 1/8 inches above the bottom hem.  I measured and marked all the way around, then connected the lines with pencil.

I ripped out the back seam up to my cutting line, then cut on the line all the way around.  (As a side note, this fabric is hilarious: it feels like raincoat fabric, and goes shick shick shick as you cut, way more like plastic than fabric!)  It removed the gross part of the hem, and the length now looks a lot more proportional to the top of the dress.  I still need to sew the hem, then deal with the lace.  I haven't decided yet how I'm going to treat the lace - it currently has a twisty, messed up horsehair braid at the hem.  I don't know if I'll try to replace the horsehair or just do another plain hem.

On a side note, I think this dress was actually commercially made and not home-sewn: when I was fumbling around trying to pin up the hem in those yards and yards of fabric, I found a little tag, which you can see at the top of the last photo.  It's marked a size 13 but doesn't really have any other information.  There goes my theory!  Oh well - it's still a cute little dress.

It still needs quite a bit more work, but hopefully I'll have more to share soon!

Yellow Prom Dress Fix: Before

I have this habit of picking up thrifted clothing even when it has flaws.  Often it turns into a wearable garment, and sometimes it doesn't, but the great thing about thrifted stuff is that it's usually pretty cheap.  So, if a modification experiment doesn't work, or you only wear the garment a few times, you've lost very little.

This particular dress was a little on the expensive side for thrifting, but I decided to pony up the $26 anyway.  It's a dress that doesn't quite work in a few different ways: the neck is just too high and constrictive, the ruffles are a little much, the bow is very twee, and the length makes one look like a bolt of craft lace.

But there's still something charming about it.  I'm fairly sure it's a homemade dress, since most of the seams are unfinished and there's no tag.  It's obvious that someone worked very hard to make this dress: there's a metal zipper, a zillion gathers and ruffles and darts and a horsehair braid on the bottom hem and holy moley, just a lot of polyester in general.

The bow is already missing half a snap, so it may come off entirely.  The dress may still need a sash of some kind, but I think it might look better in a different color.

There's also a pretty bad stain on the lining at the feet - maybe someone poured punch all over our poor girl at a high school dance.

I may sketch it out first before I do any modifications, but I'm thinking of replacing the bow, cutting the neckline down to the first layer of lace, shortening the back zipper, and maybe shortening the hem - or at least trying to get the stain out.  We'll see.

Pendleton wool skirt

Remember this one? I bought it probably a good three and a half years ago at Stella Vintage (plug plug plug). I repaired the hem at the beginning of the summer after taking down from an epically short length, and then never got around to basting and pleating it. I'm bringing it with me to Japan and finally gave in and took it to the dry cleaner for pleating. I justified the expense with the fact that I've probably saved a good deal on dry cleaning by handwashing all of my woolies and storebought sweaters and silks. $17 and some hand-sewing to take an "eh" skirt to a fabulous one?


Totally worth it.