Leslie at sent me this link to Melissa (at ) and her awesome dress, made from an Ikea shower curtain.
Oh yes, a shower curtain. Which is only part of the awesome. The rest of the awesome consists of this being her first project using piping (which she made herself) and that it's lined! Obviously, Melissa is a goddess.
Here's a picture of the bodice, gloriously piped:
Where does Burda come in? Well, the pattern is the from the May issue of Burda World of Fashion (as reported by ).
You guys know I love *and* piping, so for me this project is (as the kids say) made of win. It also makes me want to duck into Ikea tomorrow when the boy and I do some back-to-school shopping out in that anteroom of Hell known as Schaumburg, Illinois. (I'm sure that he'll have patience for that after finding a new backpack and shoes, right?)
Click the image to visit Melissa's great blog and congratulate her on this dress!
Or "GBS," as I like to call it, now that we're friends:
Note: I am not the person doing really cool research on the British road system. I'm the other one.
That's what Rita at called this dress, and I agree. Wholeheartedly.
The pattern's up on eBay right now; click on the image to visit her auction.
This dress has me completely bowled over. That's one … engrossing … project, right there! I've seen simpler skirts on wedding dresses. In fact, this would make a pretty kick-ass wedding dress. Or I'd love to see someone wearing it at the Oscars. Heck, I'd love to see someone wearing this in their living room. I just want it to be worn!
Also, I'd never seen an "Advance Import" pattern before, but you can be sure I'll be looking for them now. This one, as you can see (and is discussed more in the listing) is from Battilocchi of Rome.
Oh, and if you check the back of the pattern (helpfully provided by Cemetarian) you can see that the width of the Incredible Skirt at the hem edge? THIRTEEN YARDS. That's five or six packages of bias binding, to put it in perspective. Thirteen yards of hem … again: serious project.
I wish I could see just one version of this made up — actually, I wish I could hover unseen over the shoulder of someone making this up, back in the day. I've never really been into sewing shows, but I'd make an exception to watch someone putting this together … of course, if they were filming me they'd have to bleep a lot. Those godets! The in-seam folds! Matching all those seams!
I think I have to go lie down now, and I just got up. Thanks, Rita!
So Lisa sent me a link to this dress/jacket combo on eBay, and I'm in love (click on the image to visit the auction) … but, of course, it's not my size. (Is there a of internet vintage? Something like "90% of everything isn't your size"?)
However, I can't believe that this particular idea hasn't occurred to me with any force before: the print bodice with the solid skirt. What a great way to use teeny yardages of lovely prints (while placating the naysayers who don't want prints anywhere near their hips)! And you wouldn't necessarily have to line the jacket with the same (fancy expensive) print; you could use a solid coordinating color. In fact, since jackets get so much less wear than skirts (at least for me) you could do a jacket lined with a color that coordinated with TWO dresses …
I can see this is going to need serious thought (and fabric shopping). I want to drop what I'm doing now and run right out to find the right pattern and fabric … I'm thinking Simplicity 1510 would be a great option (although it doesn't have a jacket, I have plenty of appropriate jacket patterns in my stash):
Of course, that one (on eBay, too, click on the image to visit the listing) isn't in my size *either*, but I'm sure I have something similar somewhere. Not that I'm going to go rummage around and look for it now … really, I'm not. Honest.
A I posted about this pattern, McCalls 5147:
And now Toi has found it all made up, for sale on Etsy ($40, B36, click on the image to visit the listing):
I love it when I find handmade vintage for which I can identify the source pattern — it's like CSI: Sewing, isn't it (except with fewer splatter marks)? And it really helps when I'm trying to decide which of the embarrassingly large number of patterns in my sewing room should be worked up next — look how well this one worked out! I love the rick-rack, and the orange & plaid combo. How fancy would this look in plaid taffeta and velvet? (It'd also look about six years old, but I don't usually let that stop me.)
Has anyone else ever found a dress and known what pattern it was sewn from? (It doesn't count if you found it in your own closet …)
So, for my birthday, my marvelous sister sent me this:
Isn't it awesome? Just the thing to hang in my sewing room.
Of course, I am now consumed by curiosity: who drew this? Why? How did it end up in a junk shop in Park Slope, for Kate to find?
It's marked "DeZine Studio, 105 W 40 ST. NYC", and the style number is D-1725. The illustration is marked "Peau de Soie" (and it's spelled correctly!).
Here's a slightly closer view of the actual dress (sorry about the flash glare):
Anyone have a clue for me? I could just *invent* the story, a la "Secret Lives," but I'd like to take a stab at finding out actual facts, first.
Michelle sent me this link (from Janet at ) and asked me what I would assume must be a rhetorical question: "Is there such a thing as a too-big pocket?"
Okay, okay … maybe there is such a thing as a too-big pocket. And perhaps, just perhaps, this jumper is in possession of it. But I can certainly think of extenuating circumstances that would justify needing a pocket this large: what if you had freakishly long arms? You'd have to have a deep pocket to hide the extra foot of forearm, right? Or what if you needed to transport yardsticks, or sawed-off shotguns, or small table lamps? You'd be glad of this pocket then!
I like the look of resignation on the face of the woman in the be-pocketed jumper. It's that same look I get when I know someone is about to play a practical joke on me and the only thing I can do is to endure it and get it over with. I think she knows that there's something yucky at the bottom of that pocket (poorly wrapped PB&J sandwich? slobbered-on post-dog tennis ball? open safety pin?) and that it's only a matter of time before she finds it, the hard way.