You know I love you. I feel we have a special bond. After all, you were the original owner of several of my vintage patterns from Vogue's New Book for Better Sewing. I think about you often. Yes, I know you're a figment of my imagination. But still, I have a bone to pick with you: I'm peeved that you lost the crucial pattern piece to make view C of the bolero.
Doris, I know how excited you were to make this version of the bolero. You even had strong opinions on the design, feeling that it would be much stronger with long sleeves rather than short. I appreciated your pluck at drawing in the sleeves on the pattern envelope. I do stuff like that all the time too! I like how emphatic you were about it; you even wrote long sleeves on the envelope back, as if your re-working of the illustration didn't say it all.
I hope your long-sleeved version was everything you hoped it would be. I'm sure you looked ravishing in it. But Doris, really. What did you do with the front pattern piece? Why did you put the long sleeve piece back in the envelope, but not the front pattern piece? That piece is the key to the bonus bolero project in Vogue's New Book for Better Sewing! Didn't you know that 57 years after you made your bolero, a slightly obsessive gal would buy your old pattern on the internet and need to make version C of the bolero and blog about it? Hmm. I can see I've lost you here, Doris.
Oh, well. Anyway, who am I to cast aspersions? Good lord, if someone comes across my sewing patterns in 57 years, I think it's a fair guess that they won't be in a pretty state. I can barely keep all the pieces together when I'm actually making a damn pattern, much less 57 years later.
Maybe I'll make view A instead, since you were kind enough to leave me all the pieces for that version. And it's quite cute, with its double buttons and Peter Pan collar.
Anyway, Doris, what I really should be saying now is this: Thanks for everything. Really. I'm sad that this is the last of your patterns that I own. It's been real.