I'm Tired; Here's a Video of a Cat.

Hi readers! I've been a little exhausted this week and my blogging mojo was dwindling last night. I was joking with Jeff that I should just do a post called "I'm tired; here's a video of a cat." And, well, an idea was born. Every now and then a blogger needs an easy post and what better way to do it than with KITTIES.

This particular kitteh video is of a cat getting cuddly with a guinea pig. If you're friends with me on the Facebook page, you've already seen this. (Sorry! New kitties for you guys next time!) I could watch this over and over. (Wait, I have watched this over and over.)

Now feast your eyes on some kitty cuteness while Gertie goes to get some beauty sleep. Back tomorrow with a real post!

Favorite Film Dresses of My Impressionable Youth

One of my favorite inspiration books is Dressed: A Century of Hollywood Costume Design. (A fabulous book, by the way.) I was flipping though it recently and it got me thinking back to movies that I loved as a kid.  I adored musicals and any other especially theatrical films, and when I look back on these beloved films, I always remember the dresses. (Starts early, eh?) So here's a little trip down my pop culture memory lane: my favorite film dresses of my childhood. Won't you join me?

Sleeping Beauty

My early tastes were simple: sparkly ballgowns! The final dress in Disney's Sleeping Beauty (which changes from pink to blue and back again, you may recall) was a definite favorite. I could never decide if I liked it best in pink or blue! Ah, the dilemmas of childhood.

Mary Poppins

I revered Julie Andrews (still do, actually). I'm hard-pressed to pick a favorite film of hers, but the costumes in Mary Poppins definitely win out. And the red and white dress above is the most beautiful of all! (According to my inner five-year-old, that is.)

My Fair Lady

My Fair Lady is filled with beautiful costumes, but this black and white ensemble is arguably the most fantastic. My younger self did not catch the satire in its over-the-topness; I thought it was just right. And I still think those black and white stripes are a touch of genius.

Pollyanna

I'm sorry, was there a moral to this film? I totally missed it because I was too busy looking at the clothes. This one has it all: a fabulous shopping spree, adorable boots, and great sailor dresses.

Pretty Woman

Whew, that was quite a shift in subject matter, wasn't it? I had to put this one right after Pollyanna, because they actually remind me of each other: two poor girls get, ahem, "adopted" by rich folk, taken on the best shopping montages ever, and then live happily ever after. I wasn't allowed to see this movie until my later teens. Yeah, yeah, prostitution is adult subject matter. Again, I'm just here for the clothes! I loved her dress at the races best of all. Matching hat alert!

Clueless

A great fashion movie! I'm sad to say that this film inspired more fashion disasters for me than fashion successes. (Anyone else try to emulate the thigh-high and mini trend? That ensemble screams "working girl" way more than anything Julia Roberts wore in the aforementioned movie!) But it was a fashion moment. So much so that Calvin Klein recently brought back the white mini dress that was the centerpiece of an entire scene ("Cher, what are you wearing?" "A dress!" "Says who?" "Calvin Klein!"). It can be yours for $915.


I suppose that's enough from me (though the fact that I keep thinking of other examples hints at a second post on this topic in the future). How about you? I'd love to hear your favorite film dresses from your childhood! Don't be shy.

Do You Have a Color?

The idea of "having a color" always makes me think fondly of Peg Boggs in Edward Scissorhands, who was quite committed to lavender as her color - so much so that she was hardly seen in any other hue. Likewise, "my" color seems to be red, which often elicits compliments and proclamations of "that's your color!" Accordingly, I've gotten rather possessive over red. It is my color, after all. This isn't necessarily a good thing. Once a color becomes yours, it's possible there's a little too much safety in it, don't you think?

The concept of "having one's colors done" is a fascinating one, too. The Color Me Beautiful phenomenon took place in the 80s, and I was lucky enough to have a color analysis as a Girl Scout. (I think that was my favorite scouting activity ever . . . way better than camping.) I was proclaimed a "winter" and was told that I would look best in an ivory wedding dress since white would wash me out. (Truthfully, I did not end up following that advice when the time came; I went with the starkest, snowiest white I could find.) I seem to recall the CMB lady promising all sorts of things if you just wore "your colors:" romance, career success, eternal youth. No wonder we get so attached to our colors!

I bring up this idea because while I have always stuck to blue-based jewel tones, I find myself enamored of a different color lately, one that's way out of my comfort zone. Namely: saffron. Also known as marigold and perhaps mustard. (Perhaps I'm working up to this color with the pale yellow frock I'm currently working on?)

Remember Michelle Williams's 2006 Oscar Dress? (Best. Dress. EVER.)

I so want to wear this color. But it screams "autumn" to me, not "winter." But I will be oppressed by this color tyranny no longer! Mark my words, readers. Mark my words.

I've been trying to get myself used to some saffron-y goodness by draping myself in bolts of fabric (the guys at Mood seem to find this vaguely amusing). And I'm warming up to taking the plunge. The thing about sewing, though, is that you're making a pretty big commitment to a color by buying fabric and making up a project. It's not like running to American Apparel or Forever 21 and paying under $20 for something that you'll just throw away if it's not for you in the long run.

So . . . how do you get out of a color rut? Or, like Peg Boggs, do you stick to the tried and true?

The Yellow Dress Part #1: Underlining

The yellow dress I'm making (see the muslin here) is now nicknamed the "No Shortcuts Dress." Every time I think something like, "Hey, wouldn't it be easier to just baste that by machine?" I tell myself, "No shortcuts!" And that's that. (Sometimes if I speak very sternly to myself, I actually listen.)

The construction on this dress is pretty involved, so I'm just taking it step by step, and I thought I would document each step here, since you lovely readers seem to be interested in this kind of thing, right? (My primary reference book on this project is Bridal Couture by Susan Khalje, by the way.) Step one? Cut out out the underlining and the fashion fabric, and baste the two together.

For those not familiar, underlining is a second layer of fabric that supports the fashion fabric, gives it body, and gives you something to hand-stitch interior elements (like a hidden hem) to. I'm using silk organza underlining for this project, which is one of the most common underlinings for dresses. You can also use muslin, batiste, flannel, or any number of fabrics, depending on what your desired outcome is.

Color is an interesting consideration for underlining. For lighter colored fashion fabric, your underlining can actually influence its hue. A bright white underlining will make your fashion fabric brighter, while an intensely colored underlining will make your fashion fabric brighter. Because the yellow of my faille is very soft, I chose a bright yellow underlining to give it an extra pop.

I cut my silk organza underlining first, and then marked it with tracing paper. (Note: I'm using my muslin as the pattern, with a single-layer layout for the most accuracy.) (Update: you can't see the grainline in these pics, but don't worry - it's there!)

Next, I cut the fashion fabric out (the yellow faille). Some sources will tell you to use your underlining pieces as the pattern pieces to cut out your fashion fabric. I'm going with Khalje's instructions to use your muslin as the pattern once again. Silk organza is so shifty that I don't really trust it to work as a pattern.

There's no need to mark the fashion fabric at all. Here are the two pieces, side by side.

The organza gets layered on the wrong side of the faille. Now both pieces are marked! (See the light blue dart outline?)

Next, pin and then hand baste both pieces together. There will be that little voice in your head saying, "Hey, wouldn't it be easier to just baste that by machine?" And to that you must say, "No shortcuts!" Machine basting makes the layers shift and pucker. I used a white cotton thread for basting, I stitched just inside the 1" seam allowance.

Now the two layers can be treated as one. Here's the machine-stitched dart:

Next up, part #2: stitching the bodice, applying the twill tape to the top edge, and inserting the bra cups!

Giveaway Winner!

Congrats to GILLIAN! She's lucky number 18, the winner of the lipstick and pattern giveaway, sponsored by The Blue Gardenia. Gillian, e-mail me to arrange shipment of your prize. (And send us photos of you all Deneuved-up, too!)

Thanks to all who entered, and super big thanks to Denise of The Blue Gardenia. Now go visit and support your vintage pattern seller! I've got my eye on this Ceil Chapman pattern. Isn't it amazing?

Reminder: Enter the Blue Gardenia Giveaway!

Happy Friday night, lovelies! Just a friendly reminder that tomorrow is the last day to enter the Catherine Deneuve Lipstick and Pattern Giveaway, sponsored by the Blue Gardenia. Just go to this post to enter by leaving a comment.

Good luck!

I'm Obsessed: Alabama Chanin

I tend to burn through obsessions pretty quickly: one day it's millinery, the next it's owl brooches. The day after? It's anyone's guess. I used to worry about this aspect of my personality, but I've decided to take a different stance on it lately: that all these little obsessions add up to one unique world view - that they all contribute to my creativity in one way or another. So instead of fretting, I'd like to celebrate my obsessions here. And this week, it's "haute homespun" fashion line Alabama Chanin.

You may have seen the two sewing books out by founder Natalie Chanin: Alabama Stitch Book and Alabama Studio Style. I looked at the latter briefly when it first came out and mistakenly assumed that it wasn't my aesthetic. But then I saw a dress by this designer on display in the FIT Eco-Fashion exhibit and it was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I also had the good fortune to meet a woman wearing a beautiful skirt that was handmade using the techniques found in Chanin's books. I was fascinated to learn that the method espoused by the books - and the line - is one of pure hand sewing. A machine never comes into the picture. The pieces in the line are created by artisan stitchers in Florence, Alabama. (The garments are fantastically expensive, as you can imagine.) But the real draw is the gorgeous embellishments.

I marched myself right back to the bookstore yesterday to pick up Alabama Stitch Book, and reading about the method is truly fascinating for sewing geeks and couture enthusiasts alike. (Plus, it'll make you itch to sit down with some intricate hand stitching!) The pieces are achieved by taking regular cotton jersey (sometimes sourced from old t-shirts), creating a deconstructed couture look with handstitched - often exposed - seams, and embellishing with intricate skill: stencils and fabric paint create the designs, and then the amazing handwork is created by applique, decorative stitches, and beading. The use of jersey, which doesn't ravel, is pretty brilliant: the applique edges can be raw, rather than that fussy look you can get with applique edges that have to be turned-under or stitched with a heavy satin machine stitch.

I'm not interested in copying these pieces exactly (though, if you are, the books are an awesome help for that). My question is: how can I tailor these embellishment and couture stitching techniques to my vintage aesthetic?

It's not quite such a stretch to imagine these techniques on 50s styles. After all, applique and beading was rampant during that decade. Can't you see these styles done Alabama style?

from Etsy

from Etsy

The real question is how to use the Chanin method, but achieve a more constructed look (rather than deconstructed) while still maintaining the simple, modern elegance of the embellishment?

I would love to try these embellishment techniques on a basic 50s-style dress like my swirly red one. The dress could be structured as usual (no exposed seams or unfinished hems for me). But I would use a stable knit like a doubleknit or a wool jersey for fall - this would allow the applique pieces to be unfinished, as on Chanin's creations. But it would be interesting to still structure the piece with facings, silk organza underlining, and horsehair braid on the hem to give it that 50s couture look I love. But then I would try a mixture of applique, reverse applique, and beading (and maybe sequins!) on the skirt border: with a vintage-inspired pattern like the roses on this lovely tablecloth.

Perhaps the dress would be a lovely saffron hue with white applique roses.

What do you think? How would you adapt the Alabama Chanin style to suit your own?

When Women Padded Their Hips

Readers, I just scored the coolest piece of 50s sewing ephemera off of eBay: a Vogue pattern for shoulder and hip pads! Casey knows that I'm obsessed with the engineering of Dior's New Look suits (blogged here) so she sweetly e-mailed me when she spotted this pattern. Hip pads are a sort of mythical being to me: I've read about them countless times but never seen them in their natural habitat, so to speak. Hence, I had to make this pattern mine.

A New Look jacket, like that of the Bar Suit below, would have been intensely structured with interfacings, pad stitching, and padding in the shoulders and hips. (And, of course, the model would be wearing a "waspie" corset to cinch her waist.)

I think the reason hip padding is so fascinating to me is that it's such a foreign concept to a modern woman: we're supposed to want to make our hips disappear, not emphasize them! (That's what you'll learn if you watch any yogurt or cereal commercial today, right?) But think about it: a little tailoring goes a long way in a jacket (just see the difference sleeve heads made in my red suit) to creating a more flattering fit. And there's nothing worse than a droopy, flimsy peplum. (Okay, that's not true. There are actually a lot worse things, but you get my point.) Wouldn't it be great to create a smooth, structured line on the hips as well? Hence, I've actually become rather attracted to the idea of tailoring the hips of jackets, just as the shoulders would be tailored.

So how does this pattern work, you ask? Well, I was surprised to see that it's not really padding at all, but three layers of heavy stiffeners: one layer of heavy hair canvas, one of buckram, and one of heavy muslin. (That's a lot of heaviness!)

There are two pattern pieces: an inner piece for the three stiffeners, and an outer piece for a fabric cover.

Here's how the construction works. All three layers are basted together, stitched in horizontal rows (this is how padstitching is done by machine), and then covered with a fabric outer cover.

Pretty cool stuff, huh? I'm kind of dying to try this in a jacket. What's really exciting is that you could manipulate this idea to be more extreme too: for example, deeper darts and some serious hand padstitching could get you super-structural hips, like in the Bar Suit above.

But this more subtle effect (well, relatively speaking) of the pattern above would be perfect for a slim suit, like the one from VoNBBS. (Which, by the way, I finally found! Thanks to a helpful reader. Only one VoNBBS pattern left to find!) Can't you just see this with the hips getting a little help from these pads?

What do you think? Could you ever bring yourself to pad your hips? Or will you happily leave this idea in the 50s?

A Blue Gardenia Giveaway: Lipstick and a Pattern!

Denise of The Blue Gardenia is sponsoring another fantastic and generous giveaway! This time, we're setting our sights on the 60s. Denise has a lovely blog where she's written a series of drool-worthy inspiration posts called "Channeling Catherine," an ode to the great Ms. Deneuve's style. Likewise, this giveaway is similarly inspired. Behold:

Now. Take one part Nars Belle de Jour lipstick:

And one part McCall's 8076, a pattern for a swingy slip of a dress, copyright 1967:

And voila! You've been Deneuved!

To be entered to win the lipstick and pattern (bust 34", but quite forgiving fit-wise), simply leave a comment on this post by midnight EST on Saturday, August 7th. I'll choose the winner by random drawing and announce it on Sunday.

Denise has been so generous with us. Now might we return the favor? Go support a fabulous vintage pattern seller by shopping at the Blue Gardenia.

Here are a few of Denise's other Deneuve-worthy patterns to start you out. Go forth and shop!

Bust 40"

Bust 36"

Bust 38"

Take That, Dorothy Parker!

Goodness, you sure are an opinionated group when it comes to spectacles! My eyewear poll garnered an amazing 1,000+ votes, with the tortoiseshell specs being the clear favorite. That post even generated a parody! (Um, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?) You'll be happy to hear that I've heeded your wishes and sent the black pair back in exchange for the tortoiseshell ones. More to come on those.

However, I did something sneaky in the meantime. Commenter Em linked to these adorable pink "fade-away" glasses, and while this particular pair was too small for me, I located a similar pair on Etsy. In mint condition and reasonably priced! They also shipped in record time, arriving yesterday. I have to tell you, readers: I think this is love. Who cares if men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses? I'm about to start making passes at myself with these babies on!

These won't be needing a poll. They'll be heading to the optometrist for my prescription lenses, stat.

And also! I finished my fascinator! (The fascinator, you may recall, was what started this whole eyewear crisis.)

Here's a better view of the top:

And the underbelly:

I hot-glued the square of felt on, but everything else is stitched by hand. I just couldn't bear to take the hot glue gun to those vintage strawberries! I passed the time by pretending I was Elizabeth Bennett in the scene where she's re-trimming an old bonnet. (I do hope Mr. Darcy will like it!)

I think it came out pretty nicely for my first little hat. I'm now reading the millinery book From the Neck Up, recommended by several of you lovely readers. Don't tell me how it ends! I want to be surprised.