Greetings all ^-^
Today I am going to share with you the rollercoaster ride of rushed dressmaking! This is a cautionary tale, which will hopefully dissuade you from the dreaded foreshadowing of the phrase:
Today I am going to share with you the rollercoaster ride of rushed dressmaking! This is a cautionary tale, which will hopefully dissuade you from the dreaded foreshadowing of the phrase:
"I'm sure it'll turn out fine anyway"
Or any variation thereof.
I dreamt up this dress many months ago when I found some beautiful navy polkadot fabric at my local haberdashery in Plymouth. If you ever have the misfortune to find yourself in Plymouth, check out their newly expanded premises on the high street near Armada Way. They are brilliant; I am going to miss them so much! But anyway, this fabric was such a wonderful print and weight, I instantly decided I wanted to make a 1950's style dress from it.
I waited for months, the idea developing and the dress morphing from a simple dress with sweet-heart neckline, halter, and circle skirt to one with a boned bodice, gathers, and excessive trimmings. This is always a problem with my brain: it runs off by itself and comes back with all these infeasible ideas. Like a cat hunting a mouse getting distracted by trying to take on a giant pigeon.
Once I finished my degree a month or so ago, I needed something to distract me from the boredom of the much-anticipated "time-off". A rather foreign concept to me, and one I tend to struggle with. What is this "sitting still"? If I am awake I should be doing something! Although, sit me in front of a Fallout game and I will play for hours, because that's kind of like doing something... it just happens to be your character doing the running around, not you. Anyway, once I'd worn my Fallout character "Sneezles" out, I finally got started on this imagined dress.
I had been looking out for a pattern close to what I was going for, to help me. But again, like the overambitious kitty, I decided:
I waited for months, the idea developing and the dress morphing from a simple dress with sweet-heart neckline, halter, and circle skirt to one with a boned bodice, gathers, and excessive trimmings. This is always a problem with my brain: it runs off by itself and comes back with all these infeasible ideas. Like a cat hunting a mouse getting distracted by trying to take on a giant pigeon.
Once I finished my degree a month or so ago, I needed something to distract me from the boredom of the much-anticipated "time-off". A rather foreign concept to me, and one I tend to struggle with. What is this "sitting still"? If I am awake I should be doing something! Although, sit me in front of a Fallout game and I will play for hours, because that's kind of like doing something... it just happens to be your character doing the running around, not you. Anyway, once I'd worn my Fallout character "Sneezles" out, I finally got started on this imagined dress.
I had been looking out for a pattern close to what I was going for, to help me. But again, like the overambitious kitty, I decided:
"No! I shall make my OWN pattern!"
Now, don't get me wrong, I did ok at first. I just did the pattern for the bodice because I could fit each part on a piece of baking paper (I had left my pattern paper, purchased specifically for this purpose, at home. Like a numpty). I made the base out of calico, and held it around ma body. For some reason, my maths was apparently terrible and the thing had ended up being about 2 sizes bigger than my torso. I really should have altered it at this stage... but no.
"It's fine! I'll pull these bits at the back together
to cover the zip with a laced back!"
To be honest, it was an interesting idea. But I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't even told you about the skirt, yet! Ah, the skirt. This is where I fell down. The circle skirt idea and become slightly more complex and morphed into a gathered, draping back part with a shorter, more fitted front panel. Probably would have worked better if I'd made a pattern. As it was, I just measured ma booty and did some maths. Remember how good I am at maths? Well, yep. That happened again.
By this time, I'd been working on this dress properly for a couple of days, and I was excited because the bodice was "done" (I even PRESSED it!! You know you're proud of me!), and it was all coming together. Or so I thought. I stupidly got really into what I was doing and forgot to eat lunch. I don't know about you, but hypoglycaemic-Lozzita is NOT fun, and NOT very productive. Hypo-Lozzita likes to rush things and enjoys the phrase:
"We can FINISH this if we just KEEP GOING!"
Yes, hypoglycaemic-Lozzita also enjoys using the Royal "we". She's quirky like that.
So, I pressed on, battling the (literal) kittens for the thread, and doing sloppy maths. In all honesty, if I'd had my dressmakers mannequin or access to a full-length mirror (or, you know, one that doesn't stop at my boobs) I'm sure I could have seen the troubles before they occurred and I got sad.
I finally sewed all the pieces together, gathering at the back and darting at the front. I tried it on. Had there been a mirror, I would have cried. Baggy and shapeless. I mean there is BONING! For gods's sake! You would have thought that would give some shape. But Nooooo! Without my mannequin I couldn't see where things needed tucking in, and at this point I was VERY hungry. So I did what any sane person would do: I drank coffee. And continued.
I pulled the bodice in at the back and added some eyelets through which to thread the corset cord I had left over from the last one I made. Have you ever tried to insert eyelets? With a hammer? And a tiiiiny mould? No? Well, let me destroy the mystery for you: there is a lot of hitting yourself with a hammer, and very little placing of eyelets.
In the end, I used the jewellery pliers I had bought for the spoons. Now I have ten deformed eyelets. Not having to tools you need is just The Best!
But anyway, I laced it up, zipped myself in... and it fell down. Then I cried. As usual, I had tried super hard at something, gotten carried away, and fucked it up. Classic Lozzita. I was grumpy all night and the boyf had to deal with that joy. He fed me Chinese food. Good boyf is good. However, I did still spend the night lying awake thinking about how to fix the dress and wishing I had a mannequin, a mirror, or a boyf with an hourglass figure so I could use him as a model/mannequin (he just doesn't have the boobies or hips to fit the 1950's style. Damn svelte boyf with his sexy man-figure).
So, yes. The morale of the story is:
"Always have lunch"
Or perhaps:
"I need a fucking mannequin if I'm going to make adequate clothing!!"
But maybe it's just:
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck EVERYTHING!!!"
I don't know. Perhaps we'll leave that to the philosophers.
But I don't want to leave on a negative note, no matter how very grumpy I made myself. I spent some time today cinching various pieces of the dress in until it looked like a dress that could fit my figure, and with a couple more seams and gathers, I think I've got a purdy new dress!
So I guess the morale of the story is:
"Even if everything goes to shit, you can
always sew more or use a seam ripper. And if it's still shit, there's always fire"
On that note:
Live long and prosper ^-^
