Adventures in dressing oneself for the mid-century mark.

Naramata, British Columbia, August 2010.

Remember when we road-tripped all the way to British Columbia to do an Ironman? Twice? Yeah, I barely do, but I've got the medal to prove it, right here in my desk drawer. I've also got the heartbreakingly beautiful blog post to prove it (Naramata Linen Pants), and,  I also have the floral linen pants that I bought at Shades of Linen, in Naramata.  Every year when I drag out my *summer wardrobe bins* my beloved linen pants get their due attention. This year it got hot so fast (gee, I wonder why), I found myself wearing the floral print in late March. Go figure.  And so, now that I'm practically fifty years old, I'm ready to revamp some of my looks, and, what better way to dress my fifty-year old self than with long flowy pants that aren't too hot, or made of stretchy synthetic stuff.  

 Most of you know I'm a yarn goddess, almost to the exclusion of other wearable crafts.  But...I can sew a mean outfit when and if necessary, and certainly if inspired.  Sewing can make me a little crazy (machinery and extensive planning and non-portability beware), but sewing is also unparalleled in the realm of speed. While months can be involved in yarn-art endeavors, once the measuring, architecting, and planning phase is behind us, one only has to confront good old fashioned procrastination, and, of course, the mistakes of sewing (usually corrected by tearing seams out, cutting new sections of cloth, or trashing the whole project if it's gone horribly wrong (there are many reasons a piece can go horribly wrong--think back to junior high sewing class.)).

 Frustrations aside, when the bug bites, I'm all in.  I browsed the web (don't get me started on the demise of the Local Fabric Store) and I found myself on the website of an old San Francisco (now closed) favorite, Britex.  With a broad selection of high quality linen I knew I was in  business. One thing about being practically over fifty, when a woman finds a pattern she loves, she's ready to wear the same thing every day.  I vowed to start with one pair of pants, but promise that if these bad boys work, I'll have every color and print available in no time.  I landed on this chartreuse (honeydew) fabric and estimated how much fabric I would need. Backtrack: before I ordered fabric, I cut  a pattern based upon the floral Naramata pants.  It's something I can do, given the pattern is simple enough. Throw me a tailored design and I need a load of professional (published pattern) advice and support.

 Britex shipped the fabric so quickly I wondered if they'd moved their operation to Chicago. After all, friends in the Bay Area told me, with great sadness, that Britex's great storefront had closed in the past year or so.

 I usually sew in the basement, where I've got two machines, all my supplies, a big card table, ironing board, and a big TV queud up with Netflix, etc... But with the TV on the fritz and an amazing spring day outside, I dragged the necessary accoutrements upstairs to sew and assemble on the fully extended Heywood Wakefield Dining room table (thanks, Mom--and I got plastic to cover the whole thing).  Yeah, I know, I roll like that.

Singer: 197_? Elna 1992.  Tried and true: domestic machinery. Lost arts.

 So, I can't say that there were too many frustrating barriers here. They're the easiest elastic waist pants to assemble, and a great reminder why I like sewing for myself more than for other people, because the most challenging part is fit, and i can make sure the fit is going to work, because, ummm...I can try them on as I go (this is a hint to why sewing always frustrated me--I think of sewing as architecture and crochet as sculpture--and as far as I can tell, with architecture you have to know exactly what you're doing before you start, which doesn't really match my process).  Yeah, I know, you could pick on me for bad process, but I'm practically fifty so what are you gonna do about it?

Don't blame me (said the cat, every day).

 Here's a finished view, ready for wear.  For those who need to know, it was a crotch seam, an inseam,  side seam, hem to encase elastic waistband, and a nice fat hem at the bottom.  Everything is easier with the industrial Serger, which now is over twenty five years old (wow--how did that happen!) and my junior high Singer single seam machine.  That I've got two operable sewing machines is pretty cool, as far as I'm concerned, and I can't even start on how sad it is that no one else in my family makes this stuff.

That's a decent day's work.

 Finished and ready to wear. That my pants match my office fabric is telling. I LOVE chartreuse, and have for many years.  For enquiring minds, I used the self timing on the Canon Power Shot for these images. No one else was around for this modeling session, so take the photos as they are.  Just to be clear, this is a *nearly fifty-year old* out dancing around in mid April modeling for herself while, supposedly, no one else is looking (yeah, I roll that way, too).

When they say, *pull on your big girl pants* what do they mean?

Is this what they mean when they say...

Don't just sit there, do something!

Oak Park, 2017.

Dolls that Swear, Dolls that Sweat, Dolls that don't always make everybody happy.

We took these photos a few weeks back.  I was awful proud of my kid for creating this outfit, and I began to teach her some basic sewing skills that I am sort of aghast that she doesn't already know, considering my sewing/needlework filled childhood.

So...Did you hear what they said about the prez?

This gem is a Gotz doll, a brand which I've admired for years.  When my older child was about this age (nine) we fell into the dreaded "you-know-what-doll" trap.  My response, of course, was to hunt down the cutest doll that I could find, not created by the Pleasant Company.  At this time, some five to seven years ago, I quickly discovered that American Gotz, along with just about any other maker of girl-child-dolls, had folded....hmmm....wonder why?  A particularly brutal and savage competitor on the horizon, perhaps?  One which lures children (usually girls) and their parents (usually mothers) into a ginormous shopping store in Chicago in order to buy and clothe doll (usually girl) and provide all matter of accouterment at tremendous expense, with saccharine story already in place and lacking any irony or true power (as in, when exercising power, one must do the hard thing and be unpopular, sometimes).  OK, so the cat's outta the bag. I. Don't. Like. A. G..

Yeah, well, I heard that all those r-cans are a bunch of stupid idiots, and they wouldn't have their jobs without those gerrymandered districts.

In fact, the topic came up in conversation recently, and I proceeded to spend an entire weekend scanning New Yorker archives for the article that I read, quite a few years ago, about Pleasant Rowland and the Company she built.  Where has it disappeared to?  I have no idea.  I think, actually, that the Pleasant Company article has been spirited away with all the other unmentionable attacks on major business interests including but not exclusively natural gas companies and major agriculture firms.  And, for me, what's the point, really?  As a parent, here in Suburbia, my chances of making any traction with my rant on Pleasant Company will fall on deaf, even hostile ears.  It's been said, Often, that she at least, "is not Barbie".  Well, this may be true, but since Mattel bought Pleasant in the late nineties....AG sorta IS Barbie, at least, she's her younger, totally un-hip, totally un-ironic, cousin who worries all the time about being nice and everybody liking and going to the right schools and doing all the right things in life and not hurting anything...like animals or kids (hmmm....why do middle class parents live AG so much?)....

as far as I can tell, we're all going straight to hell if they get their way, so you might as well come in and we can have a chat.

But if she grows up and moves to Suburbia and has kids of her own and she needs to turn up the heat, or crank the AC, or buy all that crap at Target (or AG), then it's OK, since she's not really, like, personally, hurting the world, because, after all, her hands never got dirty.

Those f*&-ers think they can do whatever they want, but this is my planet too, and I'll die  trying.

Not like her cousin, Barbie, always going out with guys and wearing hot clothes, and making out with all the other Barbies, and Ken, and anyone else who wanted to try some stuff out.   Sheesh...everyone knows....(whisper whisper) that Barbie had it real rough and she had that weird boyfriend, and then she spent all that time with that other Barbie (you know, the brown one) and then, finally, she settled down in that resort town and she was doing something pretty cool (what was it?).  OK, so, LF, you might get my point.

 I'm proud of our Julia, of Gotz Dolls.  She's not a far cry from AG and she can wear her clothes and all that, but I've avoided that place and all it stands for in the modern family pantheon.  And look, there's still a touch of that charm, that desire to glam things up, since, of course, we've got almost three generations of Barbie in this house (if we include nieces Barbie clothes, born in 1983)....Julia has a beauty mark, installed by lovely daughter, and she's got a swag haircut and the ensemble today, thrills me to the core.  Photo-shoot enhanced by the slightly wistful look of a girl, a girl who knows she's gonna catch shit for already wearing lipstick, nails, cut her own hair and painted on eye makeup, but she's worth it, baby, and life is her oyster...