I saw these on the TV screen last week. Old Navy was advertising this particular style during LOST — and OMG, did you see LOST this past week? — and I believe that I jumped higher, screamed louder, and got scared-er during the Old Navy ad that featured this horror than I did during the Stunning Conclusion To This Week's Episode.

Because, frankly, short-shorts rompers? Are enough to give anyone nightmares.

For the moment, let's leave out how you are possibly going to use public restrooms in this thing without dragging part or all of it into the toilet; that simply goes without saying.

Instead, concentrate on just how wrong the proportions of this thing are. The dropped waist! The below-elbow, but not three-quarters, sleeves! The teeny, weeny inseam of Doom! The very weirdly placed breast (or maybe, floating-rib) pocket!

Old Navy was advertising this using their skinniest and leggiest models, and they still all looked like a plate of Hot Mistake with a side of Mental Deficient. There is absolutely no way to wear this and be taken seriously. There are very few ways to wear this and not look as if you lost a particularly disastrous bet. (One would be wrapped around your head as a turban.)

And please, people, believe me. I know whereof I speak. I was a young teen, in Florida, in the early 1980s. I know all of the enticing forms that jumpsuits can take, and the few times that I 'experimented' — well, let's just say that the flashbacks are debilitating. I can scarcely pass a tropical-print-floral rayon without vomiting, even today.

To sum up, this romper:

— does not allow for the speedy completion of necessary bodily functions
— makes you look like you're playing Tweedledee in the "Out of Africa" version of Alice in Wonderland
— drains personal dignity faster than Jello body shots
— is guaranteed to disflatter 99.99% of women (and most men, barring a few really in-shape go-go dancers)
— doesn't even get the POCKETS right

Now, you're all grownups. You can wear what you like. But if I see you wearing this …. I will just be very disappointed, that's all.

I have been feeling mildly guilty because you guys have been sending me so many great links — much more than I could ever write about individually, even if I posted with BoingBoing-like frequency. BUT: they are so good that I don't want to deprive you of them, so I'm thinking about doing Linktastic Fridays. What do you all think?

First off, Jen sent me the awesome comic image up above. Who needs a two-timing guy when you have an outfit that great, I ask you?

Also: everyone's heard that Isaac Mizrahi is leaving Target to go to Liz Claiborne, right? I'm so excited about this; I really want to see what he can do at a slightly higher price point and a bigger collection. And I'm hoping maybe he'll choose some fit models that aren't so dern long-waisted …

Check out this ADORABLE corduroy windowpane-check jumper/dress (thanks to Lisa for the link). This one might show up as a Secret Lives someday, I think.

NYTimes reports on (recycled) juice box dress! Yes, I said juice box dress! (thanks to Barbara for the link)

Lisa at Miss Helene's found this great Home-Ec quiz in a pattern. Some of the questions stumped me, for sure. Try your luck … or just get a hit of sweet nostalgia off the mimeograph format.

Laura Skidmore of the Vintage Fashion Library was featured on CNN! And she gave a shout-out to Dress A Day! (And her hair in the picture is perfect …)

Robin sent a link to this truly terrifying 1970s jumper dress with the worst case of crotch-pocket I've ever seen. It takes quite a bit to make me dislike a pocket; this dress succeeded in doing so where so many others have failed.

And two sales for you: a bunch of sellers at Specialist Auctions are having a Vintage Blowout Sale — everything $19.99 or less! It started yesterday but I'm sure there's a ton of great stuff left (including lots of large-size patterns). More details are here …

If you have been looking for the original version of the Butterick Walk-Away Dress (6015) Jen has a copy right now (B30) available AND has a different shirtdress-like version with a narrow skirt! (And if you use the coupon code love15 you will save 15% off any sized order through the end of the month!)

Whew. Did I forget anything? If I did, that's why Blogger made comments …

I admit, I am kinda a fan of Valentine's Day. (And not just because I got woken up this morning by a seven-year-old giving me a card and a heart-shaped box of See's. In my house, if you haven't completed your celebration of any particular holiday — Easter, Christmas, Arbor Day — before seven a.m., you obviously shouldn't be allowed to participate.)

I like Valentine's as an excuse to wear red, obviously, and also because I think it's a great day to just be nice to people for no reason. Pick the grumpiest-looking random person you can find, and hold a door open for them today, or pay them a compliment. You can find something to compliment ANYONE about, I promise. (I'm very much looking forward to being an cheerfully eccentric old lady and can give people pieces of candy out of my pockets without them thinking it's creepy and weird.)

If only it were warm enough to wear the above dress in Chicago today (projected high: 39) I would be all over it. You should really click on the image to see the full effect, because this photo concentrates on the glorious rick-rack to the exclusion of the equally magnificent bandanna-print ruffle at the hem. Rick-rack and bandanna: does it get any better? (Well, I don't see any pockets on this one, but otherwise …)

It's $50 at Penelope Pup's Vintage. B36/W28. I think that if there's someone who was going to send you roses today (ESPECIALLY if that someone was yourself — hey, we've all been there, and it's not a bad place to be; when you're buying your own Valentine you never give yourself scratchy cheesy underwear) you should hint to that person to send you this instead. It will last longer, and probably isn't drenched in pesticide. A win all around!

If you want to see my last-year's Valentine's Dress, please to be clicking here.

You all know the hippo effect, don't you? You have one ceramic hippo on your desk, because you thought it was a bit silly and cute, and then in some kind of group delusion (and over your feeble protests) everyone suddenly thinks you collect hippos? And you get hippo-related items at every gift-giving occasion for the rest of your life (or until you put a ceramic owl on your mantel …)

Anyway, I think that I have now benefited from the hippo effect, since Anna kindly pointed out to me the eBay auction for a Liberty scarf (don't bother clicking, I bid and won already). On the one hand, I don't really wear scarves (although I have a Scrabble-print one I'm understandably fond of). Printed scarves usually need a plain outfit, and you know how many of THOSE I have (not many). But, on the other hand: Liberty! Fountain pens! In bright colors!

So perhaps I have transitioned from someone who merely sews with Liberty fabrics to being someone who collects Liberty-print *things*. (With any luck only flat ones …)

And did I ever tell y'all that my darling husband got me THESE for Christmas? And that the current state of "Always winter and never Christmas" here in Chicago is pushing back the date when I can start wearing them every day?

Too bad I can't conceive of an outfit (other than a Halloweeny "Homage to Liberty" costume) that could include BOTH these items. Suggestions welcome in the comments.

Julie sent me a link to the Pattern Rescue site, and I'm so happy she did.

Their site seems amazing; there you can, according to their home page:

Restore your damaged or incomplete vintage sewing patterns from the spare bits and pieces others have donated. Search our inventory of incomplete sewing patterns for the pieces you need. Replacement pieces are free; eligiblity restrictions apply.

Preserve a vintage sewing pattern and build Pattern Points by providing scans or copies of small pattern pieces, or by lending your pattern to duplicate larger pieces.

Recycle unwanted patterns that are not particularly collectible. Browse through the donations and pick out a few to add to your pattern stash — or send us the ones you no longer want but can't bear to throw away. Recycled patterns are free; quantity limits apply.

Trade collectible vintage patterns that you don't want for one that you'll treasure. Wander through the special collection of vintage patterns and embroidery transfers in need of a new home. Collectible patterns require a trade of Pattern Points you've earned.

Post a pattern request so we can help you find that elusive sewing or embroidery pattern you've been looking for, or for a pattern piece or two to patch up your incomplete pattern. Check the posts and see if you can help. Free service; moderated.

Have any of y'all used this service or sent patterns (I have dozens I could probably send and never, ever miss)? If not, what do you do with patterns that are missing pieces? (I swear at mine, it doesn't help to get the dress made but it does make me feel better.)

I should probably get them hooked up with the Vintage Sewing Patterns wiki, no?

I had to actually LEAVE THE HOUSE today (I know, shock, horror) and it's disgustingly cold outside. Did I cave in and wear pants? NO!

"But Erin," I hear you saying, "How can I continue my skirt- and dress-wearing ways when it's ONE DEGREE (F) outside?"

I don't know how you can do it, but this is how I do it; in addition to my dress or skirt I wear:

— two pairs of tights (this, alone, is warmer than most pairs of pants)
— wool socks inside my boots
— a silk undershirt (if I can remember where I put mine away in the spring, always a problem)
— a wool turtleneck sweater
— a hat, no matter how dorky I look in hats
— lip balm applied to about the thickness of cake frosting (not really about keeping warm, but essential nonetheless)

and … the secret weapon: if it's REALLY, REALLY cold, I keep handy a stock of those three-dollar chemical warmers you can buy in the drugstore. I'm not sure how they work — it could be little imps released from hell in there, but as long as they pump out the heat, I don't care. Putting one on top of your undershirt, between your shoulder blades (or even wearing one of the ones that looks like a belt, which are nearly invisible under a sweater) means you can laugh at the cold. (It may be a sniffly, pathetic, whimpering laugh, but still: laughing.) The best part of those chemical warmers is that they last ALL DAY and you can keep one handy in your bag, just in case. (The only thing I haven't tested is whether or not they set off the metal detector at the airport; last time I traveled wearing one I made a quick stop at the ladies' room to take it off. I try not to annoy the TSA with my unusual accessories any more than necessary.)

Also, La BellaDonna had some good comments about dressing for cold weather in the comments to this post, … feel free to add more hints and tips in the comments here, as well!

I always feel guilty when I don't blog more about the various fashion weeks. I mean — aren't they like the Super Bowl, the World Series, and the whatever-it-is that the NHL calls their championship? Stanley Cup? of fashion? Shouldn't I at least, you know, pay attention?

Well, I would, except so much of it is so gosh-darn ugly. I know it's very bourgeoisie of me to expect fashion to be pretty and wearable (or even moderately attractive and wearable), especially when there is virtually no circumstance I can think of up to and including winning the Powerball that would induce me to spend ten grand on a dress, but that's just how I am. I like my chili hot, my men sarcastic, and my fashion to not look as if the person wearing it had been tricked into auditioning for a Disney production of Moulin Rouge starring Minnie Mouse. For example.

So it's always a relief to see what Isaac Mizrahi is showing. Isn't this great? So wearable, without being boring. So true to the idea of American sportswear. So perfectly pink. And is he, or is he not, the only designer who really knows his way around a polo collar?

If you're looking for more Fashion Week coverage, then, I guess you better look elsewhere. I"m going to let the Isaac slideshow loop around to the front again …

Tressie at Funkoma Vintage on Etsy sent me this link to her pattern (on sale now, click the image, B38, yadda yadda), which struck me immediately as a mashup of the recently posted McCalls 8858 and any of the innumerable shirtdresses I've been acquiring.

This is super-cute, of course, but I would definitely interface the neckline with that heavy-duty Pellon ShirTailor stuff; I recently used it in the collar of a shirtdress and that collar would withstand waterboarding, it's so crisp.

The image is great, too. Don't you see this as some kind of mother-daughter team, where the mother is not quite sure what she's getting into (hence her hanging back and looking a bit lost), while the daughter is looking around appraisingly and is about to jump right in? She even has one glove off, all the better to punch somebody, if necessary. (It's really hard to get blood out of white kid gloves.)

I'm getting a slow start this morning (I think it's all the snow!) which is a shame. There's an enormous pile of new fabric (yeah I finally broke down and bought that damn gray people print from Fashion Fabrics Club) on the sewing table upstairs waiting to be ironed, which seems like a lovely thing to do on a bright snowy day. And yet my inbox is not at zero, which means taking an hour to go iron should not be on the agenda … I need to figure out how to get an ironing setup in my office, what a nice thing that would be to do while on conference calls!

I was recently sent a copy of Hadley Freeman's The Meaning of Sunglasses to review. I wasn't exactly sure that I would enjoy it; you all know how I feel about most of the fashion-industrial complex. Also I have exactly one pair of (prescription) sunglasses, and they're decidedly not designer (they're very nice tortoise cats-eyes, classic, I've had them for years): what on earth would I find to like in a book called The Meaning of Sunglasses?

The answer, of course, is "quite a bit". Hadley's voice is wry and quite often exasperated and she doesn't take either herself or the fashion industry too seriously. We also agree on the core issues, e.g., dresses:

A good dress will never make you feel fat, it can be worn with flats or heels, and everybody can find a style that suits them—absolutely none of these statements can be applied to trousers with 100 percent certainty.

and shoes:

The brilliant thing about the sudden and surprising emergence of the thick heel—aside from the fact that, after 2000 years, shoemakers seem to have come to grips with the idea of weight distribution—is that it doesn't look like you're trying so hard to be sexy, and this, in itself, is sexier.

Of course, there is much that Ms Freeman and I disagree on: she's very down on orange coats (my favorite coat of the fall was traffic-cone orange); she's not a fan of Liberty ("Liberty prints have a kitsch appeal and so can only be worn in measured doses"), and neither does she like cardigans ("it is a rare woman who gets too excited about buying just one cardigan, never mind four or five" — I must be a rare woman, then …). Wacky eyeglasses also come in for a little bit of finger-wagging. But her tone is such that I know if I met her in a bar wearing my orange coat, a cotton cardigan over my riotous Liberty-print dress, with bright-blue eyeglasses, she'd roll with it, and we'd have a great time.

Another plus: I laughed out loud several times, especially at this bit about Karl (He-Must-Be-Stopped) Lagerfeld: "Now he looks like a psychotic sixteenth-century German courtier, just as he'd intended."

Ideally, this is a book that a close girlfriend would give you as a gift, with the funnier parts called out with little post-it tags. At $24.95, it's just slightly too expensive (and the content slightly too lightweight) to really justify as a fashion-library addition. Also, if you read it straight through (as I did), some of it has the feel of reworked newspaper columns (Ms Freeman writes for the Guardian), with some repeated phrases and jokes. In fact, while you're waiting for someone to give you this book, I recommend subscribing to her RSS feed.

As for the sunglasses … you'll have to read the book to find out exactly what they mean. This is a spoiler-free zone, people!

pincushion from Dottyral on Etsy

I get a lot of email asking me how to learn to sew, and with so many other things in life, the answer is "It Depends."

First of all, you have to know how you learn. Are you someone who likes the "monkey-see, monkey-do" approach? Then you probably want to learn from a person, instead of a book. Do you want to learn in a big group where you can hide in the back, or do you need one-on-one attention? Do you do better with a kindly-grandma type who's never met a zipper she couldn't fix, or do you want a hip young thing wearing a deconstructed t-shirt? If you are going to learn from a family member or friend, will your relationship survive the first buttonhole? (Be honest with yourself. If a family dinner with Aunt Biddy has you gritting your teeth and wishing for death, she is NOT the person to teach you how to sew.)

If your fingers itch at the thought of not being able to just jump in yourself and TRY things, maybe you should learn from a book. I really like the Reader's
Digest Complete Guide to Sewing, because it has great pictures and is very matter-of-fact; other people swear by the Singer Sewing Essentials book or the Vogue Sewing Book, among other titles. I recommend that, if you go the book route, you buy at least two books (or as many as you can afford the money and space for) so that you can get second opinions if something doesn't work for you. (Remember, sewing is like perl: There's More Than One Way To Do It.)

Then there's the question of What Do You Sew First? Again, how do you work? Will you do better with the challenge of a complicated first project (because you really, really want the result)? Or will you be happy making a basic tote bag or placemat that you wouldn't otherwise want or use, just to learn techniques slowly? Will you not be motivated unless you're sewing beautiful fabric, or will it rip you up inside if you ruin something special?

And another thing: how do you deal with frustration and failure? Because learning to sew, at least at first, will add heaping doses of both into your life, I'm sorry to say. If frustration makes you crazy-angry, with bouts of throwing things and/or screaming, try to sew when your family/roommate/pet parakeets are elsewhere. Take lots of deep breaths. One deep breath for each stitch ripped out is a pretty good ratio.

If "failing" at something makes you want to sleep for a week (and either stop eating altogether or mainline Ben & Jerry's): redefine 'failure'. You didn't fail to make a skirt, you succeeded in learning how NOT to make a skirt! Go into every project, at least for the first few projects, with the goal of learning, and not with the goal of making something couture-level. Define success generously. If you got the machine threaded right, didn't sew through your finger, and the two pieces of fabric join up more or less evenly? You won. Do a victory lap.

More advice: isolate your variables. Don't try everything at once! In other words, don't try to change a pattern's size or design AND do a new technique you've never tried before AND use a difficult fabric: if something goes wrong you will find it hard to figure out just what to blame (except for sunspots: I find it convenient to blame sunspots for everything).

I still think the ideal first project is a full skirt; it gives you only one part of your body to fit (your waist), encourages you to jump right in to zippers (Zippers: not that hard. Take some deep breaths, go slowly, and baste; you'll be fine), and, truly, a full skirt is also forgiving of minor "mistakes". Waistband uneven? Don't tuck in your shirt! Your hem is wobbly? Walk fast, they'll never notice.

Lastly, here are some things I wish I'd known when I first learned to sew … and that I wish I followed 100% now!

• Cutting is five times as important as construction. Honestly. Once you've cut the pattern, your track is chosen. It's much harder to recover from a cutting error than a sewing error. If you take your time on the cutting out, you will never regret it. Don't cut out patterns when you're tired, angry, or distracted (or, needless to say, drunk); you'll never wear the dress. And all those markings on the patterns? MARK THEM ALL. You won't be able to 'figure it out later' — believe me, I KNOW.
• Have everything in place before you start sewing. And by everything, I mean, wind one more bobbin than you think you'll need, know where your seam ripper, measuring tape, pins, zipper foot for your machine, etc., are. If the project needs seam binding or buttons or a zipper or interfacing: have it before you start. The fabric store is a sad, sad place at ten p.m. (if it's even open). And once you get home with whatever it was you needed, sitting down with a book will look awfully inviting. (Of course, being by nature impatient and NOT having what you need can lead to some "interesting" design decisions … not that I would know. Ha.)
• Put your stuff away in the right place when you're done. That way you won't have to spend an hour cleaning up from your LAST project before you can start your NEXT project. Total buzzkill, that is.
• Eliminate the "shouldas" from your sewing life. Has a project descended into that abyss from which it shall never emerge? Write. It. Off. Don't let it hang around your sewing room like some Dickensian ghost. Give it away, cut it into quilt squares, mash it up for papermaking, hold an unfinished-object-swap with all your sewing friends, heck, throw it out or burn it if you have to — I don't care what you do with it, but once you get to the point where thinking of it makes you feel guilty and self-flagellating, it is not a "unfinished project" but a curséd albatross. Sewing is no longer something people need to do to survive on the frontier [if you ARE on the frontier, pls ignore this part]; it's a FU
  N HOBBY. Vigorously expunge the parts that aren't fun. So you screwed up. So what? Bury the evidence, deny, deny, deny, and move ON.

I called this "Part One" as I may (or may not, you never know) add other parts later. But don't wait for them! Start now!