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!

I just bought two of these curtain panels from Target. They are going to be a dress. Seriously, I'm not even kidding. Two panels should be about four yards @ 44" wide. I would have purchased three, but that's a little pricey. What with shipping and all it's about $10/yard, but I don't care, my jones for alphabet-print fabric in perfect colorways knows no bounds.

Supposedly this is a nursery pattern, but again, see me with the not-caring. What's the downside of making a dress from this? Small children will find me strangely comforting?

There's a really lovely pink kind of cattail-ish print, as well, that would be just as nice for a grown-up girl (or retro boy) as it is for an infant.

I draw the line, though, at transforming the changing-table cover into a hat.

[Oh, and while I'm thinking about it — you might have seen my name on an article in the latest CRAFT: magazine, about turning a tablecloth into a circle skirt … many thanks to Arwen who liked the idea!]

There's a ton of nice stuff up at Kitty Girl Vintage right now but this one (as you might expect) caught my eye. That enormous belt — how perfectly surreal!

It's described as a "small/tall 36" 26" free hips (17" shoulder to waist, 39" waist to hem)" and is $366; a bit pricey, yes, but I think it's worth it.

This dress is the perfect bridge between the too-safe Little Black Dress and full-on sartorial eccentricity; training wheels for speeding away from boring eveningwear, if you will.

If money were no object (and in my dress fantasies, it never is), I'd get a rhinestone necklace made up just to go with this dress, one where the clasp was also an giant buckle, meant to be worn at about the 4 o'clock position on the neck.

Sadly, it's fairly apparent from the photo that the huge buckle is not also a capacious (and very hard to reach) pocket. That would just be too perfect …

[Click on the image to visit the listing page.]

Dilly recently posted a comment to the effect that the V&A had recently hosted Liberty archivist Anna Buruma, who spoke about the history of that company and their designs.

Needless to say, I was just shattered to have missed this (leaving aside that taking a trip from Chicago to London for a two-hour event would not have been very ecologically responsible of me). But it got me to thinking — someone who reads this blog must have contact info for Ms. Buruma, yes? And if we asked very nicely, don't you think she'd like to do a Q&A with us?

Massive amounts of searching have failed to turn up a contact email (I suppose I *could* just CALL THE STORE, but that seems so twentieth-century). If, in fact, anyone does know Ms. Buruma and could effect an introduction, I'd be very, very grateful. And in the meantime, you could leave the questions you'd want asked in the comments, just in case …

[Fabric is Liberty Mauverina, from eBay seller laluthan.]

UPDATE: I have exchanged emails with Ms. Buruma and she is willing to be interviewed … please leave any questions you'd like me to ask in the comments! Thanks so much to LondonGirl for getting us in touch!

I broke down and bought this pattern again. I know it seems profligate to buy another copy of a pattern that I already own, but I only have this pattern in a larger bust size (bought it when I was still nursing and thought I would be living in the land of the ample-chested forever) and, honestly, it's easier for me to spend $8 on eBay than two hours redrafting. Welcome to my first-world life, the next tour begins in twelve minutes.

I have to say that this is one of my favorite necklines in the history of the dress (and/or the neck). It's just the right combo of sweet and elegant, and it is really fun both to make and to wear.

A few years back, just before I started blogging, I made this bodice about eight different times. There was an Eiffel tower print, and a black-and-white print, and a blue kind of atomic/lava-lamp blob print, and a few others I'm sure I'm not remembering. They all got worn into shreds, and rightly so.

It's also freakishly quick to make (unlike a lot of those "sew it today, wear it tonight!" patterns I see). There are a few darts, a few seams, a side zipper, and a hem, and boom, you're done and walking out the door in it (and, if you're me, trailing many, many tiny pieces of thread, but that's not the PATTERN'S fault).

So: if I had a Dress A Day stamp of approval, or ribbon, or underwriting laboratory, this pattern would be stamped, be-ribboned, and certified for all on- and off-label uses.

And maybe this time I'll even make the little jacket!

It's been some time since I answered in a general way some of the common questions that are emailed to me, so maybe it's time to do so again …

The #1 question I seem to get lately is not so much a question, but a request for me to make people stuff. I wish I could, really, but being able to sew well for other people is a special gift and requires vast reserves of time and patience, neither of which I have. At all. So, while I sympathize with your desire for the prom dress, wedding gown, or shirtwaist of your dreams, you must make those dreams a reality in some other way.

Probably question #2 is "How big is your closet?" to which the answer is, "Not big enough!" Heh. I do make a LOT of dresses, but I tend to rotate them in and out of service and keep the things I can't POSSIBLY give away (fewer than you'd think) in big plastic tubs. Also, I'm a klutz so it's the rare dress that avoids life-ending ketchup or ink stains for more than a year or so.

Question #3 tends to be "Will you link to me?" I'd like to, I'd really like to (okay, not the skeevy spam-farming fake-watch-selling people, you KNOW who you ARE) but right now I'm idly contemplating a site redesign and waiting on that to mess with my links, since changing all that is going to be a huge horrible PITA. Any suggestions for the redesign would not be taken amiss. (Oh, and if you are asking me to link to your latest me-too "fashionista"-type site that has NOTHING to do with dresses or vintage but is instead all crappy overpriced handbags, celebrity sunglasses, and embellished jeans: who do you think you're fooling? Either you've never read this site AT ALL, or your reading comprehension has been adversely affected by the Giant Freakin' Logos unevenly distributed about your person. Ahem.)

Question #4 seems to be "Would you like to participate in our banner ad campaign?" to which the answer is also "No, thank you." I only want to run ads on this site that are for small businesses who support home sewing or sell vintage fashion. This means I've turned down dunnohowmany jeans companies (Again: what is it with the jeans people and READING COMPREHENSION?), major diet companies, financial services companies, etc.

Question #5 is "Will there be more Secret Lives?" Answer: yes. Soon. I promise.

I'm assuming the question that will be most often asked in the comments on this post is "WHERE can I get that pattern up at the top of the entry?", so I'm heading it off at the pass by saying that it's on eBay right now (from Rita at Chez Cemetarian). Feel free to click through and visit it!

Drat that Julie. If she hadn't linked to this pattern I never would have bought it. Well, okay, I *probably* wouldn't have bought it. Possibly wouldn't have bought it? Might not have bought it on FRIDAY? Hmmmph.

But I saw that little buttoned cuff on the short sleeve and it was lurve. That, along with the pocket, meant I had to have it. As well Julie knew. Hmmph again, I say.

I even did some sewing yesterday, but it got to the point where the dress and I had a little difference of opinion, so I left it alone in a time-out to think about where it went wrong. I used this fabric, with a pattern I swear I've blogged about before but can't find. Oh, well. There will be pictures someday. (I used red trim, too, on the pockets and collar, and red buttons.)

I'm traveling the next couple of days so posting may be spotty. And sewing will be non-existent, unless I lose a button …