'Cause if this blog WERE nominated for, say, a Bloggie, I sure wouldn't refuse the honor. (I'm just saying.)

The only thing that would make it better would be if there were a huge awards ceremony that involved making a new dress. Maybe a red chiffon one?

I want this with an unnatural and possibly unholy desire. The dress on the left, natch. Which I want to make in sheer red organza with a red satin sash, in order to take it from "terrified (and heavily drugged) child bride" to "whore" in one short step, but either way it's wrong.

I could also see it in black organza, but that would be "I killed four husbands, but they can't prove anything! Want to come up for a drink, big boy?"

Somebody, do me a favor and click on the image to buy it before I lose all reason, 'kay? Cause it's my size and I might not be able to hold out much longer. It's $26, which is a small price to pay to avoid having to see me in red organza with ruffles. (Or, ooooh, grass green lawn! With a floral chintz sash!) Hurry! There's not much time.

I love how belligerent the women in this illustration look. They are just one sidewise glance away from a real, cinematic-quality, GLOW-style catfight.

But I'm not buying this pattern, even though I love the design (and the illustration) because I think I have all the parts and I can do that trim effect on the neck and sleeves myself. And probably will, very soon.

I'm pretty lazy — I think I told Jonquil that I'm perfectly happy to pay Vogue Patterns $20 to do math for me so I wouldn't have to figure out how to make a tiered skirt — but I won't pay for a pattern that just tells me how to add some bias trim or a shaped facing.

If you don't already have this bodice and skirt kicking around in your collection, go ahead and click on the image!

There's no fabric description on this, so it might be polyester — nobody "forgets" to mention that something is silk — but I love the print. It has a zipper up the back (which I hate) — but I love the print. It might be 1980s — but I love the print. The only reason I haven't clicked "Buy It NOW"–it's only $15–is that it's just slightly too large for me (38/32/38) and I don't need any more reasons to eat the leftover Christmas candy than I already have.

I've also resolved that I'm not going to apologize for my taste in wacky prints any more. Doesn't it leave more plain black clothes for everyone else? I am performing a public service, even if it sometimes confuses people. Like the time I was in Nordstrom's, wearing an orange striped skirt, orange tights, and an orange sweater (I also really like orange, so sue me) and I heard the salesclerk say "Oh, it's right over there, just past the woman in the …. black boots." I managed to make it down the escalator before cracking up.

Anyway, if this is your size, it's probably worth asking the seller (Maggie Flower's Vintage Clothing) what the fabric is, and if it's not polyester, it's certainly worth $15!

It's a good thing that it didn't even cross my mind to resolve not to buy more fabric in 2006, because it's what, Jan 3? and I have clicky fingers on eBay again. Isn't this gorgeous? It's Marimekko fabric from the 1990s. It's not actually what I bought, though — at $55, plus shipping from AUSTRALIA, it's a little too pricey for me for 138 x 100 cm. Also, although I love Marimekko, like all right-thinking individuals, you always run the risk of blending in with someone's couch and pillows when you sew with home dec fabric (it's usually a risk I'm willing to take, if the fabric is cheap enough). However, I wasn't able to resist this:

Isn't that great? It was much cheaper than the Marimekko too, if also a bit smaller. I'm sure I have that 1-yd skirt pattern still lying around somewhere, or I can use it as a accent fabric for that Hippie Chick Hotpatterns dress.

Go check out Retro Age–they have tons of amazing fabric. And it's a good exercise in patience, to wait the weeks that it will take to have the fabric come from Australia!

Sorry for the sidewise view, but the full-on was a bit fuzzy. Go check out the auction for a better look. And do it in a hurry — this one ends Jan 3. I don't usually post things that are ending so soon, but this is B49/W37, in perfect shape, and the starting bid is $39.99. So go!

It's hard to find larger sizes in good condition; one theory is that they've always been so sparse on the ground that they get worn to death. The other is that, since they're larger, they get cut down into smaller garments. I'm sure there are other theories out there, some of which probably involve the old socks-and-the-dryer chestnut, but hey, if you put a dress like this in the dryer you deserve to have it disappear!

The dress is rayon, the buttons rhinestone, the dots heavy net. Really a stunner. Check out the other VintageTrend auctions while you're there; lots of good stuff!

New Year's Eve is probably one of the few nights of the year where people really dress up. So, while you are all gulping coffee and having a morning after the night before, why don't you take a moment to comment and tell me what you were wearing yesterday? Don't be shy!

Me, I went out to dinner with Mr. Dress A Day (at Frontera Grill yum, plus: mariachis! Everything is better with mariachis!). I wore an ankle-length half-circle black silk skirt (yes, I know, not a dress, but the restaurant wasn't fancy enough — or the night warm enough — for my usual NYE dresses), a white tee, a pale gray cashmere cardigan, a double strand of choker-length Carolee pearls, a big new pink-and-silver Swatch, pale pink fishnets, my silver 1950s lunchbox handbag, and these shoes:

I topped the whole thing with my 1950s velvet clutch coat with the big collar. I'm really, really fond of those shoes; too bad I only feel justified wearing them once a year!

So: what about you?

I had a figure problem with the fashions of the past
But no more figure problem–now my shape's in style at last

In the sack
In the sack
No one knows that I'm poorly designed
I'm a runt in the front
And there's too much behind what's behind
But who knows
And who sees
Underneath my Parisian chemise
Who can tell what I lack
I'm in perfect design
Every fella of mine
Says I'm simply divine
In the sack

I'm a mess
In a dress
With a peck-a-boo split up the side
And I frown on a gown
Where there simply is no place to hide
So blow horns
Wave the flag
I'm the belle of the ball in the bag
I'm the pick of the pack
Since I took up the trend
Every gentleman friend
Says I'm simply the end
(In the sack)

For the new look
I was much too dumpy
I could never get a sheath around myself
For the flat look
I was much too lumpy
But I found myself
When I found myself

In the sack
In the sack
I am burning my old basic black
Each designer I see
From New York to Paree
Wants to throw little me
In the sack.

Lyrics by Jerry Herman (click on image to go to a book of his lyrics).

A bit of backstory: I am fairly nondescript-looking. Really. I mean, sure, my glasses are pink (or green or blue, or yellow) and I wear the kinds of prints that insensitive pranksters like to hide in the closets of blind people, but physically, I am not all that striking. Which means that folks often say that they know someone who LOOKS JUST LIKE ME. Really! Their cousin's friend, a girl they went to high school with, someone they knew vaguely at their first job … who could be my twin.

So my jokey answer, of course, is "Oh, yes, that must be my good twin." (Evil twin references ALWAYS equal comedy.)

But today, searching on the phrase "the most gorgeous dress ever", I found her. My spiritual twin: she writes a fashion diary/blog. However, she's my EVIL twin. How do I know she's evil? Because THIS is what what she thought was "the most gorgeous dress ever":

For once, I'm not going to apologize for how small the pic is. Any bigger and you'd be looking at permanent damage to your optic nerve. Maybe even hallucinations.

Oh yes, this is one of those smocky "dresses" — I use the word "dress" for this only because she does — that people wear belted, over jeans, like so:

She describes this as "pretty without being too heavy, comfortable without being too casual, and incredibly workable – can be worn alone as a dress or skirt, with jeans, belted, you name it". (My name for it would be "anathema," frankly.) Question: this is a strapless smocked cotton housedress–how is it not too casual? Oh, it must be because (you can't tell from the pic) it's SEQUINED. So you have to hand-wash it.

And she says the sizing is good, because the S/M fits her perfectly. I'm sorry. S/M is not a SIZE. S/M is a punt. S/M says "Oh, I'm sorry, I only design in two sizes, one for me, and one for my one friend (whom we call "plus-size" because she wears a size 10). She wears the M/L."

One other thing: it was $120. Yes, that's right. $120. C'mon, people! Paying $120 for this makes (choose one): the baby Jesus cry; America weak and our enemies strong; no friggin' sense.

Of course, she posted about this last January, so perhaps she's had a come-to-Jesus moment and is now featuring vintage (or at least actual dresses) on her site, right? Right?

Wrong.

(Do not adjust your set: the picture was like this when I got it.)

Ah well. It was fun being the evil twin while it lasted. I suppose that now that I'm the good twin I should bone up on past eps of The Patty Duke Show, which I only have to think of to be horribly earwormed with the theme song ("They're cousins, identical cousins …"). Goddammit, again.

Click on any of the images above to visit the Style Diary site. Just remember that while I may not agree with what you choose to wear (and might mock you), I will defend to the death your right to wear it and post fuzzy pictures of it on the internet.

Okay, one more from Macojero's, inspired by Madelene who bought a different mod dress that I won't taunt you with (even though it was supercute) because she already bought it. (Duh.)

This one is so nice, with the completely non-functional shoulder tabs (to evoke epaulets?) and the diagonal lines, and no real place to put a pocket. And I've always loved that just-over-the-shoulder-point sleeve, although it's hard to make that look good without putting in a lot of time in the gym. Basically, I've just said I love this dress although it is: 1) non-functional 2) inconvenient and 3) unflattering. (To which I say ::bronx cheer::)

I have a ton of mod patterns, but I don't really ever sew with them. I just like to keep them around in case I miraculously turn into Jean Shrimpton overnight. Although even being Jean Shrimpton wouldn't make up for having to wear sticky plastic shoes and accessories. Vinyl is for records, not for shoes (or handbags).