I didn't think I had a picture of the first dress I ever made, but I do. The only thing is, I'm not wearing it.

That's me, on the right, in full nerd ectasy, clutching the ribbons I won at the NJCL Forum in 1986. I don't know if that was the year I got a first in Phrases and Mottoes, or if that was the year I got eighth in Latin Grammar by christmas-treeing the ScanTron bubbles, or if that was the year I got eighth in girls' shotput by the simple expedient of there being only eight competitors in the girls' shotput, but it really doesn't matter: I was very happy to be there. Can't you tell?

I'm wearing the dress my mom made for me (while I watched her do it, so I could learn how to sew). It was very long, almost ankle-length, and made of baby cotton with pink rosebuds on it, and I had never loved a dress in my life the way I loved that dress. Even Keith Morgan (who made homeroom "interesting") announcing that it made me look pregnant (and asking me, repeatedly, who the father was) couldn't kill my love for that dress.

My friend N. is wearing the dress I made. She hadn't packed a dress for the dance, so I lent her mine. It was almost the same pattern as the rosebud dress, but with more scooped neckline, and shorter. Why I didn't lend her the longer one, as she was so much taller than I was, I don't know. I'm sure I had a good reason at the time.

It's weird to see the embryonic Erin-style in this photo, to see what's the same and what's different. I always wear my glasses now (I always wore contacts then). I no longer have braces, thankfully, and I haven't been that tan since I stopped living in Florida. I still wear hoop earrings (smaller ones). I'm still obsessed with Swatch watches, and I still have that paisley one. I think if I could find that fine baby rosebud-print cotton again, I'd probably make another dress out of it.

And, in case you're wondering, we had a great time at the dance.

Caroline was nice enough to send me a copy of Saturday Night Hat by Eugenia Kim, and I *really* like it.

First of all, and I know this is the kind of thing only an editor would notice or appreciate, but one Joanne Paek is given credit, right on the cover, for technical writing. That's awesome, because, well, technical pattern writing is HARD. And no matter how good you are at the doing, the writing of the doing is a completely different skill. I really admire Kim (and her publisher, Potter Craft) for not only hiring a technical writer, but giving her prominent credit. That's a sign of a generous spirit and consideration for the readers.

And that generous spirit continues through the book. Kim outlines half-a-dozen classic hats with as many variations each. I'm not especially a hat person (okay, I love hats, but that thing you do when you look in the mirror and take one thing off before you leave the house? What usually comes off, in my case, is the hat) but I'm definitely going to make her beret, and probably the cloche and the fedora as well, if I can figure out a way to keep the latter two from fighting with my glasses. Some of her hats are worth wearing contact lenses for, and that's saying something.

One last thing: isn't that bib dress on the cover adorable! I love it with the fedora (although I also believe that cowboy boots are fashion-victimy nine times out of ten. Of course, every time I see that tenth woman on whom cowboy boots are *perfect*, I change my mind …)

Thank you, Caroline! What a great book!

Carol (of Dandelion Vintage) sent me the link to this auction, which I missed. Completely whiffed. Got behind on my email from being away (>800 real, that is, non-spam, messages) and flat-out didn't get to it in time.

Which is a shame, because LOOK!

Yep, those are little blackbirds spelling out letters of the alphabet. Why? I don't know, but I don't much care, either. I just love it.

Of course, it's probably a good thing that I didn't bid, because I don't know if I would have gone up to $141, which is where the auction ended. And of course I haven't really been wearing my vintage stuff all that much lately, so perhaps I would have spent the $$ and then let it languish in my closet. Better for it to have a good home, with someone who will wear it in the sunshine. Or, you know, a smoky bar. Wherever. As long as it's worn.

However, I have absolutely put these pics in my file labeled "For the Glorious Day When I Have My Own Fabric Mill," because I really want blackbird-alphabet fabric. I also want hedgehog alphabet fabric, too … just in case you see any of that around.

I'm a bit cranky today, so I'm glad to be able to show this dress, which is listed by Chez Cemetarian.

You know that cranky feeling you get when you've tried to talk someone out of doing something stupid, something that might well backfire on them, and they go and do it anyway? That's the cranky I have today, matched up with a little bit of a head cold. Somehow looking at this dress makes it slightly better.

I really like the completely superfluous straps. I think this would be a great dress for a gangster moll in a movie, because you KNOW, at some point, the Bad Man She Loves In A Hopeless Way will grab her by those straps. And you will have known that the Bad Man will do that from the first moment of seeing her in this dress, but no matter HOW MUCH you yell at the screen, she will never stop loving the Bad Man.

The two-tone version is pretty great, too, and of course, the jacket. But it's the moll in red who first caught my attention. Why won't she realize that the Bad Man is wrong for her, and that she should rat him out to the handsome G-Man instead? Because you can't talk people out of doing stupid things, that's why.

The pattern's B34 and has an opening bid of $5.99, with no bids right now. It ends in three days, so get cracking …

First of all, I have been looking for an excuse to link to Elisa's Bodacious House of Style for a while. I missed my chance during her 'pose-off' with Fred, and I keep checking her store waiting for something to demand to be a post, but have had no luck so far. But now she's scanned the newspaper article above, and so I can post it and credit her. Yay!

Elisa gives the date of the paper she scanned as 1953. Another helpful eBayer (the eBay vintage seller boards are really quite nice, I wish I had more time to hang out there) unknownshopper, added a link to this PDF, "Body Shape Analysis of Hispanic Women in the United States", by Elizabeth Newcomb, which looks very interesting, and includes this information:

Development of Sizing Standard “CS 215-58”

The O’Brien and Shelton study of 1941 did not result in a sizing standard until the 1950s. In 1958, the U.S. Department of Commerce issued a new commercial standard known as CS 215-58 based on the 1939 study. This standard used four classifications of women (Misses, Women’s, Half-Sizes, and Juniors), three height groups (Tall, Regular, and Short), a bust measurement, and three hip types (Slender, Average, and Full) to classify sizes (U.S. Department of Commerce, 1958).

The sizes were based on bust measurement, height group, and drop value (difference between hip and bust circumference), and yielded over 20 sizes for use by the apparel industry (Chun-Yoon & Jasper, 1993). However, this standard was only voluntary, meaning that manufacturers did not have to follow it. They could either revise it to fit their needs, use it as it was created, or disregard it entirely. In addition, it was based on the 1939 study by O’Brien and Shelton, and thus suffered from the same inadequacies that the study had. Due to these problems, women of the 1950’s and 1960’s attempted to get around a growing size problem by using corsets and girdles to mold their bodies to the shapes of the clothing produced (Agins, 1994).

Development of Sizing Standard “PS 42-70”

Despite these problems, the next step in the history of sizing standards did not occur until 1971, when the U.S. Department of Commerce released a new voluntary standard, known as PS 42-70. This standard was basically a revision of the previous standard CS 215-58, but did include modifications based on a health survey performed by the National Center for Health Statistics in 1962. This survey indicated that U.S. adults were taller and heavier than they were in 1940. Thus, the bust girth was increased by one grade interval per size code for all figures. Other changes from CS 215-58 included the elimination of “Slender” and “Full” hip options for all figure types as well as the elimination of the “Tall” option in the Juniors’ and Women’ figure types (U.S. Department of Commerce, 1970).

Even with all of these changes to the CS 215-58 standard, the new PS 42-70 standard was still voluntary and based on the 1939 study by O’Brien and Shelton. At this time, still none of the problems with sizing systems had been confronted.

Thanks also to Mary Beth for the pointer to the discussion …

I know this pattern is waiting for me at home; I think it came in the mail just as I was leaving (from eBay seller Simmons Books). It's oddly perfect; it has all of my fetishistic desires in a pattern: square neckline, short kimono sleeves, midriff band, full skirt — it's so perfect I'm nearly afraid to make it, as what if all those things together somehow cancel each other out? Like the time I made tea (I was about ten, I think) thinking "I like tea with milk, and I like tea with lemon, tea with lemon and milk must be GREAT!" (It wasn't.)

Luckily this little break has not been me (as usual) trying to do all the things I like, all at the same time. I just chose ONE thing I really like (watching my son have fun) and did that. So what if it involved amusement parks (or as they're called here in Florida, "attractions")? And accompanying him on rides that made me deliberately unfocus my eyes, the better not to sag against the WHOLLY INADEQUATE "safety" restraints in gibbering terror? And eating only things that had been fried (twice-fried, if possible)? Despite the grease, and the terror, and the finding out after three hours in the sun that the SPF 40 I'd been slathering on everyone within arm's reach had expired in 2005, this little trip turned out to be surprisingly fun. So what if I ended up spending the whole (interminable) three circuits of the Ferris wheel staring fixedly at the floor of the gondola and imploring a wriggling seven-year-old to keep his little butt ON the seat? It makes a good story, right? (I didn't used to be afraid of heights, and I'm still not, at least not for me. I don't care if *I* die from an overenthusiastic application of the law of gravity. Everyone's gotta go somehow, right? But I really, really, really don't want to watch someone else go that way. Especially not anyone I spent a lot of time and effort PERSONALLY MAKING in my WOMB.)

So despite having really enjoyed myself here doing just one thing at a time, I'm ready to go home, resume my usual semicompetent multitasking, and see if this overdetermined pattern is as good as it looks. If not, I'll go find a pattern that has just ONE of my top-five fave details and concentrate on making that one the best I can.

I know, I know, I said "no more patterns" a while back, but frankly, I don't think any of you thought I meant it. I certainly didn't. And how could I hold to that resolution, when confronted by this pattern, from eBay seller stevijean?

It's by Mollie Parnis, who I admit I knew nothing about before googling her. (And I still don't know that much, except I know I like this dress.)

I didn't think I was a big ruffle person (parsed either as "person who likes big ruffles" or "person who really likes ruffles") but for some reason this dress just seemed really FUN. Like, make it in blue gingham fun. Like, laugh a lot while wearing it fun. Just plain FUN fun.

And I think it would also be charming in a nice thin black batiste, very summery yet not too girlish (despite the ruffles) worn with a black grosgrain ribbon belt. And if I could find dark-gray-on-black seersucker? THAT would be perfect.

The only thing I don't like about this pattern is how deep the vee is in the back, but I'm pretty sure I can fix that in the cutting-out.

Sorry no dress yesterday; it was my first day teaching (a class on dictionaries at Northwestern) and I wanted to be overprepared. (I think I missed overprepared and skewed right into "brain dump" but we'll see.) I'm also going to be scarce here until at least next Tuesday; we're taking off tomorrow for a family visit and I'm toying with the idea of Not Bringing My Laptop Along. It's scary (well, not too scary, I can check email on my phone) but the point of vacation is to vacate, yes?

Check out this dress, from Diane von Furstenberg (click on the link to visit the sale page at Bloomingdale's, where it's $325).

I'm not a huge fan of this style of dress, but the fabric … I *REALLY* want this fabric. I really want about five yards of this fabric! I've been looking for ginkgo fabric forever.

So I'm offering a bounty. If you can tell me where the DVF sells her bolt-ends, and I am able to find this fabric off your clue, I will make you a circle skirt. Seriously. (And I *never* sew for other people, except very occasionally my sister.)

(Thanks also to everyone who commented on Saturday's puzzle dress! I had a great time at the tournament, but I fell short of my goal … I wanted to finish as contestant 666, but I only managed to come in at 609. So about 55 fewer people than planned can now say "I beat a dictionary editor at crosswords!" Of course, there's always next year … )

I am not a puzzle expert. People are sometimes disappointed to learn this, because, obviously, as a lexicographer, I should be good at everything to do with words, including crosswords, Scrabble, and handwriting. (Note: I am not good at any of the preceding.)

I enjoy crosswords, but I'm not competitive, and if it's a choice between spending two hours hurting myself with the Sunday puzzle, and making a new skirt, I usually go for "make a new skirt."

So why am I wearing this dress (RIGHT NOW, I'm wearing this dress) at the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament?

Well, it's complicated, but it boils down to "I'm working for some folks making a words documentary and they got me to talk puzzle-guy-extraordinaire Francis into making a crossword with a bunch of underused words in it for me, and they're filming people solving it tonight."

Of course, once I knew I would be attending, the important question was "what will I wear?" Then I saw this fabric and, well, I *never* turn down a chance to make a stunt dress.

This is roughly the same pattern as this dress, which I made last year, but I couldn't find the skirt pattern pieces, which I think I had reassigned to another pattern last summer. So I Frankensteined it up with a different skirt pattern with has a scalloped bottom. (Which: never again! I had to HAND-SEW the edge binding on it! The skirt sure looks cute, though, so I'm sure I will eventually forget what a pain in the ass it was to do and try and make it again someday. Although you can't really see the scallops in the picture.)

Anyway, since I'm here, I thought I may as well compete, and thus give a whole lot of people the joy of beating a real, live dictionary editor in a crossword puzzle contest. Perhaps next year I will extend my altruism to the Scrabble tournament, where I would also be roundly shellacked.

Here's a closeup of the bodice (which is not exactly perfect, just like my puzzle-solving ability!):

The piping's a bit uneven (again, like my puzzle … you get the idea).

I'm having a great time here so far, though! Although that's probably because the contest hasn't actually started. I expect to be tearing my hair out and groaning within the hour.

(Above illustration from The Workwoman's Guide [and it's a downloadable PDF, thank you Google Book Search!])

Are you unsurprised, as I was, to learn that the V&A website has a whole section on pockets? It's a good one, too (also unsurprising) and traces the initial demise of the pocket and rise of the handbag to the radical change in women's fashion of the 1790s, when dresses became too narrow to admit of the wearing of separate pockets tied around the waist under the dress. Because of this, women began to carry little bags, called reticules, which accommodated much less than the capacious separate pockets.

Last night I walked about fifty blocks (intentionally, and with a glad heart). The weather was beautiful — it was a warm soft wet night (okay, I admit it, I like walking in a light rain), and I wasn't carrying a bag.

I had ditched my purse-cum-laptop-bag as it was just too big to dangle off me all night while I stood around clutching my club soda at a party (and I didn't bring a smaller bag with me on this trip). Besides, between the pocket in my skirt and the pockets of my coat, I could carry the essentials (ID, money, lipstick, treo, ipod).

Without a bag, I barely noticed those fifty blocks. It was amazing how freeing it was, to not have a bag to deal with, to shift, to move around to the front of your body and then to the back, to switch from arm to arm. Your arms swing unencumbered; you walk differently, faster. You can shove both hands in your pockets; you can put your hands on your hips while waiting impatiently for a light to change. I also noticed that some people gave me funny looks; whether it was "There's a woman without a bag!" or "Why the hell is she wearing a circle skirt in a grass-green camouflage print?" I couldn't tell.

On my way uptown, as an experiment, I counted women without bags. I saw one. I think she was eight years old, but she could have been nine. (Since this was about 11:45 p.m., I don't think this was a representative sample, and it's not like I stood around the busier intersections making sure I checked everyone, but hey.)

Now, I love bags, I obsess about bags (mostly about whether they have the right size and number of pockets …) and I carry a bag most of the time. But when you have enough pockets, or the right kind of pockets, you can escape the bag and just enjoy the freedom to stride along unencumbered. You should try it …