Don't Let the Door Hit You, Etc.


I've been thinking lately that I have Too Many Damn Patterns (which is just a few boxes shy of the next size up of patterns, which is Metric Buttload of Patterns, and well above the unit of measure I'm hoping to end up at, which is A Gracious Sufficiency of Patterns) and this one is going to be jettisoned in the next wave of, well, jettisoning. 

I didn't buy this pattern new (although probably 1983-me would have been sorely tempted) so how on earth did it get into my collection? Did I get it as ballast in a box of other patterns? Was it twenty-five cents and so I reflexively grabbed it, with big "I think I'll re-enact the movie 'Heathers'" plans? Is my attraction to colorblocking in all its forms enough to overwhelm my common sense (and dislike for puffed sleeves)? Was I intrigued by how it seems as if you can't stand with your weight evenly distributed across both feet while wearing this? Is there some part of my lizard brain that reacts with predatory avarice to asymmetrical ruffles? We'll never know.

(Also, the photo-girl looks like the 1983 version of Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl, doesn't she?)


You won't have to follow a trail of crumbs to get your own wacked-out Hansel and Gretel Lanz of Salzburg dress, like, say, THIS ONE:


Here's a closeup of the Hansel-y, Gretel-y part: 


You can find this dress on eBay, if you want to commemorate child-endangerment and near-cannibalism. Have fun!