A Pleasant Present

While Gladys was on vacation in Asheville, she went fabric shopping and brought back this reproduction pattern because it reminded her of me. See why we are friends? Although the glory days of me wearing anything that exposes that much skin is long gone, if they ever existed, I couldn't help weaving a fantasy or two around this dress.

Fantasy #1

The Dress is sky blue satin. I am wearing pearls, standing on the veranda of the chateau.

"No, Henri," I say, "it can't be. It just can't."

"But, darling........" he protests.

"No, Henri. I can't. I won't. Our time together was special, but it is over now. There is nothing more to discuss." I withdraw my hand from his. Henri begins to speak, but I silence him with a raised finger.

"No."

He turns to leave. I watch him without expression. I know he will rejoin the gala and soon there will be another candidate for Duchess. A soft breeze rises up from the Loire Valley and I wonder where it will send me next.

"Greece," I murmur to myself, "Greece." A villa on the Aegean, the perfect backdrop for my next adventure. I will begin packing in the morning...........


Fantasy #2

It is the annual Christmas party at my city house. There is music and dancing. The chandelier lights glint in the diamonds I am wearing with The Dress, this time in a smoky garnet velvet.

"Elise," the British ambassador says, "the Nazi storm cloud grows darker every day. You are the only one who can help us in this endeavor."

I laugh gaily. "Ambassador," I say, "do not be so serious. Surely we are being watched." I gesture to the Gauguin on the wall.

We drift over to the painting. Pointing to one of the figures in the painting, the British ambassador says, "So you will help us?"

I sip my champagne. Gazing at the painting, I remark, "At great personal risk to myself?"

"You are a resourceful woman," he responds.

"Surely you must know, ambassador, that the Germans have already approached me." My eyes lock on his.

"As surely as I know your family has not retained its great wealth over the centuries by picking one side over another," he replies.

"Then, ambassador," I laugh, taking his arm, "we understand one another. Do not contact me. I will make all contact. And now, I must rejoin my guests."

The National Museum of the American Coverlet

Yesterday was a sunny spring day. I had no appointments. I had paperwork that needed done. I did the only sensible thing; I gathered up Gladys and we took a trip to Bedford to the National Museum of the American Coverlet. (I tried really hard to make a clickable link. However, cut and paste http://www.coverletmuseum.org )

We expected this to be an interesting little place to add to our agenda that included stopping at Nothing But Purses, a few antique stores, and a nice dinner afterwards. We did have the nice dinner afterwards, but the museum turned out to be far more intriguing than we had anticipated. Coverlets, if you are unfamiliar with them, are woven bedcovers that evolved from home production on basic four harness looms during the late 18th century/early 19th century to the elaborate and incredibly beautiful jacquard woven coverlets. In the picture above, you'll notice that there is also a jacquard woven carpet on the floor, known at the time as Scottish carpet.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by Melinda and Lazlo Zongor. The museum is based on their personal collection of coverlets and Melinda has authored several books on the subject of coverlets. Lazlo's department is charm, and he gave us a personally escorted tour of the museum.

We learned that most of the jacquard weavers were from Germany, England, and the Netherlands and you can tell which state the coverlets originated in by the design. Germans were very fond of including red and the British weavers loved the classic indigo and white combination, but this is by no means exclusive. We learned the jacquard coverlets were most extensively woven in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. The Zongors are currently working with the Indiana State Musuem in Indianapolis, assisting them with their coverlet collection. Many weavers wove their names, a date, place, and the name of the person the coverlet was woven for into one of the corners. The home weavers were women. The professional weavers were men. If there is a female name woven into the design, she is the owner, not the weaver. In the early 19th century, most of the buyers of woven coverlets were successful farmers who wanted a way to demonstrate their prosperity. Professional production of coverlets slowed considerably when the Civil War started because wool and cotton production went to soldiers' uniforms. After the Civil War, the railroads made consumer goods more available and the production of handwoven coverlets ended. I loved the older, home produced coverlets and the museum has old photos of women at their home looms. I try to imagine growing, spinning, dyeing, and weaving everything needed for a coverlet while cooking meals, raising children, undoubtedly doing some farm work, and cleaning house.
















The museum has a little collection of old looms and spinning wheels. I have tried my hand at weaving. Warping a loom is a two person, all day affair. I can appreciate the difficulty of warping a loom and passing each warp thread through those twisted strings on the loom above.

This coverlet was one of my absolute favorites. The old indigo dye colors are so beautiful and this design just flows so nicely. Coverlets were woven in two sections and sewn together in the middle. If you look at the far right of this picture, you can see the weaver cleverly designed this coverlet so that there is a nice stripe up the middle instead of having to match horizontal stripes.

Windham Fabrics has produced a line of quilters' cotton based on designs from the coverlets in the museum's collection. The museum shop has this collection as well as some other reproduction prints. I couldn't resist these two.


There is so much more fascinating information on coverlets. If you can't make it to the museum, check out Melinda Zongor's books, Coverlets and the Spirit of America: The Shein Collection and Coverlets at the Gilchrist: American Coverlets 1771-1889.

If you do make it to the museum, I hope you get the chance to talk with both of these fascinating people. Tell Lazlo I said, " Jo napot."

Fashion Fusion

My niece lives in Chicago and my brother, on his way from Florida to Pennsylvania, took a little detour to visit her. While he was there, they visited my niece's favorite vintage store, Fashion Fusion, and I got some vintage sewing patterns as a gift.

I like old sewing patterns. They're nice to collect because they don't take up a lot of space and are relatively inexpensive. I've used some of them to make clothing, but you have to be careful when you wear or sew vintage. You run the risk of looking like you are in costume, or maybe an extra in some period movie. But here are my prizes:


1. From the 1950's, we have a nice skirt pattern. You can bet there are several petticoats under those skirts. There are 3 yards of fabric in each skirt. I rather like the top shown with the yellow skirt, which is not included in the pattern. I could troll the vintage pattern websites for a pattern for a similar top, but where's the thrill of the chase?


2. Might as well get the embarrassing part out of the way. I confess: I knowingly bought this pattern in 1969, made the shorts, and WORE them. I made them in a cute little blue floral print with white rickrack on the suspenders. Very Tyrolean. I don't know if you can see in the picture, but someone wrote "no" with little zig zaggy arrows pointing to the knee socks worn with the yellow skort. Sound advice that I, in 1969, did not take.




3. This one is my favorite, a nice A line dress from 1970. I think I will make this one. Might need to do a little work on the armholes and I'd prefer the neckline to be a little looser, but this one is a keeper, a style still wearable 39 years later.


4. I am trying really hard not to squeal embarrassingly, but look at this one. I want to make this and wear it SO bad!! Don't you love the stand up collar on the jacket? With the cape, it is just too much. This groovy darling is from 1968 and the only thing stopping me from making this one is that I don't have a hat like that. I'm seeing it in red wool gabardine with the top stitching in red sewing silk. Black patent leather shoes and a purse. I'm there. I am so there.

Pitfalls of Vintage Clothing

I love vintage clothing. I love the evolution of style over time. I love contemplating how old an article of clothing is based on color and fabric. I love the workmanship. I never wear vintage clothing.

One reason I never wear vintage clothing is my height. I'm nearly six feet tall and that's gigantic for the Edwardian/art deco styles that really attract my attention. This lovely gown is from 1908.

From the measurements given, I'd estimate it to be about a size 0 or 2. At 53 inches in length from shoulder to floor, it's going to be slightly below knee length on me. If I could get it buttoned.

Another reason I never wear vintage clothing, as much as I love it, is that "vintage clothing" now includes items of clothing that I have worn back in the day. It's one thing to wear something from the early half of the 20th century, IE, before I was born, but it's another thing to wear something that I remember from high school.

Here's a pattern from the early 1960's. Not only did I sew this, but I wore it. A lot.

Don't you love the way the skirt is split to reveal the shorts underneath in the view on the left? I fought long and hard with my mother to let me hem it up shorter than the pattern shows. Should I mention that I used fabric in a navy blue print with large, dinner plate size daisies for the skirt and top? Groovy! Let's not even discuss a Carnaby Street style dress I made and wore extensively in high school that would make vintage clothing collectors drool if it still existed. (it may still exist, somewhere. I hope I never find it.) It was a cool burnt orange and orange checked plaid with white collar and cuffs, set off by a kelly green man's style tie. Yeah, baby!

Have you ever seen a picture of someone like Vera Wang with one of her over-the-top creations?

Lovely, lovely gown. I wish I could have found a large picture so you could really appreciate it. But check out Vera. She's got a black, ready-for-action outfit on, minimal makeup, and a low maintenance hair do. Vera Wang can create her ultimate fantasy gown, but when it comes down to day to day life, she's going for comfort and convenience. Sort of like my admiration of vintage clothing.

October's Bright Blue Weather

Mrs. Bosely, my fourth grade teacher, was a big fan of choral reading. Choral reading, if you've never heard of it, is also known as "voice choir", where group members recite a poem, sometimes in unison, with movements and voice changes for effect. It was popular in the late 19th century as the entertainment of church and school functions. While it was the middle of the 20th century, large sections of western Pennsylvania had not yet been informed of that, so Mrs. Bosely continued to edify our young minds in this classic tradition. After learning a new poem, our grade would go around to the other classes in the school to perform it for them.

Our most popular piece was a poem from 1893 by Helen Hunt Jackson titled "October's Bright Blue Weather" Even if it is obviously a 19th century piece, it still is a good poem.

O SUNS and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And Golden-Rod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When Gentians roll their fringes tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.

See? It is good, although I wonder how many fourth graders would recognize a gentian with the fringes rolled tight or a chestnut's satin burr now.

Still, just say "October's bright blue weather" and everyone will know what you are talking about: crisp, clear, sunny days and cool nights. Sweater weather. Dash and I were out at the studio house last week, wandering around the back yard, enjoying October's bright blue weather. I should have been quilting that quilt that's been under the machine for a few months now or waxing that piece of fabric I've been working on for two years now. I could have been cleaning the studio, which needs it badly, or cleaning my house, which needs it worse. I might have been typing monthly reports, working for world peace, or helping the homeless. But I wasn't. I was making a small dachshund very happy and enjoying myself in the process. Love loveth best of all, October's bright blue weather.

Things You Do While You Are Waiting For Bones To Mend

Toward the end of August, I broke my left knee cap while walking down the street, in broad daylight, stone cold sober, in flat shoes. You can bet I won't be pulling a stunt like THAT again.

I didn't do much for the first week or so except nap and contemplate this fresh evidence of my own mortality. When I did come back to life, internet browsing was the easiest thing to do.

This is the first thing that attracted my Vicodan-laced attention. I love antique copperplate toile fabric and have a modest collection of pieces that I've gathered here and there. My dream car has always been one that runs and is paid for, but I believe this Porsche was made just for me.


By the way, my birthday is coming up soon.

The next thing I did was catch up on the few blogs I follow. My favorite is my friend Stan's blog, These Things Too. There's probably a way to make that a hyperlink, but I don't know what it is, so go to the right hand side of the page and click on it there. Stan is funny and literate and his blog has great pictures now of inlaid guitars. I also enjoy Cheryl's Garden for the really nice botanical pictures. I've been in Cheryl's garden and have watched it take shape over my visits.

Chez Pez is one I found randomly clicking on Stan's blog. Apparently the author is currently enjoying the Austin music festival and I am permanently jealous that she saw Alejandro Escovedo.

For the textile tie-in, Dress-A-Day is a new one I found. Lots of lovely links to vintage clothing and, best of all, vintage dress patterns. The author is an avid dress wearer and posts pictures of some really interesting dresses. I fully support the idea of dress wearing and I think I own a dress or two, but never found them to be very practical in my day to day life. If it's knee length dress, I'm always yanking it down. If it's mid-calf or longer, all that fabric flapping around my legs annoys me. But go have a look, vintage stuff is lovely.

Real vintage clothing fun can be had at http://www.antiquedress.com (C'mon, I don't know how to make a hyperlink. I'm into textiles, not computers. Copy and paste.) I go there to admire the 1920's gowns. Look! This one is for me!

It would look great with this:


For those of you confused by these pictures and the above comments on dress wearing, please reference the earlier post about my obsession with high end art deco jewelry and remember my birthday is coming up.

Another fun site is the International Sewing Machine Collector's Society. Copy and paste this link: http://www.ismacs.net/home.html Go to the machine gallery. Here's a picture of the most expensive toy sewing machine ever auctioned.

Cute, eh? There were only four ever made, intended to be the ultimate toy for the rich child of 1892. It was sold at a London auction in 1995 for 8,000 pounds. If you like sewing machines, or even just machines, go there to look around. Sewing machines did not always have the familiar shape they have now.

Please do not feel you must break body parts to enjoy these sites!

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

I’ve been sidelined with my left leg trapped in an appropriately named “immobilizer” for about a month now, but recently got out of the house to make it down to the Society for Contemporary Crafts in the Strip District of Pittsburgh. If you’ve never been there, go. I wandered in there while shopping in the Strip District with my friend Steve and was impressed with the gallery space, the display, and the way the usual gift shop presents as an extension of the gallery space. While I was there, I grabbed a few colorful pamphlets. One of them turned out to be a schedule of classes held at the SCC. Consulting with Gladys, we signed ourselves up for a Precious Metal Clay class.

Gladys and I have been sewing, unsewing, decorating, and torturing textiles in a number of ways for decades. Every once in awhile, textiles just aren’t enough. Our last out-of-the-box creative adventure involved the new house Gladys and her husband are building. The basement has a poured concrete floor that looked just like a blank canvas. Gladys wanted it decorated and to cut to the chase, she decided to stain the concrete.

Staining concrete involves respirators, incredibly strong and toxic acid, eye goggles, and just enough protective clothing to keep it this side of a haz-mat suit. It was a blast. We cleared the area of innocent bystanders and sprayed the acid. The floor looks great. However, three years have gone by since we did that.

Precious Metal Clay is powdered silver (in this case. There’s also bronze and gold.) in a cellulose binder. You form the clay much like you would any clay and the cellulose binder burns off, leaving you with pure silver. What attracted us was the statement that “pieces can be fired in a kiln or with a torch.” Torch. That’s the key word. The lure of open flame was irresistible.

I took my camera, but I got caught up in the process and forgot to document the fun. Precious Metal Clay is sensitive stuff. It dries out quickly, unless you want it to, and picks up every little mark. Torching it with butane turned out to be tricky since the clay curled unevenly under the flame. We put our pieces in the kiln and were satisfied with the fact that temperatures in excess of 1600 degrees Fahrenheit were involved.

I am pleased to say that my first piece, embossed with leaves from the plant in my dining room window, was of sound construction. Had I known I would decide to cut out around the leaves, I would have done the background differently, but all in all, it’s a decent first attempt.

Acid, open flame………..what’s next?