Inspiration: That Touch of Mink

I had a mostly lazy weekend, and Doris Day films featured prominently in my activities. Have you seen That Touch of Mink? It's such a fashion treat! The clothes are done by the great Norman Norell, and there's a fantastic personal shopping scene. This is one of my favorite conceits of movies of this time: the personal fashion show! (There's a great one in How to Marry a Millionaire, which I also happened to watch this weekend. No wonder I didn't get any sewing done.)

The best thing about this particular scene is the coat at the end. It has a fur lining and interchangeable shells in satin and wool. How fascinating is that? (I also love the pink satin and lace pant ensemble toward the middle.)

It seems like the two layers connect somehow at the center front but otherwise the fur lining just sits inside the outer shell. It would be fun to do something similar with the wonderful faux furs they're making these days. 

I highly recommend the movie for that scene alone, but also the stunning strappy dress that feels both modern and perfectly vintage.

It's also well worth a watch for the scenes with Doris Day and her best friend (played by Audrey Meadows) communicating through the windows of the automat.

Apparently automat workers had the cutest uniforms ever. Who knew?

I hope you got more sewing done than I did this weekend!

Sewing Scenes: Magic Mike XXL

Well, there's a title I didn't expect to be writing! Life has been a little heavy lately, and I decided that going to see Magic Mike XXL was the perfect remedy. I went with a group of six rowdy ladies, which is really the only way to see this show. It was spectacular.

I have a lot to say about this movie, starting with: sewing! There's a fabulous montage (God, I love a montage) where the ragtag bunch of "male entertainers" is getting ready for their big show, and it involves lots of DIY. There's a great little shot of a handheld sewing machine stitching along on a costume. These guys really do it all!

Of course, handheld sewing machines are notoriously terrible and there's no way an entire costume could be sewn on one in a pinch, but I'll suspend my disbelief.

(Side note: the first Magic Mike also included sewing, with the perfect Joe Maganiello as "Big Dick" Ritchie sewing a gold thong.)

If you have any desire at all to see this movie: run, don't walk! to your nearest theater. Not only is it a big, campy male stripper road trip odyssey filled with lots of eye candy, it's an unexpectedly feminist film. There's tons that could be said about the politics of female sexual desire, but what's more striking is the politics of female happiness.

These guys make it their mission to get their customers hot and bothered, for sure. But their primary goal in two instances is to get them to smile. There's a Joe Manganiello convenience store strip scene that will go down in history, the point of which is to get the dour cashier to grin. And he does! The crowd goes wild!



Which leads me to: male strippers are hilarious. They just are. They don't even have to try. I laughed my head off for two hours, as did my friends. Personally, I think that's the real secret to why women love this movie.

(Hey, I didn't say it was the only reason women love this movie.)

So, have you seen it? Will you? Please share your thoughts! The crafty feminist blogosphere needs to weigh in on this one.

Body Snark, Vintage Hollywood Style

There's a fascinating article in the most recent issue of Entertainment Weekly about Irene Sharaff, a costume designer who had a hugely successful Broadway and Hollywood career. She earned a whopping 16 Oscar nominations. The article is a retrospective look at some of her biggest productions. However, I could not get past this quote on the first page, about a Hollywood actress she designed for:

"She was five feet two and had difficult proportions: high waist, large bosom, short arms, no behind, and wide hips. I was not awed by her." 

Readers, Sharaff was talking about Elizabeth Taylor. Can you imagine?!

My first thought: If Taylor had "difficult proportions," the rest of us are screwed. It's sad to read a quote like that--I mistakenly assume that Hollywood had more realistic expectations of stars in the 50s and 60s, when a more womanly figure was in fashion.

On the other hand, it's kind of nice to read a designer's candor about the challenges of obtaining Hollywood perfection, even for an hourglass figure like Taylor. Obviously, even female costumers are not immune from the pressures of creating a perfect screen-ready body at any cost.

Sharaff won the Oscar for her designs for Cleopatra in 1963. Despite Sharaff being underwhelmed by Taylor, they must have been on good terms. Sharaff designed the dress Liz wore for her first wedding to Richard Burton.

Sharaff seems to have been known for her bitchy quips. Of working with Faye Dunaway on Mommie Dearest, Sharaff said: "Yes, you may enter Miss Dunaway's dressing room, but first you must throw a raw steak in--to divert her attention."

Sharaff, like Edith Head, had an idiosyncratic sense of style. She wore super heavy eyeliner, a dramatic up-do, and lots of black.

Fun fact: Sharaff and her team designed 26,000 costumes for Cleopatra. Does that even seem possible?!

90s Fashion Is Now Vintage . . . And I'm Okay with That

The technical description of vintage is clothing from at least 20 years ago. Months ago, I had an argument with a student about whether his early 90s Calvin Klein coat was vintage. I was adamant that it wasn't . . . until I did the math. Yep, that's 20 years. Anything from 1993 or earlier is vintage, my friends.

The Great British Sewing Bee Is Casting!

I wrote about my love for this TV show here. In case you missed it, The Great British Sewing Bee is an amazing reality TV series devoted to finding the best amateur sewist in the UK. You can watch all the episodes on YouTube, starting with episode 1 here. You will quickly want to follow with episodes 2, 3, and 4, all of which are also available on YouTube.

Now allow me to get a little weird. Love really isn't a strong enough word for how I feel about this show. I was truly delighted, charmed, entertained, touched, and inspired to sew by each episode. I find myself thinking about it all the time: strange, but true. I could gush about it for hours on end. Let's just call it an obsession. So I was thrilled to get an email from the production company behind the show announcing that they're casting for season 2. Let me repeat: THEY'RE CASTING FOR SEASON 2!!!! There are not enough exclamation points in the world.

British readers, please allow me to live my dream vicariously through you! Go apply now and don't forget to report back on the experience. Aunt Gertie wants to know everything. Is Patrick truly that handsome? (It kind of freaks me out how good-looking he is.) Is May that sweet and knowledgeable? Is Claudia really so quirky and delightful? (I've now added the phrase "Ring-a-ding-DING" to my everyday vocab.)

Go apply now please!

P.S. And also, can we please brainstorm on how to make an American version happen? Are you a TV producer? A powerful media mogul? I've had daydreams about somehow getting a Great American Sewing Bee on the air, but I don't even know where to start. I would humbly submit myself as contestant, judge, consultant, anything! Anything, people!

The Great British Sewing Bee: AMAZING

Oh my. I've discovered my new favorite TV show. (Okay, it doesn't quite compete with My Little Pony. But really, what does?) Have you all heard about The Great British Sewing Bee, a BBC show designed to find Britain's best home sewer? I mean, just the concept alone is amazing.

The show starts with 8 contestants.

And hey, look! One of them is our very own Tilly from the lovely blog Tilly and the Buttons. How cute is she? She looks gorgeous on screen and performs beautifully under pressure.

I've only watched one episode (you can watch it here), and I savored every minute of it. There were three challenges: make an a-line skirt from a pattern, design and sew a new neckline for a simple cotton blouse, and make a custom dress for a client. The exciting thing about this show is that it really is ALL about the craft. The judges examine each sewn product with care, admiring facings and handstitched hems. It's like a full hour of garment sewing porn. The narrative goes into great detail on construction, and even has some sewing history segments thrown in. The least successful part of the show (in my opinion) is the short sewing project. In episode one, it's a drawstring laundry bag. They rush through the construction (not that I'd want to see it, honestly) so it feels tacked-on and very separate from what the contestants are doing on the show.

The most charming thing is how very quiet and quaint this reality show is. Between challenges, the contestants sit down for tea at a local cafe for a nice little chat. The bitchiest comment from a judge so far was (whispered furtively behind her hand as a contestant cut some lining fabric from a bolt): "that's way too much fabric for a lining." She was promptly chastened by her fellow judge, because after all, the sewer could have been making a full-length skirt. (He wasn't.)

If you'd like a taste of the drama, check out this video, the ominously titled "Sandra's Mistake." (Spoiler alert: she sews her neckline facing on her blouse with the right side facing up.)

My major complaint is that the series is way too short overall: only four episodes! Hopefully it will be a smash hit and come back with more. Oh, my other complaint is that there's not yet a Great American Sewing Bee. Because I would so be there.

Episodes two and three are available to watch online, and I seriously cannot wait. Who will win this thing? I've got my money on Ann, an 82-year-old whose flawless construction reflects decades of experience.

Are you readers watching this show? If not, no excuses! Run, don't walk, to YouTube and check it out. Happy viewing!

Inspiration: The Talented Mr. Ripley

I've been on spree of reading mystery novels, mostly contemporary. But when I came across a used copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley, a 1955 novel by Patricia Highsmith, in an L.A. bookstore, I snapped it up. For those not familiar with the plot: it's the story of an amoral conman (Tom Ripley) who becomes obsessed with a rich young playboy (Dickie Greenleaf) living in Italy. Tom does everything he can to come between Dickie and his close friend Marge, finally cooking up a plot to kill Dickie and assume his identity.

Of course, this work is primarily known as the 1999 film starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow. But the book is pretty wonderful: the disturbing and violent elements are perfectly tempered by Highsmith's lush 50s Italian summer scenes. It's easy to see why Tom gets caught up in this world of privilege and glamour (the food descriptions alone make me want to drop everything and move to Italy). The narrative is told through Tom's point of view, giving insights into the character that the film lacks.

Fashion is a huge part of both the movie and the book, and the film's costume design won an Academy Award. Clothes represent so much in this world: lifestyle, status, privilege, and identity. In one of the most cringe-worthy scenes, Tom goes into Dickie's room while Dickie is out. Tom tries on Dickie's suit and hat, even imitating Dickie's facial expressions in the mirror, while fantasizing about killing Marge out of jealousy. Of course, he is caught by Dickie, and that's the moment their friendship begins to turn sour. (I could barely stand to skim this scene, it was so embarrassing.)

The character of Marge is fascinating, clothing-wise.

She dresses in a sort of boho resort style, in crisp white shirts tied over bikini tops, espadrilles, and peasant tops and skirts.

One of the book's more telling passages relates to Marge's clothing, in a way. Tom catches a glimpse of Dickie and Marge embracing, and his reaction is one of utter disgust.

What disgusted him was the big bulge of her behind in the peasant skirt below Dickie's arm that circled her waist. And Dickie--! Tom really wouldn't have believed it possible of Dickie!

There are two chief interpretations of this scene: that Tom is a misogynist or gay (or both). While the movie portrayed Tom as gay or bisexual (later becoming involved in a sexual relationship with a man), author Patricia Highsmith maintained that Ripley wasn't gay, just sociopathic in his need for devotion from Dickie. And clothing was hugely symbolic to him. He later spends whole evenings looking at Dickie's clothing, saying that material possessions "reminded him that he existed."

Cat Blanchett was a supporting actress in the film, in a role created specifically for the movie. There's not much to say about that, except that her clothes are fabulous.

How darling is this sweater? The trim could be easily added to an existing cardigan (check out my post and how-to on soutache).

The nipped-in waist on this suit is to die for.

And my favorite, her opera gown with an embroidered shelf bust and floral embellishment.

All in all, both the book and the movie are of definite interest to vintage fashion enthusiasts. Have you seen or read it?

The Pinkie Pie Dress

How do you know when your love for My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic is a bit out of the norm? Probably about the time you start developing pony-themed fabrics and sewing dresses out of them.

As I've written about before, I have a great fondness for the character Pinkie Pie: her sense of humor, her life philosophy, her pet alligator Gummy, her fashion sense. You may also know that every pony has what's called a "cutie mark" (not as lame as it sounds, I swear) on her flank: a symbol of their special talent. Pinkie's cutie mark is a cluster of blue and yellow balloons, symbolizing her awesome party-throwing skills and her ability to make anyone smile.

I've been learning more about Photoshop and Spoonflower, so I decided to put my skills to the test with a Pinkie Pie-themed fabric. I had it printed on Spoonflower's new cotton and silk blend, which is absolutely scrumptious. I pre-washed it, and it came out with the most fabulous hand and sheen. It's very soft, with a nice drape. Update: I just made this fabric for sale on Spoonflower; you can order it here!

The top half of the dress is my Wiggle Dress pattern from my book (here's where I first showed it off). I shortened it to the waist so I could add a full skirt, and also changed the sleeve. The original has gussets under the arm for a close fit, but I wanted more of a kimono/dolman look with this dress so I made some pattern changes. (I'm planning a tutorial on this, so hopefully you're interested!)

The skirt is a rectangle that I added 3 side pleats to, lining them up with the seams and darts on the bodice. Of course, it needed pockets as well. 

Construction notes! I lined the bodice with white cotton batiste, sewing the facings to the lining (here's a link to this method). I like a cotton lining on a bodice, it just feels comfortable to me.

The skirt is underlined in white silk crepe de chine, which helps support the pleats and the drape of the skirt. Here's the hem, finished with seam binding and stitched by hand to the underlining.

I'm glad I got that out of my system: it (hopefully) negates the need for any more MLP-themed garments!

P.S. My hair is currently a color I'm calling "Atomic Magenta." It's Joico Magenta and Special Effects Atomic Pink, done in two separate processes. I think Pinkie Pie would approve.

Sewing Scenes: My Little Pony

I am a huge fan of the show My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, and I'm not embarrased to admit it. MLP was awesome when I was a kid, and it's awesome now. (Fun fact: did you know the new show has a whole following of dudes who call themselves bronies? It's true. Female fans are supposedly called 'pegasisters', which bothers me to no end. If the male fans are bronies, wouldn't the female fans just be . . . ponies? But I digress.)

There's a really amazing sewing scene in the episode "Suited for Success" (see the whole episode here). I think any seamstress will be able to relate to Rarity's attempts to please her friends while making five custom gowns. The vague feedback ("It needs to be about 20 percent cooler") is priceless. And of course Rarity has a cat; we all know sewers are cat people.

Enjoy!

Fashion and The Hunger Games

There's something distinctly uncomfortable about critiquing the fashion in The Hunger Games. In the book, clothing is a marker of the role one plays in a totalitarian regime: the villians are futuristic Marie Antoinettes, with a grotesque interest in adorning themselves--we're supposed to be disgusted by them, not covet their fabulous clothes. The victims have other things to worry about than fashion, like staying alive.

So it was strange to me that some well-known voices from the fashion industry would choose to haughtily express their disdain for the movie's costumes in a New York Times article, and to do so in a way that was completely oblivious to the politics of fashion in the film. A sampling:

• The costumes “looked cheaply made,” said Joshua Jordan, a fashion photographer who has done campaigns for Anna Sui and Neiman Marcus. “You wanted it to bring you to an evil Thierry Mugler place, and it didn’t. It has nothing on the fashion business.” 
• Olivier Van Doorne, the head of SelectNY, a fashion advertising firm that makes commercials for brands like Emporio Armani and Tommy Hilfiger, agreed. While he liked the film, he said he found the outfits “ridiculous.” “ ‘Blade Runner’ gave a vision of the future you’d never seen before,” he said. “With this, there’s nothing new. It looks like a lot of recycling stuff Jean Paul Gaultier had done before.” 
• “This is not a fashion film. It looks too cheap.”--Sally Hershberger, celebrity hairstylist
• Paul Wilmot, the public relations guru who has worked for designers like Oscar de la Renta and Calvin Klein, simply called the film’s costumes “hideola.” (This did not appear to be a compliment.) 

"Hideola"? Can these people hear themselves? They're practically critiquing the Hunger Games fashion in the voice of the Capitol residents themselves, sniffing at the "cheaply made" outfits of the lower classes. The irony is too much to bear. Sadly, their whining points out that the world of Panem (the Hunger Games's dystopian North America) is not so far off from current North America. Can't you just see these folks in their Effie Trinket get-ups, thumbing their noses at the poor people's outfits while watching them fight each other to the death?

Not that the costumes are exempt from critique--just thoughtless critique. And I'm not suggesting that the fashion industry outsiders are blameless. Far from it. When I saw the film last week, I found myself transfixed by Katniss's blue dress that she wears at the reaping, the public drawing where two kids from each district are chosen participate in the Hunger Games.

In fact, it reminded me of a retro dress Betsey Johnson designed a few years ago. A quick online search for "Katniss blue dress reaping" shows that people have built entire Polyvore sets around this dress. There are also at least a dozen YouTube videos showing you how to achieve her braided up 'do. I too loved her dress and hair, but not without a sense of major discomfort, an icky feeling that in Panem, I would be more of an Effie than a Katniss.

Did you see the movie? What do you think of the fashion industry's reaction?

Bill Cunningham, Fashion Monk

Happy New Year, readers! I'm settled back in New York after a lovely vacation, and last night Jeff and I watched Bill Cunningham New York (yay, Netflix streaming!). I was truly blown away by it; it is certainly the most inspiring fashion documentary I've seen.

It follows a period in the life of 80+-year-old Bill Cunningham, style photographer for The New York Times. His two columns, "On the Street" and "Evening Hours", portray a vast array of New York fashion, from street to society.

But the most intriguing thing is his personal life. As I said to Jeff last night, he's sort of like a fashion monk. He was one of the last hold-outs to live in the Carnegie Hall artist studios, and believes in simple living to the point of asceticism. He works constantly, roaming the streets on a bicycle--wearing the same thing every day, eating the same meals. His tiny studio has no kitchen, and he sleeps on a wooden platform surrounded by filing cabinets that hold negatives of every picture he's ever taken. He's never had a romantic relationship, and goes to church every Sunday.

And his work philosophy is certainly admirable: he's inspired by the way real people wear clothes on the street and in life. His approach to fashion photography is very kind-spirited and never mocks his subjects. One of his first jobs was at Women's Wear Daily, but he quit after an editor changed his copy to make fun of the women he photographed.

Have you seen this film? If not, do! I think DIY types will especially appreciate his down-to-earth take on fashion. It's a great reminder of why we do what we do. As Bill quoted tearfully in an award acceptance speech: "He who seeks beauty shall find it." (Just try not to get choked up when he says it!)


Bill Cunningham New York Trailer from Gavin McWait on Vimeo.

Power of Clothing

I saw Wicked on Broadway last night, and it was truly amazing. (I love musicals, and I can't believe it took me 8 years to go see this thing. Oh, to have seen it with the original cast!) I have a friend who worked at the shop that constructed some of the costumes, and her tales of the intricate details that went into each piece are stunning. So I expected to be blown away by the most opulent and dazzling costumes, and I was. (My dad said the chorus members all looked like Elton John, which is surprisingly apt.) But it was the more understated ensembles in basic navy and black, worn by Elphaba (aka the Wicked Witch of the West) that really held the most power, in my opinion.

What's most impressive is how the clothing tells a story in such an authentic way. It's first a product of good writing, I suppose, that Elphaba's iconic witch costume comes off as real, rather than kitschy. There's a story behind each piece: the hat was given to her as a cruel joke by classmate Glinda, for example.

But the costume designer (Susan Hilferty, who won a Tony for Wicked and also designed the brilliant Spring Awakening) made sure that the costumes told an unwritten story. In fact, the coming of age theme comes across stronger in the clothing than anywhere else. In the beginning, Elphaba wears navy and black shift dresses that play up her dowdiness, but also exude youth. I remember thinking how young the actress looked, and I (needlessly) worried that she didn't have the maturity to pull off such a powerful role.

Fast forward to Act II. Elphaba spends the latter half of the act in a magnificent gown. (See this fabulous blog for many detailed photos of the dress.) It has a distinct Victorian silhouette to it, but the arrangement of the rows of trim play up the body's curves. The actress was truly transformed: sexy, confident, wounded, angry.

Elphaba is an incredible character on her own: a radical who is ostracized and misunderstood because of her ideals. But the costumes took her journey to another level altogether, telling of her sexual awakening and the incredible glamor of being an outlaw.

I don't spend much time with people who think fashion is inherently frivolous or shallow, so I never really have to defend my interest in the subject. But if I did, I would use Wicked as an example of how clothing can carry as much symbolic and emotional weight as any other visual representation.

Which brings me to the question of the day: are you ever made to feel shallow for being interested in fashion and garment construction? Do you think that fashion is a powerful art form, or is that overstating it? Do share!