Before and After: Thoughts on Makeup and Self-Image

The checkout line at my local grocery store always has a large selection of tabloids. Lately, a popular headline has been "Stars Without Makeup! You Won't Believe How Disgusting They Look!" or something like that. During the photoshoot for book #2 this week, I kept thinking about those tabloids.

I modeled on day two of the shoot, and thought it would be fun to capture the transition from mere mortal to model. I came into the studio with unstyled hair and no makeup (left picture) and an hour later I was all spackled and curled and ready to go!

On the subway to the shoot, I felt embarrassed by my lack of styling. On the way home that night, I felt embarrassed by all the makeup migrating to my under-eye region. You just can't win, right?

My everyday look is somewhere between these two extremes, which I guess is the case for most women. And I think we all have somewhat conflicting emotions about the whole thing. There's certainly no lack of pressure to conform to an ideal of beauty in our world. Think about all the time, money, and effort spent on products to achieve that ideal. It's exhausting! Do we like to read those tabloids about "stars without makeup" to make ourselves feel better? I think once you know how much work goes into a fully made-up look, you can let yourself off the hook a bit.

On the other hand, who doesn't like to play dress up? It's nice to have the option to go all out.

What do you think--do you feel bad about yourself sans makeup? Or do you regularly go au natural?

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.

Challenges of Going Pro

One of the major challenges of turning sewing blogging into a career is that often you can't blog about what you're working on. For instance, right now I'm developing the patterns for my next book while also hard at work on two new Butterick patterns. While it would be fun to show you every step of the process, my publishers would, quite frankly, not be pleased. (And I like to think you all enjoy the surprise of a big reveal once something is released. What lady doesn't like to make a grand entrance?) I also have an incredibly full teaching schedule right now (teaching my first college level courses and still doing private lessons as well) that is eating up most of my sewing time.

Every now and then I'll get a comment noting that my blog has changed--that I don't blog what I'm sewing as much as I used to, or it seems like I'm just promoting my "products" (oddly, I don't think of my book or my patterns as products, that seems too clinical a word for something that so much of myself has gone into).  Unless I give up sleeping, the only way to turn my blog back into what it was 3 years ago would be to get an office job, break all my current contracts, and just sew for fun. I hope you'll forgive me for not wanting to do that! (Though maybe I could get a job in a fabric store instead of an office. Yeah, that would be awesome.)

I guess this post is really about stress, which I know we can all relate to. As modern women, we're pulled in so many different directions: career, family, basic life chores, email inboxes, bills, etc. Often taking care of ourselves is last on the list of priorities. We're also used to saying yes to everything and trying to please everyone, right? Sometimes it feels like we're all just scraping by, doing lots of stuff but not doing any of it as well as we would like. I've certainly made my share of mistakes along the way. Scratch that, I know I've made more than my share.

I suppose I'm just trying to say I'm doing the best I can to keep all the balls in the air, but I've also learned that being successful means knowing which balls to juggle. (Does it make me immature that every time I type "balls" I giggle inside?)

Hmm, I think I just wrote a post about my feelings. I hope you don't mind! And if, by some chance you actually enjoy reading stuff like this, there's plenty more where this came from.

P.S. In lieu of any sewing photos, here are some shots of me hanging out with Henry and Rosie. Almost as good as dresses? (Also, have I mentioned that I'm learning to play the ukulele? Great stress relief!)

"Diet" vs. "Lifestyle Change"

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Somewhere along the way, the word "diet" became a dirty word in our lexicon. (You've heard the jokes: "diet is a four-letter word," "the first syllable of diet is DIE," etc.) The bad reputation comes for a good reason, too. Traditional diets have been shown to not really work in the long run, leading only to years of yo-yo weight changes, body loathing, and an unhealthy relationship with food.

The word diet has been pretty much universally replaced with the term "lifestyle change." At first, I was on board with this, even as corporations started adopting it as a marketing tactic. It sounds good, right? "Weight Watchers is a lifestyle change, not a diet!" It sounds way more fun, frankly.

And then something changed: I actually went on Weight Watchers a few months ago. Before my book was released, I discovered that I'd gained about 15 pounds and no longer fit into the clothes featured in the book--the ones I was supposed to wear to events and signings. I wanted (actually, needed) to fit back into those clothes, but I was also disturbed by such a quick (and practically unnoticed) weight gain in my life. If I kept it up, where would I be in a few decades?

Weight Watchers comes highly recommended, so I tried it. Plus, it's so retro! It was founded in 1963 by a Brooklyn homemaker. And it worked: I followed the plan (more or less) and lost exactly 15 pounds. Yay me. Everyone who notices says I look thinner in my face. Is it possible to lose 15 pounds from one's face? Apparently. (Below, the evidence.)

March 2012

October 2012

I was somewhat conflicted about being on a di--. . . I mean, lifestyle change. My views on body image and weight in the media are well-documented here. Would it be hypocritcal to go on a . . . lifestyle change? Overall, I'm a big believer that women should do what they want with their bodies, so that attitude won out.

But all along the way, I was annoyed by the company's insistence that I wasn't on a diet; I was making a lifestyle change. How are the two mutually exclusive? Hasn't dieting always been a lifestyle change--one where you eat less? And honestly, being on Weight Watchers kind of feels like being on a diet. I love food, and there was certainly an amount of deprivation involved. Some days I felt like I couldn't stand to see another salad. This whole "lifestyle change" business seems to be just another way to market weight loss products to women, right?

(And since I know you're going to say it: of course it's good to aspire to a healthy lifestyle. But when did "healthy lifestyle" become a synonym for "thin"?)

P.S. I was also going to use this post to rant about how people are using Pinterest for "thinspirational" messages (which share a lot in common with pro-ana messages), but I was pleasantly surprised by something. If you search "thinspiration" in Pinterest, you get this message:

Interesting that they use the wording "eating disorders are not lifestyle choices." (Emphasis mine.) Big props to Pinterest!

Corsets as Outerwear?

Traditional undergarment corsetry

You know what's interesting? The role of corsets in the shifting role of underwear as outerwear. Every lingerie item you can think of has--at some point--taken a starring role in fashion, rather than being relegated to underneath clothing: bustiers, camisoles, slips, even panties. (Sorry, I can't stop saying the p word!)

But! Corsets are the only undergarment I can think of that are now thought of only as outerwear by the masses. They were originally worn exclusively underneath dresses, of course. While they may be an antiquated garment, there is a huge number of modern women--seamstresses and otherwise--fascinated by the corset. After making my first corset and spending much time on the various corsetry message boards and sites, I discovered something that surprised me: almost all these women are making or buying corsets to be worn almost exclusively as outerwear. (The exceptions to this are corsets worn in boudoir situations, fetish, and reenactments.)

In fact, the notion of a corset being underwear is now on the fringes. Corsetry as lingerie is usually mentioned only for those most extreme corset wearers: tightlacers--or people who wear their corsets for long periods of time (sometimes 23 hours a day) and lace very tightly, in an effort to modify their bodies. Accurately or not, this type of corset wear is associated with fetishism and BDSM lifestyles.

What a fascinating shift! If a Victorian woman showed her corset, it would be shocking, and I'm sure she would be thought of as a very loose woman (read: hooker). But now a woman showing her corset is in the mainstream, and a woman wearing her corset as underwear is the perverse one.

Worth gown

I'm interested in corsets pretty much only as foundation garments, in a historical sense. My further research (which I can share if you're interested!) has shown that traditional corsets were alive and well in the late 40s and early 50s. The silhouette of a Dior gown or a Jacques Fath suit would be impossible to achieve otherwise. And so, I find myself a bit in the fringes in the world of corsetry.

However, corsets were also making their way to outerwear status in the 50s, to the shock of some. This vintage pattern shows a corset-styled belt. (Though it's worth noting that, unless fully steel boned, this belt would be decorative rather than functional.)

Pattern from Mrs. Depew

Jacques Fath, one of my favorite designers of the New Look period, shocked the fashion world with his use of corset lacing on outerwear, as seen in this pink gown.

This gown is especially interesting in that it shows the foundations of a New Look dress--boning channels and all. The lacing is functional and adjustable.

But all this is still quite a shift from what we're seeing today: functional, steel-boned corsets worn with jeans as clubwear. This look can range from (sort of) elegant . . .

 . . . to downright gaudy.

Yikes!

Anyway, enough of my rambling. What do you think of this whole thing? Do you see corsets as underwear or outerwear?

The Generational Aspects of Crafting

Hello readers! I am currently jetting off to Denver to film an episode of Sew It All TV, but I wanted to make sure to tell you about a guest post I wrote for STC Craft/Melanie Falick Books about the whole craft trend of saying “it’s not your grandma’s sewing!” or some such.  The idea for the post came out of a conversation with Melanie about the topic when we realized how much that adage bothered us.  As someone who sews styles that my grandmother might have liked, well, it really is my grandma’s sewing. And, in general, crafters have relied on older generations to show us the ropes, if you will.

What do you think of that phrase? Does it bother you at all? Definitely come read the post and jump on in the discussion!

P.S. This is what I look like in a bow turban and no makeup, after waking up at 3:45 to catch a flight (with some "airbrushing" help from Instagram, I can’t lie). Don’t worry, there will be a makeup artist on set and I’ve got pin curls under my turban!

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!

Washing Machine Lust

Well, I'm back from The Sewing Summit in Salt Lake City, and I should be writing about the conference. (In a word: it was fabulous.) But what I really want to write about is washer/dryer combos. Yeah.

You see, when I stayed at my friend's childhood home, her parents had a Whirlpool Duet. This, I learned, is a practically space-age set of appliances. Friends, I was mesmerized. I washed almost everything I brought with me just so I could use it. The washing machine has a "hand wash" cycle that is more delicate than "delicate." It was perfect for my bombshell dress. I watched the entire 20 minute cycle, completely transfixed.

The dryer is just as amazing. Readers, it has a "Quick Refresh Steam Cycle" that is genius. I put my linen suit (which was all wrinkled from traveling) in there, and it came out looking new. There's actually a water hookup for the dryer so you can steam your clothes!

Anyway, I could on. And on. But the point is that this experience practically ruined me for city living. Since I've been home, I've been ogling the cherry red version (above) and looking at real estate listings in the suburbs. Yes. I want to buy a house just so we can get this thing. It will be the most expensive washer/dryer set ever. But pre-washing fabric would actually be fun!

Are any of you so lucky to have a Duet? Also, because I'm curious, what is your garment care situation? Do you have a washer/dryer or do you depend on a laundry mat?

What Is "Fashion Forward"?

This is a question I'm eager to hear your thoughts on, readers. During the Passion for Fashion competition, we were told repeatedly that our goal was to make our ensemble "fashion forward." As the hours passed, I realized I have no idea what that means.

To me, I suppose I think "avant-garde" or "ahead of its time." But what does that look like? Could you pick it out on the runway? Could you come up with it yourself?

As the show went on, I joked that my aesthetic is really "fashion backward." And, well, it is. I love the looks of the past and I only make subtle tweaks to them in my own designs. I mean, Dior's New Look doesn't really need improving upon. It just needs a few adjustments to make it wearable today. Is that fashion forward enough? Would Heidi Klum approve? (No.)

During the competition, we had a great mentor named Becky Fulgoni. She was like Tim Gunn, but with motorcycle boots and a shaved head. Her critiques were fantastic. Her critique of my work (not surprisingly) was "what is fashion forward about this?" That was the hardest question to answer. As the hours passed, I felt less and less sure. And I realized: I have no idea what fashion forward is. (I only know that McQueen was fashion forward, and that is the extent of my knowledge on that term.)

But really, do any of us know what fashion forward is? Could we agree upon it if we saw it? Anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts.

P.S. Here's a picture of me and my model, Samia, before the runway show!

photo: Charles Islander

Hi from Cleveland

Hi, readers! I'm in Cleveland at the moment, here to film an episode for the second season of It's Sew Easy. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning and it's now 10:30 p.m. . . . so I'm just barely coherent.

Anyway, I'm very excited about filming tomorrow morning (I'm in make-up at 7:30, filming thereafter). I'm doing a short segment on an easy retro pattern making change to a blouse pattern.

Some other fun facts about my life today:

• The Stitch-Along post is running late! I'm so sorry. There was a little snag with getting pictures taken as I was leaving town. It will be up ASAP, I promise!
• On the last episode of It's Sew Easy, I very dutifully wore nude nail polish (OPI Samoan Sand to be exact), as a natural look was requested of me. It was a little conservative for my taste. Readers, I was very naughty today and got a lavender mani! (OPI Lucky Lucky Lavender to be exact.) Do you think they'll kick me off the set tomorrow? Will I never work in Cleveland again?
• I'm reading a romance novel for fun right now, and it's delightful. I just read a chapter in the hotel bathtub! It's a bit of a bodice-ripper, I must admit. It's called What a Gentleman Wants and it's a guilty-pleasure Regency Era read. It's fun to imagine the romantic hero as Colin Firth. Any trashy novels to recommend, readers? (Also, do check out the site Smart Bitches, Trashy Books if you're a thinking gal who likes a good romance every now and then. They have fantastic reviews.)
• I'm here with Carol from BurdaStyle, and she is so fun to travel with. I've been talking her into lots of comfort food, like chocolate and sesame chicken. And she's been balancing that with trips to Whole Foods and lettuce wraps at P.F. Chang's. And lots of water. She takes such good care of me!
• I've only been gone for the better part of a day and I miss Jeff dearly. Isn't it fun when you get a chance to miss your spouse for a bit? Not to mention those adorable cats. I do have it good!
• Hey, did you know you can see the entirely of my first stint on It's Sew Easy on YouTube? Here is is, even though I cringe a bit when I watch myself!
  
  
  

Okay, enough rambling. Back with some coherent thoughts soon, I promise! 

Inspiration: Maya de Mexico

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What do you all think of tourists' souvenir garments from the 1950s? I always suspect there's something not-quite-politically-correct about it, but I do love the Mexican garments of this ilk. I've recently seen a few by Maya de Mexico, and they're lovely. I can't find a lot of info on the company, but it's clear that all the pieces were made in Mexico City and were brought home by American tourists.

I'm majorly coveting this skirt, mostly because I love the combination of cotton and sequins.

Here's another lovely Maya de Mexico piece, a two-piece separates set that presents the appearance of a dress.

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Many Mexican skirts of this era were handpainted, which is an interesting sewing puzzle. The pieces must have been embellished post-cutting because they manage to create perfect border prints on a circle skirt, which is an impossibility with a traditional printed border fabric. The skirts also have a lot of sequin embellishment, like this flamboyant example:

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Here's another example of a separates set, this time in a kitschy matador/sombrero print.

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Aztec motifs were also very popular.

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What do you think of these designs? I love the mixture of humble cotton day pieces with exquisite embellishments. I'm particularly taken with the idea of hand embellishing a print circle skirt with sequins.

I'm especially interested to hear what you all think of the politics of these garments. Back in my grad school days, this is what we would have called "cultural appropriation," a convenient borrowing of minority customs and dress as a novelty for the tourist classes. (I try to shy away from grad school language these days, but sometimes it can't be avoided.) Of course, post-war America took fashion inspiration from all over the map. (Just think of sarong dresses and cheongsams worn by American military wives.) And these appropriations made for some of the most fascinating styles of the time, teh rare pieces that we love to talk about today. Whatever your thoughts on the political connotations of Mexican souvenir garments, I don't think it can be denied that these are incredibly interesting pieces of fashion history. What's your take?

(Wo)man Vs. Machine

A good friend of mine is a sample maker for some big-name designers. As such, he is a firm believer in efficiency in garment-making and everything he makes is done pretty much exclusively by machine. He always seems flummoxed by my insistence on extensive hand sewing. I try to defend my ways, but he has a machine solution for every hand-sewing merit I can think of. Even basting underlining! He says that if you decrease your upper thread tension you can avoid puckers.

I love hearing his tips, but I'm not really budging much from my prior beliefs. After all, if hand sewing and tailoring was good enough for Dior and Balenciaga, it's good enough for me. But this pro-machine attitude must be rubbing off on me a bit because the last dress I made I sewed entirely by machine--not a single hand stitch went into it! I even sewed the buttons on by machine. (Tip from my sample-maker friend: secure the buttons in place with Scotch tape and then zig zag them onto the garment. It works well, I admit.)

It was a good solution for this particular garment, which needed to be made quickly since it was a practice-run of a design that's going in my book. But for the "real" dress, I'm taking my time a bit more: making bound buttonholes and sewing the buttons on by hand with waxed silk thread, for starters.

I know that my penchant for hand sewing wouldn't fly in a sample workroom, and that's fine with me. There are reasons beyond speed and efficiency that people sew for themselves: to enjoy the process of making something by hand, to learn the craft of fine couture garments, and sometimes just to slow down and do something tactile. When I get preoccupied by speed, I tend to lose some of the pleasure of sewing.

But then it's also nice to have the ability to whip up a dress that's sturdy enough to throw in the wash once a week. Like most things, the solution is probably in the balance: using a melange of hand and machine techniques for each project and assessing each technique as you go along. To be a versatile seamstress, you really do need to have an arsenal of skills ready to go at any given moment.

But I would bet that most people lean one way or another--towards hand sewing or toward doing everything by machine. What do you think? Do you have a preference--or do you swing both ways?

The Working-at-Home Fashion Dilemma

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Readers, today is my last day in corporate America. Huzzah! While it's exhilarating, many challenges lie ahead. First and foremost: what the heck to wear?

I've spent the last 10 or so years cultivating a workplace style: one that's vintage but professional, appropriate yet colorful and artsy. Lots of pencil skirts, sheath dresses, pumps, etc. Now that I'm going freelance, it's time to cultivate a new style, preferably one that doesn't involve either uncomfortable footwear or—on the other end of the spectrum—elastic waistbands. You see, when at home I tend to stay in my pjs. I'll be working from my apartment a lot now (though also out of a studio) and I don't want to spend all my time looking like a slob. I want to take the opportunity to be a bit more casual, but not sloppy.

So, readers, any tips for freelance/stay-at-home fashion? I'm thinking comfy dresses are the way to go, and if I had all the time in the world, I'd whip up a few vintage housedress patterns. Like these:

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Or perhaps I could just swan about dramatically in this:

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I'm also interested in making some of my regular basics, like high-waisted pencil skirts and such, in comfy stretch fabrics. I'm especially psyched to make this DKNY sheath dress pattern in leopard print jersey (the first view on the left, ignore the blocky sandals):

Vogue 2091 (OOP)

But beyond that, I'm having trouble imagining what I'll wear on a day-to-day basis. Any ideas or advice, readers? How do I: 1) avoid looking like a slob all the time and 2) what new basics do I need in my wardrobe to stay chic and comfy?

Glee and Sewing (and Fat, Fashion, and Flamboyance)

Readers, I think we need to form some sort of Sewing Alliance Against Defamation (SAAD, I suppose). As I have noted before, Glee can be a little weird when it comes to gender and sewing. Then on last week's prom episode, sewing came up not once but twice! And it was all linked in to various notions of body image, gender, and sexuality.

I give you Exhibit A. Lauren bemoans that she can't find anything to fit her plus-size figure and says that she's considering making her prom dress because of it. The other girls practically recoil in horror. Brittany deadpans, "Don't, you'll look poor." So we never get to see the potentially awesome dress that Lauren would have made (I'm picturing something New Wave-inspired).



Exhibit B. The girls bring Kurt along on a dress-shopping trip. Lauren tries on a poufy yellow dress with a chic fur capelet and says, "I look like a lemon meringue pie." Brittany, with the line of the night: "I think you look delicious." I concur. Lauren looks pretty adorable, save the over-the-top skirt, which was obviously intended only as a punchline anyway. Kurt (who conveniently turns into a walking stereotype whenever the script calls for it) supposedly saves the day with some hackneyed advice about wearing a "slimming" darker color, and everyone applauds, including Lauren herself, who has never been ashamed of showing off her body. UGH. I hate this scene.

To be clear, it's not Kurt's flamboyance itself that bothers me. I love his colorful personality and I often don't think it's so out of the realm of reality. Plus, the show has done well showing a myriad of gay characters. It's when he becomes a caricature of the "gay sidekick" that I get a little uncomfortable.

Exhibit C. Kurt is super excited to bring ultra-dreamy Blaine to the prom. (Hello, who wouldn't be?! It's wrong how highly I, um, regard Darren Criss.) Being a long-established fashion history buff, Kurt of course can't just go with a half-price tux rental from his dad's buddy's shop. Instead, he whips himself up an ensemble inspired by the Royal Wedding and the late Alexander McQueen. LOVE.



Of course, the sewing nerd in me was saying, "I'm sorry, he WHIPPED UP a tailored jacket and kilt? Yeah, okay." But, yes, I can suspend my disbelief and enjoy a story. Blaine (who is out of the closet but a little afraid to rock to the boat) and Kurt's dad try to talk Kurt out of wearing something so flamboyant. Kurt declines, saying "prom is about joy, not fear." In a moment that any sewist would applaud, he declares, "I'm wearing this suit. I worked hard on it and I think it's fantastic." Go Kurt!

But . . . wait a second. Why is the show ultimately applauding Kurt's ostentatious ensemble while telling Lauren she should cover up and hide in something "slimming"? I'm happy to see Kurt express himself through sewing, but I want better for Lauren than to be given some dumb fashion advice and then made to wear a navy sack. (By Kurt himself, no less.) Kurt and Lauren both have larger-than-life personalities that create interesting storylines, but the writing so often forces them into the absurd and inauthentic.

Now, I always feel a little silly trying to analyze a show that doesn't seem to give much forethought to, you know, character development or consistency. But there's really so much to dissect here! Thoughts, readers?

Do You Avoid "Celebrity Culture"?

When I first started The Daily Dress, one of the concerns I heard from a few readers was that they didn't want pictures of celebrities filling their RSS feeds. Others felt that they tried hard to avoid "celebrity and supermodel culture." And red carpet pictures—no matter how pretty the dresses—were all a part of that.

I certainly understand that sentiment. There have been times in my life when I've had to abstain from certain kinds of media for my own sanity. For example, the reading of any "women's fitness" magazines is now strictly prohibited in my household. I used to subscribe to them all: Shape, Self, Women's Health, and so on. But the thing is, they weren't making me any healthier; they were actually contributing to a bit of a predilection I have toward extreme dieting and binge exercising. Jeff gave me a bit of an intervention, in fact. He started to notice that every cover line was akin to "LOSE TEN POUNDS FAST!" and became skeptical about my reading material. I had to agree that perhaps the message wasn't the one I needed to be hearing. So Jeff took it upon himself to throw each of those magazines right into the recycling bin before I could even peek at them. He'd joke that he didn't even want our lady cat, Pip, to see them lest she get a bad body image.

I think taking that particular "media diet" (pun intended) was actually one of the best things I've done for my health. I don't obsess about my weight anymore or take on any crazy crash diets or exercise programs. And to me, that's kind of a big thing. Of course, I'd be naive to think I can avoid weight loss advertising completely. But I can assert some control over what I consume, and I think that intention is what preserves my well-being.

So, if someone felt that celebrity culture was something she needed to avoid all together for her mental health, I would certainly relate. Personally, I feel like I'm in a place where I can take what I want from that world (aka dresses) and leave the rest. Sewing, for me, is so tied into the fashion industry, which brings with it supermodels, celebrities, tabloids, and all sorts of stuff that's probably best consumed in moderation. And while it's hard to avoid all that stuff if you're interested in clothes, I suppose it's possible to limit your interaction. In respect to that view, I've tried to vary The Daily Dress to a certain extent, taking inspiration from places other than magazines and red carpets. It's definitely a work in progress, though.

And I think it's also worth noting that celebrity culture can be associated with positive things too. Pop culture is something that's brought infinite hours of joy into my life. (Hello Glee, Pee-Wee's Playhouse, Mad Men, etc etc etc.) It's just a matter of making sure the media consumed is stimulating rather than soul-sucking.

So, anyway. Back to the question. Do you feel that "celebrity culture" is something you'd rather avoid when possible?

Are You Right Brained or Left Brained?

Image via etsy

I've been writing instructions for drafting a full circle, half circle, and 3/4 circle skirt to go in my book. Readers, this involves math. And not just any math: this is algebra and stuff. In a particularly frustrating moment, I tweeted, "Don't you hate it when sewing involves math?" Interestingly enough, the responses were generally 50/50. Some of you hate math too, some of you love it. And one of you (thanks, Tatiana!) was particularly practical about sewing intersecting with math: "It always does."

Indeed, sewing always involves some sort of math. It can be simple, like adding 2" to a skirt to make it knee length. Or it can be pretty involved, like figuring out the radius of a 3/4 circle skirt.

I've always had a bad relationship with math. And I was sort of the black sheep in my family: my mother was an accountant. My father was an engineer, and my brother followed in his footsteps. I was the stereotypically artsy one; I loved theater and music and arts and crafts. One of my most vivid memories of learning math is pretty depressing. We moved around a bit when I was growing up, and when I entered second grade in a new school I was really behind in math. My new classmates were already subtracting a 3 digit number from another three digit number. (Like 543 minus 256, for instance.) My first night of school, my accountant mom stayed up late with me, trying to help me understand the homework. She really had her work cut out for her. I remember getting teary, looking at the numbers and thinking: these numbers mean absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, my brain would just sort of shut down when I tried to make sense of the 6 digits stacked in rows of 3 on top of each other.

My math career continued along this dismal trajectory. In high school, a D in algebra was the blight on my otherwise A-average report card. Geometry, however, was a bright spot. I easily earned an A, and it made perfect sense to me. What did it all mean?

There's a pretty simple term for this affliction: right-brained. It's been figured out at this point that there are two types of people in this world, those who are predominately right-brained and those who are left-brained. The right brain controls creative functions, while the left brain is analytical. Geometry tends to be easier for right-brained people since it involves visual learning and 3D thinking.

The cool thing about sewing is that it attracts both the right-brained and the left-brained. There's pretty  much something for everyone! The engineering and mathematics of sewing will attract left-brained types, while right-brainers enjoy the intuitive and creative parts of the craft. But I would argue that a bigger plus of the hobby is that we get to flex our non-dominant brain. When else would I voluntarily do algebra, for goodness sake? Just like doing crosswords or other puzzles can keep us young and sharp, I would imagine that getting out of our comfort zone intellectually can do us a world of good.

I'm curious if sewing folks are really generally 50/50 left or right brained. What's your experience?

When a Genius Turns Out to Be a Jerk

Sooo . . . how about that Galliano stuff? In case you've been living blissfully under a rock, you probably know that he was fired from Dior after spewing awful anti-Semitic, misogynistic stuff.

At first I just hoped it wasn't true. After all, in this post I called him a genius. And one of my favorite sewing writers calls him "a god." Sadly, it seems he's all too human. And a pretty despicable human, at that. Galliano has since gone off to rehab (I guess that cures you of being a terrible person now?) but denies the accusations against him . . . even though they were caught on video.

It's been interesting to watch the public reaction to all this. Celebrities can take a stand by boycotting Galliano gowns for red carpet events. But what about the average fashion-loving fan? We haven't lost the opportunity to wear couture gowns, but something intangible instead: the inspiration that Galliano's amazing designs provided, which are now pretty much tainted forever, at least in my mind.

Of course, we can try to make the distinction between the artist's views and the art itself. After all, the designs themselves were not anti-Semitic or sexist. But I think all too often talented men get a free pass when it comes to their personal lives and views (think of Roman Polanski or Charlie Sheen, though I hesitate to call the latter talented). The best we can do is condemn him and move on, I suppose. (Rather than, say, giving him a line of t-shirts with his awful soundbites.)

The most fitting farewell was the one given, I think: at the last show, after Galliano's dismissal, all the house's seamstresses and tailors were brought out to take a bow in place of Galliano himself. After all, the many shows he put on were not only his accomplishment to claim. I'm going to console myself by thinking of these women and men and all the hard work they put into their craft.

What do you think? Can you separate the man from the art?

Is Your Wardrobe More Than 30% Dresses?

Hey, want to help me with my book? I'm down to the really fun part: planning the color palette, gathering swatches, and finalizing the designs. The book will have a whopping TEN patterns, with variations on each. As you can probably guess, the inspiration for most of the designs was Vogue's New Book for Better Sewing, but updated for today.

I'm struggling a bit with the balance of garments, though. Right now three out of the ten garments are dresses. Does that seem like a low number to you? I know my wardrobe is certainly more than 30% dresses. So, I'm thinking about ditching the bolero jacket and adding another dress. (The rest of the garments include two skirts, two blouses, a jacket, and a coat.) People don't really seem so keen on boleros anyway, right? And there's a gap in the dress styles where I could fit a killer Joan Holloway-inspired daytime sheath dress.

Would you mind sharing your innermost thoughts in the comments? Please let me know if you like your sewing books with 10% more dresses—or if you're one of those rare bolero enthusiasts. Thanks so much!

P.S. The lovely dress pattern above is from The Blue Gardenia, bust size 38". Speaking of which, don't forget to enter The Blue Gardenia giveaway!

Reader Request: Fitting It All In

I got a really lovely e-mail yesterday that I thought I'd share. It's in line with others I've received, as well as comments from readers, so I figured it was time to tackle this subject. It has to do with time management, or really my perspective on fitting in all the stuff that I do every day. I'm hoping I can provide some helpful insight! Here goes the letter, edited down a bit:

I've been following your blog for quite a while now and honestly, I'm quite jealous.  Apart from style differences, you are doing with your blog exactly what I've always wanted to do, but just haven't gotten the courage/gumption/time to do.  I know it's largely a matter of will on my part, but I'm curious as to how you do it.  You have the blog, you are writing a book, sewing garments and documenting their construction, painting fabric and the list goes on and on!  Are you still working for someone else?  Do you sleep and do laundry?  How much time does it take to maintain your blog? Make a video blog?  I am just continually amazed at how much you have going on.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you are able to make time for everything that you do, and I'm sure others would as well.

First, the basics. I have a full-time job editing books, and it's a creative and interesting job. It can also be pretty high-pressure, but I try to keep the bulk of my work at the office. I read manuscripts on the train and at home, so the job doesn't keep me chained to a desk for super long hours. (If you want to know more about my job, I happened to do an interview on the subject just yesterday. My interviewer was also my husband, so the post title may be a wee bit biased.)

As for my home life, I'm married but don't have kids. I imagine the "kid-free" part of the equation is what helps me pursue my hobbies more than anything else. I sleep about 7 hours a night. I absolutely don't do laundry! A grand thing about living in New York is that you can drop your wash off at the laundry in the morning, and pick it up, all clean and folded, on your way home. They charge by the pound and it's worth every penny. I wash my handmade dresses in a tupperware bin at home and let them line dry in the shower. I don't clean as much as I should and my husband does most of the cooking. (I wash the dishes.) I also don't go to the gym as much as I should.

The work week is pretty routine. I get home from work around 6:30 pm, and I usually have a little free time to relax. Usually this means sewing (or in the past week, painting a little), but sometimes it just means collapsing on the bed catatonically. After dinner, I get my second wind and that's when I get my real work done. I write a blog post for the next day and set it to go up at 7:00 am, a full hour before I even get up. I would say I work on my blog for 1-2.5 hours on the weekdays. If I have time left over after writing my post, I'll do something creative like work on a sewing project for a bit. Or sometimes Jeff and I put on a pot of tea, make some cookies, and watch sitcoms together. Then I shower and go to bed around midnight or so.

The weekend is when I get bigger projects done: working on my book, making a video tutorial, or just sewing for hours on end. I always sleep in. (People are generally worried about me being sleep deprived, but I'm really not!) I would say I put in a good 6-8 hours a day on the weekends working on various book, blog, and sewing projects. I break up my days into tasks I know I want to get done (i.e. finishing a chapter, hemming a dress, writing a post). Videos are quite time consuming, as you guessed. Even if they only take half an hour to shoot, the editing takes twice that usually. One thing that seems to fall by the wayside is answering reader's e-mails. (Sorry about that! I try; I really do.)

Those are the nuts and bolts of my schedule, if you will. But it's less robotic and much more intuitive and emotional than it sounds. My blog writing is generally about whatever I'm feeling most passionate about at the moment, whether it's shoes or bound buttonholes or silk painting. It's easy to be motivated when something is really speaking to you. I also keep pretty close tabs on how I'm feeling. Last week I got really overwhelmed (stressed, tired, and anxious), and that was what prompted me to take a week off blogging. I'm definitely ambitious, but I'm trying to learn when to back off and give myself a rest.

Speaking of being ambitious, I would definitely describe myself as someone who's always looking toward the next level, so I really related to this e-mail. There are so many creative women out there who seem to have it all (pattern companies, fabric lines, multiple books, etc) and I often compare myself to them. I wonder if I should be trying to make a living out of what I do in my free time (even though I think my day job rocks), or if there's something more I should be pushing myself toward, or if I'll ever be good enough to get there. When I fall down this rabbit hole of anxiety, I remind myself that it's all a process and we're all at our own place.

I didn't start my blog until after I turned 30, and I've recently been feeling so inspired creatively, like I'm getting closer to what I'm supposed to be doing. When I'm 40, maybe I'll be even closer. I'm a work in progress, no doubt.

Things will change a bit in the months to come. I'll be sewing garments for the book, so I won't be able to share what I'm working on. And the entire thing has to be finished (edited, revised, photographed, etc) this summer. But it will be a temporary thing, and I guess I'll figure it out as I go along! More to come on that front.

I hope this helps answer the question! I'd love to hear from all of you what your perspective on this matter is. How do you fit it in everything you want to do?

New York Times Discovers Existence of Repro Vintage

Repro Dress from Stop Staring!

Peter sent me this fascinating article yesterday, with strict orders that I must blog about it. Your wish is my command, captain!

"This Old Thing? Actually, It's New" takes a look a various women who love retro style but tend to wear more current reproduction pieces rather than vintage. This revelation comes as no surprise to me, since I'm a retro-lover who's only owned a few pieces of true vintage clothing. Before I started sewing my clothes, I would rely on retro-fied styles at chains like Anthropologie and Banana Republic to fake a vintage look, along with a healthy topping of actual vintage costume jewelry. Why? One word: fit. Vintage clothes are generally tiny enough that it makes the shopping experience frustrating rather than enjoyable to me. The NYT article acknowledges this challenge as a reason to seek out repro pieces, as well as several others: musty smells, weird holes and stains, and other "charms" of vintage clothing. (Sadly, it doesn't make the leap that some women may choose to sew their own vintage styles as an alternative.)

On the other side of the coin, the article looks at the vintage snob: she who turns her nose up at reproduction clothing. ("Some purists sniff, if not sneer, at the trend.") I think anyone who loves retro is surely familiar with this particular brand of pretension.

But what really interested me was the tone of the piece. The writer sets up repro vintage as a current trend, while interviewing the proprietress of Stop Staring!, who's been selling it for 13 years. They also interview a woman who asks if vintage call really be a trend, since the point is to look timeless. (I'm sure we could go around and around in circles on that discussion!)

The article also briefly dips into the territory of gender relations and retro clothing (which I've discussed here as well):

Ms. von Firley’s hair is cut in a 1920s style Dutch bob, and she is rarely seen in an outfit that isn’t vintage or reproduction vintage. “Men treat me differently when I wear vintage or something that looks vintage,” she said. “I’ve noticed that they open doors and even apologize when they swear, which is so not the case when I’m wearing regular clothes like pants and a sweater.”

Others who wear reproduction fashions said they had similarly enjoyed increased chivalry.

Overall, the article is a bit all over the place, as it frenetically tries to decide whether it's a trend piece or a bit of social commentary. Perhaps a more telling slant would have been what, if any, changes are made in the reproduction process. Are the pieces inspired by actual vintage finds? I find it fascinating that repro vintage can start to take on a look of its own, one that's pure mash-up rather than true homage.

Anyway, it's quite an interesting topic to retro-loving seamstresses, I think. After all, we specialize in reproduction! I'm sure some of us would qualify as purists (those who use vintage everything, right down to their notions), while others of us (myself included) make use of vintage patterns, but are more about using contemporary materials to get a retro look.

What is your take on vintage reproduction: old news or a timely trend? Do you consider yourself a purist or a reproducer? Or perhaps something else all together?