I'm calling this project my "Red Fox Vintage" dress because I bought the original dress at Red Fox Vintage in Woodstock, Portland. I tried it on because I was intrigued by the collar, which has two long lapels that criss-cross in front and are held by a buttoned-down tab. I found it fit perfectly, and I loved the silhouette (late forties, early fifties is my guess), but not the color. Still, I brought it home, because it fit my back in a way that I have a lot of trouble getting patterns to fit my back. (I'm high-waisted with a slightly forward shoulder).
She came to me with a vision: a gown with old Hollywood glamor, with batwing sleeves, V-neck front and back, and a fitted torso. I said I'd help, but she would do the work, and our deal was struck!
For various personal reasons I have not been blogging lately, but several people (I'm looking at you, Rosanne!) have told me they miiiiiisss meeeee! So here are some random updates to tide you over until the next scheduled post (a long research-y one will go live on March 25th) or the next time I write one (not sure when that'll be).
The more vintage clothes I see, the more curious I get about the labeling practices of our grandmothers' generation. Nowadays, a ready-to-wear garment usually has two labels: a brand tag that says who was responsible for its production (GAP, Lord & Taylor, or the like), and a care tag that says what it's made of and how to launder it. Sometimes they're clustered together; other times the care tag is in the side seam.
Vintage clothes, however, often have more tags, and in different places. I'll show you two examples from my own wardrobe.
Two-thousand-eighteen was a rough and un-productive year for me, for various emotional reasons. However, I have learned a bunch, and my resolutions for 2019 are informed by those lessons. Here are my sewing-resolutions:
One day I told my mom, in passing, that I was a feminist. "You are?!" she asked in bewilderment, and I wondered what feminism meant to her. As I see it, I am a feminist because of the things my mother taught me: I believe in educating myself, paying my own way, embracing my inherent strengths, appreciating how I'm different from men, being strong and gentle, standing up to people who would use or devalue me, voting, et cetera. Why would the word "feminist" put her off when she knows and approves all those things about me?
But when I read something like this, I understand where the confusion comes from:
I should be able to dress how I want and act how I want. That's what feminism is about, not about making others feel comfortable.
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