I think we can all fall victim to a bit of Imposter Syndrome – you know, where despite your talent and skill, you feel that you really don’t know anything. And that it’s just a matter of time before your secret is revealed and you’re outed as a fraud. I think I’ve been internalizing this Imposter Syndrome with my sewing – despite the number of projects I’ve accomplished, I’ve always chalked it up to luck or the help that I’ve had along the way…
There are some projects that simply take forever. Not because they’re particularly complicated, but because life just… happens. Several years ago now (it’s actually embarrassing to think about how long ago it was…), I started to draft this dress. Like most of my creations, she was born from a true vintage piece that could never be mine. And as with most unrequited loves, I forlornly tucked her into the back of my mind. But, I never forgot her.
I’ve never been one to take something at face value. I’ve written before about how we can get creative with our clothes – use a hatbox as a handbag, wear a belt as a headband, and dig into your earring collection as a means to spruce up your lapel. And I feel my eyes are always scanning for things to be used in a manner they were potentially never intended.
When I entered in high school I was a ridiculously shy kid. I had been horribly bullied as a child and really struggled with having confidence in who I was. As most schools put a huge emphasis on athletics, I always felt somewhat on the outskirts of extracurricular activities because I don’t have an athletic bone in my body (Seriously. I’m tall, but just can’t seem to get the ball through the hoop). But, my high school miraculously put an equal value on sports and the arts. And I discovered theatre – which was kind of like landing on the island of misfit toys…
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – one of the best parts of learning how to sew for me is the ability to see a dress that is very likely to be forgotten or discarded, and give her the opportunity to feel like new again. I spied this cherry red cutie at Pursuing Andie Vintage – an absolutely stunning Vicky Vaughn with lace trimmed collar and sleeves and a scalloped drop waist, all wrapped up in a cloud of dotted swiss adorableness.
This dress was (and still is) a bit of a wounded bird. She has definitely been worn and very, very loved in her time (which makes her all the more beautiful, in my opinion!) There is some color beed from the red panels, scattered pinholes holes here and there, and several popped seams that needed reinforcing. There was also a fair bit of wear and tear and staining on the shoulders from years of love and (I hope) some serious time spent on the dance floor. As she was a bit on the petite side for me anyway, I decided to pull…
My latest sewing project started as so many often do: with an Idea. At a few points in my vintage hunting, I would come across vintage painted mexican skirts or vintage square dancing skirts that had images of dancing couples, with the figures wearing actual miniature skirts. I was so smitten with the 3D quality of them – the idea that there was a miniature world within the skirt, like when you hold up two mirrors opposite each other, creating smaller and smaller landscapes inside.
There are a LOT of reasons why I love vintage. The stories the garments come with, the attention to detail, the one-of-a-kind nature. But few things get my heart beating quicker than a glance at the INSIDE of a vintage garment. Back in the day, so much care went into every aspect of making a vintage dress – each seam, each stitch – and care even went to imagining the future woman who would wear her. The adjustments she might want to make. Because fashion was once about longevity.
After the craziness that was the making of the Dahlia Dress (which took a good 6 months to complete in between all of the travel and 12 zillion pattern pieces), Sewanista and I thought it was a good idea to try for a quick win – follow a fairly straightforward pattern and quickly reap the rewards. Ohhhh when will I ever learn that when it comes to my sewing projects, nothing is ever as simple as I expect…
My height (at a respectable 5’9 or 175 cm) was a definite source of despair when I was young. I sprang up like a bean sprout and had no idea how to manage my gangly limbs, which felt like a bunch of sharp angles that lacked a common goal. I’ve definitely grown into my height in later years (and admittedly make myself even more Amazonian with 5 inch heels!) But, as I’ve mentioned before, my fabulous vertical prowess also comes complete with an exceptionally long torso. While I fully (now) embrace my elongation, I have to admit there’s been many a vintage dress I’ve…