Monday, January 2, 2012
I've mentioned more than once that I have limited interest in, and talent with, clothes. But as I consider resuming this sewing thing, I find my interest in the topic growing.
Maybe part of my issue with clothes has been the fact that they weren't controlled by me. Instead, ready-to-wear clothes are controlled by companies that decide what I should wear this year, and how much I should pay for it, and whether a round person like me is worthy of wearing something decent-looking. My reaction to all of that sort of thing tends to be "Bleah," followed by, "Nothing's falling apart yet - I'm keeping my money."
I normally wear jeans with tee shirts or polos, or black skirts and black shoes and black coats and black hats topped with a very limited variety of plain shirts. Occasionally I'll branch from black to dark brown or dark blue or dark green.
But when you look at my stash of sewing fabrics, they show a very different taste. I do have black and navy blue wool crepe, but I also have a cut of cotton in gaudy peony-like flowers in several colors, and one of georgette in light blue with huge polka dots in darker blue. And a lime green and purple brocade. And now I've made that pink silk blouse, and tomorrow when the sale starts at the fabric shop I have my eye on a white lawn with nicely silly orange flowers.
And I'm thinking about garments with brightly colored and patterned linings and facings and cuffs and piping and other gaudy sparks. If I keep sewing, I may be hard to recognize in a year or so.
Image: By Asbestos. Wikimedia Commons.