Story N˚ 25: Vintage for Easter

When I started thinking of my array of floral dresses that I choose from for Easter Sunday, I remembered a dress I haven’t worn in years.  In fact, I couldn’t remember if I still had it, and if I had altered it or not.  Sometimes, I start chopping up a dress to make into a skirt or top, and then get distracted and find it mangled years later.  And I usually can’t remember what I was going to make it into.  I know I have thought of how to alter this particular dress many times.  When I went to look for it, I couldn’t remember if it had gotten chopped or not.  I was a little worried.

This dress is the first truly vintage piece I ever bought.  I was in high school, late 1980’s. One summer when we were visiting family in Salt Lake City, my sister and I who were already thrift shoppers, found ourselves in a vintage shop.  I’m sure I didn’t understand the difference back then between thrift and vintage except for price; all I knew was we were surrounded by great clothing.  This green and white floral print must be rayon, and I think the tag read circa 1930’s, maybe early ’40’s.  It looks handmade, although the buttonholes and buttons look commercial.  I honestly don’t know how it has lasted this long in my rambunctious wardrobe.  It is worn out and yellowed in some places, but the rayon is strong and still drapes beautifully.

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Note the grosgrain ribbon running through the crenellated tabs and on the buttons.
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Do you look inside of clothing to examine the stitching?  I do.

I wore it constantly in Florida where dresses are great for the heat.  I remember my high school art history teacher, Dr. Earles, complemented me on it.  My first year of college, I wore it with no socks and men’s dress shoes. I’m talking early-grunge, so this was ultra feminine. I remember one late summer evening I went to visit a guy in his dorm.  I had a new haircut, my vintage dress and no shoes on. I knew he liked green, and was hoping he liked the dress, that is, liked me in the dress. The kiss didn’t happen till later that semester, but I’d like to think the dress had something to do with it.

I would also wear it to the university’s performing arts center, where I volunteered as an usher with my best friend so we could see the play or opera or symphony for free.  This was an easy dress for such occasions.

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I realize I haven’t worn this dress for decades. The dress does have a homely, hausfrau look to it from here. I don’t remember it that way. Maybe that’s why I didn’t wear it for so long. I found it at the bottom of a pile of clothes (one I keep for sentimental reasons); it wasn’t cut up at all!  I’m glad my past self had the sense not to change it.  But I want to freshen it some way, maybe wear it again this summer.  For now, it will be my Easter dress, maybe with a shorter skirt and cap sleeves.

Happy Easter

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Story N˚20: Use It Up, Wear It Out

…Make it do or do without.  This saying, popular during the struggles of the Great Depression, is one I learned growing up in a large family.  Along with “waste not, want not,” I associate these expressions with my maternal grandparents.  They both lived through the Depression and knew how to live off the land and to prepare and preserve their own food.  From farming and gardening, to baking and canning, carpentry and sewing, they were self-sufficient, hard workers.  My grandfather always set up a compost wherever he went, my grandma taught us to sew and crochet when she visited, and her great grandmother made a certain quilt out of any scrap of fabric she could put together in pioneer times.

In my sustainable living and as an active environmentalist, I challenge myself to use and care for things in a conscientious way.  I scrape every last bit of peanut butter out of the jar before recycling it, for example.  The same with shampoos, etc.  I am aware of how much waste I generate all by myself- it’s a lot.

Applying this to my clothesmaking, I found a fabric a few years ago that hits all the marks for me:  a chambray of hemp blended with recycled polyester.  I ordered a few yards to test out and love the drape, texture and color ( a blue-grey denim wash).  The first thing I made was a pair of pants from a Marcy Tildon pattern that I altered to suit me.  The wide legs balloon out on either side and then taper smartly above the ankle.  I created a waistband and pockets for wearability.  These pants have gotten so many compliments, and I get as many from men as I do women; they may need to go to market…

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The perfect baggy pant

The fabric has held up well, except for the crotch, because of my bicycle seat and all the biking I do.  I had extra fabric to patch it, because I want them to last forever!  And then even more to make a skirt with…

For the skirt, I took the full width of the fabric (about 50″/127 cm), and pleated and gathered it until it fit my waist.  At the center back the two selvedge edges meet.  This time I added beesom pockets (cut right into the fabric and finished with jetting, incorrectly known as welt pockets).  The pocket linings were cut from a sari my sister brought from South Africa.  The turquoise silk peeks through the pocket slit.  Again a waistband, and this time a facing around the hem line.  The silhouette is a puffy column that inspired the name- the Suffragette skirt.  Maybe a matching-era sportscoat will appear…

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The Suffragette skirt

Even after a pant and skirt, there is still fabric left.  I put a panel of it in a skirt that I cut from a man’s dress shirt.  A bright polyester herringbone knit, circa 1970?  The story behind that find:  an old friend of mine was searching Craigslist for deals while he was out of work. He would often find giveaways, especially the belongings of deceased persons.  The daughter of an elderly man who had passed was giving away all of his old clothes, which I now have an ample stash of.  What can I say, there were many inspirational pieces in the pile…

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hemp + herringbone
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Details: crotch patch, beesom pocket, inset panel

For the chambray, I have almost used it up, I’m definitely wearing it out, am making it do and do, and haven’t had to buy anything in a while.  I love this.

 

Story N˚17: Sweater Weather

…Which officially began a few months ago in these climes, has been eluding us.  Even today in Manhattan, I saw a teenager in shorts and flip flops as I marched by in tall boots, sweater, scarf and raincoat.  Despite being dressed for the rainy grey day, I wouldn’t call it cold or even chilly.  My sweaters are ready to go, but on many days they feel too heavy and uncomfortably warm.  Here’s hoping temperatures will drop, so I can bundle up properly.

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My sweater stack is a tidy group of mostly shopped pieces. As a Floridian, I wasn’t in the habit of acquiring sweaters.  Since moving to New York, I’m happy to boast a few Indigenous cotton sweaters ethically made in Peru and a charcoal grey alpaca sweater by Zady that I’m getting a lot of mileage out of.  But the sweater that has the most history with me is a hand-knitted pumpkin spice sweater that keeps me cozy warm.  It came into my life in 2005 on a return trip to Argentina.  As I’ve mentioned before, Argentina is a great place for yarns and knitting.  My friend, Silvia, was working away on this sweater.  She said it was for herself but when finished, she realized that it was way too big for her small figure and gave it to me as a gift.  I thought it was too big for me as well, but didn’t want to refuse it.  I made room in my suitcase somehow- this thing is really bulky!  And it lived in clothes storage for many years before I moved North.  I think the oversized slouchiness really works now, although the color isn’t my favorite and I prefer natural fibers.  On the coldest days, this sweater has found itself stuffed inside my down fill coat. A tight fit, but no complaint of chill.  And I can always use a scarf to offset the color.  This sweater has become a lounge staple.  Best of all, I love that it is handmade by a friend…

 

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Story N˚ 13: My MANIFESTO

‘As a clothes maker and textile artist, I commit to living and applying practices that take into consideration the well-being of my community, both local and global, as well as my planet.  I believe that what I choose to consume has an impact on many levels, and that this impact matters. 

I care about the people and families who are working in all areas of manufacturing; I care about the resources and beauty of my planet.   I believe that there are choices I can make that lessen environmental damage, and that can improve economic conditions around the world, such as using sustainable, natural textiles and reclaiming existing clothing and textiles.  Recycling, reusing items, reducing my consumption, choosing ethically produced fashion and products that are made to last:  these are and should be a given in our society at this point.  I commit to implementing these practices, to being conscientious about with whom and for whom I choose to work, and to educating others through word, action and product.  

To borrow a saying, “beauty is as beauty does”.  In fashion, and in my life, beauty matters:  what I say, do, choose, consume, create, matters!’

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I wrote the first draft of this in February 2013 while taking an ethical fashion course at FIT.  I consider it to be a fluid statement that continues to evolve throughout my journey.    Since moving to NYC, I have added ethically produced fashion to my wardrobe, as well as thrift finds that I have upcycled.

Case in point:  Today I am wearing a skirt I made from an oversized dress I found at Beacons Closet.  It’s kind of perfect for St Patrick’s Day.  I wish I could tote around the Irish daffodils as well…

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Story N˚ 11: Winter Blues

I don’t have the winter blues, thank goodness.  Rather, I love the color Blue, and have come to love Winter in the north (it took me about 3 winters to be able to say so).  I imagine January as a blue month:  I see blue shadows on the snow, the pale blue of a cold dawn, or glimpses of brilliant blue sky between bare brown trees and racing clouds.  Not surprisingly, I have a remarkable number of blue clothing and accessories.  Here are my faves that are keeping me warm this winter:

  1. My most recently acquired accessory: this Nepalese handmade wool blanket scarf was given to me by a sweet friend who is so encouraging of my clothing design ambitions.  I first wore this to the airport in December.  It is so soft and cozy, and I noticed the vibrant blues turned a lot of heads my way.

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2. Before I moved to NYC, I picked this plaid flannel shirt out of a crowded swap meet pile back in Florida.  I had a lovely group of herbalist/permaculturist friends at the time who did things like swap clothes, and share food and music on the front porch.  I was able to find my path and begin my journey on it, thanks to their influence.  This shirt is one I like to wear to draw in; a studio shirt, if you will.  I did have it on once when helping a short-term boyfriend paint his apartment.  There are still paint smudges on the front pocket to mark that event.  I need to do more drawings and make more memories in this shirt.

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3. For my birthday in 1995 (yeah, 21 birthdays ago), I bought myself these Kickers in Cordoba, Argentina.  They were worn by every adolescent on the street there, and I fell in love with them.  I have worn them off and on throughout the years, and I’m happy to note they are still kicking.  I recently dusted them off and began to wear them again.  On the first outing, the subway car I got onto was full of Argentine men on vacation.  I watched them look at my shoes and whisper to each other.  I tried not to grin, but I felt coy and very cool.  I love these shoes, and find that other people do, too.

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Story N˚9: Día de los Inocentes

Today, December 28th, is celebrated, mainly in Catholic communities, as a day for jokes and pranks- very much like our (U.S.) April Fool’s Day. The idea is to not remember the tragic massacre of infants recorded in the Book of Matthew, but to make the day lighthearted and fun. Children in some countries receive their Christmas gifts on this day as well, El Día de los Inocentes (Day of the Innocents).
In keeping with a focus on children, I want to show off some baby clothes made by my great grandmother, Bessie (Elizabeth Badger Higgs). She was known for her handicraft and excellent cooking. She made these pieces almost 100 years ago. I am amazed at her perfect stitches and creative detail.

 

Story N˚2: Woven in Argentina

Back in Argentina, 2005. I wanted to explore Buenos Aires for the first time, and revisit my beloved Córdoba and friends there. It was a mild, but rainy winter that July. The city intimidated me.  I watched the elegantly urban women pass by. I wandered around in my geeky red walking shoes, blue jeans and turtlenecks- nothing I felt good in, as in beautiful. I think ‘quirky-oblivious’ was the running theme of my style (still trying to shake that look).bsas01

The Americans in my hotel thought I was Argentine. They would ask me questions, testing out their Spanish. I was flattered, and determined not to blow my cover. The porteños (Buenos Aires natives) were on to me, though. Not feeling totally Argentine (‘cause I’m not) and not feeling very American, topped with an acute shyness left me rather lonely in that city. But when I got to Córdoba, and began recognizing places, and meeting people, I felt very much myself- a lone woman adventurer. Córdoba is much more manageable and endearing to me than Buenos Aires, simply because it was home for nearly two years. I quickly learned where to jump on and off the colectivo (city bus) again.
I revisited the downtown where I had poked in for yarn ten years earlier. Street performers, musicians, mothers and daughters shopping together, elderly folks feeding pigeons from the park bench, toy vendors, empanadas and alfajores! This is where I first encountered sycamore and eucalyptus trees- both have bark patterns which enthrall me.
One of the best parts of my visit was going to the street fair downtown. Every kind of artisanal craft available: jewelry from seeds, horn and Argentinian stones, gourds carved into mates and sugar bowls, hand-stamped leather wallets and belts, glass lanterns wrapped in leaf prints. The twilight was magical with the lights and smells and flow of people. I overloaded myself with gifts for friends back home and thank-you trinkets for my hosts. And of course, something for myself- a woven hand bag in grey, blue and orange lines- that I still use ten years later. It is worse for wear, but I have to note how well it was made to have lasted this long.

wovenbagI passed through the city center once more before flying home. I popped into a shop that turned out to be another artisanal craft space. I saw a mannequin dressed in a rich blue top unlike anything I had ever seen. After trying it on I had to buy it; it’s one of those pieces I would regret not having. I believe I paid around $24, and the woman who made it said that I could come the next day and learn how to make the top using bias woven yarns. I do regret missing that class… I hope to replicate this top one day. It is my official Bohemian treasure- something I have only felt cool wearing, if for no other reason than for being such a unique piece. And Brooklyn is the perfect place to go Bohemian.

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