pattern junkie

Flasher Fashion

Oh, Vogue.  You've come out with some scrumptious dresses for spring...and then there's your new pattern for men, 8720.  This goes straight into the Department of WWTT (What Were They Thinking?):

Was it really necessary for the coat to be buttoned all the way to the neck?  Did the model need to shove his hands forearm-deep into the pockets?  And why, in the name of all that is holy, did someone decide to throw sunglasses into the mix? 

I don't see this and think, "My goodness, there's a stylish man!"  I think "That guy's getting ready to expose his junk.  Remind me not to look his way."

Monday Morning Eye Candy: New Vogues Edition

As you probably know, Vogue released their new spring patterns a week ago.  I don't know about you, but I found several drool-inspiring dresses.  There are the two great Donna Karan offerings, 1219 and 1220, which both feature lovely details.  I'm also lusting for 1233, but you all know what a sucker I am for big collars and 70s-inspired fashion. 

Which to choose for eye candy status?  In the end I decided upon 1232 by Pamella Roland.  Check it out:

I love the curved seam along the front and the asymmetrical hem.  The flower's cute, but I think the dress would be just fine without it.  What I adore most of all is the ruffle at the bottom.  It manages to be sophisticated rather than little girly, and it seems like it'd be an awful lot of fun to wear. 

By the way, I found a photo of it in her spring collection -- quite pretty, don't you think?

Unfortunate Fashion Friday: The "You Got Peanut Butter In My Chocolate!" Dress

Welcome to Unfortunate Fashion Friday, a new feature here at PJ where I share the odd, the horrifying, and the just plain wrong.  (Let me state right at the outset that I'd love nothing more than to be proven wrong about my UFF choices -- so when one of you makes an amazing version of something I've picked, send it my way!)

On to the mockery.  The Big 4 are busy releasing their new spring lines.  There's some great stuff out there, and then there's McCall's 6280:

Those of you who grew up in the 70s & 80s like I did probably remember the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups ads that purported to tell the creation myth of Reese's yummy wonders.  A librarian might be standing on a ladder eating a chocolate bar, only to accidentally drop it into a patron's open peanut butter jar after he bumped into the shelves, or a quarterbacker running down the field might ram into a cheerleader and the same chocolate bar/peanut butter jar confluence would happen.  (No, they never explained why people were walking around eating from open peanut butter jars.)  The point is, the wacky collision would always result in one person exclaiming "You got your peanut butter on my chocolate!" to which the other would reply "You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!"  Then both would realize that the two flavors were fantastic together. 

Here's an example:

 

Which brings us back to that dress.

It's never good when you look at a design and your first thought is "What the hell happened there?"  Really, I look at this dress and all I can do is envision the wacky, Rube-Goldbergesque collision at McCall's HQ that caused two halves of cute dresses to get stitched together like Frankenstein.  Maybe if it were done in all one fabric.  Maybe if that lovely cape collar extended to the other side...maybe if the interesting hip detail extended to the other side...

You see where I'm going with this.  Asymmetry can be cool, but these are two great tastes that do not taste great together!

Great Expectations

The lovely Carmencita B sent me this great image -- an Indygo Junction quilt pattern, The London Jacket:

Carmencita pegged it perfectly -- the model in the upper right is thinking, "OMFG being a model is so not what I thought this job was gonna be!"  You know she was hoping for a bikini and a beach, not a shapeless apron and an Ikea kitchen!

Does the Yardage Chart Convert That to Bedsheets?

The new Vogues are out.  Here's an offering from Chado Ralph Rucci, Vogue 1181:

And here's one from Koos Van Den Akker, Vogue 1187:

Me?  I just think if you're going to go caftan, GO CAFTAN!  Tell us what size bedsheet to use to make either of these baggy beauties and we'll be good to go!

Vintage Vogue Wants YOU!

Some of you may have read already about Vogue's ongoing search for vintage patterns for their "Vintage Vogue Reproductions" series.  The basic info is this: you scan or send a copy of the pattern envelope to Vogue at Vintage Vogue Search, Vogue Patterns Magazine, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271 or Mailbox@voguepatterns.com.  Put 'Vintage Vogue Search' in the subject line.  If they decide to use your pattern, they'll ask you to send it in and you'll be credited on the envelope and get your original pattern back, plus 5 free Vogue patterns of your choice. 

Curious to know more, I donned my (imaginary) reporter's hat and fired off an email to Vogue, peppering them with questions.  Were there certain patterns they were looking for?  Certain eras they favored?  How often did submissions end up being used as reproductions?  And why oh why did they need to search for the patterns?  Why was their archive depleted?  I threw out my pet theory -- that sewing patterns, being women's work, have traditionally been viewed as disposable.  I feared that Vogue might not respond after my little rant, but their lovely merchandising manager, Carolyne Cafaro, wrote back with lots of great information:

Most of the Vintage Vogue patterns in the catalog are a result of the search. If you look at the Vintage pages, there are copies lines that give credit to the owner of the pattern. It will say: Pattern source courtesy of…… We borrow the original pattern for approximately 9 months so that the replication can be exact.

We are never looking for a particular design. We like to try all looks but have found that styles from the 40’s and 50’s generally perform the best. However, as we never know, we review all time periods. We file the submissions by decade and when the time comes, we look through all of them to see what best fits the total issue. We generally input 4 Vintage designs a year – two in our Summer issue and two in our Winter/Holiday issue.

We actually have wonderful archives of Vogue catalogs. Our archives are located in our New York office and the vintage catalogs have a hard binding with the month and year on them for easy identification. We are extremely careful with the books and try to disturb them as little as possible. We do not have an archive of actual patterns which is why we are always on a search.

While I wanted to follow up with questions like "Can I move into your New York office and sleep next to the pattern archives?", I tamped down the crazy and simply asked what changes they made to the patterns besides multi-sizing them and including modern instructions.  I know many people, for example, make adjustments to 1950s patterns to account for today's girdle and longline-bra free times.  Did Vogue do this as well?  Interestingly, the answer is no:

As you noted, the pattern has to be multi-sized and we do use modern instructions, but we try to stay with the original fit. We do not accommodate for previous undergarments, but the reason we require the original pattern is to match the fit as closely as possible. The standards for sizing in home sewing has not changed much over the years – they certainly do not match ready to wear!

A big public thank you to Carolyne for her answers and to Vogue for soliciting customer input on their vintage lines!  I know I'll be going through my patterns and scanning away!

Mockable Vintage Patterns of the Future: New McCall's/Simplicity Patterns, Part 2

It was the exposed zipper purse that got me thinking.

Here it is.  McCall's 6046:

I saw it and had a momentary "WTF is up with that zipper?" -- but before the thought was even completed, I went "Ah, exposed zipper trend -- got it!" and moved on.  

Later, it came back to haunt me.  What would I think if this were 2060 and I stumbled upon this pattern?  What would happen if I shared it with a group of fellow pattern lovers?  The fashion trends that are so clear to us now -- like those that were so clear to our predecessors -- would be much murkier.  We'd puzzle over whether or not the thing actually opened down its center.  If so, why?  A possible quote from Pattern Junkie 2060: 

"Was this considered a smart design?  A handy way to get to the detritus at the bottom of your purse?  Examining the pattern further, I realized that the zipper was purely decorative.  'Why?' I wondered.  What fashion trend gripped the women of 2010 to basically announce to the world 'I do not understand the concept of gravity?'"

My alter ego of the future would also regard this Simplicity crafts pattern, 2450, with wonder:

Sure, the vintage pattern lovers of 2060 might start out by admiring the thriftiness of 2010 sewers: in the midst of worldwide economic crisis, look how they adorned their coffee cups to use them as organizers!  But...well, it really doesn't hide the fact that they're coffee cups, does it?  The handle still sticks out.  And wouldn't the cup work just as well by itself?  The final nail in the coffin that ensures this pattern will be mocked without mercy in the future?  It's licensed from a company called Buckets Gone Wild.  Buckets!  Gone Wild!  See them partying in the streets!  Why, I swear that pattern photo was taken on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras!

Finally, here's Simplicity 2438, a Wii Fit accessories pattern.  Now, let me say right up front that I don't have a Wii but I'd love one -- they seem like a lot of fun, and a great way to exercise.  Still, I suspect this pattern might be mystifying to pattern lovers of the future:

First of all, she's SO HAPPY, which always opens up a pattern for mockery.  Second -- and, truth be told, this baffles me now -- the Wii is designed to be used at home.  Why is a tote bag part of the pattern?  (Maybe I don't understand Wii culture, and taking your Wii to your friend's house is a frequent activity.)  Why does this mysterious little machine get all these specialized patterns?  Ultimately I wonder if this product -- which, as I said, I covet -- will be looked on in years to come as we look at these:

It's interesting food for thought.  What fashions and patterns of today will become treasured collector's items -- and which ones will become odd artifacts of the past?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Are You There, Vogue? It's Me, Pattern Junkie

Wow, Vogue.  Thank you so much!  Once again, you've released a slew of lovely patterns that will end up in my pattern collection, waiting patiently to be made.  You manage to always put out three or four dresses that I absolutely fall in love with, and this time was no exception.  After all these years, you still know how to make me feel special!

I especially want to single out this pattern, 1170, for praise:

What is up with that fabric?  Are those chimney sweeps, or are they men with umbrellas being swept away by the wind?  Anyway, I love how they look like they're being sucked into the black hole of the knot at her neck.  It's not just a blouse, it's a natural disaster!  I would wear that ALL the time.  I mean it.  I bet you knew that, didn't you?  That blouse is our secret joke, isn't it? 

But I'm going to be a bit of a crankypants about Vogue 1158, the Tracy Reese striped dress.  See, Vogue, I have these four yards of beautiful striped rayon fabric.  (I told you about this, but you were doing that "pretend listening" thing again, as if chatting with Marcy Tilton was more important than finishing your conversation with me.)  And like the Ancient Mariner doomed to retell his tale, or Sisyphus fated to push that rock up the hill again and again, I am doomed to forever search for the perfect striped fabric pattern.  Immediately my eyes shot to that dress.

The back is so nice.  So harmonious.  Look at that stripe-matching:

It's beautiful.  Makes you feel like all is right with the world, doesn't it?  Granted, the stripes don't match on the belt, which seems like the easy part, but hey -- who's looking there?  It's the front people really pay attention to:

N-n-no! At first I thought you were doing something cool and complicated with the multi-stripe pattern, but no!  You simply DID NOT MATCH the stripes, and every time I look at the dress it makes me feel funny inside.  Like I might need to put on one of those McCall's crazy caps I posted about yesterday.

No, Vogue, I am NOT being hyperbolic.  Those mismatched stripes get under my skin. I just don't feel right.  I can't stop thinking about how -- stop laughing.  Vogue, if you tell me did this just to annoy me --

I am calm.  Let me just make my point. I looked through my sewing books from the '40s and '50s.  I was hoping to find a tongue-lashing on the evils of unmatched stripes -- the kind of thing Nina Garcia might say if this dress showed up on Project Runway.  But no, my vintage books quite simply and sensibly explained how to match stripes when laying out a pattern.  And then I realized --

Vogue, I am not having the discussion about how you use "real" designers while Simplicity cashes in on Project Runway.  The point is, I looked through my old sewing books and I realized that I didn't need to justify stripe matching to you.  You know why?  You know you should do it.

Yeah you do.  "Allow extra fabric to match plaids or stripes."

No, I am not twisting your words.  I am not taking them out of context.  You always say --

Vogue, cut that out.  Just admit you messed up!  We can get past this.  I just want -- I need -- an explanation!  Were you sick?  Did you forget to pay the utility bill again?  Were you on another bender?  You know I'm always good for the bail money.

Don't slam the door like that!  Fine.  Go out and get drunk with Simplicity.  Why don't you tell him to stop making sample garments out of the Joann's Casa Collection and experiment with something like silk or chiffon for once?!

Vogue?  Vogue?!

I'll wait up in case you call.

New Simplicity Patterns: Do Yo-Yo Animals Dream of Fabric Sheep?

This new craft pattern, Simplicity 2441, may be in the running for one of my favorite pattern envelopes EVER.

At first I glanced at it and thought, "A vintage re-issue.  Cool."  I like vintage re-issues.  And the green Simplicity envelopes were used in the early to mid 70s, which had some absolutely fantastic or some fantastically bad patterns, depending on your point of view.  Then I took a closer look at the envelope and realized that Simplicity had brought us right into science fiction territory:

The old pattern sits perched there, like a family photo.  Papa Monkey, Mama Hippo and Uncle Lion on vacation, perhaps.  Except that...there's no pattern number on the "old" pattern.

Did the old pattern ever exist?  Was it faked for the pattern envelope?  For that matter, why do Monkey, Hippo and Lion need a photo of their forebears?  (Or is the photo of their earlier, wilder 70s lives?)  We're entering Blade Runner territory now, and I'm hearing the Harrison Ford voiceover: "Why would a replicant...keep photos?"

My head is still exploding with the existential implications of yo-yo animal self-awareness when I notice something else: "Simplicity" is misspelled in the subheading!  Yup, someone's left the third "i" out of the word, so that "simplicity archives" reads "simplicty archives."

Whenever I catch one of my own typos, I want to poke an eye out.  But finding a typo on something that had to pass through many levels of approval?  Delightful!  Did this one actually make it into production?  You can bet that I'm swinging by my local Joann's to find out! 

New Vintage Vogue Pattern: The Aprons of Feminine Oppression

Between some fantastic reader submissions and new releases from Simplicity, McCall's and Vogue, it's like Christmas over here at Pattern Junkie HQ!  Sadly a case of the stomach flu has slowed my posting ambitions, but I awoke today ready to jump right back into it.  So much to share!  Let's jump over to Vogue's new patterns, shall we?

Lately there have been some fascinating blog discussions as to whether or not dressing/sewing vintage equals embracing the feminine oppression of the era.  I fall squarely in the "fashion is fun/embrace the freedom to wear what you want" camp, but I have a feeling the artist for Vogue 8643, Vogue's latest contribution to its vintage reproduction category, feels differently:

The aprons strike me as 1950s/early 1960s styles, but these aren't fun rockabilly chicks or sunny 1960s bakers.  Check out the black and white mod sheath dresses and the short haircuts on most of them.  These are mod girls!  Mod girls who've been plucked off the streets of London and Rome and forced into Happy Housewifery School.

Asian Print Apron is the headmistress.  She reminds me a little of the head ballet instructor from Suspiria, and if you've seen Suspiria you know that that's a scary thing.  Heavy-lidded Red with her egg-beater print apron (egg beaters!) forlornly carries drinks, while Yellow searches her gigantic pockets for keys to escape the asylum.  Polka Dot (with her broken wrist!  My wrists bend like that, but I have hyperextended joints) calls for help on the Phone with the Cord to Nowhere, while Green Flowers presents her Cake of Despair.  That cake has gray icing on it, people.  Gray.

Still not convinced?  If you click to see the pattern description on Vogue's website you'll be treated to an actual model shoot they did for the pattern.  Tell me the real title of this isn't "Hopes Drowned in Palmolive and Chardonnay:"