pattern junkie

A Modest Proposal for Turkey Day

Roast turkey costume
Originally uploaded by trixieskips

Out of curiosity this morning, I started searching the web for some kind of turkey dress pattern. While I didn't find the outlandish vintage dress pattern of my dreams (a 60s sheath with a skirt made of felt feathers, perhaps, or a 50s circle skirt with a turkey appliqué), scouring flickr unearthed this rather disturbing turkey costume pattern.

Is it really any surprise that you can find the instructions on Martha Stewart's website?  

Come to think of it, I may have to borrow a friend's baby next Halloween.  I'll stick the tyke in this costume and go as Jonathan Swift.

Inexplicable Obsessions

I think I've picked my next sewing project.  I've had Simplicity 9030 for a while now, but I'm suddenly inspired to make it.

I love the simple A-line silhouette and front zipper (it looks like it'll be easy to construct).  But what I really love is that collar: floppy, huge, 70s-era, almost as big as the model's head.  The collar flaps may actually double as radio antennas or wings, much like The Flying Nun's habit.

Sewing patterns with big collars are one of those things I can't seem to pass up.  (Bundt cakes, odd pudding recipes and bad thrift store art also fall into this category.)  It almost killed me to list Simplicity 9026 in my etsy shop: those collars could double as ski slopes.  Someday, somewhere, I'll find it in a B34!

I can't explain why I've got a weakness for big collars -- but really, who CAN explain the mysteries of love?

I'm planning on making the dress in a midi-length with some retro-ish cotton I have.  It's a light grass green with a pattern like iron scrollwork in chocolate brown.  Of course, I also planned to make it in time for Thanksgiving dinner, which seems unlikely considering that's now only about 24 hours away.  It's probably for the best -- that amazing collar is probably a gravy magnet.

In other news, Hot Patterns is having a buy one, get one free sale for Thanksgiving.  I may have to get those gauchos I was mulling over after all...

We Don't Need No Stinking Pockets

Here's another great note I found on a vintage pattern, Simplicity 6175:

 

No Pockets!  Apparently the seamstress who owned this pattern was so upset about the pocket situation that she wrote the same thing on the envelope back -- lest she forget her anger during the process of flipping it over, I suppose:

At first I thought the fury stemmed from a sneaky "fake pocket" situation -- but no, the patch pockets on the jacket are real.  Was she upset that the pants and skirts didn't have pockets?  Or was it a Joan Crawford-inspired "NO MORE POCKETS!" rage?  I'm hoping it was the latter -- in which case I shudder to think how she would have responded to this skirt or this dress that were featured over on Dressaday.

God-Awful.

You gotta appreciate a seamstress who's honest in her feelings about a pattern -- in this case, Simplicity 3600:

  I'd really love to see the garment that prompted the summary "GOD-AWFUL BIG NECK!"

Of Buffums and Pearl Buttons

One of the things I love about collecting vintage patterns is discovering notes and other bits of ephemera that the original owners stashed in the envelope.  It might be a note about pattern adjustments -- a shopping list gone astray -- a fabric sample tucked away.  Whatever it is, it's a little window on the past of the pattern and the seamstress who used it.

Recently I was checking pattern pieces on Simplicity 4103 and discovered this newspaper ad tucked inside:

Here's the pattern itself:

I wonder -- was it a little girl who saw the Buffums (Buffums!  Great name!) ad and pointed it out to her mom?  Or did mom see it and decide that's what she wanted to make for her daughter?  The pattern pieces are cut out, so I do hope the dream Buffums dress became a reality.

Whatever the story, it brings back fond memories for me.  Back in the early 80s when I was an eighth grader, the Prairie Dress/Gunne Sax fad swept over Parker Junior High.  I was at the age where I HAD to dress like my friends -- the dorky "Mork and Mindy" suspenders of earlier years had been tossed, and my era of hacking up men's pajamas to make suits and trolling thrift stores for vinyl coats was yet to come.  A Gunne Sax dress was essential for my social survival -- and pearl buttons were absolutely crucial.  Without pearl buttons, the dress would be nothing.

My mom decided to take on this project herself -- and in secret, no less.  She surprised me with an absolutely gorgeous dress.  Blue calico, cream calico, lace, ribbon and yes...pearl buttons.  I have pictures of myself in it: I was thirteen, awkward, gawky and unsure of myself, but that dress made me feel great.  And that had very little to do with the fact that it was "in" and everything to do with the fact that it was a labor of love, made with me and only me in mind.  Thanks, Mom!

Catfight!

Is it wrong that every time I look at this pattern illustration I think Stripey is telling Green exactly where she'd like to put that ice cream cone?