Vogue 1561, 1966
She backed against the faux bois wall, doing her best to affect a casual tone. "Microfiche?! I don't even know what that is! How could I possibly steal it?"
They weren't buying it. She could tell that. Why oh why hadn't she listened more carefully to Q when he explained how to use the hidden compartment in her dress collar? It wasn't fair. They'd never make James wear something that made him look like one of those stuffy American pilgrims at Thanksgiving.
I love the note written on the pattern envelope for Simplicity 6161:
"DIane. Let me know about this skirt."
Well, it's a straight skirt. Side zipper and darts. Pretty basic.
Why the note? Obviously the writer didn't have the opportunity to show Diane the pattern and ask, "What do you think?" Was it slipped under a dorm room door? Left on a daughter's pillow? Dropped on a co-worker's desk?
OR...is "Let me know about this skirt" code for "The premier will be arriving at 11"? Was this pattern used by an international superspy? The copyright date is 1965, so it was issued right in the middle of the Cold War. The pattern is cut out, so our superspy could sew as well as evade the KGB. Just think how wrong the Bond movies and Mission Impossible have been all these years! Spy safehouses the world over were probably stockpiled with sewing machines and fabric so that these men and women of mystery could whip up new disguises. I bet 007 himself, in addition to mixing a mean martini, could topstitch like nobody's business.
I guess I've been looking for outside motivation to help me get to the sewing machine lately, because I seem to have gone a little competition-mad. First I signed up for Pattern Review's Wardrobe Contest (10 coordinating pieces in 2 and a half months), then I jumped on the Wardrobe Refashion bandwagon.
Now Sew Retro has to go and complicate things by announcing their November Party Time Competition. I won't sign up (repeat to self: "I won't sign up, I won't sign up") because A) I don't think I'll finish the PR contest, as I've only done 2 garments and am in the midst of a big work project and B) I live in Southern California, where wearing anything more formal than lounge pants and flip flops is viewed with suspicion. I jest -- a little -- but the truth is, I won't be needing loads of flirty dresses for the upcoming party season.
Still, it's fun to imagine a life that demands a whole fleet of party dresses. Here are the dresses -- and by extension, the alter egos -- I'm wanting right now:
Mmm. Here I'm an absolutely fabulous upper crust fashionista with a dash of bohemian flair. It's New York in the late 1960s, and I'm dashing across a Central Park West drawing room to deliver a scathing bon mot to Andy Warhol. Nico and Twiggy may have shorter dresses, but they don't have my wit.
I've had this pattern in my collection for a long time, and I really want to make it -- although it falls squarely into the category of patterns I should avoid at all costs. I look best in things that emphasize my waist. Flowy mod 60s-era dresses designed for Twiggy silhouettes generally make me look like a block of cheese. Witty bon mots generally aren't enough to set off that look.My next contender would be this one, Vogue 1116:
If I'm Red there, I'm hosting one awesome mid-70s party for the block. So confident, so assured! I've whipped up 300 canapes from the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook and styled my hair perfectly, despite having misplaced one of my feet. Plus, I'm wearing an actual "hostess dress," a concept in dressing that should definitely make a comeback. (If I'm Blue? Then I'm in a fern bar, about to give a no-good man a piece of my mind.)
I've had Vogue 1116 for a while and will make it one of these days -- it looks like a blast to wear. The only thing that scares me? That's gotta be one monster hem.
Here's another fantasy party dress, Vogue 1227, found on the Vintage Pattern Wiki:
Clearly I'm an international superspy, perhaps even James Bond's nemesis. It's a cocktail party in Monaco, and this slinky little number doesn't have a hiding place for guns and secret documents -- that's what my poufy hair and chignon are for, silly goose.
Finally, here's a pattern from my etsy shop, McCall's 9619:
This pattern fascinates me: it's from 1953, and so different from the big skirted dresses we associate with that time. Toreador pants, a cummerbund, a ruffled blouse -- what party demands this outfit? If I'm wearing this, I must be in Pamplona at the running of the bulls -- although with that wasp waist, I'm certainly not eating anything.
What are your fantasy party dresses?
Another Halloween. We've almost finished off the candy 'round these parts, though I'm still trying to figure out how to get the fake bloodstains off of my arms and legs. Don't mind me while I scrub...just take a look at these truly beautiful and cool costume patterns I found while gathering examples for Costume Countdown week. After all, it's never too early to start thinking about next Halloween:
Remember when I claimed all clown costumes were scary? DuBarry 1040B proves me wrong. If I could look this smashing, I'd dress in a clown costume every day.
There's a Spanish dancer/Carmen Miranda hidden in me somewhere, because I love this pattern in Hey Chica's etsy shop. It's sized for girls, sadly -- but oh, those ruffles! I love how the tiny bolero balances out the full skirt. The triple bow action -- one for the waist, one for the bust, one for the head -- is fun, too.
See? My Spanish dancer fantasy continues with Hollywood 1426. I adore the red skirt with the asymmetrical hem. Of course, the hat with veil, fan and rose in mouth just drive it home.
I think the illustration for Butterick 4695 from Selvedge Shop is absolutely amazing! It's child's play to make a man in a devil's costume look suave, but to pull if off for a guy in a footed penguin suit complete with bill visor and literal "wingtips" that restrict all hand movement? Genius! In fact, I suspect that this is an early pattern for an international superspy -- after all, one never knows when espionage might be interrupted by a Halloween night out with the kids!
Last but not least, SImplicity 8330, from runningalarm:
A spider on the head with attached web? Simply brilliant! It's a sad commentary on me that if it came down to choosing between being a Spanish dancer or Spider Webhead here, I'd probably go with the latter...
Behold the GO EVERYWHERE man -- 1970s dude extraordinaire. It makes me happy to realize that in the 1970s Simplicity felt that even an international criminal/super spy might need a pattern for an efficient, flexible wardrobe that allows him to blend in anywhere. I bring you Simplicity 7943:
