pattern junkie

Unfortunate Fashion Friday: The Bermuda Jumpsuit, or That Creep Can Roll

Even great designers have their missteps.  Behold Bill Blass and Vogue 1461, the Bermuda jumpsuit (shudder):

I admit it.  There's an evil little part of me that wants to devote my limited sewing time to making this for Mr. PatternJunkie just to see the look of horror on his face when I present it to him.  (He'd never wear it.  Mr. PJ is an old school punk rocker who prefers black fabric, skulls, and insists that "shorts" stop about four inches above his ankles.) 

A Bermuda jumpsuit may not be worth hours of sewing time, but milliseconds of Google searching to see if I could catch one in the wild?  Certainly!  Sadly, I could find no evidence of any 1970s survivors...but at the extraordinary website MyJumpsuit.com ("Enjoy Your Lifestyle...Work Is Allowed...Fits Your Activities") I found the elusive shorty jumpsuit for men:

Nope.  Not even the magic touch of Bill Blass and his welt pockets and self-tie belt can save this.

On the other hand, MyJumpsuit.com has a costume section.  I never realized how many male costumes revolved around jumpsuits.  Mork, Super Dave, Jack LaLanne...and of course, my favorite, Jesus Quintana from The Big Lebowski. 

Mr. Pattern Junkie may be getting a jumpsuit after all.

(And if by some chance you HAVEN'T seen THE BIG LEBOWSKI...well, enjoy the Jesus Quintana scene, a sublime four minutes of madness.  To quote Donny, "I am the walrus.")

 

Je Ne Sais WTF?!

Ah, the vintage Vogue Paris Original patterns.  There's nothing like them to inspire delight and pattern lust.  They're so elegant, so stylish, so...French! 

Except...wait a minute.  What is that sophisticated French couple in Vogue 1213 up to?  Dressed in their elegant suits, chawing down on...is he shoving a chicken bone into his maw?  Or is it a pork knuckle?  Is she enjoying corn on the cob?

Mon dieu!

006: License to Nil

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.

Disco Inferno

The thumping disco beat reverberated throughout the club, commanding her to move.  And when the music spoke, she had to obey.

She twirled.  Whirled.  Boogied down.  Now believing the music's promise: soon it would be raining men.

All eyes were on her.  She could feel it.  She gloried in it.  Knowing that they marveled at her movement.

Sadly, she was wrong.  They were taking bets as to how soon she would swallow her purse.

Vogue 2313, 1979

Stop, Drop and Drool

Oh, my.  These just showed up on the Vintage Pattern Wiki.

I won't bother to try and describe them.  Just sip your coffee and savor the pretty:

 

Vogue Couturier 568

Vogue Couturier 204

Vogue Couturier 501

P is for...Pain

After Pierre left, she wandered around Paris dressed head to fingers to toes in purple, listing to the right like a ship sinking into the stormy sea. 

When Less Is More

Usually I'm a sucker for excess, especially in my vintage patterns.  Bows?  Ruffles?  Pleats?  Odd little wings?  Gigantic collars?  Western style bodysuits?  Bring 'em all on -- I can't get enough!

But every so often, a pattern comes along that reminds me how beautiful a simple design can be.  This week I glimpsed Vogue 2774 on the Vintage Patterns Wiki and fell in love:

The classic A-line -- the way the curved shirttail hem echoes the neckline -- the simple collar -- it all just works.  In brown.  Doesn't it strike you as the kind of pattern that you'd be doing a disservice to if you made it in a print?

Or how about this Jacques Heim pattern, Vogue 1513 ?  It's another Vogue Paris Original.

 

From the looks of the pattern drawing,it's only four main pieces -- upper front/back and lower front/back:

Simple and gorgeous!  Of course, the only thing I could do in a dress like that is emulate the model.  Go for the bangs -- no prob -- do the dramatic eye makeup -- spent a while in my 20s doing that look, so I'm good to go with that.  Contorting my body so that my jutting hipbone and sleek thighs press through the material, while my stomach is nowhere in evidence?  I'll start practicing now.

How DARE You Question Me and My Big Bow!

Green:  I'm just wondering if...in terms of balance, your outfit...it's just that, the uh...the bow...

Red Bow: How dare you question my bow?!  It is the HEIGHT of fashion!

Green: The height?  I'm not so sure.  The width, I'll give you...

 
You can go to the listing for Simplicity 3942 on eBay by clicking on the picture.  I have to say, I love how the illustrator acknowledged that the bow might get "hmms" -- it's like she/he was preparing the potential wearer.  "You're gonna have to be strong to wear this, OK?  Here's a good pose to strike."

No doubt about it, it takes a certain aplomb to carry off a bow the size of one's head.  Here's Vogue 1973, a Bill Blass version:

Me, I couldn't do it.  I'd have coffee or lipstick on that thing in a second!  Any thoughts on where you'd wear a dress with a lace bow the size of a turkey platter?

Someday I Shall Be Queen

 

I think Vogue 1897 should have come with strict instructions: only people with a title such as "Queen," "Baroness," or "Countess" could make the example on the left.  And that title had to be recognized by the U.N., not just by your giddy reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror.

Although...how wonderful is it to imagine two women showing up in this dress at the same dinner party?

P.S.  For an interesting look at the couture details included with the instructions, check out this post at Pins and Needles!

Party dresses for my alter egos

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?