Glamazon and the Sea of Violets

As I type this, I am getting my behind seriously whooped at scrabble. For anyone that knows me, this is not the norm. In fact, as it is hubbie beating me, it is entirely forgivable, not least of all because after a moments notice when we had been up for less than ten minutes, and coffee offered into his hands I gave him a pleading glance… and he indulged me…. and off we went on a Saturday morning adventure to I-will-not-tell-exactly-where… except to admit we found the little treasures I had been hoping for….

Why sew vintage style dresses and not yet vintage fabrics and notions? In fact, this is a challenge I have sort of set myself as I learn to sew… virtually nothing I use is “new” as in from the mall, but “new” in the sense that it may have been sitting in someone else’s sewing basket for thirty, forty or fifty years, waiting to be transformed into something… special.


The first of this mornings finds I have dubbed “Glamazon” because the sheerness of the Georgette (made in Japan) reminds me of a figure billowing in blue, etheral layers moving soundlessly in a moonlit Summer garden… perfect for a full skirted 1950’s evening dress or a 1970’s layered Dior (think the original Stepford Wives movie).

Violets, violets, everywhere!

The second gem has to be one of the prettiest dress fabrics I have ever seen… suitable for a serious case of frock love. The fabric undulates with violets and promises to fall on the bias for a super special occassion… I will have to think seriously about the pattern before putting scissors to this divine fabric.


The third and final piece to rave about, I am not sure what to do with yet, because it is quite small and one really just wants to stare at its subtle hues… a short panel of grey kimono silk with peach woven subtly where the design erupts in clusters of elegant, reaching trees. Do I dare ever cut that? No wonder it was stashed carefully away for at least four decades. The the original owner clearly threw out their TV and spent their evenings staring at it. Or maybe that was just saved for a special occassion. Okay, maybe not, but I know they loved it.

Throw in a few zippers and I don’t mind being beated at scrabble or losing a turn because at thirty four, I can’t spell “skier” (I thought there were two “i”s), alas.

But the hubbie is sweet and patient. As well as improving his scrabble game with a sixty point lead and no letters left in the bag! So this is modern day romance….

Its a great day to be alive.

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