Va-va-va-voom

It is done, my friends. It is done.

Ms. K and I met with the dressmaker today, and washed our over-stressed, over-reaching hands of the dressmaking affair. We handed some custom to a slight, charming and seemingly very competent Cambodian dressmaker from a long line of silk weavers and garment makers. Sovanna (or "Sovan," as he goes by, because "Sovanna" is either too difficult for Amis to get out of their mouths, or because, like me, it makes them assume he's a woman) and the K Lady walked me through fabric choices and styling details this afternoon. For $280, I'm getting a custom fitted and made silk dress, fabric imported from the village where he, himself, grew up and used to climb mulberry trees to pick the cocoons as a child. Or so the story goes. It sounds good to me.

What astounds me is that he is running this business, "Cocoon Silk" -- with two brick and mortar shops in Portland's Pearl and NW 23rd -- to help pay his way through a business management degree at Marylhurst. Wow. Whatever happened to waiting tables? Or stripping?

Just as a reminder, this is the vintage number I'm having reproduced (with some slight alterations). And guess what? Forget the peach....

Mary is getting married in a RED dress, baybee. Oh yeah. Uh hu.

::snap::

Next stop: shoes.

More Stuff to Buy

I followed the groom to one of the larger chain purveyors of books yesterday, and noticed the ubiquity of "scrapbooking" paraphernalia. What was once a fairly simple and organic method of personal archiving has become commodified to the point of practically selling folks the very mementos that go into the archive. The hyper commodification of this practice is not exactly new, I know. I had a colleague seven or eight years ago who was obsessed with it, and it was then that I became introduced to the phenomenon of scrapbooking for scrapbooking's sake. She would have "scrapbooking parties," and kept inviting me, but I never could stomach the thought. I realize now that I should have gone to at least one in the name of ethnography, but as is frequently the case for even professional anthropologists, one so often fails to see ethnographic significance when it's staring one in the face in the course of everyday life, even when it's doing so with much fanfare, waving around ribbons and rubber stamps and bits of colored paper and scissors that will cut it into decorative edging.

At the time of those many enthusiastic exhortations to come get in on all the cuttin' 'n pastin' fun, it struck me as peculiar, this hoopla over the new thing to do. My mother has some old scrapbooks up in the attic full of detritus accumulated mostly during her stint as a stewardess flying the New York-South America route for Pan American in the mid-1950's, back in the old propeller Constellation and Stratocruiser days: cocktail napkins from hotels in Caracas, concert programs, notes from suitors in her various ports of call, etc. (hmmm, she thinks to herself.... I ought to dig those up and do some preservation work). I've always associated this collecting of bits and pieces of this and that specifically with travel. The old family Christmas tree is a "scrapbook" of sorts, full of souvenirs from various wanderings, and the guest bathroom in my parents' house is a veritable museum of Mini Soaps of Many Nations, squirreled away from hotels all over the world. My parents (and I think it's specifically my mother) are hotel mini soap magpies.

It's not scrapbooking, itself, that bugs me. Anyone with a modicum of archivist tendencies does it, and my guess is that the practice dates back centuries. I found some examples of cool "scrapbooking" in Latacunga in Ecuador associated with the La Mama Negra festival. Part of the costuming involves elaborate headdresses and chest pieces embroidered with bits and pieces of everyday life: buttons, coins, little toy airplanes, flashlight bulbs, doll body parts, etc. Below is a sadly not very sharp picture, but you get the idea.
I'm going to make one of those one of these days. It's a great use of all those little pieces of junk filling up that one drawer in the kitchen, suitable for framing. But I'm "scrapbooking" here, aren't I? I'm just doing it online, ostensibly in connection with nuptials.

But, back to the large, chain purveyor of books. I could choose between any number of wedding planners/organizers with scrapbooking features, I could buy The Book of Us: A Journal of Your Love Story in Fifty Questions, and I could buy a journal/scrapbook for just about every aspect of my life. In fact, the scrapbook, journal and personal organizer seem to have melded into one massive industry of paper and glue and scissors and ribbons and stickers and rubber stamps and glitter ink and stuff, stuff and more stuff to stuff into pre-themed books in a frenzy of crafty documentation of the mundane. Not that there's anything wrong with that, except when one starts to wrap one's head around the massive scale of the commodification of archival documentation. The sheer volume of stuff that's sold to stuff into those books would seem to leave little room for personal mementos. It's as if what's being pedaled is the archival documentation of scrapbooking paraphernalia.

On a different note, while at the mall where said large purveyor of books was located, we wandered past a wedding/prom dress store called Emporio Bridal and Formal. Now, before I go any further, I think you can pretty much guess what sort of concoctions might be found at a place called Emporio Bridal and Formal located at the Clackamas Town Center. CTC may be more 'upscale' these days since the departure of Tanya Harding's practice rink and the arrival of REI, but this store had enough polyester to critically affect the ambiance of the whole complex. Between Emporio and Frederick's of Hollywood just down the mall a few steps, no amount of REI-ness can exorcise the ghost of dear Tanya.

The place was full (and I do mean full... those dresses take up a lot of room) of things like these prom/quinceanera dresses from online retailer BargainWeddingGowns.com:

Lots and lots of tulle, super saturated primary and almost day-glo colors, sequins, and glitter galore. The wedding dresses were along the same lines, but in various renderings of white. They even had this exact wedding dress:

Imagine me in that, folks.

David looked at the price tag on one of the dresses and just about choked. "A thousand dollars...!"

Oh, honey, you're so naive and such a charming little doodle in your wide-eyed naivete, but $1,000 is cheap. I do have to admit, however, that it seems like an awful lot of money for fabric I could easily get for under $5 per yard, and that manufacturers can buy wholesale for less than a dollar per yard. Let's see... a manufacturer could buy a shipment of polyester crepe back satin wholesale for about 59 cents per yard, using approximately nine or ten yards, which comes out to about $6 in fabric per dress. Add stuff like lining, notions and embellishments, and we can estimate it at an even $10. Let's just say for the sake of yucks that this manufacturer pays his or her garment workers $13 per hour (the average wage of American Apparel workers, according to the San Francisco Chronicle). Skilled garment workers producing dresses in a Fordist fashion could easily churn out one of those Emporio off-the-rack numbers (we're clearly not talking couture here) within eight hours. That's $104 for the labor. The reality is that garment workers in countries like Bangladesh, where a lot of these dresses are made, make under $100 per month, so the labor might actually be costing somewhere around $3.50 for that dress, tops. Looked at in that light, $1,000 does seem like a lot of money to pay for a dress that cost under $15.00 to make, even accounting for "shipping and handling." I can see why David was shocked, but he hasn't seen the $10,000+ specimens that are out there. Emporio Bridal and Formal was not going to provide quite that kind of shopping experience.

No, I did not try anything on, just for fun. The place was a madhouse of women with their daughters (some accompanied by a male figure skulking in a corner with a look of terror on his face) flinging vast amounts of hot orange and lime green tulle around in an orgy of fashion hysteria. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but not by much. It was busy. Besides, I've never had any real desire to dress up in Barbie doll clothes, even just for laughs. David and I came to the conclusion that the manufacturers of these dresses go straight to Princess Barbie for inspiration, which seems reasonable enough, given that so many little girls grow up with her as their most formative fashion icon. When they reach prom or bride age, they have in their heads an image of themselves looking just like their Barbie doll in her finest. Back in the old days, when Barbie first came out, that phenomenon of giving little girls ideas wasn't quite such a taste disaster in the making as it has become.

Really Over-the-Top Gurly Post Involving Dress Patterns that is Only Suitable for the Hardcore Historical Fashion Minded

I've been combing through some patterns that are readily available from the Big Three: Butterick, McCall's and Vogue. I haven't even started to comb through my collection of old patterns from the 50's that I have stashed away in the garage. The advantage of finding and altering a suitable pattern from the contemporarily made, is that I won't have to do much in the way of pattern re-drafting, which is not something I had a whole lot of experience with even when I sewed on a daily basis, oh those many, many years ago.

Yes, so, here are some thoughts:
Butterick 4918, reissued pattern from 1952. I would add 1.5 - 2 inch wide halter straps and might box pleat the skirt (shortened to tea length) to make it somewhat more structured.

Butterick 4919, reissued from 1952. This would be done in the tea length version. There might be a bit too much fabric in the halter bodice. I might make the V a bit wider and deeper. One of the things Ms K and I discovered when checking out dresses is that too much solid coverage up top is not particularly flattering; it makes me look like I'm wearing a 'big girl's' dress.


McCall's 5319. I could have some fun with this one: make the skirt a little longer, maybe fuller, with pleats instead of gathers; embroider embellishments on the central waist piece; pair it with an organza or chiffon (for a more flowy effect) over skirt.... hmmmm


McCall's 5580. I could see the halter version of this one paired with the sash effect shown on the strapless version.


Vogue 8150. This would be pretty flattering for a more contemporary design. I would shorten it to tea length (the pattern's shorter version has one of those awful asymmetrical hems.. I would just make it a straight hem), and I could see embroidering the straps. The skirt might even work with a chiffon over skirt.

Vogue 8470 (apologies for the especially tiny picture). Simple, to the point, made in a charmeuse, possibly add a chiffon overlay, maybe embroider the waist piece. Can be done in a halter version as well.

Vogue 8020. What I like about this is the box-pleated skirt. I would make it with a fairly substantially deep, broad V or scoop neck. An embroidered self-fabric belt would be cool.


Vogue 9668. I like the top half of all of these (the first version I could see doing with three-quarter length sleeves), paired with the third version's fuller tea-length skirt. It would be fun to embroider the waist piece, and version two's pencil skirt would look interesting with a full over skirt of sheer organza with the pencil skirt showing through.


Vogue 2960 reissue from 1954. This on would work pretty much as is. I might add a little subtle embroidery at the bust and maybe alter the sleeves so they are more shoulder straps than cap sleeves.

Vogue 2961 reissued from 1953. This stands as is. I could get some really nice decorative buttons and make a self-fabric belt.

Vogue 2962, reissued from 1957. Ms. K and I had talked about the potential silliness of me carrying a bouquet, and had discussed the option of a wrist corsage or one worn at the waist, a la this little number. I might need to reduce the amount of fabric at the bust, but maybe not. It might work better with more structured pleats at the skirt's waist, rather than the gathers.

Vogue 2902 reissued from 1952. Having the bust and waist be separate pieces tends to work best for me, I think, but this would be fine with some careful fitting. The waist corsage would be nice with this one, too.

Vogue 2903, reissued from 1957. Princess seaming takes more careful fitting/tailoring than some other patterns, but I love the inverted box pleats and the neckline. I could see doing this with three-quarter length sleeves.

Butterick 5209, reissued from 1947. I might consider pleating the skirt, rather than gathering it at the waist as shown, but the waist and bust gathers on the halter balance each other out so nicely.

Butterick 5032, reissued from 1952. Columnar doesn't work so well for me, but the organza over skirt would take care of that problem. I would lower the neckline.


Simplicity 3878. This frothy tulle-covered number from Jessica McClintock, even though it's 'contemporary' and not a vintage reissue, is so exactly like my mother's and Aunt Suzanne's old high school and college dance dresses from the 1950's that I wore to rags while playing dress up as a little girl (sorry, Cousin M... I think I had pretty much had my way with those dresses by the time you were ready to have your turn with them). This one is almost irresistible for that reason. I would go with the shorter tea length version, of course, and could add satin halter straps similar to those seen on McCall 5580 or Vogue 2961 above.

Vogue 8393. Another alternative would be to make a separate top and skirt. The first of these (shown in white on the left) would be improved with added halter straps a la McCall 5580 or Vogue 2961 above. I would pair the top with a full circle skirt. The two pieces could be made of the same fabric, or coordinating/contrasting fabrics.

Cursed Bust

Ms K and I did a preliminary foray into the bridal party dress exploration world, and it was helpful. I haven't yet been to one of those classic 'bridal shops' yet, which should really be a curious adventure -- curiouser and curiouser, said Alice -- but I do have a clearer idea of some of the things that would work. Something along the lines of what worked for the bustier 50's sirens would do the trick (I need to get cracking if I'm going to achieve quite that Sophia Elizabeth waistline...). I am not a columnar gal. I have never been a columnar gal. The 1930's, willowy, bias cut, Nora Charles (a.k.a. Myrna Loy) look, no matter how much I might love it, no matter how much it fits with my ring, just won't do.

Let's just remind you all that this is a dress I'm going to be making myself (with Ms. K's more expert muslin-making and fitting assistance). No, I am not off to drop $10,000 on a Vera Wang.

It's not just the money... it's the fuss and bother

The Cousin M. sent me this link to a Washington Post piece on the "anti-wedding," a wedding planned by two correspondents for a carefully vetted couple who wanted to buck the Wedding Industrial Complex (ah... so... I'm not the only one to have made that connection, yet another extension of Eisenhower's ____ - Industrial Complex legacy. Actually, what I noted was the Guurlfriend Industrial Complex, which I have yet to see mentioned by anyone else).

The "planners" and their vetted couple, I have to note, went through contortions to come up with a wedding that would be sufficiently disestablishmentarian. They saved money on a princess gown and flowers, but the bride experienced almost as much trauma and drama as any Bridezilla specimen. Let's face it; organizing a protest on Lafayette Square across from the White House takes planning, too. And a community organizer is still someone who can rally a bunch of people together to pull off some major feat. Let's not pretend that either don't take remarkable amounts of work to pull off with any amount of success.

It's the organizing that looms as my biggest potential downfall. If anyone asks me to become their Veep running mate, remind me of myself, will you? Money? Money is no object, because we have none. Well, not "none," but sufficiently little to be able to throw at the problem so that organizing becomes less of an issue for yours truly. All that said, even if I had endless amounts of money, I wouldn't want the standard "dream wedding" that the mags pitch as the must-have of all must-haves. I just want a great party and a fabulous dress to wear to it. And I don't even care if I never wear that dress again. Will Cindy McCain ever again wear the $360,000 ensemble she donned for the first night of the Republican Convention? Doubtful. Maybe the shoes, the watch and the jewelry she'll re-run, but I'll make book on her never more sporting that cloth-of-gold dress.

I can get some great silk fabric for no more than $14-$23 a yard, and suss out a pattern calling for no more than seven yards (and that's one heck of a poofy skirt, my friends). That's $160 of fabulousness there, tops. And if I never wear it again? As long as I have photo documentation of me in my fabulousness, I really don't care.

But back to the issue at hand. Organization, not money, is my big stumbling block. When I pitched the idea of the homemade cupcakes and cupcake decorating "bachelorette" party to Ms. K, who probably knows me and my organizing skills as well as anyone (I got her bare-minimum edited wedding video footage to her in time for a big celebration of her seven year itch), she laughed and laughed...... and predicted with some degree of prophetic accuracy that I would still be working on my dress the night before the event. I can pull together a class syllabus on some random subject thrown my way in no time. Business anthropology? Okay. Web cultures? Sure. Immigration in the new Europe? Bring it on, baby. A groovy party that happens to have me marrying the man I love inserted into it? Well, that's a completely different set of thought processes.

So, the point is, just because one is eschewing the standard "dream wedding," minimizing the costs and the froo-froo and the matching maids all in a row and the various bits and pieces of kitsch and pseudo royal trappings the wedding industry says one simply must have, doesn't mean one eliminates the potential for pipe dreams and imagined "perfect" scenarios and subsequent theatrics when the dancing fairy plums in the head turn out to be ill-tempered trolls with bad breath when seen in the light of day (i.e. reality).

Speaking of dancing fairy plums, I poked around in the Mill End fabric store a bit yesterday, and got some samples of potentially promising fabrics for that fabulous dress thing I was talking about. David likes teals and purples. I dig reds and gunmetal blue. I forced myself away from those mossy greens I inevitable stumble toward, and here's what I came up with, with my apologies to those of you who just aren't that into sewing and fabrics and fashion and all that sort of rot:

Various shades of tomato with blues and purples in silks (dupioni, taffeta, charmeuse and chiffon)

Silk dupioni in eggplant

Silk taffeta in a brownish eggplant

Silk charmeuse in gunmetal blue

Silk dupioni in a teal-tinged gunmetal blue

Silk chiffon in gunmetal-y teal

Iridescent silk taffeta in eggplant with greenish-copper tones

Silk charmeuse in tomato with overlay of two-tone peach chiffon

Silk dupioni in rusty tomato red

Silk jacquard in slightly iridescent tomato red

Extreme Bridal

I don't feel a particular need (or ability) to comment much upon the following....


Ines Di Santo. Does the dress come with the naked man striking the David pose?



Oops. The bride fell down. And the dress (by Monique Lhuillier) is called "Swanlake." Didn't the swan in that story die tragically?

Pictures from The Wedding Channel.com