Monthly Archives: July 2010

draping a texture

Our final project in my draping class was to drape a texture. Or, rather – to drape inspired by texture exploration. In collecting textures for the project, I included a tea-steeped paper towel that had dried in a crisp folded fan-formation. After many rounds of ideas that didn’t really work out, that simple folded piece of paper-towel ended being what worked.

As I was working with the pleated pieces of muslin, it kept looking like rushing water, underwater dunes, geometrically (but oh, so organically) shaped sea creatures, and the insides of shells. That ended up guiding a lot of my decisions about the garment – the ridges created by seamlines and topstitching, the line of the hem, and the curves of the seamlines throughout. I’m not sure it influenced me to include a sheer mesh panel into the dress, but it certainly  plays well together (it’s a bit hard to see against the same-colored muslin, but the sheer piece is stage right on the garment – between the draped organza and the bare shoulder).

I found an origami-folding technique that I thought would work nicely with fabric, making accordion pleats with bends in them. It gave the fabric very crisp edges and folds, and once I started draping and playing around with the it, it turned into something quite magical.

The organza I worked with ironed into crisp pleats, but on the form, they took on a whole different life. The pleats cascaded down, collecting into crispness in some places, and opening up – fanning out – in other places. They rounded, drooped, twisted, but they never lost the sharpness of the folded edges. The layering and sheerness of the organza only gave more dimension to the pleats, physically standing out, but still revealing everything beneath.

My working title (which was only in my head anyways) was “Composition in cream”. I thought it was kind of funny. Especially on a cream-colored dressform. Garment made with cream wool, unbleached silk organza, and nude stretch mesh.

a mountain flower

Forgive me while I interrupt the normal sewing- and knitting-blogging to bring you lots of pictures of a beautiful mountain flower (anyone recognize this one?).

Isn’t it lovely? I can’t stop being so impressed with this tiny, beautiful little thing. The subtle colors, striking in their own way, all the shapes and textures… It packs such an impact for being so small! And yet, so quiet…

(all photos by the boy)

It is lovely to have one’s breath taken away, a little bit.

the dress from the attic

Isn’t finding vintage dresses in attics any girls dream?

Also debuting my new (and second!) Kombi-bike. Does two make a collection?

Going home for me inevitably means rummaging through the attic, to see if there are any treasures there this time that I’ve overlooked in the past. The same boxes comes out, a lot of the same clothes gets pulled out, tried on, rejected, laughed at, reminisced about, asked questions about. Where is this from? Who made it? When was it used?

This dress was made by a family friend’s aunt, who worked as a seamstress. I love knowing that about the dress, and I can see the “handmade” in it, but also the “professional”. The hems are so even and tidy, but the skirt-hem and the sleeves are done in different colored threads. Similarly, the machine stitches are so neat and tiny, but the facing is handstitched.

My mom and I have decided this must be from the 1950s. After more than five decades in existence, it’s starting to show some wear. There was a tear right down the center of the bodice that I have quite simply stitched together. The thread has worn away in places, and the fabric  itself is coming apart in some spots on the neckline. Some things are beyond repair, so I think I will repair what I can, treat the dress gently, but wear it proudly as long as I can.

I am beyond delighted that I found this dress, even more so that it fits like a glove, but most of all? That this is round #2 for this particular dress and me. See, it turns out that during my childhood it belonged to a well-used cardboard box in my house, marked “dress-up clothes”.