Is there a Fabric Expert in the house?

So.  Down to business.  What IS this floral print?

Yesterday I swung by my two favorite fabric dives -- I'm not even going to name them because why should I, you think they ever give me a discount? -- but, well, OK, H&M Fabrics at 248 West 35th St. and its larger sibling at 257 West 39th St.  No relation to Hennes & Mauritz.

I must say I LOVE these stores despite the fact that 1) there's NO air conditioning; 2) the sales people know nothing about fabric, which can sometimes work in your favor; 3) I nearly always witness heavy-handed flirting -- oh, not with me, but between the owner and anything with two X chromosomes and legs.  It's sort of fascinating really but jeez, give it up already.

I love the amount of stuff selling for $2 a yard and you never know what you'll find there.  With few exceptions, I've bought all my fabric in these stores.  You really have to like to bottom feed, as it were, to dig for the gold among the dross.  But there's a lot of gold.

I try to hit these stores weekly as you just never know what might turn up. I went yesterday with the intention of finding something to use for this Vintage Vogue reissue that reader James so generously sent me.



I usually try to avoid direct competition with Trena, who made this dress two years ago, but Miss Slapdash is so prolific it becomes futile after a while.

So I was looking for lightweight crepe, as recommended on the pattern envelope: poly, because no way was I going to pay for wool for that ingrate cousin of mine.  I needed a few other things too, including more of that white cotton fabric I made my banded collar shirt with -- I have to make one for Michael now.

First I hit the uptown H&M, where things are slightly better arranged, but...nothing.  There was a lot of poly chiffon (belch) but I didn't see any crepe that really called out to me.  So I swung down to the 35th Street store (closer to home too) and found this.



Now I knew it wasn't crepe exactly, but I thought it was unusual and the print looked kind of vintage-y.  I always have my antennae cocked for something that can work with a Thirties or Forties pattern; not so easy to find.  This was, of course, in the $2/yd area and I knew immediately I wanted it.

So I asked for three yards, right?  Well, there were five yards remaining on the bolt.  Would I take it all, the salesperson asked.

Readers, help me here.  If I want three yards, but agree to buy five yards, who exactly is doing whom the favor?  When I asked if I could just take three, this young lovely gave me the most confused, lost-puppy dog face, like she didn't speak English and I'd just bought a pack of gum with a twenty-dollar bill, and she didn't understand why I was asking for change.  OK, so she gave me five yards for $8; but I only wanted three yards for $6.  Whatever, right? 

OK, so I got the fabric home, five heavy yards-worth, and inspected it more closely.





A strange, slightly rough texture, a bit of a sheen.  Nice drape though. This was not your standard polyester. 

I did a burn test.



It lit and it stayed lit.  I blew it out; the smell was sweet.  The little bit of ash was sort of gray.



Certainly nothing hard or bead-like.  I referred to this chart.

Maybe a silk, rayon blend?

I ironed it and it took a crease extremely well.  I gathered it....



It gathered, but the gathers didn't drape softly like rayon would.  I held it up to the light...



Hmmm....

Maybe ramie or linen in it?  Cotton, jute?  I have no idea.

Since the gathers aren't terribly soft, I don't think it's ideal for the Vogue vintage pattern up top.  I thought I might use this instead:



It's a vintage Hollywood pattern from 1942 that I bought back in the winter.  It has gathers, but it's not all about the gathers.  I really want to stick to a Thirties or Forties dress with this print; it just looks right to me.

Since I have five yards, I guess Cathy might have a matching turban too.  And maybe a bedspread.

So wise readers, I need your opinions.  What is this fabric?  Also, am I right not to use this for the Vogue pattern?

Today on the blog I encourage dissent and conflict among commenters; it's healthy.  Consider prefacing your differences of opinion (and I'm counting on some) with "WTF,"  "Are you kidding?" "WHAT are you talking about?"  or the ever-popular "Excuse me" -- meaning anything but.

Thanks, guys -- you're the best!

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Peter's (near) perfect summer shirt!

Thanks for dropping by, Jude.  We'll call you.

So remember how I kvetched on Wednesday about style versus comfort on these balmy summer days?  And remember that I showed you this fabric I bought -- sort of a lawn-weight, eggshell white, loose cotton weave?



Well, using a favorite vintage men's shirt pattern of mine, Butterick  4712 (the same one I used for the orange flowered shirt in my blog header)...



...I made this:





It's a banded-collar shirt (my first), loose and airy; dressier than a caftan top with it's long cuffed sleeves and sleeve plackets, but more casual than a regular dress shirt with its side vents, lack of collar, and semi-transparent fabric.   Now if only I could master Jude's suit....



 



I think it's the perfect combination of style and comfort, modesty and elegance!



It even gives those pajama pants a little more class.  I'm now nearly ready to visit all you sub-tropical dwellers and thanks again for the invite(s)!

I'm very happy with the way this turned out, though now, somewhat predictably, Michael wants one too so it's back to the sweat shop for me.

Today is a special day for another reason: it's our six month anniversary.  No, not mine and Michael's -- mine and yours.  Do you believe it?  Half a year and we haven't once argued.  Thanks again for spending your time with me, Michael, and the dogs.  It gives us hope to know that in some parts of the world one still needs Ugg boots not to freeze to death.

Somehow the week has flown by in a blur of cotton stripes and white gauze.  Never ceases to amaze me.  I'm in laundry mode here.  You?

Have a great day everybody!

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Modesty: This Man's Perspective

Have you heard?  It's modesty week on the blogs.  Well OK, here and here; are there others?

I wanted to say a few words on my own virtual real estate about this juicy topic.  Just to reiterate: this is one man's perspective and not an attempt to dictate or to change minds.  So here goes...

I couldn't care less about the amount of skin a person shows, male or female.

This whole modesty debate seems primarily focused on women, and the degree to which exposed skin leads to/invites/condones (unwanted) male attention.  And there's tremendous difference of opinion.  Revealing one's body is seen by some as an expression of lack of self respect, by others as flagrant narcissism, and by others still as a sign of healthy self confidence.  

It can be all any of these things and more.  We all have a body and we all have different feelings about them depending on what culture we were raised in and what we were taught to believe.  If you were told that there's something "sinful" about bodies and their natural functions, well, sure, you're likely to judge harshly those who put their own on display and read all kinds of meaning into it.  If you were taught the opposite, you might make assumptions about those who choose to conceal.

I can say with confidence as an American that American culture is conflicted-bordering-on-pathological when it comes to women, sex, and bodies.  We're bombarded daily with highly sexualized images used to sell us everything from jeans to automobiles.  Our political leaders routinely spout views consistent with religious orthodoxy as if we didn't have separation of church and state, and fear reprisals -- with alarming and increasing good reason -- if they do not.

I am not religious and wasn't raised religious.  I don't believe our actions or way of dress honor anyone other than ourselves, our loved ones, or our communities.  I don't buy the argument that not focusing on the outer allows you to focus on the inner, as if it were either/or.  You can dress like a cloistered nun and still be an idiot.

That said,  I am not particularly comfortable with immodest behavior or dress.  I grew up believing that a confident person conceals rather than displays.  Today, I have ambivalent feelings in this regard.  I often judge a person whose look I interpret as highly sexualized or consciously seductive -- and this can be someone who's completely covered btw -- as a little over the top.  Certainly there's a time and a place for everything, however, and it shouldn't matter.  But it does to me for sure and it's not just about skin or no skin.

What I'm more interested in than modesty is elegance, another highly subjective term.  We all have our own sense of what elegance is and how an elegant person acts or dresses, also based on how we were raised and where.  For many of us, celebrities or the wealthy set the standard for us, rightly or wrongly.

For me, there is an element of modesty in elegance.  Part of elegance is restraint: suggesting as opposed to trumpeting.  I think that's why many sewers (and those who love them)  are taken with vintage style. There's an element on self-conscious play -- even art -- involved as well.  The operative word here is conscious.  Some people are born with what we consider an elegant carriage: they have a beautiful walk, or a way of using their body that seems effortless and natural. I'm not talking about them.

I'm talking about being aware of one's tools and of trying to create an effect -- perhaps even through what can be interpreted as modesty -- that is meant to please both others and oneself.  We all have the potential to be elegant, it's a question of how much it matters to us.

Poor Britney.  I hate to pile on her; she doesn't deserve it.  She's dressed relatively modestly here for her, but elegant?  No.  But she's just shopping and a suburban parking lot is not Fifth Avenue.

The late Ann Miller might be the opposite extreme but gee, doesn't this outfit suggest that she is consciously aspiring to elegance?  She cares.  And you know she probably dressed this way when she went out to the 7-Eleven too.

Elegance is like seeing a window box of beautiful flowers as one walks down the street: it's totally unnecessary but it's beautiful: a sign that someone cares to make an effort to do more than the minimum.  It shows a respect for one's environment as well as for oneself.

That's important to me, not the amount of (male or female) leg or breast one shows .  If you live in a city where there's not a whole lot of private space, this kind of thing really matters.  It's all about the public realm.  Maybe we're all in curlers and pajamas at home but we make an effort when we go out.

Elegance celebrates everything that makes us humans special, with none of the body shame instilled by authoritarian, generally patriarchal institutions like church, family, or even state.

It says, this might take some effort on my part, but it's worth it.  I do it for me and -- as importantly -- I do it for you.

It seems many of us, scarred by the battles for equality perhaps, are loathe to admit doing something partly for others' pleasure, as if we were in some way contributing to our own objectification.  

Thoughts, wise readers?

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Summer Style vs. Summer Comfort

I'll skip the morning niceties today and cut to the chase: in my heart of hearts I long to dress like this -- a Twenties dandy aboard the Ile de France en route to, I don't know, Capri or something.  I'd settle for Genoa.

Friends, barring a large inheritance from a mysterious millionaire mogul, I will never dress that way, let's just accept this once and for all.  I call pull off a vintage style cabana set, which is not to be minimized, and I have even been compared to gone-but-not-forgotten film star Troy Donahue (no cracks).  But I'm just not up for real style at the cost of comfort.

I live in an international fashion capital and I certainly wouldn't get beer cans thrown at me out of a speeding low rider if I dressed like Oscar Wilde instead of Oscar Madison.  I am simply too lazy to dress up.

When it comes to clothes, I'm no better than the rest of you.  Maybe even worse.

On Monday, still in a post-vacation haze and strictly on autopilot, I beelined it to the nearest fabric dive on 35th St. and picked up this:



This cotton stripe is as soft as flannel and just screams Bain de Soleil to me.  I splurged, too: $2/yd for only 44" instead of 60.  

I wanted to make something wonderful...a shirt, pants, even a caftan: summery but sophisticated.  Readers, I basically just made pajama bottoms.







No fly, an elastic waistband: clothes for a six-year-old boy.  But oh, so comfortable!

I also bought this gauzy off-white cotton and maybe I'll make some sort of flowy shirt with it.  Maybe even something with buttons and collar.

When it's this hot, and this summer has been torrid so far, even a drawstring sounds too binding, forget about an interfaced waistband.



I'm honestly one step from a sarong.

Readers throughout the world, do you ever fear that you've placed comfort too high on your priority list and let style go out the window?  Do you ever wake up and think, I just can't be bothered, no way, no how and who's walking the dogs this morning?

You've probably guessed by now that I do not go to an office every day though I still have my various meetings and commitments highly suggestive of adulthood.  I didn't steal all those vintage sewing machines and I have two chihuahuas to support, after all.

In closing, I pose this question:

Do you live in a glamorous capital city and struggle with the seemingly mutually exclusive dictates of comfort vs. style?   How do you handle it?  Also, do you have an extra bedroom available for the month of August and can I borrow your car?

I want to hear from you!

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