Since asking if y'all test out in the wild, it has occurred to me that most of the things I make aren't everyday wear. Therefore the query probably seemed a little um yeah, DUH. You make clothes in order to wear them, oona.
But, especially when the weather gets colder, all I want to make is party wear. NEED MORE SHINDIGS. That said, I had occasion for another Worn-Out-in-the-Wild trial (WOW, if you will forgive the sweeping under the rug of prepositions and articles). My Denim & Velvet wiggle dress had its first outing last night at the 2013 Steinberg Playwright Awards. The beautiful and dreamy eyed Rajiv Joseph was honored, along with the amazing Annie Baker and dazzling David Henry Hwang, and I was eager to get all dolled up with Ruggy. Fair warning, this is not a fast walking dress, I breathed in my most classy voice as we began our stroll down our tree lined, holiday lit street. No worries, my gentleman offered, taking my arm, his wrapped in cashmere. We can mosey.
A ten block walk took us twenty minutes.
and I'm looking at the
hem culprit. more evidence here.
After cocktails in Lincoln Center's Mitzi Newhouse lobby, we descended the staircase into the theater. It was then that I realized my wiggle dress might have a bit too much wiggle. The hem, specifically, which was not allowing for much vertical movement. Getting back up these stairs might take some doing...I thought, with only a sprinkling of gimlet infused concern.
Scenes from the honoree's plays were performed, and I had the privilege of reading the stage direction for a gorgeous scene by Rajiv, full of night sky and poetry, involving the Taj Mahal and beauty and terror and pretty much awe-someness. And in order to reach my spot on the stage, I had to climb a stair. Just one little stair. Which, at this distinguished event, I literally hopped over, LIKE A MINI HURDLE. Apparently there's a reason for a back vent, I shrugged later. Ruggy raised his eyebrows. Yes, I don't know why you continually decide that pattern companies know less than you do.
OH THAT'S NICE RUGGY HAVE YOU FINISHED THE BATHROOM YET???
Luckily the front row was filled with our cohorts, so the hop was doubly enjoyable, and perhaps I was not meant to be completely classy that night--the stage directions involved my hollering out crazed bird calls. And as long as there weren't stairs involved, the dress worked. Meaning, I could still sit, stand, and breathe after three cocktails and a plateful of every hors d'oeuvre I could get my mitts on.
But I'll be adding a vent. Or re-adding, rather, since I was the one who tooketh away in the first (appropriately) bird brained place.