I love it when I'm able to teach myself something, sans aid. Of course I understand the value of learning from someone with actual knowledge, but I had glorious great big gobs of fun knocking around in photoshop, finding out through trial and error how to blend a new layer under myself. I have given myself all of the gold stars.
Equal amounts of gold stars are ripe for the taking when I am presented an opportunity to bestow my Great And Powerful Wisdom upon others. In a quandary over what to sew, I turned from my stash to Ruggy. Babe, what should I do with this drapey silk cotton? Ruggy stood back and gave this serious question its due diligence. How about a African-y Wrap-py Dress.
Oh Ruggy, I began professorially, this is silk cotton. Do you mean wax print? THIS, I said, holding up a glorious birthday treat from my girl Latrice (you rock!), is wax print. And wax print is actually Dutch in origin, you see.
Oooooookay, look, he said, with a roll of his eyes and a flash of his keyboard, just make something like this. At the speed of internet, a hundred googly-imaged cuties in all manner of technicolor popped up. The silk cotton was set aside for another day, and I was off to the races.
And an exhilarating race it was! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! The vehicle: By Hand London's Charlotte, extended, and avec thigh high slash slit. I couldn't worry about print placement, other than center front, not if I wanted the length. AND I DID SO WANT THE LENGTH. My Anna scraps came in to join the party.
Contrast facing on the triple topstitched slit, done on my beloved, holy cow I literally kiss her every day, Pfaff. The guts are serged with my hated, holy cow I curse her every day, Elna. With each passing moment I expect her to die trying to kill me.
Speaking of those scraps. Both of these wax print makes get a lot of attention. One gal spied me in my Anna and immediately turned misty eyed, a big grin breaking out on her face. That print! Is it from Ghana? Behold! A teachable moment! Professor Oona stepped up to the mic to school the young lass. Well, actually, I believe this print is from Holland, the label said Verified Pre--
GHANA?! She broke in, loudly and with great hope. G-H-A-N-A? That is my home!
Nooooooo... I began, watching her face deflate, and yet continuing. She said my dress was pretty, and walked away sadly, clearly homesick. HEY GUESS WHAT. Next time, I'm going to say yes. Not everything is a teachable moment. In fact, the entire time I was stitching this, I was formulating a plan to find her and lie straight to her face. MY FRIEND! Do you like my Ghana skirt? How long have you been away from home? How are things going here? Let's go get you an ice cream!
I mean let's face it. Everything came from somewhere. Origin of rock n' roll, anyone? Sometimes the facts take the joy out of it. Better to listen to the music.
The happy, happy music.