Bowie

Just last Friday, I hit play on the entire catalog of David Bowie and culled my closet, in the hopes that his supreme domain over the word cool would somehow seep out of the speakers and guide me as I determined the fate of each garment. Friday was also his birthday, and the day he released his 28th album. It was his final album release, as he fell back away from Earth this morning. 

I don't so much think I have the right to wax on about the loss of Bowie. Although he was a god to many, he was a human to many more, and that deeply personal loss is theirs. But he always has (and will continue to) inspire (really the word inspire doesn't cover it), so I thought it would be fitting to simply look back on a Bowie inspired creation of the past. I wrote the following post in April 2013. 

I love every glittering hard edged sexy speck that is David Bowie. In fact, I've been known to get into serious arguments with close friends about the neverending cool that is Bowie. I defy you to find a rocker that has always been as undyingly cool as Bowie. I'll fight you. EVEN LABYRINTH COULD NOT STOP HIM.

So when that wildfire storm of a bloggess Tempest Devyne announced a Bowie sewalong, I was aaaaaaaaaall in. Bowie sewie, baby. The only problem was too many ideas. Glam rock outfit...punk acid rock leather...slick R&B gospel suit...I landed on the look from "Jump They Say," from the album Black Tie/White Noise. VERY COOL VIDEO. He's on skyscraper rooftops, being pushed and pulled in medical rooms and elevators by sharp suits and pale nurses...the tune was written about his half brother, who, I believe, did jump. To me, it always sounded like an admonishment, a commendation, and a warning at the same time. VERY COOL SONG.

But I couldn't seal the deal, as the fashion was clean lines, tailored coats, and, well, black and white. 

Summer's coming, I can smell it in the air, it makes me feel alive, and I'm hellbound for color. Enter Nicole's (of You sew girl!) holyfrig amazing Drape t-shirt dress pattern. This is "pattern magic," with no magic required. I'm of the no-thank-you camp when it comes to figuring those bad boys out, so imagine my delight when I had an artsy draped dress in UNDER AN HOUR. My first crack was made up in silky grey jersey, in the hopes of a slim resemblance to Monochrome Tailored Jazz Bowie... and I would've went with it, but I really needed to shoot it on top of a building (seriously, you gotta watch the video).  

But then I remembered this magnificent print, picked up at Spandex House. Or maybe it was World. Whichever one, IT HAS A SIX DOLLAR A YARD RACK. I had enough of this fabric fulla colors-to-light up-your-face to extend Nicole's pattern to maxi proportions. I believe there's even some serious moonlight in there. Definitely some blues for those red hues. And nothin says sway like jersey. The "Let's Dance" dress was on.

Big Daddy was always quite fond of this tune, we'd duet often. And Bowie is just, as always, the coolest. I revisited the video: a sweaty, white gloved Bowie lolls against a plaster wall with a lone upright bassist, a disinterested yet slightly worried singer, squinting into the sun bleached distance, as bar patrons of all ages drink and shimmy. You feel like you're in a mix of present and past Mexico, and Bowie is so cool, he doesn't even need to be in the video. You leave him halfway through the first verse and follow a young girl who happens upon a pair of patent leather red shoes, and then it all goes wrong in that Bowie video way: a mushroom cloud blossoms in the distance, and she and her beau are transported to some kind of New York (I may be projecting here), where they find themselves scrubbing streets, thoughtlessly spending, and dragging mechanical factory inventions around like packhorses. In the end, she ditches the shoes, and they snap out of it, back dancing barefoot atop their mountain, the sharp city intact in the distance across the water, the red shoes abandoned.

Appropriately, I went sans shoes for these photos, taken while away this weekend with Hollow Leg Dad, Hot Mama, and The Child(ren). Also appropriately, I would rather be dancing barefoot in their sun bleached backyard than heading back to the sharp city.

I'll put on some Bowie tonight for sure. It's the best for dancing when you have the blues.

2016: This dress has since been shortened to mini length, and now graces the (over 6 foot tall) frame of a stunning actress/singer/dancer who exudes joy twenty four seven. I don't regret the giving of it-- it was an excellent reincarnation. And there will always be Bowie in my closet.

ain't no hat for that

I have recently become aware that blue is my Dad’s favorite hue, and so for his birthday, I attempted a linen Guayabera that compliments his (*not* blue, *not* pictured) eyes.

Thaaaaaat's right, my model was willing to pose only with a stealthy straw hat shield. At least I didn't slap a horrific visage on him like last time. Here endeth the Live Human Model shots for this post. Sorry, but Big Daddy is a child of the sixties, and not so into putting his good looks on the internet. Bright side: for once, you get actual detail shots of actual sewing!

This loose woven linen was unearthed on Mood Fabric’s lower floor, a level that I must admit, I don’t frequent! Jerseys & Shirtings live there. I banned myself from Jerseys vis-a-vis MSN, and banned men from asking me for shirts vis-a-vis my sanity. But this past 4th of July weekend, everyone was gearing up for the holiday and it was a party atmosphere in Mood. I visited every floor, and found a small pile of linen bolts languishing by the Liberty prints (I also don't understand Liberty, guys, I just don't get it!). I snatched several linens up immediately, although I thought the loose weave and solid color of my Dad’s bolt might give me brain pain. But with proper handling the yardage was a pleasure to work with, even without a technicolor print to keep my attention.

Though I did go technicolor on the under collar and inner yoke, teehee and traalaaa! The bits and pieces of my birthday-come-anniversary dress made my eyes happy. Here it is flipped inside out. I did NOT try and turn that button loop, nosiree bob, not on this loss weave, that's a topstitched bias strip. 

Colette’s Negroni is like, the only man's shirt pattern I make. Mayhaps I could mix that up a bit. I’ve previously modified it into a Hawaiian shirt, and now into a Guayabera. The mods included boxing out the side seams & adding little 3 inch vents (to accommodate the hem). I chose coconut buttons for a summery feel, and added an extra to the inside of the turned-under-and topstitched side seams.

There are several seam finishes going on, depending on what the seam needed to do. I serged the sleeve seams for fear of fraying (and fear of my life during serging) but turning & stitching was best. Here, on the facing, I turned under 1/2 inch and topstitched along the raw edge with a zig zag, so that it would lay flat under the shirt.

My newest needle obsession: the wing needle. SO MUCH FUN. Three rows of machine hemstitching (courtesy of my new purple lover) in rayon 40w with a wing needle down either side of the shirt gave it a Guayabera(ish) feel. I was going to get way more fancy with that stitching, but decided to keep it simple once I realized the shirt might…never…get…worn…

Let me explain. Whilst pondering how many pockets to add, Ruggy had a feel of the fabric. Um, oona…he began, with great hesitation, knowing he was poking a violent beast with a dull stick, after all, I was sewing MENSWEAR…this seems a little heavy for a summer linen shirt.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I bellowed, IT’S LINEN AND LINEN BREATHES. SILENCE CITIZEN.

Yeah, it’s a little heavy. Adding two breast pockets meant adding two more layers of this awesome, but heavy, stuff, right across the chest. And as you can see above, there's already two fairly wide layers right down the front. No bueno. (Hey man, at least I’m picking a more manly shade of fabric. You should see the stuff I try to put Ruggy in.) Pockets abandoned, I decided to call it a Fall/Winter Dress Guayabera, and presented Big Daddy with his prize– along with the promise of another summer shirt before he even opened this one. But he put it on immediately and called it good!

(He’s still getting a lighterweight shirt, because I don’t trust him.)

NOR SHOULD HE TRUST ME! Whoops, sneak attack back view! Look, he should know better than to turn his back on me when I’ve got a camera in my hands! Don’t worry, Dad, the internet still doesn’t know who you are. Your secret agent persona is safe.

(I am going to get in so much trouble for that last shot.)

this guayabera, and my impending punishment, was made possible by my monthly fabric "allowance' as part of the mood sewing network.

man shirts for everyone!

Last night I enjoyed one of the best birthday dinners in recent memory, surrounded by three of my very favorite people, and everyone at the table was wearing something I made. That means two of those garments were MAN SHIRTS. 

I KNOW!!! 

I have no evidence of this, because not a single one of us brought any kind of device to dinner. WHICH IS EXACTLY HOW WE LIKES IT. During the meal, mommaballoona mentioned a few cool spots they saw on the drive, that might be good for blog photos...  there's a green wall that says "Love" on it! Yes indeedy there is! Good eye, psychic mommaballoona! Big Daddy has a part in this story too, and you can read about it over at Makery, where I'm playing in Portia's series The Refashioners (there's also a metric ton of prizes to win ifffn you want to get in on the refashioning craze yourself).

I've been everywhere but here this birthday week, partying with #sewphotohop and The Sewing Party, but I would really like to say thank you for all of the birthday wishes, right here on the blog, where I've met so many friends. Sewists are the sweetest. Have a great weekend, see you here next week with some dresses!

put a bird on it and call it SUMMER.

Ruggy's back behind the lens, y'all, and wonder of wonders...he covets this insane fabric for himself! I AM FINALLY RUBBING OFF ON HIM!

How glorious is this print?! Everyone, but EVERYONE, at Mood Fabrics thought I'd already snagged this fabric. Maybe the NY staff is creeping into my dreams, because before I stumbled upon this linen rayon blend on the magical top floor, that's where it existed.

I snatched three yards from the delicious Kway, who did a burn test for me on the spot. (I mean…peeps, if your eyes ever need an afternoon pick me up, run on up to the top floor and have Kway do a burn test. You're welcome.) 

He posited that he'd already cut this print for me weeks ago, which led to our usual highly enjoyable banter ("What time of the day was it? Is it possible I'd had a cocktail at lunch?"). On the way down the stairs, three Mood peeps said they were "glad I was getting more of it." Diane greeted me at the counter, wonderful Diane, who loves fabric as much as we do, and she too was certain she'd previously bagged this for me.

Do I have a twin out there? Surely I would remember stomping home with this stuff! It has the most incredible silky hand, but not watery silky, more like windswept hay silky, know what I mean? No? When they invent the app for tactile screens, I'll update the post. Surely, in a world where this fabric can exist, that app is not too far off.

The birds, however. THE BIRDS. The birds were positively Hitchcockian in their efforts to wound me. Kway jokingly deemed them Vultures Of Death, and THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TRUTH IN THAT JEST. The fabric repeat made the pleated draped skirt a lesson in insanity. I actually painted a few of those yellow beaked parrots black down center front, under the box pleat, so that the wind wouldn't reveal a glitch in the matrix.

In the end I finally gave myself a pass on the repeat-- for some reason, summer sewing feels more enjoyable, less need for perfection, maybe? 

However, I went nutso on making perfect piping. Can you spy it round the cups & front waistband? My first crack at making it myself with actual cotton cording, and not whatever crazy neon round elastic I've got on hand. The proper material is more mushy. Fun and slightly dangerous. Self-made piping: Let's sew through a finger together! 

No, let's don't.

I used the reverse of the fabric for the piping, so it's barely noticeable, but I love what it does to the bodice, which is fully lined with fashion fabric-- thankfully so, since it gave me multiple cracks at which feathered breasts would rest on my own.

Some pattern info: I used Burdastyle's Danielle dress, bodice portion only, as a starting point, hacking the pattern until I had what I wanted, then draped the skirt on my dress form. Then, when I went a little too close for comfort on the fit, I abandoned the invisible zip and installed an exposed gold big toothed zipper. 

It's like I've got a mac daddy pimp on my back.

Speaking of mac daddy pimps, photographeur Ruggy got some good close ups, no? Truthfully, this wide angle shot is where he spent most of his time. RUGGY, I pleaded, YOU DO ACTUALLY NEED TO GET THE DRESS.

This is an often repeated cry, usually answered with a grunt and maybe a don't bother me I'm composing a shot. This time he let me in on his madness: But you're going to love this, you can tag the wall with OONA ROCKS.

?!

WELL OKAY THEN.

How bout y'all? Do you loosen up the rules for summer stitching? Letting a bit of perfection go seems easier in the warmer months: relaxation is the rule...

this bird brained frock was made using my monthly fabric "allowance" as part of the mood sewing network. 

she's crafty (and she's just my type)

there's a new girl on my drafting desk, ricky's been eyeing her since sunday.  (oh yes! ricky is back, though that's another story.)  i'm not jealous, in fact i may even be considering switching to the other team for this dame.

she is a pfaff 1171, and all of kalkatroona is in love with her.  even ellie has graciously welcomed her (especially since i treated that formerly mean girl to elna specific serger needles).  the desk is a bit crowded, four square feet of sewing space and all, so that's to be sussed out... 

found her last sunday on craigslist, listed just as a pfaff (which is apparently pronounced with a long A, like faaahf, not like the A in cat, you can even put a little plosive of a p in there, but who's counting*), and from the picture i could tell she was an 1171.  during my rabbit hole of machine research, this was one of the gems!  a trip to bedstuy and a hundy later, she was mine.  a fabulous seven foot tall drink of water informed me she was moving to west africa and selling most of her (super chic, completely fabulous) stuff.  oh and i found a few feet in the case, she mentioned, offhand.  YEAH YOU DID. YOU FOUND ALL OF THE FEET!!!  Leggy Laday even had the original bottle of oil and needle packet (which i'm keeping for posterity).  the machine had been in her closet for five years-- she was the second owner, and never touched her after sewing up a children's dress (surely, that killed her sewing career right there.  Must Always Sew First Garment For OneSelf, Especially When One Is As Fabulous As Leggy Laday).

*EDIT: i'll admit it,i'm counting, ladies and gentleman, and i quote from le anon comment: "She is a beaut! But you've been had on with the pronunciation. Before this catches on and everybody starts saying Faaaaaf and making a donkey of themselves, let me tell you as a German: it's a short a and a clear P. Say "Pfuff". Easy. You're welcome." here's a li'l mp3 too.

she ran nicely at first go, but the presser foot came down as if on a hydraulic system... sort of a slow release that reminded me of a battlestar galactica viper coming in for a landing.  cool! i thought.  this must have something to do with the IDT system!  a quick post on the pattern review boards revealed that no, it was not, so i got to opening and cleaning.   i suppose five years of sitting idle will yield seized oil, even on the manual's boasted sintered metal.

wouldja like to see what this little gal looks like with her clothes off?  naughty.  i always knew y'all were pervs.

nope, you're not supposed to remove the covers and such, that's for the mechanic, but tinkering is in my DNA.  big daddy has been (among many other things) a mechanic, in fact he taught me how an internal combustion engine worked from A to Z for my fifth grade class presentation (i got an A: hand drawn schematics, verbal with no notes, yo) so yeah.  i found the users and service manual online and i was ALL IN.

i went for the needle bar area first.  it's always scary to self tinker, there is the very real possibility that you'll end up doing more harm than good, but after giving the equivalent of a tartar buildup cleaning, removing the yellow, seized oil, the presser foot release moved beautifully.  this seemed a good thing to me, so i was off to the races. diluted denautred alcohol on the plastic housing (really, i should have taken a before and after, she had dirt splotches the size of denmark) and tri flow oil on metal innards. the service manual instructs the mechanic to oil the entire machine (the user, only a dot in the bobbin casing), so i went for it.  and also:  tri flow is AWESOME.

LEAVE ASIDE THE FACT THAT I UNSCREWED THE ONE SCREW YOU SHOULD NEVER UNSCREW.  JUST LEAVE IT ASIDE.  just realized i still had the caps lock on-- but you know what?  LEAVE IT IN CAPS.  NEVER TOUCH THE SCREW TO THE RIGHT OF THE BOBBIN WINDER. it has a washer underneath, which will produced a most unsettling, clinking, falling sound at 12:45AM when you go a bit too far, leaving you in a state of shock and slight denial.  at that bewitching hour of the morning, the top cover, which was proving to be resistant,  had to come off. as ginger would say, not gonna lie... the top cover is a real bitch to work off that first time. she was coy, needed coaxing.  now she's been topless three or four times since then, with ease.

but that first go at second base is a doozy.

  

by gently tilting her head over heels, i was able to produce the washer.  i think i said ohthankyou out loud to the general vicinity (which at that point was my kitchen counter, my toolbox, and the cat).  the service manual does instruct you to loosen or tighten that screw to adjust the bobbin winder tension, but people.  TEENY, TINY, INFINITESIMAL ADJUSTING THERE.  (and one does not need to remove that screw in order to remove the top.   that's what got me to scarytown in the first place.)

still, i'm even glad i dropped the damn washer, it made me get inside the hood and discover a couple of thread snarls.  all in all, about fifteen hours of work on a vintage machine (that was already running nicely) and now.  and NOW.  I HAZ BUTTONHOLES.

and many other things, obviously, but the first trial was adding buttonholes to my new burdastyle bella jeans.  she runs beautifully.   and even better with a cocktail, naturally.

speaking of cocktails!  let's discuss her name (my point will become clear momentarily).  she is definitely a she, i knew it when i saw her.  the surname tiptronic puts 90s rap firmly into my head.  i immediately exclaimed over the little ball used to change the needle.  ricky likes her.  lucille ball... nicknamed tipsy for tiptronic...theme song, the beastie boys' tune "she's crafty," specific lines: "i think her name is lucy but they all call her loose"...her bare top reveals the number 8499 "i think i thought i seen her on eighth and forty deuce" (so close!) and also, she likes to work with a cocktail.  naturally.

long and winding road, yes.  not sure the destination to nameville is right, but that's what i'm working with.

parting shot: she came with all original accessories, right down to the li'l bottle of unopened oil and the needle packet (which i'm keeping for posterity).  so!  any 1171 lovers out there?  I AM IN LOVE WITH THE IDT SYSTEM! any tips?  do tell!

product placement

ever so many things are going wrong here.

my machines have been on full tilt revolt in kalkatroona, as you already might know if you follow me on instagram or twitter.  it has driven me to throwing fabric at my form in dangerous fashion.  it has made sewing very... stressful.  and we all know sewing is what we do to get happy.  

sewists, as sewists will, as they are the best people on earth, flew to my aid: peter offered me my pick of loaners from his menagerie.  carolyn is hell bent on letting me manhandle her high end janome (i am terrified).  sonja drove me ALL THE WAY OUT to queens to bring my ailing friends in for diagnosis, and test drive some berninas.

we had an amazing day at sew right, if you're in the market, get thee there.  harvey & co were just as delightful as they were on that thread cult podcast of yore-- the one in which harvey basically narrated my life as i tried my best to electrocute myself fixing my ricky.  we spent four hours test driving all manner of machine, and yes, i did possess a bernina 1008 for about thirty minutes, but it wasn't love. actually, the further i get from the initial bliss of those test drives, the more i think i might not be a bernina girl after all.  no offense, everyone has their favorite brand, right?  harvey had a juki straight stitch that was heaven.  the babylock jet air sergers were pure magic-- what about the babylock sewing jobs?  and i haven't even tried a pfaff, husky or elna yet.  um, and have you seen necchi's machines?  i do have a soft spot for italians.

my southern man, however, has no love in his heart for this work in progress.

then there's the vintage debate.  i've had six machines in seven years, and mostly it's been love: gimbles branded kenmore, singer featherweight, rocketeer, genie, elna lock pro dc 5, and finally my riccar superstretch 2600. combined, a total of $300.  the argument of course being, if i had a brand new machine with quadruple the price tag, i might say i've had one machine in seven years that i've totally loved.  one that might actually do professional buttonholes and solve tension on its own and such...

to my surprise, my riccar 2600 was pronounced by harvey to be the best model out there.  good thriftin eye!  yet, when i can buy another metal beast for less than the cost of service...it becomes somehow painful to keep him going.  especially when, in the years ahead, parts for my riccar will become obsolete.  as harvey said, although i scored the very best, there isn't a demand for vintage riccars.  no demand, no supply.

oh ricky. you handled this silk lame with no demands whatsoever.

my dad, also known as big daddy here on the blog, surprised me with a loan of his featherweight (read: jeans hemmer) that i bought him several years ago, so stitching is happening.  ploddingly.  for those thousands of you experiencing sleepless nights, clenching your teeth, pulling at your hair, wondering WHAT IS OONABALLOONA STITCHING ON GODSAKES I MUST KNOW, you can rest semi-easy.  myself, i am dreaming about machines nightly. that's not an exaggeration. i have... not nightmares, no, stressmares, in which i test drive machine after machine but always come out empty handed.  

product research stresses me clean out.  always has.  your advice is welcome, i'm mixing margaritas.

(speaking of stress, it has come to my attention that the oona drunken fat quarter challenge has produced unsafe levels of worry!  not on MY watch.  like i said, sewing is for happy times.  the deadline is hereby extended to may 20, aaaaaaaaaand the contestants are hereby allowed to stitch whatever their hearts' desire.  accessories! bikinis! placemats!  TODDLERWEAR! and what man doesn't want a unicorn pocket square!  have at, ladies!)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG DADDY!!!

for your late evening enjoyment... ruggy's opening night cocktail:

1 oz gin

1 oz carpano antica vermouth

stir over ice

add a lemon peel, twisted over glass.

drink repeatedly.

palm trees and warm sand (and even a muppet)

What is UP y'all. I've been silently stalking you like mad, commenting in my head on rehearsal breaks and such. Oh, the dialogues we've had! The witty repartee! What, you don't remember? Are my powers of telepathy waning? Must work on that.

I've also been stalking peeps who've made up Colette's Negroni. Big Daddy needed a grillin' shirt for father's day!

Yes, you're right, I've made one of these before, for ruggy. But his UNDYING FIT PICKINESS made for a less than stellar outcome. (I love you ruggy.) And, according to the fitmaster, I needed to go with a larger size if this was intended for backyard barbecuin'. Mommaballoona stealthily measured a favorite shirt flat for me, and I cut with held breath and crossed fingers.

And also some cursing. This fabric hails from Dallas' garment district, Golden D'or, to be exact, which I raced away to on an unexpected half day off. Y'all, they are not lying. Everything IS bigger in Texas. The district is comprised of warehouses full of yardage, rugs, jewelry, shoes...it's pretty insane. Now, bigger is not always better...these warehouses hold mostly closeout yardage. There are treasures to be had, and this cotton/linen blend is very nearly one of them, but when I went to iron after prewashing, I realized the palm trees ran horizontal to the selvedge. In other words, that split back yoke you see up yonder is the only pattern piece placed properly. Had to go cross grain everywhere else.

Oh, the cursing.

I went so match crazy on the pocket, I decided to change up the flap so you could actually SEE the damn thing. And HELLZ YEAH THOSE ARE REAL LIVE BUTTONHOLES. Have you seen my late night buttonhole instagrammification? It's a whole new world, yo.

The peeps at pattern review had the usual stellar info on process, which I devoured in short 2am bursts. One of the whopping 23 reviews made an interesting point: going bigger than a size L could send you into grading issues. Since this was arriving via USPS, I stuck with large, but redrew the side seam from underarm to hem (after raising the waist 1 1/2 inches. We kalkatroonaans are a petite people.) I was pretty sure this would throw the grain off, but went for it anyway.

Did it work, you ask?

I screamed when i saw this shot!!! Wait, why are you screaming too? No, no, don't run away, Big Daddy is not a masked serial killer. He's just a wee bit internet wary, and asked if I would paste this Jerry Rubin ventriloquist puppet head on his face instead.  

(Oh yeah, I played Jerry Rubin via a ventriloquist dummy in a musical about John Lennon. As you do.)

Hope every dad had a wonderful father's day!

put on your red shoes and dance the blues

I love every glittering hard edged sexy speck that is David Bowie. In fact, I've been known to get into serious arguments with close friends about the neverending cool that is Bowie. I defy you to find a rocker that has always been as undyingly cool as Bowie. I'll fight you. EVEN LABYRINTH COULD NOT STOP HIM.

So when that wildfire storm of a bloggess Tempest Devyne announced a Bowie sewalong, I was aaaaaaaaaall in.  Bowie sewie, baby. The only problem was too many ideas. Glam rock outfit...punk acid rock leather...slick R&B gospel suit...I landed on the look from "Jump They Say," from the album Black Tie/White Noise. VERY COOL VIDEO. He's on skyscraper rooftops, being pushed and pulled in medical rooms and elevators by sharp suits and pale nurses...the tune was written about his half brother, who, i believe, did jump. To me, it always sounded like an admonishment, a commendation, and a warning at the same time. VERY COOL SONG.

But I couldn't seal the deal, as the fashion was clean lines, tailored coats, and, well, black and white. 

Summer's coming, I can smell it in the air, it makes me feel alive, and I'm hellbound for color. Enter Nicole's (of You sew girl!) holyfrig amazing Drape t-shirt dress pattern. This is "pattern magic," with no magic required. I'm of the no-thank-you camp when it comes to figuring those bad boys out, so imagine my delight when I had an artsy draped dress in UNDER AN HOUR. My first crack was made up in silky grey jersey, in the hopes of a slim resemblance to Monochrome Tailored Jazz Bowie... and I would've went with it, but I really needed to shoot it on top of a building (seriously, you gotta watch the video).  

But then I remembered this magnificent print, picked up at Spandex House. Or maybe it was World. Whichever one, IT HAS A SIX DOLLAR A YARD RACK. I had enough of this fabric fulla colors-to-light up-your-face to extend Nicole's pattern to maxi proportions. I believe there's even some serious moonlight in there. Definitely some blues for those red hues. And nothin says sway like jersey. The "Let's Dance" dress was on.

Big Daddy was always quite fond of this tune, we'd duet often. And Bowie is just, as always, the coolest. I revisited the video: a sweaty, white gloved Bowie lolls against a plaster wall with a lone upright bassist, a disinterested yet slightly worried singer, squinting into the sun bleached distance, as bar patrons of all ages drink and shimmy. You feel like you're in a mix of present and past Mexico, and Bowie is so cool, he doesn't even need to be in the video. You leave him halfway through the first verse and follow a young girl who happens upon a pair of patent leather red shoes, and then it all goes wrong in that Bowie video way: a mushroom cloud blossoms in the distance, and she and her beau are transported to some kind of New York (I may be projecting here), where they find themselves scrubbing streets, thoughtlessly spending, and dragging mechanical factory inventions around like packhorses. In the end, she ditches the shoes, and they snap out of it, back dancing barefoot atop their mountain, the sharp city intact in the distance across the water, the red shoes abandoned.

Appropriately, I went sans shoes for these photos, taken while away this weekend with Hollow Leg Dad, Hot Mama, and The Child(ren). Also appropriately, I would rather be dancing barefoot in their sun bleached backyard than heading back to the sharp city.

I'll put some Bowie on tonight for sure. It's the best for dancing when you have the blues.

save room for some meat

this is the face i make when i think i'm going to act like a fashion blogger.  not that i think fashion bloggers are like, weird faced or anything.  they usually look pretty hot.  but to give you an idea of my over-expressive facial activity, this is my hot fashion blogger face.

it's a problem, really, ruggy will ask me something completely mundane like why don't you carry your cell phone charger in your purse today and, in thinking of my response (but there's already SO MUCH STUFF IN MY PURSE) my face will contort into such drastic proportions, you'd think he'd asked me to go on an all tofu alcohol free diet.

speaking of diet, we kicked off the weekend at quality meats with parental balloonas.  i daresay we were the most entertaining and entertained table there.  and WELL FED, YO.  steak tartare.  beef cheeks.  hanger steak with brandied cherry sauce.  big daddy may have licked the bowl.  i like to wear me mades to these outings, and ran outside at the end of our luncheon adventure to snap some pics in some seriously frigid air.  blogger photo tip: if you are of drinking age, you don't need a coat to get good shots in winter.

oh yeah hey guess what!  i made this skirt.  it's not a circle skirt.  it was meant to be.  somewhere along the way, my math was reaaaaaalllllly off, well, just looky here, i snapped a picture while i was cutting, thinking my pattern weights looked pretty frigging cool:

THAT'S NOT A CIRCLE SKIRT OONA.

i was too enamored of this print to leave it be, so i swung the skirt around till it behaved.  seems the side seam zipper wants to sit just off center front.  see that pink highway just under the belt buckle?  OKAY BY ME. especially since i went to the trouble to actually line this baby in burgundy georgette from paron's.  the lining is a far, far better fabric than the the print, some mystery grab from 21st century fabrics...you see, i bought myself a new pair of boots, and every fabric i held up to myself that day seemed to go with my new kicks.

shoe shopping is hard.  especially when daffy's goes bankrupt and your source for four dollar shoes goes poof. another reason i could not be a fashion blogger. 

necklace: vintage (thanks momballoona!)

sweater: zara

belt: h&m

earrings: flea market

socks: free people

boots: miz mooz

skirt: crazyface

crazyface: me