Moss and magenta, a pleasing pair

Sometimes taking a quick detour yields pleasant results. I was intent on finishing each sewing project before starting a new one. There's only so much room on our dining table for the piles and piles of fabric, thread and trim that get edited down to the ones I actually use.

The current project had been a lime and lemon-colored slipdress, but that got preempted yesterday. I needed something to wear to the waltz workshop I was co-teaching this afternoon. I pulled out a long chiffon dress that had been hanging in my closet for more than a year. Then I remembered why I hadn't worn it recently: the chiffon overlay had shrunk in the washing machine, but the polyester lining stayed the same. So now the lining was showing. I had to shorten it.

I lucked upon the right shade of magenta lace in my stash to lengthen the chiffon hemline. But I noticed how much the magenta just popped while lying next to a moss shrug and a chartreuse blouse, from which I had harvested strips to add to the hemline of the lime slipdress.

The gears started turning, and I added more to the dress than just a lacy hem. You can see its evolution at my flickr site.

View more photos here.

Lemon Lime slipdress — 3rd in a series of, gasp, 24

I'm working on a green and yellow upcycled slipdress now.  I seem to be obsessed with slipdress alterations, even though I know summer is quickly petering out and I should be devoting time to fall and winter accessories. 

I think part of the story of my etsy shop will be "One torn chemise; 24 spruced up slipdresses." For context, I'll direct viewers to the story in my profile about how much has changed in 24 years, from a rude comment about my torn chemise to my quest to bring out the beauty in something discarded.

Here's the story:

Twenty-four years ago as a fresh immigrant and impoverished newlywed, I relied on thrift stores to clothe myself, my two preschool stepdaughters and infant daughter. My husband had asked me to give up my job and stay home while the children were young, and, wanting only the best for them, I did.

One day, my husband remarked unkindly on the large rip in my chemise. 

It wasn't until a decade later that I developed enough assertiveness to remind him of that remark and retort, "It never occurred to you to buy your wife a new chemise." Another decade would pass before I realized, "Hey, why didn't I just darn the darned thing?"

Fast forward to today. The last child has left the nest, and her bedroom is now my haven for creating and crafting. I've filled a closet with vintage gowns, lingerie, scarves, aprons and gloves, all queued for metamorphosis into daywear extraordinaire. I study junkmail catalogs for trends and "aha!"s the way I used to digest academic journals in grad school. In the process, I've honed my eye for handwrought embellishments and quirky touches. I love these timeless beauties almost as much as my rescued Maine Coon — but never the twain shall meet.

And the husband? After an extensive five-year renovation (separation, counseling, everything short of a lobotomy), he earned the privilege of remaining my mate. We grew to appreciate and respect each other, and have entered a blissful state with a giggling grandson to enjoy!

Honored by a visit

I went out to look for Charlie and bring him in yesterday when it hit 105 degrees. I looked over the porch railing and saw this white kitty with one funky eye lounging amid the periwinkle like she had come to a spa. 

The other day I saw her on the swing when I peered through the blinds. I thought for sure Charlie would chase her off when he saw her. (I'm only assuming it's a she.) But when I opened the door, there was Charlie, hanging out on the porch, not minding at all. But white kitty decided it was a good time to go home. Maybe she'll get used to me and not slink off next time.