Pretty things in the Kelowna airport

My departure gate of the Kelowna airport had a display of some lovely vintage stuff from the local historical society. This is a sun-suit:



I especially love the ivory boot! I would love a reproduction of this boot. It reminds me of my black Camper Sofias.

My Fatshionation

Photo of Amanda Piasecki, used with permsission.

This winter, I became more interested in fashion, partly because I was trying to make clothes and partly because I had access to some great fashion books at work. I also became a little obsessed with a fat-activism blog named Big Fat Deal. I don't always agree with everything said on the blog, but body-activism is a compelling subject I keep returning to again and again. I expressed some bewilderment about this to my friend Dory back in November and she explained it pretty succinctly, via gmail chat:

me: I like working at a college with a fashion program
the fashion students are dressing a lot like Rhianna right now
dory: becuase there are good books?
me: good books, and it's fun to look at what people are wearing
like, i'm never going to wear over-the-knee leather boots
but I'm glad someone is
dory: yesterday I "invented" open-toed ugg boots as the archetype of awful
me: haha!
I don't remember if I ever told my my invented archetype of American Apparel
crotcheless leggings for men, with a little toque to put around your junk
dory: hehe
me: so its useless layering + porno style + pubes
which is what they are all about
so I have been reading all these fat-girl fashion blogs lately
i don't know why
dory: that makes sense
because fashion under not-optimal circumstances is more interesting
me: yes!
dory: budget, fat-girl, short-girl
whatever.
me: yeah, skinny rich fashion is totally boring and inapplicable

In case you missed it amid all that hilarious banter, Dory said "fashion under not-optimal circumstances is more interesting." Fat-fashion blogs combine feminism, activism, fashion and culture in fascinating way.

I've been wanting to write about this for a while now, but didn't really find the impetus till this morning, when I read some wonderful quotes from Amanda Piasecki, the activist who coined the term "fatshionista" and started the LiveJournal community of the same name. Her attitude towards clothes is lively, involved, and thoughtful:

"I like a tough, hyper-feminine look that has a sense of humor about itself at the same time. I like drawing attention to my enormously curvaceous proportions and giant ass. At my best and most resilient, I enjoy exaggerating everything about my size and rocking hot, gruesome, femme monstrosity. At my most weary and over-it, I work a surly, fat Russian Riviera look. For a long time, I attempted to dye my hair the same color red as every woman in communist Poland had, but no one made the connection except my immigrant family, and my skin looked terrible. Now it's a less belligerent Californian henna color. I am one of the least invisible people I know, even when I'm trying to be – I receive a lot of street hassle, from come-ons to fat bashing, and everything in between. I do the best with it that I can, and sometimes my outfits are a way of fighting back or making a visual inside joke with other outsiders."

I wish I could tell Amanda that I would have gotten the connection with the red hair! That was one of the first things I noticed in the Czech Republic when I went there in 2004 -- every woman who had dyed red hair had it dyed the exact same colour, a dark, unnatural red that I haven't seen much in North America. (These quotes, by the way, come from an interview at the Big Bum Jumble blog.)

"I think that the best style is born from resourcefulness and aesthetic inventiveness rather than through cash outlay. While we're incredibly lucky to have an alterna-fat-girl chain store here in the US, since the rise of Torrid there's part of me that feels like we've lost something now that it's easier for young fatshionistas to assimilate into their subcultures of choice. Fatshionistas used to almost universally be masters of creativity, inventiveness, and making something out of nothing, and this is a value that I'd love to keep around as plus-sized clothing gets slightly more accessible."

I'm stuck on the phrase "masters of creativity, inventiveness, and making something out of nothing." I feel like Amanda is looking into my heart and seeing the things I like best about fashion, crafts, and making things in general.

Can't stop won't stop!

I'm writing this on the last day of my 8-day vacation at my parents' house in Vernon, BC. It's been an eccentric vacation: no beach and no swimming, but lots of thrift-shopping and sewing lessons. Which is pretty close to the perfect vacation for me! Yesterday, I made a Buttercup bag from two fat quarters I bought from an Armstrong quilting store.



The buttercup bag (designed by Rae Hoekstra) is a nice little bag and not hard to make. Next time, I'll add interfacing to make it less floppy. I'm pretty sure I'll need a tweedy version for winter!

Silk (or something like it)

While in Vernon, my mom found several pieces of silk (or very high-quality synthetics -- we haven't done the burn test yet.)

1) A piece of a sari from Value Village. This is out favorite by far. There's at least 5 yards of this gorgeous turquoise-to-violet ombre. One end is embroidered and embellished with glittering mirrors. It was $10. I'm saving it until I can think of a way to sew a dress that makes the most of the gradient colours. Glittering silk ombre isn't my usual style, but I'm pretty sure I can make it work with the right cut. I'm picturing a dress with a very full skirt (the fabric is so drapey that the skirt would use a lot of fabric, but not have a lot of volume).



2) 3 pieces of dupioni silk



Again, this fabric isn't my usual style but I love the colour. I'm sure I can make something minimalist -- a shift dress, maybe -- that makes this fabric more youthful and casual. Mom pictures it turning into bags. Maybe a clutch?

Beautiful scraps

While in Vernon, I also picked up some doilies, embroidered handkerchiefs, and table linens. I think these will make excellent embellishments on dark blue denim bags. My friend Sara makes lots of pretty things out of denim. Every time I see her she's carrying a pretty denim bag with red stitching -- it makes me think of a Japanese craft book, very simple and appealing. I'm inspired to try a scrappy blue-and-white (and olive and red) take on her style.

More tea towels

I was lucky to find about 10 more vintage tea towels in various thrift stores in the Okanagan. This trip home has been very textile-focused, thanks to my mom. Not everyone's mom would indulge them by spending half a day in Rutland hunting down old linens in thrift stores! Of course, the idea is for these tea towels to become more tote bags.



Now I'm in the process of gathering lining fabrics and materials for straps. I want to make decisions based on colour and texture.



Most of the tea towels are linen. A couple are cotton. I like the texture of the linen better. I'm enjoying this project because it lets me get very involved with the materiality of what I'm making.



I love using calendar tea towels because they combine text and illustrations. You don't have a lot of control over how the finished project looks, because the fabric has already been cut. You just have to go with it. The pictures and text get cut off by the seams of the bag. I like how this looks.



I'm trying not to rush the process of assembling the bags. I know that if I wait, the perfect materials will come together over time.

It's a start

This is a shirt that I made from black jersey ($2.50 at the MCC thrift store at 42nd and Fraser).



It's not actually wearable, because of a couple errors. 1) I finished the edges of the sleeve before I sewed the side seams, which means that the side seems are more visible than one would really want. 2) I mangled the bottom hem a little, and I can't rip the stitches out without tearing the fabric. I could just make the hem shorter, but it's a little short as it is already.

All this means that it's probably better just to make a new one. Nevertheless, I'm pleased, because I now have a basic jersey top pattern that I can play with.

I made the pattern from an old shirt that I tragically covered in White-Out. Here's how I did it:

Making the pattern

1. Find a shirt that fits you well. I picked this one because it's really simple, I like the way it fits, and I'm willing to cut it up. Also, it's made from medium-thin jersey -- the same material I'm going to make the new shirt out of.



2. Put on the shirt. Note any adjustments you'd like to make. In this case, I decided to raise the neckline a little and shorten the sleeves and the hem. I marked the new hemline with a pin. I also decided to add about 1" ease to the body.

3. Cut the shirt apart along the seams.

4. Lay the parts of the shirt out on brown paper. Try to make them lie flat and symmetrical. Using a pencil, trace them as neatly as you can. Remember, you only need to trace one sleeve. When you're done, throw the shirt parts into a corner somewhere -- you probably won't need them again.



5. Add any desired adjustments to your drawing. For example, I took 3.5 inches off the bottom of my hem.

6. Then, use a seam gauge or ruler to add a seam allowance to each edge. I added .5 inch to all seams except the sleeve hems, because I wanted to shorten them anyways. (I used a French Curve to make my curved lines look nice and smooth).

7. For the front and back pieces: draw a line down the centre of your drawing. I did this by eye, since my drawings were pretty asymmetrical. Don't do this for the sleeve.



8. Check to make sure that the body pieces will fit you by comparing them to your measurements. Remember, each drawing represents a quarter of your body. So, if you have a 34" bust, and you want your shirt to fit with 2 inches of ease, your pattern should measure 9" at the bust. Make any changes that are necessary.

9. Go over all the lines with a Sharpie marker. Cut out the pattern pieces!

1971 Tote

I have found my new favourite medium:



Tote bags made from vintage tea towels.

My friend Sara took me to a Value Village in Burnaby where I found this linen 1971 calendar towel. Like a bower bird, I instinctively collect blue things. So of course it came home with me.




The lining fabric is seafoam green fine wale corduroy that my mom gave me a few years ago. The handles are twill tape from the package of a set of towels that Curt's mom gave us as a housewarming present. All in all, this was a $1.99 project.



I am really pleased with it. I feel the sudden need to run out and search for more tea towels! Hopefully I'll find some in the Okanagan, when I visit in a week!

Adjust your Straps

While looking up darts in my 1970 copy of The Vogue Sewing Book, I came across this advice:

First, and above all, a low bustline will detract from what otherwise could be a youthful appearance. For this reason, if you have an inkling that a low bustline is the cause of your fitting problems, adjust the straps of your foundation garments before you adjust your patterns or fit your garments.

I don't think I've read a modern DIY book that was so blunt: fitting problems may also caused by "flat buttocks", a "pigeon chest" or "dowager's hump." I was genuinely surprised (and disappointed) that "fat ass" was not included.

Incidentally, The Vogue Sewing Book is great. An invaluable companion to Built By Wendy Dresses, which gives only brief information on sewing and adjusting patterns. I've seen it in thrift stores many times over the years, and it's definitely worth picking up.

Sweater Skirt (and memories of the Spice Girls)

1. A Sweater Skirt

So after posting that video yesterday, I decided to try my hand at making a men's V-neck cardigan (deemed too large for Curtis) into a skirt. I really should have taken a picture of the cardigan first, but I forgot.



This is the glory of being 5 feet tall. What would make a mini-skirt on most people is a respectable just-above-the-knee-length on me.

The waistband is made out of the sleeves. I took in the sides at the waist and added darts. It's still a bit too big, though. I might add some elastic to the waistband. Right now it closes with a heavy snap that pulls a little.



It's not the most flattering skirt in the world, but knit skirts rarely are on me. Also, I'm wrapping horizontal stripes around my thighs. Clingy horizontal stripes! It would have been better if the sweater was wide enough to make it an A-line skirt.

Nevertheless, I'm quite pleased with it. My new sewing machine handles knit fabrics well, and I'm pleased that I can make something that looks convincingly skirt-like. It doesn't really look like it used to be a sweater, does it? I might hunt down another men's cardigan just so I can perfect the technique.

2. A personal digression:

The buttons on the front of this skirt make me think of the late '90s, and all the short A-line minis I used to wear in highschool. They were all made from fairly heavy fabrics, like fun fur and corduroy, and I wore them with huge platform shoes. Essentially, I wanted to be a Spice Girl. Once, some anonymous person pasted this photo of Ginger Spice on my locker:



Which may have been an insult, but I couldn't take it that way! The photo came from a recent issue of Rolling Stone--an issue I had bought because the Spice Girls were in it. (I remember carrying it face-down in front of my parents because the cover--specifically Geri Halliwell's corset--embarrassed me.) I loved Ginger Spice's red hair and red boots in that photo. I loved the Union Jack dress, too, though I would have loved it more if it had covered her crotch. Standing at my locker, I felt more confused than hurt. If someone wanted to compare me to Geri's pale-thighed sexiness, that was a compliment. Clearly that was the look I was going for, and I should probably thank them for noticing.

I liked Geri's style, but her blatant sexuality made me uncomfortable. In every group photo of the Spice Girls, she was always the one wearing the least. This seems quite funny to think about now, in the heady days of Lady Gaga and her lack of pants. Take, for example, the Rolling Stone cover that I hid from my mom in 1997:



Fleshy, yes, but a good deal more covered up than Lady Gaga on this month's issue of the same magazine:



Geri's tarty clothes and poses unnerved me, probably because I identified with her look so strongly. By the time Spice World was released in 1997, my best friend Crystle and I had grown to loathe her as the trashy one--only to turn around and miss her keenly when she left the group in 1998.

Oh wow, I have whipped myself into a frenzy of nostalgia. It's time to watch the video for "Stop" and read all the Spin Magazines from 1997 (especially "the Girl Issue" ) on Google books!

One final note that ties this whole post together: Geri's Union Jack micro-mini was reportedly made from a patterned tea-towel sewn to a black Gucci dress. Re-purposing is clearly an idea I've always enjoyed.

Raw Materials

Found a great BurdaStyle video (seemingly produced by the V&A). One of the designers from Junky Styling demonstrates how to re-fashion two old shirts into a new dress/top: "the basis of this design is just seeing the raw materials differently, seeing a polo neck on its side as the top of a more substantial, interesting, asymmetrical garment."



I've never had much luck re-making clothes, but lately I've been feeling the urge to try experimenting with it once again. Time for a thrifting excursion to the suburbs!