Lessons from a Sewing Class

I spent three most happy days recently taking a beginner sewing class.  From a Pentecostal lady.  In a sewing shop where all the employees are Pentecostal.  And the owner is Pentecostal.

First, it was sweet to be surrounded by ladies who dressed attractively and with feminine style every day!  Love, love, love.  I wish women knew how much good they could do in this world by thinking first about God's glory and others' edification when they choose how they will dress.

Second, I joined in on edifying conversations about homemaking, marriage, tending the sick, preparing for holidays, etc.  And that was all we talked about.

Third, I observed how integrated their lives are:  their church, shop, and home activities, their friendships, all Pentecostal.  Many of the shop's clientele are Pentecostal as well.

Fourth, I thought how marvelous it would be to own a sewing shop with all Catholic ladies from my parish working there, and going to Mass together, being closed on holy days of obligation, and having classes on how to make decorative items for celebrating the liturgical year!  Haha!  You knew that was coming!

Of course I shared all this with Emma when I got home, and we both indulged in the delicious fantasy for a few moments, as only commuter Catholics can truly appreciate.

Back to reality, I made a pair of prissy pajama pants for my mama out of a print with butterflies and flowers.  I added some giant pink rick-rack to the hem.  So adorable.  Emma said they were the cutest pajama pants she had ever seen.  High praise, indeed.

For me, the thing I needed to learn the most was a little confidence.  I actually had basic sewing skills before the class, but had not sewed in 25 years, and had such a horrible record of running into obstacles and not finishing, that I wanted this class as kind of a re-boot.  I really, really enjoyed the actual sewing.  I felt so relaxed at the end of each class!  Well, there was one little stressful thing.  I was using one of the shop's new-fangled machines that does not use a foot pedal.  My instructor called it "push button" sewing.  I had to take my right hand off the fabric to push the button to stop the machine.  Me not like that.  At all.  On the plus side, the machine speed was constant.  My foot is not.  I am looking forward to getting out my rugged and basic 1980s Viking machine that is not smarter than I am.  It can't thread itself or back stitch unless I tell it to.

At the end of the class, I bought a pattern for making this nifty travel iron carrier/ironing pad.  The shop had one made up and on display, and I thought it was super adorable.  Of course no one except quilters totes travel irons anymore.  Well, maybe RVers?  Oh, well.  I am making it anyway because of the cuteness factor, and it doesn't require zipper or buttonholes skills.  Lol!

A Dreamy Day of Trying on Wedding Dresses

 Last year when Emma was taking a pattern drafting class, one of her homework assignments was to go to a bridal shop and try on wedding dresses.   Emma also had to sketch a wedding dress design.  Now this is the kind of homework a girl can love.  We had a fabulous time!

I thought my readers might enjoy these pictures.  They were taken by Kaley Palanjian, my niece.  She and her mom, my sister, Lisa, accompanied us to the bridal shops.  It was a great girl-fun day.

It Fit I Think

Last Tuesday night Emma thought her blouse muslin that she has been working on since May was finally a perfect fit. She has taken it apart, drafted new pattern pieces, and basted it back together untold numbers of times.

Wednesday, as I was preparing to leave for the grocery store, Emma and I discussed which fabric from her stash she would use to make up the blouse. She planned to put the sleeves in her muslin and try it on one more time before taking it all apart and using it for a pattern to cut out her fabric. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

I left for Kroger. As I pushed my cart down the frozen food aisle, I got this shocking text from Emma: "My shirt is a failure, and I'm giving up on it."

I doubt seriously that the muslin's problem warranted the term, "failure,". I think that word was drawn straight from Emma's secret cache of perfectionism vocabulary. Either way, I think she made the right decision in officially tossing it aside for the moment. She needs a break from it. At her next class, if the teacher says to give up on it, that will be fine with me. She has done that for two of the other ladies already. She says that sometimes the time and effort to make a particular pattern work for you are just not worth it, and you are better off to cut your losses and try another.

Life is hard.

I laugh to think how ignorant we were when Emma started. We had planned for her to be able to draft patterns from scratch for several 50s-style dresses for her upcoming pilgrimage to Rome, make them, and fit them. Maybe it would be more accurate to describe us as ignorant and hopelessly idealistic.

Still, I see progress toward the goal. During last week's class, Emma talked to the teacher about drafting a pattern to add sleeves to a purchased Lanz of Salzburg cotton lawn nightgown. It's a worthwhile project, because it's a lovely gown with pintucks and lace that normally retails for $60; we found it discounted at Marshall's for $16.99. I listened to Emma explain to the teacher how she wanted the sleeve to look and how she would accomplish it. The teacher affirmed her plans. As I listened to them, I reviewed Emma's participation in the classes from the beginning and was satisfied that the time, effort, and money invested so far have been worth it.

I do not sew, but even I have learned so much from attending these classes. Foremost, I am beginning to understand why the clothes available in stores are so lacking in style. The designs are determined by what can "fit" the masses as cheaply as possible. That just about rules out anything tailored. Women, including me, get frustrated trying to find something "off the rack" that looks decent on a non-standard body. Out of desperation we have unwittingly lowered our definition of "fit" to include flapping, binding, puckering, bunching, and gaping. Any of those conditions means that the clothing should be altered if possible, left on the rack if not! What a revelation to me!

But like I said, we are desperate, so we wear it anyway. It is a great loss, because clothes that truly fit make a dramatic improvement in your appearance. I've seen it in class as the ladies try on their muslins after each correction.

Because of the difficulty of procuring clothes that fit, and the American preoccupation with comfort, many young women now deem most occasions appropriate times to wear t-shirts that expose their muffin-top bellies and jeans or sweat pants with a back view that showcases what my dear husband delicately refers to as their "plumber's smile". Thankfully, I rarely see older women exposing themselves the way the younger ones do, but even the grandmas wear jeans and t-shirts now, or worse, sleeveless shirts that flaunt their ham-like arms.

No wonder so many people need medication for depression.

Seriously! I watched my own 18-year-old son's expression change from somber to beaming with delight when he walked down a grocery store aisle behind a little old country lady who was poor financially but rich in style. She wore a nicely-fitted cotton dress, pretty but practical low heels with stockings, and her long white hair was arranged most attractively on top of her head. They never spoke, never made eye contact, but she turned Nathaniel's "down day" into a "zippity-do-dah day".

Are Women Ready to Leave Feminism Behind?

Emma and I have had some unusual experiences lately regarding our ideas on modesty and marriage. We're still trying to understand what happened.

THE FIRST ONE

We had been shopping at a Houston thrift store. When we finally narrowed down Emma's purchases of dresses, skirts, blouses, and jumpers, it was near time for the store to close. This meant that a long line of people squeezed together at the counter to check out. As the clerk held up each of Emma's items to fold it, I noticed all the ladies in line staring at the clothes. Then they started glancing at Emma and back to the clothes.

They began commenting.

The clerk held up a modest but very feminine long white dress with pink bows--"How cute! how sweet!" the ladies exclaimed. Then the clerks joined in. At this point I could tell that something emotional was going to happen. Emma turned to smile at the ladies in line. That did it.

"Oh, God bless you!" a little old black lady said. A tall white lady behind her seconded her emotion.

"And you're with your mother! Praise God! How old are you?" the black lady asked.

"17."

"OH GOD BLESS YOU! I lost my son last year, and now I am all alone." Emma and I each gave her a consoling hug. The atmosphere was so emotional now, that it reminded me of a Baptist tent revival. As we completed our transaction and exited the store, all the other ladies were beaming at us, and the black lady continued to bless us. It was hard to leave her! I felt like we ought to put her in the car with us and take her home.

Emma and I got to the car, looked at each other, and basically said, "WOW! What was that?"

THE SECOND ONE

A few days later, we went to Emma's pattern drafting class. The teacher had invited everyone to swim in the pool, so Emma put on her swimsuit. She made it a couple of years ago for the Beck summer camp. It is made out of Lycra and is completely lined. It has a knee-length, swingy full skirt with built-in long shorts and a separate t-shirt style top with built-in bra. When the sewing ladies saw it, they swooped down upon her and started bombarding her with questions while pulling at the skirt and analyzing all the sewing details. They could not stop talking about her workmanship or the cuteness or the modesty of the suit. It went on and on and on. I was beginning to wonder if they were going to let her swim. Finally, they let her go, after making her promise to bring her swimsuit pattern the next week.

THE THIRD ONE

At the next class, one of the ladies told Emma that she thinks about her often and wonders about why she dresses so modestly. She wanted to know if Emma dressed that way because I made her, or if Emma wanted to herself, or if it was because of religious reasons. Emma told her that she dresses modestly for all three reasons. Then the lady asked Emma what she was going to do for college. Emma told her that she would either study music or get her fashion design certificate. Immediately, this lady told the teacher that Emma was interested in fashion design and asked her to advise Emma.

The teacher looked thoughtful and then said very seriously, "You're going to have to get a lot meaner, Emma. And you're going to have to develop a killer instinct." (This is the lady who told Emma that she has a flashing neon sign on her forehead that says, "I'm innocent and naive.")

"I don't think I can do that," Emma admitted softly.

I could see that the ladies were concerned now. They were worrying about how Emma would be able to support herself if she couldn't get mean and competitive enough to be successful.

Taking the plunge, I told them that Emma had no plans for a career. She would utilize the music and/or the fashion design skills at home, as she wanted to marry, stay home, and have babies. I waited for the uproar.

None came.

I was amazed. Except for one, the ladies all work outside the home. They all wear pants. Several are divorced. But they were completely supportive.

Whew!

Things got quiet. Ready for things to return to normal, I turned to my book, Man of Steel and Velvet. Suddenly, I could feel the teacher's eyes on my back. "Oh, no," I thought.

Then it came--the dreaded question.

She asked me what I was reading.

I gave her the title, not wanting to discuss the subject matter.

"What's it about?" she persisted.

"Uhhhh," I said, floundering. It's-a-guide-for-men-to-teach-them-how-to-be- masculine-and-function-as-the-head-of-the-family," I blurted. "I bought it for my son."

"Oh, every woman needs a strong man," she answered. I peeked at her. She was calm and seemed to be sincere.

"Uh-huh," I agreed, still nervous.

"That's right," a couple of the other women chimed in.

"What next?" I worried to myself. I began to suspect that I had entered The Twilight Zone.

Emma left the room to try on her muslin.

"So when is Emma getting married?" the teacher asked.

"Oh, in a couple of years probably," I answered, knowing that Emma firmly believes that old maidenhood begins promptly at 20.

"That's perfect," the teacher said. "Here is my idea. We are going to design Emma's wedding dress as a class project."

"What? Are you kidding me," I asked.

She assured me that she was not. All the other ladies got excited. I was still in a state of shock. Somebody said, "Yes, that will give us enough time to do all the hand beadwork."

Emma came out of the changing room, and the teacher told her about the project. "Have a sketch ready next week of your preliminary design," she instructed Emma. I could see that this bewildering news had Emma wondering what all had happened while she had been changing clothes.

On the way home after class, I told Emma that those ladies must really care about her.

"I know," she said, amazed. "I can't believe they are willing to take on this project for me."

We started thinking about the events of the last few weeks: the ladies in the thrift store, the reaction to the modest swimsuit, and now not only the acceptance of Emma not pursuing a career but the encouragement to marry young that the wedding dress project symbolized. "What is going on?" we both wondered.

This is the theory we came up with: Women are finally recognizing that feminism is a failure. They are sick of all the ugliness, and they are becoming hungry for modesty and femininity. The problem is that they don't consciously know it until they actually see a young lady who dresses and acts that way. I think it has to be a young lady because she also has to represent hope for the future. Of course all this is just conjecture, but something is definitely going on.

What do you think?

More on the Companionship of Women

This is a picture of the women in the District Check weaving workshop that Emma participated in a few months ago. I started wondering why the pattern drafting class members seem to be a closer-knit group than this one, which is less diverse.

Here are my ideas:

In the weaving workshop, it was hard to talk because of the noise of the looms. In the pattern-drafting class, the sewing has been almost exclusively hand sewing, so it is easier to carry on a conversation.

In the weaving workshop, there was really no need for help from the other participants. In the pattern drafting class, you become intimate with your sewing partner right away because you have to measure each other's bodies; everyone is called upon to identify the fitting problems and help solve them; you are somewhat exposed and vulnerable during the fitting process (as when you are standing very still while two people are pinning your bust darts), but then you are reassured and grateful when the other students are so helpful and encouraging. In short, there are many opportunities for bonding with the other students.

I don't mean to imply that the weavers didn't enjoy camaraderie. They did. But it was when they left their looms to talk in a group and when they did the waulking of the wool. The waulking drew them together most of all because they were singing together and working rhythmically together on the same wool blanket. And this synergy was heightened when the master called for them all to take a shot of whiskey together to re-vivify themselves for the next round. Unfortunately, waulking is the last step, so the feeling of community it engenders cannot be enjoyed during the weaving process.

One thing that both groups benefited from was eating lunch together. Nothing seems to build community as quickly as sharing a meal.

So this is what I learned from the two experiences:

If you want to promote community within a group of women who are strangers, have them share a meal together first, preferably a pot-luck. Then have them work together on something that is quiet enough for conversation to flourish but for which each individual will need the help of the other group members. Finally, create opportunities for one-on-one bonding.

Sewing and the Companionship of Women

The need for community has once again driven us to leave hearth and home.

I discovered, along with the other students in Emma's pattern drafting class, how important the company of other women is when one is sewing. Everyone got more done than at home, and the results were better because of the input and assistance they gave each other, especially with fitting their muslins. I never knew how much trouble fitting bodice darts could be until this class.

I knew that Emma was lonely sewing in her bower. That's why I often go out and read to her while she sews, but the expertise and support of eight or ten other women improved greatly upon my poor efforts.

What really amazed me is that these good results came despite the fact that the women are of all ages, from 17 to 72, and they have very little in common besides sewing. Even their countries of origin are diverse. One lady is from the Dominican Republic, one from the Philippines, one from Russia, one from Trinidad. We even had one from Iran, but she had to drop out.

The only real conflict we have had is when we discussed continuing our class, which ended last Saturday, by transforming it into a sewing club which would meet once a week at the teacher's townhome clubhouse. She told us that she would like to invite a couple of former students who happened to be a gay couple. I said right away that Emma and I would not be able to come if these gay men participated. This raised a few voices of protest. One lady even said, "Why? They are more feminine than we are!"

Somehow, I don't think we share the same definition of femininity!

I held firm and said that they are still men, however disordered, and Emma would not be able to participate with them in the group. This discussion went on for about five minutes with me being the only vocal opponent. No one got angry; we just stated our views in a cordial manner. Interestingly, the same women who welcomed the gay men opined that Emma should take the unwanted attentions of the alterations shop man as a compliment. You can see how different our worldviews are.

Although it was somewhat uncomfortable to state my views on the subject of the gay couple, I was glad that I did rather than just quietly opting out of the group. Later that afternoon two other ladies mentioned that they, too, would not have been comfortable having fittings with men in the room. The gay couple's supporters never elaborated on whether the men were supposed to actually help with the fittings or just watch. Either choice was unthinkable to me.

So last night we had our first club meeting, and it was really wonderful. It was good to be with everyone again and see the progress they had made on their projects.

Emma and her dear Myhd shared a table and chatted about Emma's cow and wedding dresses. Myhd got out her phone and showed Emma a picture of her wedding dress--35 pounds of beads and lace! I sat with the lady from Trinidad. We talked about homeschooling and her work and how Emma started weaving.

The clubhouse is perfect. It looks out onto a fantastically huge pool, and the teacher invited everyone to bring swimsuits from now on and swim at the end of the meeting. Emma can't wait.

Artwork: Young Woman Sewing in a Garden by Berthe Morisot

Pattern Drafting

Friday and Saturday Emma attended a pattern drafting class in Houston. This diagram is supposed to show which measurements to take and record so that you can alter a commercial pattern to fit you.

The first day of class was taken up with measuring. The ladies chose partners and took each other's measurements. Emma loves her partner, Mynd. They get along great, but they don't talk so much that it keeps them from getting work done. Emma says that their thinking styles complement each other. Emma explains the theory to Mynd, and Mynd applies it.

The second day they taped their trimmed patterns on the wall and started measuring them against their own measurements.

They had to do a lot of re-measuring to verify. Their homework assignment is to bring a hand-basted muslin of their pattern to class next Friday. When class time was over on Saturday, the students adjourned to the Galleria mall, where the group toured a top-notch alterations shop. Afterward, they were instructed to visit the designer floor of Neiman Marcus and study the construction techniques of the clothes there.

Emma and Mynd had a blast doing this.

They loved the back of this dress.

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An Unusual Thursday

We almost didn't go to hear Andrew and Noah at Anderson Fair Thursday night.

We had had a bad afternoon dealing with an incompetent Post Office employee, who made us despair of ever getting Emma's passport.

Emma was so disconsolate when we got home that I suggested we watch just a little of Bright Star, the movie about the romance between poet John Keats and Fannie Brawn.

What a ludicrous idea! Once we started it, there was no turning it off. The film mesmerized us, right through to the last credit. It was difficult to move afterward. We wanted to stay in that dreamy world of poesy.

Emma even said, "Let's don't go to Anderson Fair."

I insisted, though, because backing out of going places at the last minute is one of my worst faults. But, oh, it was hard! We had to hustle to get the milking done so that we could make it downtown before 9:00, when the music would begin at Anderson Fair.

We were a few minutes late, so Andrew and Noah were already playing when we came in. We ordered a chicken quesadilla at the counter and then slipped into the darkened music hall--the combination of no light and an old uneven floor forcing us to feel our way to a table and chairs. Thankfully, the stage was lit.

By its light we saw dimly a man's outline pause at our table to deliver the chicken quesadilla. We soon discovered that it was loaded with "the works". Each shadowy forkful foretold a little adventure. "Ooooh. Yuck," Emma whispered after choking down a blob of sour cream. I inadvertently consumed a chunk of avocado, which I find disgusting. Overall, though, it tasted delicious, and the chicken especially was tender and flavorful.

The entertainment proved similar to the quesadilla. It was songwriter's night, so the van Norstrands shared the stage with an older, local duo, which for us was sour cream and avocadoes.

The van Norstrands, however, did not disappoint. Their music exudes freshness and energy, and their manners were almost courtly in their collaboration with the two other musicians. Andrew and Noah's songs seem grounded in folk tradition and do not shy away from expressions of love and lifelong commitment.

When Andrew introduced one of his songs as one that he wrote for his girlfriend, who has since become his wife, one of the older men said that you want your songs to be "effective, but not that effective". We shuddered.

Between sets we explored the building, a quirky, tumbledown old place. To the left of the counter, we found a strange room that had one wall lined with books. Emma giggled when she discovered a book on logic, shelved above a label that read, "MYSTERY". The bathroom was a rustic throne room, as the toilet sat upon a platform, a whole step up from the main floor. The tiny bar area boasted a painting of a bare-breasted lady that was mounted high up on the wall. The customary promotional photos of mostly unknown-to-us performers papered the walls elsewhere.

The customer service was really good; they treated us like family. I liked the fact that they don't take credit cards. They even had a wide selection of teas for Emma. She ordered a cup of red raspberry.

Emma drove us there and back and did fairly well. She told me on the last leg of the trip home that we shouldn't stay out late like this except on rare occasions. I felt kind of guilty. Then I remembered that this is the girl who was playing hide 'n' seek with her cow at 2 a.m. Monday morning, jumping up and roaring, "RAAAAAAH!" whenever Fiona found her, causing Fiona to jump and run, kicking her heels, at which point Emma would hide again, and the whole process would start over.

I ignored her.

Dresses for a Roman Holiday

Images of prissy vintage dresses proliferate in Emma's online picture files. Most of them are sewing pattern envelope photos from the 40s and 50s. She separated them into "Daytime" and "Nighttime" categories and then into individual files for "dressy", "home", and "farm" yesterday afternoon. Then we spent about an hour going through them, selecting the ones that she would like to make for the trip to Rome this summer and creating a separate "Rome" folder for the purpose. She adores the ones with big, full skirts, but I warned her that they would be a packing, and most likely, an ironing problem. That helped narrow down the selections a bit further.

Organizing the pictures allowed her to see that there are basically three different styles that she really likes. Multiple options create all the different looks. Now that she knows that, she is going to start studying pattern drafting books so that she can create the patterns she needs. I found several on the LACIS website. If anyone can make a recommendation, please comment.

The Beauty of Bespoke

Bespoke

British English term for clothing made at a customer's behest, and exactly to the customer's specification. Bespoke clothing is created without use of a pre-existing pattern, differentiating it from made to measure, which alters a pattern to fit the customer.
- from the word bespeak, meaning to ask for or order something. Has its roots in Savile Row, dating from the 17th century when tailors held the full lengths of cloth on their premises. When a customer would choose a length of cloth, it was said to have 'been spoken for.'--Edwin DeBoise, Savile Row Bespoke Tailor

Giuseppe at An Affordable Wardrobe has a post with photos of a gorgeous bespoke hunting jacket. It is pure handsome in detail and fabric. I would love to see a man wearing it, accessorized with an appropriate firearm and a sleek hunting dog.

A Chemise: Just a Slip of a Thing?

Emma called me to the bower to show me how nicely her gussets and felled seams turned out on her chemise sewing project. I had to ask her for definitions of them both. After I saw them, I did a little research on my own and ended up reading about armor.<

contented sigh>

Then I found the word "gusset" in this quote from Thomas Hardy's The Return of the Native:

Gorget, gusset, basinet, cuirass, gauntlet, sleeve, all alike in the view of these feminine eyes were practicable spaces whereon to sew scraps of fluttering colour.

I think I want to be a research librarian when I grow up.

In the meanwhile, I'm going to repeat "scraps of fluttering colour" to myself at least once a day. As Anne of Green Gables would say, there's a lot of "scope for the imagination" there.

Back to the gusset. My old Webster's dictionary says that in the Hardy quote, a gusset is a piece of chain mail or a metal plate protecting the opening of a joint in a suit of armor. The Middle English form of the word was guschet, the Old French, gousset. In the chemise that Emma is working on, it is a diamond-shaped piece of fabric inserted under the arm to make the rectangular sleeve pieces fit better. The gusset makes it roomier and stronger.

I really like the word, "chemise". It sounds elegant. However, I thought that it meant the same thing as what I normally call a "slip". I referred back to the Webster's and found that it is not so. A "slip" does not have sleeves.

The left side shows what the gusset seams look like before being felled. The right side felled seams are pinned, ready to sew. A neckline drawstring will gather the fabric and make it adjustable to fit different dress necklines.

The felled seam is accomplished by turning under and sewing down flat the raw edge of the seam, making it 1/4" wide. This is done to keep the fabric from fraying, adding to the durability. The pattern notes say that the chemise should last three years and that a lady's wardrobe should include at least three of these essential undergarments.

Pray and Quilt

Bluegrass musician Ricky Skaggs has made a complimentary mp3 download available of his recording of Somebody's Praying. Find it here on the National Day of Prayer website. I have been listening to it over and over this week.

I have also been reading about prayer quilts, and I was struck by how the message of the song and the quilting idea go hand-in-hand. Made by individuals or groups, the quilter prays as she sews for the person who will receive the quilt. When the person who receives the quilt wraps it around his shoulders, he is reminded that someone is praying for him. It is a beautiful idea.

As I grow older, I have become more and more aware of the bits of humor that surface in the midst of grieving. Because of this, I appreciated this note from the Prayers & Squares International newsletter, Aug. 2009:

Here is a fun note that Nancy Brado attaches to the quilts
her Georgia chapter sends out.

HOW TO USE YOUR PRAYER QUILT
(THESE QUILTS ARE QUITE VERSATILE)

1. Cover yourself and sigh and moan, as appropriate.
It is best to do this only when others are around,
however.

2. Pull over your head to signal that you are no longer
willing to answer questions. Turning over, when
combined with the over- the-head movement,
dismisses tiresome guests without saying anything.

3. The voices you hear when wrapped in your quilt are
not in your head. They are the prayers that have
been spoken over your quilt while the knots were
being tied. Those voices are meant to soothe you;
allow them to do their job.

4. When the pain is extreme, hold onto those knots with
both hands. Each lumpy knot represents prayers that
have been offered up to God on your behalf. You
don't need words, they have already been spoken.

5. This quilt is washable, so don't hesitate to rumple,
crumple, or in any other way use it as a source of
relief. It has a nice solid batting that holds an
abundance of tears, so don't hold back.

6. As far as laundry, wash it in warm water and dry in
the dryer on medium heat. We have included a
Shout “Color Catcher©” to throw into the wash
with it the first time. These fabrics were washed
before sewing, but just in case there's any surplus
dye, the “Catcher” will get it.

7. Recuperate and take the quilt on a picnic. You'll
both love it.

Sunrise, Sunset, Weave the Fabric for a Silk Wedding Dress

Weddings have been on my mind for the last month. I've been reading about traditional Catholic wedding music, impediments to marriage, etc., etc., etc.

But I wasn't thinking about that at all when I visited the Upstairs Studio website to find information on weaving classes for Emma. It's something we've been planning for at least two years but I always put off because it's 4 8-hour days in La Porte, TX. After I got the information I was looking for, I followed a link to the Contemporary Handweavers of Houston (CHH) site. We had a CHH family membership the first year that Emma got her spinning wheel, but we quit going to meetings when it became a conflict with choir practice in Dickinson. We really enjoyed those meetings, though, and so I was eager to see what had been going on. I found something that I did not expect, a link to a blog about weaving the fabric for a daughter's wedding dress! It's silk and has to be ready by June 25. The weaver, DeeDee, planned to do this whenever her soon-to-be-married daughter, Sara, was first born. She started in January this year. It's something I can imagine Emma or Emily G. doing for their daughters.

Since Emma doesn't have a daughter yet, or a husband for that matter, she has plenty of time to perfect her technique.

The Stuff That Girls' Dreams are Made of: It's at High Fashion Fabrics

Saturday morning Herb, Emma, and I took off for the Urban Harvest tree sale at Rice University Stadium in Houston. When we got there, Herb saw the line to get in wrapped around the stadium. He didn't want to wait, so we left.

We didn't want to to waste a trip downtown on a Saturday, though, so I suggested an alternative. Emma and I have been wanting to visit High Fashion Fabrics. One of Emma's sewing teachers had recommended that we acquaint ourselves with its inventory. So Herb, being a good sport, took us there. It's at the intersection of Louisiana and Elgin streets and well worth the visit. We spent about an hour oogling and petting their wares. Herb suggested that we go back another day and visit their home decorator fabrics shop that is located across the street. Emma and I are ready whenever he says, "Let's go."I think that these mannequins that Emma is visiting are wearing silk. I know that there was an amazing selection of silks hanging on racks in one corner of the store. Sometimes you felt like you were looking at a color palette instead of fabric. Then there were the fabrics that would have looked at home in a jewelry store.

Welcome to the essential feather boa department. Individual ostrich feathers were displayed in vases. I don't think we'll be needing any, but it was awfully interesting.

Planning to make your own wedding dress? Get thee to High Fashion Fabrics.

The crowning touch, a whole selection of tiaras. The store also featured a huge selection of jewelry.



Sheer fabric with embroidery. So lovely, so delicate, so feminine!

There was a sumptuous selection of men's suiting material. Herb found a cashmere for $375/yd. but decided to hold off until it showed up as a suit at a resale shop. I liked the plaid in the middle at the end of the rack.

Herb showed Emma the glove selection. She was overwhelmed until she found out that the adult sizes were one-size-fits all, and they were too big. The largest children's size was too small.


I fell in love with this black lace and had Herb drape it over Emma so I could see how it would look as a veil. It has gold roses and bows attached. The roses didn't photograph well. $150/yd., approximately.

Pink lace is just one of those essential fabrics that every girl should have in her stash.

Emma recognized the sacrifice that Herb cheerfully made for her to visit the store. She gave him a big kiss and told him, "Thank you, Daddy!"

Stash and Dash

The day that we dropped in at the May Community Center to tell the watercolor teacher that Emma would join the class, we stumbled upon two cartloads of fabric that they were giving away. I think most of it had been used for decorating tables, etc.

Emma was ready to wheel the carts to our car and unload them, but I restrained her. I let her select an armload and then cut her off. She crossed her arms over her new stash, clutching it fast to her heart, and jogged out the door and all the way to the car. "Emma," I called after her. "They're not going to chase you down and take it away from you. They WANT to get rid of it."

It didn't matter. She didn't relax until she had it all tucked away safe in the car. She has spent many happy moments since then dreaming of future projects.

100 Years and Still Stylin': Highlights of the Texas State 4-H Fashion Show

After all the anticipation, the 2008 Texas State 4-H Fashion Show finally began Wednesday night, June 11th, in Texas A&M's Rudder Auditorium.

Texas 4-Hers Amanda Jo Laurent, Rachel Taylor, Michael Edwards, and Rebekah Richter shared the narration duties.

Nathaniel, Alexis Cordova, Glenda Lowe, Laurie and Katie Byrd, and I all represented District 9 in the appointed seats.

Beginning with all the contestants in the "buying" division, participants showcased outfits they purchased in the "Casual", "Dressy", "Formal", and "Specialty" categories.

Emma and I loved the Czech outfit that was modeled in the "Specialty" category by Angela Gremminger from the City of West. West is famous for its Westfest. Happily, Angela garnered a second place finish. We visited with Angela and her mother before the show. It turns out that we were familiar with the work of the woman who made Angela's dress. We had visited her booth at the Czech Spring Fest in Houston. Her business is called Maggie's Fabric Patch: Czech Costume Creations.

Jordan Meador of Dallam County captured first place in Buying: Formal

The end of the "Buying" portion of the show flowed effortlessly into the "Construction portion.

Emma's tour guide friend, Elizabeth Maxwell of Jefferson County, took second place in Construction: Casual.

Ellese Castillo of Williamson County took first place in Construction: Formal

From Parker County, Clarin Gniffke, took second in Construction: Formal. Her sister,Cameron, got second in Construction: Specialty, the category that Emma was competing in.

Third place in Construction: Specialty went to Stephen Wallace of Cooke County.

Julie Kircher from Nueces County created a fabulous pirate costume and sailed away with first place in Construction: Specialty. She even made her hat, which the photo does not do justice.

Although, she, like Emma, did not place, Lauren Craig from Ellis County made a dreamy pink confection of a dress that Emma adored. It featured a three-layered skirt with butterfly accents. Lauren designed the skirt and sleeves herself, and used a pattern for the bodice.

From Ochiltree County, Laura Burandt made her top, jeans, and leather chaps.

Here is Sally Rath,
and here is Emma in their Celtic costumes.

With the options that both girls chose, Sally and Emma could have been the models for Simplicity pattern 3623. Look at this:

In Her Bower, Enclosed

We recently converted our old portable building from a school room into a craft room for Emma. Her projects were taking over the house. We had referred to the building as "the schoolroom" for so long, though, that it was hard to stop. Finally, I asked Emma what she wanted to call it. She thought for a moment and said, "Call it my bower,".

"What is a bower?" I asked.

"It's a room in a castle where ladies go to sew, spin, and weave," she said.

I copied this definition from Webster's online. (I think.)

Main Entry: 1bow·er
Pronunciation: \ˈbau̇(-ə)r\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English bour dwelling, from Old English būr; akin to Old English & Old High German būan to dwell, Old English bēon to be — more at be
Date: before 12th century
1 : an attractive dwelling or retreat
2 : a lady's private apartment in a medieval hall or castle
3 : a shelter (as in a garden) made with tree boughs or vines twined together : arbor
— bow·ery \-ē\ adjective

So far Emma has her loom, spinning wheel, serger, sewing machine, ironing board, and work table in her bower. She also has one of those tables that conceals four chairs inside a cabinet. You can keep the table folded up and out of the way or open it, set your four chairs out, and host a tea party. This is Emma's plan.

Upstairs is a loft retreat, in case bower life gets too stressful.

Tuesday we bought three garlands of various flowers to decorate the windows. Yesterday Emma went with our friend Lee to a class at the Crosby Community Center and learned how to paint stepping stones to look like flowers. She will paint a whole series of them leading up to her bower porch.