It’s true. Idle hands are the devils work, and seamstresses with too much time on their hand invent time-wasting sewing techniques like pintucks. Ergo, pintucks are evil.
In other news, having determined that pintucks are evil, my house has turned into a den of iniquity.
I’ve been pintucking for three days straight.
I’m wearing a path in the carpet between the ironing board and my sewing machine.
My life goes: iron a crease. Trot to the sewing machine, fabric in hand. Sew a tiny stitch just in from the crease. Trot back to the ironing board. Press the resulting pintuck. Flip the fabric and carefully measure and iron a new crease. Repeat ad nauseum.
To make it even worse, the pintucks in the two back panels of Emily’s skirt are curved. You heard that right folks, curved pintucks. It’s the ninth circle of hell, and let me tell you, those curves are really treacherous. Dante just forgot to tell you that Satan is wearing a dress with three neckholes and curved pintucks all over it.
OK. That was my whinge of the day. Tomorrow I’ll tell you what the pintucks have taught me about the seamstress who made Emily’s dress, and about the look of the dress itself.