Latest Posts

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

Kate Sheppard’s Pie & Salad de Beauvoir: a Feminist Thanksgiving

I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving every year I’ve lived in New Zealand. It started as a tradition that my in-laws did with me, as a way to make me feel more at home (I have truly wonderful in-laws), and, when they moved down to the South Island, and we bought a house, we began alternating between hosting it in Wellington, and flying down to Nelson to celebrate with them.

The first year we had it in Wellington a friend sent me a link to this article, with feminist themed Thanksgiving recipes.  I was delighted.  What a marvellous idea!  Elizabeth Candied Stanton Sweet Potatoes have since become a firm favourite at Thanksgiving (Rutabaga Ginsberg is also very nice).

Thinking on the theme of feminist food, Kate Sheppard’s Pie is an  obvious as a choice.  However, it’s food-overkill at Thanksgiving.

So, the solution: hold a Kiwi Feminist Thanksgiving, held on the Sunday after White Camellia Day (and the day after our election).  A group of friends came round to celebrate all of the awesome women who have made the world a better place, bringing their own delicious and deliciously pun-y contributions to the festive table.

My photographs aren’t the best, as I was busy being a good hostess rather than a good photographer, but I thought you might still enjoy seeing the spread and getting some inspiration for your own feminist thanksgiving.

We had:

Vegetarian Kate Sheppard’s Pie (of course!):

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

I was incredibly pleased with how this came out.  I have notoriously bad luck making anything casserole-esque, but this received rave reviews, even from the meat-eaters.

Salad de Beauvoir with Simone de Balsamic dressing:

And, since I love salads:

Oarangula Burdete-Coutts orange, kale, cashew, & chevre salad with honey dressing:

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

I’m particularly pleased that the ingredients for this reference her roles as President of the the British Goat Society and British Beekeepers Association.

Tahirih Tahini flavoured hummus (not shown)

Commemorative venison pies:

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

Pun loving geek that I am, I suggested these could be called ‘Don’t call me sweetie-pies’, but Hvitr went with the more elegant and restrained commemorative origami camellias.

Gal Gatteau cake

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

A slightly controversial entry in the feminist rolls –  but a bit of controversy to stir healthy debate amongst friends is always welcome!

And, finally, a bit of classic American feminism, in the form of Susan B Apple-ny pie.

A Feminist Thanksgiving thedreamstress.com

Over dinner we had fun coming up with more feminist themed dishes, such as:

(we didn’t use many non-Western examples, because making puns out of names is insulting in some cultures).

I’m sure you can think of more though! What else should we serve at next years Feminist Thanksgiving?

SaveSave

SaveSave

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

Emily’s Wedding Dress

In celebration of her first wedding anniversary, here is Emily’s wedding dress!

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

I’ll only do wedding dresses for very, very special people anymore, and Emily definitely qualifies. Not only is she a dear friend, but she’s the genius who keeps my blog and ScroopPatterns.com running.  Emily herself blogs at eversoscrumptious.com, though her blog is on hiatus.

As with all the wedding dresses I’ve made, the end result was a collaboration between the bride’s ideas and my sewing experience.

Our inspiration for the dress was late 1950s & early 1960s cocktail and evening dresses by designers like Balenciaga and Jacques Heim.  Emily liked the overall silhouettes, and the lush fabrics used.

Dress, Cristobal Balenciaga, 1958, The Indianapolis Museum of Art

Key design points we wanted to incorporate were a fitted bodice with scooped necklines, little cap sleeves, a natural waist, and full bell skirts with lots of swish, and flatter fronts.  Plus amazing embroidered fabric.  We settled on a slight dropped hem, to take full advantage of the fantastic fabric.

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

I draped the pattern myself, using my princess-seamed dress block as a starting point.  For the overall cut, we balanced the extravagance of the fuller late-50s skirts with a shorter, more practical hemline, perfect for an outdoor wedding, and for looking extremely glam on other occasions.

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.comI built a silk organza petticoat in into the dress for a bit of poof even without any additional support:

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

And on the day she wore added net petticoats for maximum floofiness:

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

Emily’s wedding was absolutely lovely: New Zealand springtime at its best…and then worst.

Flowers bloomed, tui sang in kowhai trees, and the earth literally moved as the bride and groom said their vows.  Luckily just a little tremor, enough to be felt, but not to be alarming!

The weather report said ‘chance of scattered showers’. New Zealand weather predictors are usually notoriously pessimistic.  Not this time!  Just as we all moved indoors for the reception it began to pour, and it didn’t stop.  Mr D & I were the last little car to make it out of the parking lot without the assistance of a tow or push.

The beautiful photographs above are by Ngahuia Riri of D-Pix Photography.  Most were taken at an after-wedding shoot, since the weather made it hard to get dress photographs on the day.

I tried not to be girl-behind-the-camera at the wedding, but I did get this one on the day:

Emily's Wedding Dress, thedreamstress.com

Thank you Emily for trusting me to make your wedding dress, and for all your help with my technical issues!

Dress of green changeable silk, 1840s, sold at Augusta Auctions in the Tasha Tudor Historic Costume Collection Sale, Nov 2007

Rate the Dress: Vivid green 1840s

It’s that time again: our weekly look at an example of historical fashion, where we discuss its aesthetic merits within the context of its time.

Last week’s discussion around a gold lace 1920s dress got very…weird.  Comments mainly centred (ha ha) around how the hip-level centre-front blue-silk bow would have been perceived in the 1920s.  Was it completely innocent, or a very risque fig leaf?  (I’m on team ‘innocent within the context of its time’.  After all, we live in a time where you can put a vertical seam with ruching right under a woman’s bottom, specifically to highlight said bottom, on a wedding dress, and no-one makes comments about poop!).

Fig-leaf analogies I expected, but then Daniel said it made him think of something utterly repulsive – so naturally my Rate-the-Dress reading friend group has been wracking our combined and considerable imaginations for the last week to figure out what it might be (we’ve kept the discussion off the blog, in the interests of good taste), and we’ve come up completely blank (thank goodness?  Innocence may be bliss in this case!).

So, with divided opinions on the bow placement and the shoulder ornamentation, but a predominant approval of the attractiveness of the lace and colours (with a few noteworthy exceptions), the dress managed a round 7 out of 10.  We had a string of 8.5 and aboves for a while, but the last few have been striking out!

For this week’s choice I’ve picked up the vivid hues of last week’s dress, and carried them through in a very bright green changeable silk gown from the 1840s

Like much of 1840s fashion for women, this example features an elaborately embellished bodice and sleeves balanced by a fairly simple bell-shaped skirt.  The only skirt ornamentation is symmetrical lines of rosette bows which frame the centre front, with one set of bows almost hidden in the deep skirt fold facing the camera.

I find this a very interesting example of 1840s fashion both for the bold hue, and for the fascinating sleeve decorations with their combinations of ruffles, lacing, and tassels:

The lower sleeve lacing looks practical in terms of allowing a very slim lower sleeve fit, and not at all practical in terms of having heavy hanging tassels swinging around your hands as you moved them.  This is clearly a dress for a woman of leisure making a statement.

There is an interesting line running down the side back which hints at a seam, and perhaps piecing, despite all other aspects of the dress indicating a lavish use of fabric.

What do you think?  As an example of 1840s historical fashion for women, does this dress lift your spirits, or leave you feeling a bit green and queasy?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

SaveSaveSaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSaveSaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave