The Dreamstress

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Sewing room guardian spirits

Last week when I took you on a tour of my sewing spaces, I left out one very important thing, simply because my post got too long.

Well, three things actually. These:

These are Tahi, Rua, & Toru (NZ & Hawaiian readers will think me terribly unimaginative in my naming), my sewing sprites.

They sit and watch over my sewing room, and every time I look at them, I feel happy.

I don’t know where they are from, or how old they are. They turned up at my local op shop, and I LOVED THEM the moment I laid eyes on them. They look like they were designed by Miyazake.

But I have an extremely firm rule. No cat-themed ANYTHING but actual cat.

When you are as well known as I am for your cat, you can’t risk having anything cat-themed, or your whole life will soon be cat-themed. No cat fabric. No cat crockery. No cat cards or cat stationary. The only cat in my house is my cat. Otherwise I will never be given another gift in my life that doesn’t have a cat on it.

So I didn’t buy them.

But they were there the next time I went in.

And the next.

And after three times, I gave in. For 50 cents, I had my sprites.

And they sit just perfectly on the windowsill in my sewing room, and every sewing room should have a cat (even when the real one is being an absolute brat and has been kicked out for bad behavior).

So these are my ONLY exception to the cat-thing-that-are-not-actually-cats ban.

Felicity, the actually-a-cat, is totally OK with them. She likes to sleep under their watchful gaze, or sit with them and watch over the sewing.

Watteau in Paradise

Published by The Dreamstress

A couple of years ago I got a facebook message from the lovely Sadie. She’d found a 1960s Hawaiian dress at an op shop. Would I like it? Oh sure, the 1960s did lots of Hawaiian stuff – it might be fun.

Nope, turns out, it’s actually Hawaiian! As in, the fabric is by a Hawaiian fabric company (who knew? There were, and are, still fabric companies in Hawaii!), and the dress is made from a Patterns Pasifica (a short lived 1960s-70s Hawaiian pattern company) design.

Sadly, the dress is not from a Patterns Pacifica pattern that I own (my Mum bought me half a dozen when I was a teenager, and I’m gutted that I didn’t take better care of them), but it’s from that I’ve wanted to own for ages, because it’s very 18th century inspired, with those 1960s Watteau pleats.

So obviously I was VERY excited about the dress!

And it fits me! (more or less. It would help if I was 4 inches shorter and half a size smaller – as it was, I had to let out the hem as much as it would possibly go, and add a bias hem facing).

Unfortunately there aren’t very many opportunities to wear a mad Hawaiian evening gown in Wellington, but I was SO in love with the dress that when I was heading home to Hawaii in 2012 I convinced my parents that the theme of their 30th wedding anniversary should be ‘1960s Tiki Lounge’, complete with mocktails and pineapple hedgehog hors d’oeuvres, so I could wear the dress to that.

I’d show you pictures of the event but my little sister will kill me if any of the photos of her in a bright blue and orange micro-mini muumuu go public.

When we planned our Vanuatu holiday I was determined that I’d finally get proper photos.

Vanuatu was the perfect place to wear it and take pictures: I was definitely the most glamorous guest at the resort, and the staff loved it that I dressed for dinner.

It’s a bit sad that so few people do dress up. Most people were going to dinner in tank tops and ripped shorts, despite the spectacular setting with formal candlelit dining right on the beach. And since it was so hot, you wanted to change outfits three times a day anyway, so why not put on something a little fabulous?

The gorgeous handbag, btw, is by my sister, it’s handpainted leather and the lining has monkeys and if you ask nicely enough, you can probably buy your own from her!

Mr D did quite a good job with photos, don’t you think?

I only have one regret about the photos. After we’d taken a lot and I’d declared that we were done, we walked back to our fare, and I noticed the light and snapped this photo of Mr D as a test:

Obviously it was VERY exciting, and we needed to take more of me down that path!

Nope. Mr D threw a grumpy and said I’d said we were done, so we were DONE and refused to get any more. Bah humbug. What a poohead.

Rate the Dress: Charles Worth in 1897

Published by The Dreamstress

Last week I showed you a striped 1860s number, and pointed out that the stripes weren’t aligned as we would expect them to be. Oh foolish me! Having had it pointed out, you all obsessed about the stripe placement, and were rather harsh on the poor gown (I know there was a tiny mis-match as well, but other than that, I actually though the unusual stripe action on the chevrons made the gown far more interesting and dynamic than a ‘normal’ stripe placement). Beyond the stripes, some of you decried it as quite dull and blah. Poor frock! Some did love it though so it managed a 7.4 out of 10.

I’m quite obsessed with the late 1890s at the moment: the stiff, A-line skirts, the focus on menswear inspired tailoring, the pleating, the peculiar puffed sleeves.

This House of Worth evening gown from ca. 1897 is the perfect summation of the whole look. The skirt, with its heavy folds and widening gores. The juxtaposition of the Ã¼ber-feminine pink floral warp-patterned silk with a strong, tailored silhouette.

Evening dress House of Worth ca. 1897, silk & linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.638.a.b

The bodice which manages to be inspired both by men’s jackets and waistcoats, and 18th century stomachers and redingotes. The sleeves: ruched below, surmounted by faux-renaissance puffs, with bands of lace forming slashings.

Evening dress, House of Worth, ca. 1897, silk & linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.638.a.b

And finally, the skirt pleats, perfectly framing repeats of the floral pattern.

Evening dress, House of Worth, ca. 1897, silk & linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.638.a.b

It’s quite a dress: feminine, masculine, multi-period historical, both ornate and paradoxically severe.

Evening dress, House of Worth, ca. 1897, silk & linen, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.638.a.b

What do you think of it?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.