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The ‘Nostalgia’ shorts

Time to clear something off the UFO pile.

I started these shorts on my trip home to Hawaii in August.  They were the product of desperation and necessity — I’d forgotten to pack enough shorts, it was really hot, and I was running out of clothes.  The fabric is something I bought for $1 a metre almost 20 years ago and left in Hawaii because I really don’t love the colour, and Simplicity 1230 was the only shorts pattern still in my stash under my parent’s house.

Before I got any further than cutting the shorts out, I stopped by the only op-shop on the island and picked up a couple of pairs of shorts for $1 each, so I didn’t need to finish these, and didn’t want to, because I’d rather have been sewing for Mum.  So the cut-out shorts and pattern came home with me and languished in my UFO pile.  This was partly because I’ve been super busy, but also because mint green and shorts (especially pleated shorts) are something I wore constantly as a child (hence the fabric), but stopped wearing as an adult.

I’ve gotten back into shorts slightly this year, with my ‘Summer Berries’ shorts  and the  ‘Mad, Bad and Dangerously Green’ shorts  but I still have mixed feelings about shorts except in tropical climates, and mint green is still a no-no.

But hey, I had the shorts cut out, it’s warming up in Wellington, I had a Sew-Weekly challenge to complete, and maybe it’s time to re-think mint.

The shorts were a breeze to sew up, and the fabric was delicious to work with — a very heavy rayon with a slight slub.  I was thanking my lucky stars I’d made such a smart purchase as a child!  Unfortunately the rayon had faded slightly on the creases in the intervening years, so I didn’t bother to finish them as nicely as I usually would.

I wearing them with a vintage aloha shirt (another very smart purchase I made before I was 15) and some canvas beach shoes and bright red lipstick.  The shirt really lifts the pastel shorts – definitely a pairing I’ll repeat.  I’m not brave enough to really bare my midriff like the playshorts in the pattern image yet!

For the photoshoot Mr D and I headed down to the waterfront by Wellington airport — it’s got some great sculptures that I wanted to capture  (though of course all those photos turned out rubbish), and the water and docks echoed my first childhood inspiration image (which is actually at Disneyland).  We even managed to see some ducks, but Mr D couldn’t get them in the photo, though I look cute cooing at them.  I like ducks.

Just the facts, Ma’am:

Fabric:  1.5 metres of heavy rayon with a slight slub ($1.50 — 18 years ago!)

Pattern:  Simplicity 1230

Year:  mid 1940s

Notions:  One zip (20 cents) and thread

And the insides?  Just zig-zagging

Hours to complete:  2 in Wellington, .5 in Hawaii

First worn?:  Sunday 9 Dec for the photoshoot

Wear again?:  If it gets warm enough — but they will definitely be in my suitcase next trip home!

Make again?:  Yes.  I really like this pattern

Total cost:  $1.70

There is just something about red shoes

I just love red shoes.  They are like happiness for your feet.

Amazingly, I’ve owned very few red shoes, because the modern ones just aren’t as pretty as my historical ideals.

Want to see some of the ones I lust after?

This pair is darling, but so practical.  If a modern shoe company came out with a replica, I would buy them in a heartbeat!

Red leather shoes, American, end of 19th century, Museum of FIne Arts Boston,51.1997

This pair may not be quite as practical, but, oh, that fabric!

Shoes, 1732—59, British, silk, leather, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art

And just imagine how gorgeous these shoes would have looked when worn, with the little tassel swaying jauntily with each step.  Darling!

Slippers, 1790—1810, European, leather, silk, metal, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Actually, now that I think of it, that tassel and buckle is something I could do myself.  I must make it happen!

I like the juxtaposition of the tasseled pair and this much more recent pair.  I’d wear either in a heartbeat.

Shoes, Albion, 1956, Italian, leather, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Speaking of red and black shoes, the next pair is more red than black, but I think we can agree they deserve to be featured.  They are embroidered in strawberries after all!

Shoes with strawberries, 1760-1770, Hampshire City Council Museum

Speaking of patterns, was I ever not going to like a shoe in red and gold with a Greek key variant?

Shoes, French, leather, 1920-28, Paris, Musee international de la Chaussure

The shape of the next shoe doesn’t make my heart flutter, but the overall effect does.  Red stripes!  Happiness!

Shoes, 1845—60, French (probably), cotton, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art

I’ve shown these sandals before in my Regency sandal post, but they are too fantastic not to post again:

Sandals, 1800-1825, leather, Manchester City Galleries

My late 1930s wardrobe is much sadder for not including these shoes:

Shoes, Delman, 1937—39, American, leather, silk, Metropolitan Museum of Art

And finally, for the most fabulously ridiculous pair of red shoes ever:

Slippers, Rosenbloom’s, ca. 1892, American, leather, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Do you like red shoes?  Or do you subscribe to the idea that they are ‘common’?  Which is your favourite?

 

Rate the Dress: Worth IV does Zig-zags

Last week Fidelo summed up your reaction to the purple, orange and green 1870s frock perfectly: “This  should not work. It really should not work at all. The fact that it does is genius.”  And because it was genius, you gave it a rating of 9.3  out of 10, which is pretty much as close as we’re ever going to get to perfect!

This week, I’m presenting a very different dress from a very different era, but I feel it has some of the same elements that made last week’s dress so successful: unusual choice of colour or pattern, clever construction, a balance of structure and femininity, and just a wee bit of cheek.

Evening dress, silk, House of Worth, Roger Worth, ca. 1938, Metropolitan Museum of Art

This dress is also a fun one to present, because it’s by Roger Worth, the great-grandson of CF Worth, and one of the last designers of the House of Worth (the last was his brother Maurice).  You haven’t much cared for the second and third generations of Worths, but what about the fourth?  Did Roger manage to return to his great-grandfather’s greatness?

On a side note, one has to wonder about the Worth family.  They are the world’s greatest couturiers, handing down the family tradition from the stately Charles Frederick to the clever Gaston and artistic Jean-Phillipe, followed by the romantic Jean-Charles and the enterprising Jacques, and what does Jacques choose to name his heirs, who must carry on the glamorous tradition of fashion?  Roger and Maurice.  No wonder the House of Worth shut!

Right, so Roger might not be the most evocative name, but how do his fashions fare?  Does his zig-zagged extravaganza dazzle you?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10 (whole or .5 ratings only, I’ll ignore any more specific fractions)