I talk to Felicity all day as I sew and do my work, and of course, I don’t call her ‘Felicity’ every time. Â It’s far too long and formal. I do love saying ‘Hel-lo Fe-li-ci-ty’ when she comes in after an explore outside, enunciating each syllable. Other than that I call her ‘Fissy’, ‘Fis Fis’, ‘Fiskins’, ‘Fissy Kitty’, and ‘Miss Fiss’. Less fortunate times, she gets called ‘Brat’, ‘You Horrible Thing’, and ‘The Cat’ (as in, “Gah! Â The Cat just tore up my silk chiffon”) or just ‘Really?’ When I really, really love her, I call her ‘Baby Fissy Kitty’ and ‘Kitten’. And when she lies in the sun with her tummy up and just exudes adorableness, then she gets called ‘Fuzzy Happiness’.
Felicity is practicing “being incredibly cute” As far as she is concerned it is a survival skill: she needs it to balance out “being so clever that she drives her people crazy” and “being incredibly annoying especially when fabric and patterns come out.”
In reality, it’s all Felicity’s. She knows it too. Â Just look at her: I open up my red fabric box for just a minute, and what does she do? Â Come and sit on it! Â And refuse to move! You may recognise the top fabric as the lining for the nougat corset. What do you think of the bottom fabric? Â I’m torn about it. Â It’s a reproduction of an early-mid 19th century cotton from the International Quilt Study Centre & MuseumÂ in Lincoln, Nebraska. Â I found it on sale here in NZ and snapped up 6ish metres before realising that it’s actually kinda hideous and repulsive. Â But also appealing at the same time. So what do you think about a tomato red with mustard and black print? Â And what on earth should I do with it?