Sewing this pattern up was a real blast to the past.
Not only did I have a genuine 1973 sewing pattern, a vintage metal zipper, my 1964 sewing machine and some vintage rayon challis—but this project even came with an soundtrack from the right era!
Yes, I should have been wary of that witchy looking chica on the pattern envelope.
She, who with her nefarious sidekick whispered these sweet nothings:
Of course, the fault was mostly mine. After a too-quick tissue fit, I decided I needed only one adjustment to the pattern: an enlarged bicep. The sewing was pretty easy, but the fabric was a lot less restrictive than the pattern tissue and even with some on-the-fly adjustments, I ended up with a dress with a saggy surplice front, a baggy bodice, and giant, floppy upper arms. There I stood staring at myself in the mirror, my dreams of looking like a 1970s goddess seeming to be crushed beneath a pair of giant, malevolent Famolares
And then, these lines burst into my head; "You made a fool of me, but then those broken dreams have got to end. . . "
So as I ripped and re-sewed, re-gathered and tucked I also sang to that nasty pattern envelope woman:
Okay, I admit I also said some other things to her; things too awful to repeat here.
Finally, I finished things up. Then I cut too much off the bottom and hemmed it up to a ridiculously short length, ripped that out and then re-hemmed it. So I am done now, but the Evil Woman and I haven't really made up yet.
When we start talking again, I will find a fog machine and take some pictures.
P.S. Anyone have some vintage, knee-high black vinyl boots I can borrow to wear with this? Maybe Barbarella?
