Referring to the Murphy of the proverbial Murphy’s Law, of course. I don’t think I know any actual Murphies, but if you are one, please don’t run around in fear of your life. Unless you are THAT Murphy. In which case, hide. It’ll make it more interesting when I come after you with a chainsaw.
But I digress…
Remember the little black lace rib-hiding crop that I spent ages lovingly hand-sewing stubborn polyester ribbon on like bias binding? Remember how it was designed specifically to go with a dress that I was so absolutely certain that I knew exactly where it was that I would have merrily staked the lives of thousands of fluffy kittens on it? Turns out, on the morning of the Gala, that it was not where I thought it was, in fact, it wasn’t anywhere at all and in a hypothetical universe lots of hypothetical little kittens may have lost their lives because of my memory-hubris, may they hypothetically rest in peace. The only explanations I can think of are: 1), I accidentally bagged it up and sent it to Savers in the massive wardrobe purge I did earlier this year; or 2) the House Key Snatching Poltergeist has expanded his operations beyond just house keys.
After much hyperventilating and general panic, my mum, who was down for the Gala, came to the rescue by suggesting that we (gasp!) BUY A NEW DRESS. I was horrified. I am someone who Does Not Buy Dresses. Unless they pass the studentine frugality test, the construction test, the fabric test and the style test (picky? Who, me?). Mum had spent the morning indulging herself down at Peter Sheppard, so she was all warmed up to the idea of spending the equivalent of almost two months worth of my rent on what she saw as An Entirely Necessary and Not Outrageous Because Aren’t We Lucky To Find Something In Your Size Long Black Dress by Bianca Spender. It’s lovely. I’m tremendously grateful. But then I spent 3 hours cutting and doing a rolled hem on the damn thing because I have stunted legs (I swear one day they’ll do my autopsy and find Harris lines in all my long bones. Self-inflicted, of course, because when I was a kid I wasn’t picky about clothes, but I was damn picky about food), and, it being made of some very stubborn very floaty silk georgette, my hands didn’t stop twitching for about half an hour afterwards.
Then the end bit fell off the heel on my favourite performance shoes. Then I ran two minutes late to chorus warm-up, and had to do the Scamper of Shame to the end of the row and suffer Accusing Scrutiny. Lucky that having a memory for music like a bear trap meant that I had everything off the book just because that’s how my brain works, and I could then weather the Accusing Scrutiny with the Smugness of Having Been Able to Pick Up Where They Were From Outside the Room and Continue on Without Having to Either Ferret in My Bag for My Score Or Read off the Person Next to Me.
To change topics, my most recent adventure in Sewing Land!
The other year I got a black lace skirt from Savers, with a mind to (what else?) bolstering my collection of performance blacks. It was Jigsaw, but it was a bit too big, and it was a frumpy mid-calf length that made me feel about 40 whenever I put it on.
And here it is, complete with pins to mark how much I’m taking off the top.
For some reason I hung onto it. Boy am I glad I did, because not so long ago I excavated it from the roof cavity and noticed that the lace was quite nice. Sort of like a slightly lighter version of last year’s Collette Dinnigan dresses. Then I got inspired by a skirt from Lover A/W ’13; a black lace skirt lined in white to really show the detail of the lace. Inspired, I had a gander to see what my skirt might look like if I were to say, re-line it in white:
… Not bad at all…
So with the aid of some cheap unknown content synthetic that I had in my stash, I shortened the skirt to non-frumpy length from the top to retain the nice bottom edge of the lace, and re-lined it in the white synthetic, which wasn’t too bad to work with, it just needed the darts flat-felled because it didn’t iron super-crisply. Unfortunately I had a little screw-up on the zip side that makes the top edges a bit un-matchy, but hey, it’s a good effort for me! The lining is entirely flat-felled so that no little synthetic fray-beasties have the slightest chance to escape, and the lace looks a treat now that you can really see the detail.
… Which you’re going to have to wait until I find my camera again to see. The Key Snatching Poltergeist has snatched my camera. Sorry.