Great Moments in Fabric Literature: The Burning Dress

By the time I'm introduced, the audience is an absolute wreck. People have been weeping and collapsing and even calling for change. The sight of me in my white silk bridal gown practically causes a riot. No more me, no more star-crossed lovers living happily ever after, no more wedding. I can see even Ceasar's professionalism showing some cracks as he quiets them so I can speak, but my three minutes are ticking quickly away.
Finally there's a lull and he gets out, "So Katniss, obvioulsy this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"
My voice trembles as I speak. "Only that I'm so sorry that you won't get to be at my wedding...but I'm glad you at least got to see me in my dress. Isn't it just...the most beautiful thing?" I don't have to look at Cinna for a signal. I know this is the right time. I begin to twirl slowly, raising the sleeves of my heavy gown above my head.
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it's because I look stunning. Then I notice that something is rising up all around me. Smoke. From Fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl in the air, and pearls clatter on the stage. Somehow I'm afraid to stop because my flesh doesn't seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I'm gasping, completely engulfed in strange flames. Then all at once, the fire is gone. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I'm naked and why Cinna arranged to burn away my wedding dress.
But I'm not naked. I'm in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it's the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say wings.
Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.

Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire, book 2 of the Hunger Games Trilogy

Burning wedding dresses - so symbolic! Of loss, of threat (think of Jane Eyre, fire and ripped veils - a threat to the dress is a threat to the bride.)
From white to black, burning can signify death but also danger, a signal fire, a message. It is also purification, or a warning. Or in Katniss' case, all of the above.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XX1: Fabric Words

My BFF from high school, up in snowy Alaska, sent this fun fabric email:

This week's theme
Fabric words used metaphorically

This week's words
chintzy
pinstriped
dirty linen
flannelmouth

I've heard peaches described as cottony, as in, "Late peaches are all cottony inside." Maybe it's a Virginia thing?
Cheap people are chintzy, but generous people are never satiny or silky.
We all know about airing dirty linen in public, (witness the current Republican Primaries for a more direct example of dirty linen airing in real time) but no one ever advises showing off your clean linens either.

What other fabric related words can you think of?

The Importance of Clothes

"I leaned back and closed my eyes - and instantly the whole day danced before me. I wasn't merely remembering, it seemed to be trapped inside my eyelids; the City, the traffic, the shops were all there, shimmering, merging. Then my brain began to pick out the bits it wanted to think about and I realized how the day made a pattern of clothes - first our white dresses in the early morning, then the consciousness of what people were wearing in London, then Aunt Millicent's poor dead clothes, then all of the exquisite things in the shop, then our furs. And I thought of how important clothes were to women and always had been. I thought of Norman ladies in Belmotte Tower-keep, and Plantagenet ladies living in Godsend Castle, and Stuart ladies when our house was built on the ruins - and hoops and Jane Austin dresses and crinolines and bustles, and Rose longing for a little black suit."

I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith, page 84, 1948

Poor Rose! She and her sister Cassandra went to London and when they got there, they realized that they were dressed all wrong! We all know how awkward that feels. Ever show up for a party all dressed in party wear to disover that everyone else was dressed casually? Or worse, the opposite? We all hate that feeling - like saying the wrong thing. Oh wait - you are saying the wrong thing - but with your clothes.

Clothes have their own language, and we can all read it and speak it. We know someone's socio-economic status, their job, their social standing, their role in life itself by reading what they are wearing. Like any language, context is everything. Ripped jeans and shredded finery are a statement about fashion's fleeting nature, or they are worn by a homeless person making an even larger unspoken statement about the strange heartlessness of fate.
I always feel frustrated by people who say, (always with that tone of smug superiority) that they don't follow fashion. Everybody follows fashion. Whether or not you actively participate in either setting or following fashion, you have an influence every day on everyone you come in contact with. We all see your clothes and make judgements about you based on what you are wearing. Wouldn't it be in your best interests to influence those judgements in a positive way?
My grandmother used to joke when we were kids that she was going to dress us in pillowcases with a ribbon tied around us. Some people do make clothes out of pillowcases. But they are recognizably clothes. And they do speak a language.
Translate this - black boots, wool pencil skirt, cashmere sweater, pearl necklace. It says city woman, probably working in an office. Now take that same woman, but dress her in overalls. If clothes didn't matter, she'd get the same treament wherever she went. But they do matter, and she probably won't.
Now I work at home. I could wear anything. But I have noticed that I feel better and work better if I am wearing nicer clothes. I don't wear pajamas, although I have some co-workers who do; (they call them work pajamas.) If I have new clothes to wear I feel happier.(It's important to me that I look nice, even if no one sees me. I feel more in control.) I read one essay where the author worked at home in pajamas every day, but one day she was dressed to go out, and the UPS man said, "It's nice to see you finally dressed!' See? People notice what you wear.
My sister in law says that she loves new tshirts so much that she is tempted to just wear them once and then give them away. I'm not that extreme, but I won't apologize for taking an interest in sewing or fashion, because no matter what anyone says, it is important, and looking nice makes me happier. I've been going through my closet and getting rid of everything that doesn't work for me, and that made me happier too.
So when people give you humbug (as we used to say when I lived in Hawaii) about clothes or fashion, tell them they just don't get it. I give you permission to use a tone of smug superiority.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XX -Moroccan edition

On the hottest day so far, I tell Rachid I would like to look at fabric. We visit workshops where men sit on rugs sewing djellabas and embroidering the necklines. In the street, they card the thread, extending it and pulling it on to rolls. I resist ordering one of these splendid garments because it would hand in my closet until doomsday. I would like to find silk for table draperies or curtains. But most everything is precut to three meters, enough to make the djellaba. I find one square of antique ivory silk embroidered with apricot flowers.Rachid steps back when bargaining begins. Nothing ever seems to have a price, and I'm pressed to offer one. I offer so little that the seller appears to be shocked. Rachid puts his hand to his mouth to hide a smile. "What will you pay, madame?" I offer slightly more, then the seller says he must have four hundred euros. This is so far from what I would pay that I thank him, compliment him on the silk and walk away. He's dumbfounded that the American has escaped, having bought only a silver hand of Fatima.

Frances Mayes, A Year in the World pages 189-190, 2006

Do you shop for fabric when you travel? I have never been able to. I have travelled all over the world, but it seems as if there is no fabric anywhere I go. I have a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Hunting Creek has made it his business to avoid locations that have possible fabric buying opportunities. Once when we were in Thailand I had fifteen minutes of unsupervised shopping and was able to buy a handwoven wall hanging, but that's about it. If I venture to say that I might like to look at some fabric my daughter will say in a shocked tone, "Mom! You have enough fabric!" (I'd like to point out that I never say things like this when she looks at shoes, sandals, designer sunglasses and clothing.)

If you like to travel via reading before you actually, physically go somewhere, take a look at Frances Mayes' books about traveling. It's almost as good as going.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XIX

The people, that Christmas Party night, were indeed nice. We wore our formals: skirts not less than eight nor more than fifteen inches from the floor, dresses of light but not bright colors and of materials semi-transparent or opaque, necklines not more than three inches below the collar bone and sleeves long or elbow length. We all passed the requirements of the catalog, but with such delectable additions as long chiffon scarves twined around our necks in the best Nita-Naldi-brochitic manner, or great artificial flowers pinned with holiday abandon on our left shoulders. Two or three of the Seniors had fox furs slung nonchalantly about them, with the puffy tails dangling down over their firmly flattened young breasts in a most fashionable way.

The Gastronomical Me; M.F.K. Fisher, 1943

If you want to visit a Lost World, read about life in the 1920's and thirties in M.F.K. Fisher's semi-autobiographical book. I say "semi" because Mary Frances was never one to let the truth stand in the way of a good story. As my family would say, if it isn't true, it should be!
This was a time when people Dressed for Dinner, and there were very specific rules for exactly what one should wear. It is so different from our New Casual Society as to require translation, almost.
If you haven't read any M.F.K. Fisher, you are missing out on some of the most graceful writing of the twentieth century. It's a misconception that she writes about food; that's just the subtext. She is really writing about hunger in all of its manifestations, and that's a much larger subject.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XVIII - Historical Edition

When the Lord and Lady got up, servants and maids helped them wash and dress...Men's and women's dress was similar, both wore stockings made of wool or silk, then a shirt with long sleeves, which were often detachable and worn so fashionably tight that they had to be stitched on each time the shirt was worn. Detachable sleeves were a favorite gift, especially as a love token. A tunic or gown went over the shirt, secured with a brooch; above a full skirt a lady's gown had a tight-fitting bodice, while both the shirt and tunic might be slashed and laced above the waist to reveal her bare skin. Then came a coat, or surcoat, and in cold weather a fur-lined pelisse, often sleeveless, might be worn on top. Out of doors a mantle might be thrown over everything, fastened at the shoulder by another brooch. The poor wore shorter garments; for the rich the sheer length of their clothes was a way of displaying wealth- although the young Henry II became known as Curtmantle when he reversed the usual trend and set a fashion for short cloaks. Since clothes were made without pockets, coins and valuables were commonly carried in a purse attached to the belt, though they could be tied into a skirt or shirt sleeves...They wore thin soled leather shoes. It was said that the shoes of an elegantly dressed gentleman would fit so well that no one could see how he had got into them or imagine how he would get out of them again.

1215, The Year of Magna Carta; Danny Danziger and John Gillingham. 2003

My favorite part of history is learning how people actually lived their lives. And really, what could be more interesting that how other people lived hundreds of years ago? I love the fashion ideas from 1215 - slashed bodices and sleeves to show skin, (like torn jeans?), detachable sleeves (great idea!) and sleeves so tight that they had to be sewn on each time. Also what could be more itchy than woolen stockings? When you recall that they only had silk, wool and linen for clothes you begin to appreciate cotton and all of our modern fabric choices.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XVII, Fairy Edition

Everyone was dressed in the very height of fashion. The ladies wore gowns of the most exquisite colours (though to own the truth, very few of them were colours that Stephen could remember having seen before.) The gentlemen wore knee breeches and white stockings and coats of brown, green, blue, and black, their linen was a sparkling shining white and their kid gloves had not as much as a stain or mark upon them.
But in spite of the fine clothes and gaiety of the guests, there were signs that the house was not so prosperous as it once had been. The room was dimly lit by an insufficient number of tallow candles, and there was just one viol and one fife to provide the music.
"That must be the music that Geoffrey and Alfred spoke of," thought Stephen. "How odd that I could not have heard it before! It is every bit as melancholy as they said."
He made his way to a narrow unglazed window and looked out upon a dark, tangled wood under starlight. "And this must be the wood which Robert talks about. How malevolent it looks! And there is a bell, I wonder?"
"Oh, yes!" said a lady who was standing close by. She wore a gown the colour of storms, shadows and rain and a necklace of broken promises and regrets.


Jonathan Strange and Mr Norell
page 151-152, 2004, Susanna Clarke,

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XVI

Kazuko paused in the doorway,her small black eyes went directly to the silk on the loom; she bowed. "Maa! Kirei na koto! Nante kirei na iro desho!" beautiful! What a beautiful color!
Dame Colette looked round, saw it was one of the Japanes, then recognized Kazuko and smiled. Kazuko, as though drawn, came a step nearer. Droppers-in were not welcome in the vestment room; the least dust or draft blowin in a smut could ruin a breadth of silk, "also we have to concentrate," but Dame Colette was now a councilor, and all of tbe councilors knew about Kazuko. Dame Colette nodded encouragingly. "Would you like to see?"
"Yes...if you please." But Kazuko still hesitated.
"Come in Come in."
"I...can...incoming?"
"Of course."
Kazuko came and with the small steps all of them used went up to the stand. "You can look," Dame Colette was going to add not touch, but Kazuko had already taken the silk of the chasuble in her hands. Dame Colette almost cried out peremptorily - none but those concerned dared to touch her work - but something in the way Kazuko ran one hand over the silk while the other held it beneath was not only careful but expert. "Silk, pure silk!" Kazuko spoke with strange satisfaction. She looked more closely at the weave, "inspected it." Dame Colette said afterward, paused at a minute uneveness and clicked her tongue disapprovigly, but running over the rest, approved it. "Good...very good."
"You want to see?" Dame Colette rose off the high bench, and Kazulo slid into her place. "It's called a loom. Loom."
"Yes. In Japanese hata." Kazuko said it serenely, She also said something else Dame Colette did not catch; the nextsecond, to Dame Colette's fright and consternation, Kazuko began to work the loom. "Sister!" but Dame Colette's cry was lost in the looms clacking. "Sister! My silk..." but, "Is good." Kazuko almost shouted, and confident, wove on.

Rumer Godden, In This House of Brede, page 528

Fun loom fact: did you know that the loom was one of the precursors to the computer?
Second fun loom fact, did you know that there is an Angelina Jolie movie about a cult of weaver assassins who get their instructions of who to kill next from the secret messages woven in their cloth? No, I'm not making this up, it's a real movie.

Looms are interesting devices; as simple as a potholder loom (I loved making these as a kid) to complex brocade looms that make exquisite designs.
Next time time you use a computer, think about how the ideas in Jacquard's loom brought it about. Cool, yes? (When I taught history, the kids were always amazed by this.)

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XV

Mom says each of us has a veil between ourselves and the rest of the world, like a bride wears on her wedding day, except this kind is veil is invisible. We walk around happily with these invisible veils hanging down over our faces. The world is kind of blurry, and we like it that way.
But sometimes our veils are pushed away for a few moments, like there's a wind blowing it from our faces. And when the veil lifts, we can see the world as it really is, just for a few seconds before it settles down again. We see all the beauty, and cruelty, and sadness, and love. But mostly we are happy not to.
Some people learn to lift the veil themselves. Then they don't have to depend on the wind anymore.

Rebecca Stead, When You Reach Me, 2009



Here fabric is used as a metaphor. The veil that we put between life and ourselves, to make life bearable, or understandable, or easier to deal with.

Like Gretchen Rubin, I like to read children's books for relaxation, or just to visit old friends.
This book was a happy surprise. A friend who works in publishing mentioned that I might like it, so I read it yesterday and was completely charmed. I won't divulge the plot other to say that the author references A Wrinkle In Time, a favorite book of my kids.
I always read whatever my kids were reading, and we'd talk about the books. We loved Harry Potter, as mentioned previously, but we also loved Philip Pullman's books and enjoyed non-fiction adventures as well. If you have kids, read this one with them. Then maybe re-read A Wrinkle In Time. Compare and contrast. (If you don't have kids, read it anyway.) There's a lot to talk about, and think about, in this story.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XIV

He walked up the spiral staircase to the first floor, where Diana lived: a little sitting-room with her bedroom opening out of it, the whole communicating with the rest of the house by a long corridor that opened into the main staircase. There was no one in the sitting-room. He sat down on the sofa and looked attentively at the gold-thread embroidery of a sari that was being turned into a European dress. Under the golden light of the lamp gold tigers tore a Company's officer lying on the ground with a brandy-bottle in his hand: sometimes in his right hand, sometimes in his left, for the pattern had many variations.

Patrick O'Brian, Post Captain, pg 77

This passage in Post Captain is particularly telling because Stephen Maturin is being torn apart by his love for Diana, but the author doesn't exactly say that; instead he shows you that with a description of the sari fabric that has an officer being torn by tigers. Diana is from India; tigers are from India. She is lovely and exotic and trying to make over her Indian life into life in England; thus the sari being made over into European dress.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XIII

"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia; "but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there." Then shewing her purchases:"Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think it is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall pull it to pieces as soon as I get home and see if I can make it up any better."
And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect unconcern, "Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what one wears this summer, after the ---shire have left Meryton, and they will be gone in a fortnight"

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, pg 211

People sometimes mistakenly think that Jane Austen is sweet or nice or romantic, but she is really very clear-eyed and tough about a woman's place in her society.
She is also wickedly funny.
Look here how she skewers the empty-headed selfishness of Lydia with just a few lines.
Funny story about this physical book: When I was looking for another book in my bookcase, I found two copies of Pride and Prejudice. My daughter said, "Oh I bought that one in Rimini (an Italian beach resort, where she was vacationing). The only books in English that I could find were classics, so I read Jane Austen, and Treasure Island on the beach in Italy."
This may be the first documented case of Jane Austen as beach reading.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XII

This kimono belonging to the geisha Mameha - whom I'd never heard of at the time - was a work of art. Weaving its way from the hem up to the waist was a beautiful vine made of heavily lacquered threads bunched together like a tiny cable and sewn into place. It was a part of the fabric, yet seemed so much like an actual vine growing there. I had the feeling that I could take it in my fingers, if I wished, and tear it away like a weed from the soil. The leaves curling from it seemed to be fading and drying in the autumn weather, and even taking on tints of yellow.

Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha, 1997

This may be one of the saddest books I have re-read in a while. The heroine was sold into servitude at age nine. The descriptions of life in Japan are very vivid, but as I read I thought about how many women all over the world are still sold into slavery. An excellent book on this subject is Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn's Half the Sky.

I have a small collection of kimono and haori. They are all handmade, and subtly beautiful. I can't wear any of them, though - the original wearers were much more petite than I am. I have a couple hanging as art in my living room, and they are a feast for the eyes. When we were in Kyoto we did see a few women in traditional garb walking on the street. The people there mostly wear western dress for daily wear, but I have read that kimono are still worn for special occasions.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol XI

It was usual for ladies who received in the evenings to wear what were called "simple dinner dresses": a close fitting armour of whale-boned silk, slightly open at the neck, with lace ruffles filling the crack, and tight sleeves with a flounce uncovering just enough wrist to show an Etruscan gold bracelet or a velvet band. But Madame Olenska, heedless of tradition, was attired in a long robe of red velvet bordered about the chin and down the the front with glossy black fur. Archer remembered, on his last visit to Paris, seeing a portrait by the new painter, Carolus Duran, whose pictures were the sensation of the Salon, in which the lady wore one of those bold sheath-like robes with her chin resting in fur. There was something perverse and provocative in the notion of fur worn in the evening in a heated drawing-room, and in the combination of a muffled throat and bare arms; but the effect was undeniably pleasing.

Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, pg 104

This is a book with many wonderful descriptions of clothing; Edith Wharton uses dress as one of her methods of character development. Note her description of ladies' dress as 'armour', which of course, it was. Armour in the Social Wars. The movie based on this book has wonderful sets and costumes and the clothes are beautiful. Ever since I re-read this,I want,no, need a fur-trimmed red velvet lounging gown like Countess Olenska's.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol X

This one is for Rush Limbaugh, who seems to have forgotten it:

When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit on the throne of his glory: 32 And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats: 33 And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.

34 Then shall the King say to them on his right hand, Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: 35 For I was an hungered, and you gave me meat: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger, and you took me in: 36 Naked, and you clothed me: I was sick, and you visited me: I was in prison, and you came to me. 37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we you an hungered, and fed you? or thirsty, and gave you drink? 38 When saw we you a stranger, and took you in? or naked, and clothed you? 39 Or when saw we you sick, or in prison, and came to you? 40 And the King shall answer and say to them, Truly I say to you, Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these my brothers, you have done it to me.

41 Then shall he say also to them on the left hand, Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels: 42 For I was an hungered, and you gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink: 43 I was a stranger, and you took me not in: naked, and you clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and you visited me not. 44 Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we you an hungered, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister to you? 45 Then shall he answer them, saying, Truly I say to you, Inasmuch as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me. 46 And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal.

Matthew 25 American King James Version

My parents are Roman Catholic, but our next door neighbor played the organ in the Baptist Church nearby, so on Sundays when we were kids we'd go to Sunday School with our neighbors. The Baptists were very nice and we always had juice and homemade cookies afterwards. They made us learn our Bible, so unlike Catholic kids, I know my New Testament. I was thinking of this part in particular the other night when Jon Stewart played what Rush Limbaugh said about Haiti. And all I can say is shame on him for saying that, thinking that and encouraging others to turn away from people in need.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol IX

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats, 1899

Here is a lesser known Yeats poem that deserves to be better known. I like his vivid imagery and word choices. (You just don't see "enwrought" every day). I wouldn't mind some of that cloth myself.

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol VIII

Some of my evening and afternoon dresses were made at my grandmother's, where I would stand patiently while Ellen Murphy stuck pins into me and while her assistants stitched the bones of whales into linings to support me during my working hours. Ellen always referred to "my work" which was, of course, "to meet a man."
Ellen would stand a short distance away from me, and making sweeping motions with enormous shears, she would cut wildly into satin and tulle and velvet. I felt like a trembling lay figure as I stood there with her fierce green eyes on me and the shears clicking around me. When the cutting was over, the pinning began. This was even more uncomfortable. Pins pricked the lay figure's skin. It turned out that she was human after all. Ellen objected to any wincing.
"Save your dancing for the ballroom floor!", she would say crossly.
At last she would be pleased. The smile of a satisfied creator would run over her freckled face as she stood off and surveyed her handiwork.
"We'll get him with this one, Miss Lula," she would announce confidently.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard and I, 1968

Have you and Mrs. Appleyard been introduced before? No? Then let me do the honors.
She and Louise Andrews Kent, her real life counterpart, lived in Vermont and Boston from about 1912-1968. Mrs. Kent was a prolific writer, and if you come across her Mrs. Appleyard books, grab them. There is no better way to learn how people lived in earlier times (this would be the United States before, during and after both World Wars) than reading her books.
This excerpt is from her autobiography, which contains interesting stories, including one about seeing the Great White Fleet in Bar Harbor before the Spanish American War, and details of daily life as it was lived back then.
People, of course, are the same as they have always been, but also, boy were they different as well.

I have found my Fabric and Sewing In Literature Project lots of fun. I have been re-reading my favorite books (I am a Multiple Reader, as confessed previously) and finding lots of great examples.
What favorite examples of sewing and fabric in literature have you seen lately?

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol VII

This left only one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable."
"What is it?"
Harry picked the shimmering, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
"It is! Look down."
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his body vanished completely.

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, 1997, pg 201

Invisibility cloaks, caps and other magic articles that render the user invisible abound in literature since the beginnings of literature. There was Hermes' magic cap, also H.G. Wells' Invisible Man, and many, many other examples.
For Harry Potter aficionados, the introduction of the invisibility cloak is a vital plot point. This cloak will make many appearances (disappearances?) throughout the story.
I first heard J.K. Rowling read from her book in an interview on NPR back in 1997, while I was driving home from work. She read the chapter where Harry goes to the zoo on Dudley's birthday, and it was so amusing and interesting that I went to Olsen's Bookstore the next day at lunchtime and bought two copies - one for my kids, and one for my nephew, for Christmas. When we opened presents, the kids (of course) had never heard of Harry Potter. So we read it aloud to each other that whole Christmas vacation. This is a book that should be read aloud to and with children, and we all three took turns reading it to each other. The story really isn't fully appreciated unless it is shared. (Especially the Uncle Vernon parts)
Go read it again - J.K. Rowling is so inventive it is a pleasure to imagine Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Grow-Your-Own-Warts Kit and more.

Invisibility cloaks might soon be more real than you think. Check out what they are up to at the University of California.
(Take that, Stanford! Go Bears!)

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol VI

Olaf had been given ten yards of navy-blue silk foulard by a goods salesman. While he was trying to decide how to give it to one or the other of his wives (or cut it in half and give them each five yards) they both found out about it. They both wanted it. They decided it was the most beautiful piece of material they had ever seen in their whole entire lives. Sigrid was going to make it up with a bustle and Linnea was going to make it up with a tight basque and a Francine skirt looped up the middle.
Finally Olaf, in torment, asked Linnea if she would be willing to flip a coin or draws straws with Sigrid for the yardage. Linnea said she would be glad to. He asked Sigrid the same thing and she went on one of her famous crying sprees that lasted three days and three nights. Olaf got so nervous and distraught that he gave the silk to Sigrid and she carried it home from the shop and hardly got in the house before she cut it out. That was two years ago, but Linnea could not hear the mention of dark-blue foulard without feeling like a female Guy Fawkes.



Ardyth Kennelly, The Peaceable Kingdom, page 74

This book is difficult to find, but it is one of my favorites. I read it first when I was a teenager, and recently re-read it as part of my fabric in literature project. I loved it even more when I re-read it this time.
(As a digression, have you noticed that there are two types of readers? One kind never reads a book twice, and the other kind will read their favorites many times.
The One Time Only Readers just cannot understand why anyone would read the same book twice. The Multiple Readings people regard re-reading a favorite book like visiting with a old friend.)
This is an old fashioned novel, with strong characters and interesting details about life in early Utah, just before it entered the Union. It will also make you appreciate how much work women did then to run a household and get food on the table.

Artwork above, The Peaceable Kingdom by Edward Hicks

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol IV

UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES

WHENAS in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free ;
O how that glittering taketh me



Robert Herrick
Painting by Huygens

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol III

We told her about the problem of Rose's dress. "It should be pink," she said, "a crinoline effect- there's the very thing here in this week's Home Chat."*
She dived into her satchel for it.
"Oh dear, that would be perfect for her," sighed Topaz.
Miss Marcy blushed and blinked her eyes, and then said: "Could you make it, Mrs. Mortmain? If dear Rose allowed me to give her the material?"
"I'll allow you," said Topaz. "I feel justified."
Miss Marcy shot her a quick glance and Topaz gave her the very faintest nod. I nearly laughed-they were so different, Miss Marcy like a rosy little bird and Topaz tall and pale, like a slightly dead goddess, but just that second they so much resembled each other in their absolute lust to marry Rose off.



Dodie Smith, 1948, I Capture the Castle pg 102

*Home Chat was a popular British Ladies Magazine