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

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol II

Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one, just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year's. That was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers, but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to lend the money, and with the best intentions in life had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, A bargain, I assure, you, ma'am. She answered, I'll take it, and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven away, feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after her.

When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk, but it looked less silvery now, didn't become her, after all, and the words `fifty dollars' seemed stamped like a pattern down each breadth. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully like the ghost of a folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night, Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be stern, and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her out, but didn't mean to let her know it.

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Great Moments in Fabric Literature, Vol I

'...Now that I come to think of it,' he went on, stalking like Adam across the room to his brown paper parcel, 'here is a present to go with the jewel.' He unwrapped a swathe of Lyons silk velvet, blacker than the darkest night.
After several shrieks of rapture she thanked him very prettily, congratulated him on his brilliant conduct in putting their affairs in order - she had always been sure that he could do it, however complicated, wrapped a fold or two around her pure white torso...



From Patrick O'Brian, The Yellow Admiral, pg 187

Painting from wikipedia. There is some very interesting fashion information there about this time period.

Seems to come out small

Notes on pattern envelopes are just one of the pleasures of collecting vintage patterns. Sometimes the previous owner notes colors, fabrics, or personal reminders, like "Sue's wedding party, teal blue taffeta."

Sometimes the notes are a little plaintive, like the one here, that says, "seems to come out small". Since this is a Junior size 11-12, bust 32, in my opinion that's already small. There's a whole novel of teen weight and size issues in that brief pencil notation. Was she in denial about her size? Did she, like every other teenager of my youth, wish to be smaller? Did she buy the right size to start with?
(When I write my novel, should I title it, "Seems to Come Out Small?)

(I always longed for hair like View B. Just look at her, she knows she is too cool for everyone else on the envelope. View C is having a hissy because View B got to wear the cool top.)



This one notes that it belongs to "Belle Dial, Period 4". I see that Belle is a practical girl. She is making this jumper for Home Ec, back in the days when girls took Home Ec. This pattern is from 1970, so I am imagining that Belle is about my age. I made a jumper like this one (mine was Simplicity, and yes, I still have the pattern) when I was in Junior High. The vintage patterns sometimes have swatches of fabric included. I like that best. I'll think, Oh view B is perfect in that creamy blue and tan plaid, or what was Belle thinking to use this green?




Belle was trying to be one of Charlie's Angels with this happening vest (cool 70's embroidery transfers included). She even left some embroidery floss in the envelope, but sadly no fabric swatches, so I don't know if she used fake fur shearling or wool or velvet. Either way, it would have been a vest Starsky and Hutch would have approved of.

What notes have you found on vintage patterns?

There may or may not be possums...

My daughter has been watching Hoarders with the horror and fascination of someone driving by a giant car pile up. She just can't look away.
I can't watch. I come from a long line of hoarders, and I am constantly resisting the siren call of owning every fabric I desire, or all of the patterns I ever wanted, even though two lifetimes would not give me enough time to sew what I have already. Two years ago I stopped buying fabric. And in the two years I have not suffered a fabric shortage. I just used what I had. I did buy thread and zippers and interfacing as needed. But I never want to be like the lady who said on the show, "There may or may not be possums in that bedroom. There have been no confirmed sightings, but..." If you just can't be sure if there might be possums in your house, it's official. You have a problem.
(Now when one of our rooms or closets is messy we all say, "there may or may not be possums...")
For example: our front closet, where we keep all of the coats. I do not recall ever getting rid of a coat in the last ten years. Possum territory, definitely.
I think that the fear of ending up like those poor people might have inspired me to clean my closets. That and the fear of possums, of course.
Do you have a room that may or may not have possums?

Undecoration Day

We started 2009 like this in last January.







And ended like this last week.



















After we opened our gifts last week, the house looked like this:





And just now as I took down the stockings and wreaths and banners, and undecorated the tree, folded up the tree skirt, put away the wrapping paper and tape and cards and ribbons and all the folderol that comes with Christmas, I thought about how when we decorate, everyone helps. Our background music is carols and we drink spiced hot cider and eggnog, eat cookies and holiday snacks, but oh man, when you UNdecorate, you are ALONE. There are no carols that sing about the joys of unwrapping the lights from the tree. No one writes about the fun they have with their kids taking down the ornaments. No one writes charming essays about the meaning of putting away Christmas. There are no holiday specials about cleaning up the mess. Now all of the commercials on TV are about Jack Bauer's new season of bad guys and terrorists, and Dan Marino's new diet. Not a one mentions that half of Christmas is a tremendous amount of putting all of this stuff away.
My daughter was telling me this morning that the gym was PACKED with people in the morning before work. January gym rats, starting their shape up resolutions. And all of them were on diets. There is probably not one single can of water-packed albacore in Arlington this week.
None of those people, I'd be prepared to wager, are helping someone put the decorations away.

However, once everything is all put away,(by moms all over the country, working to the background noise of NFL playoffs) the house looks so light and airy, so much more spacious and gracious and uncluttered. At least until the next party.
Happy New Year!