50s Housedress Revamped

Cute, no? It was an enormous 50s "Housedress" (as my grandmother calls it) that was about twice too wide for me and went down to my calves. The pockets were also larger, and more strange, but I really liked the embroidery, so I just made them smaller. The same goes for the sleeves, which I find incredibly sweet. I took in eight inches at the waist, four at the bust, and four at the hem. I actually regret tightening the skirt--it might have been nice to have more of an hourglass shape, but it's too late now. It was another one of my late-night sewing projects. I often have this feverish need to sew something late at night, but before I finish it I start to get a bit too tired and begin making poor decisions.

Vintage Valentines

So, I have one real collection, and that is of antique Valentines. I love them. The other day I found that one of my favorite local antique stores had gotten a lot more in than I had ever seen before. I spent about an hour looking at them all, but part of collecting things is that you can't buy your collection all at once. So here are a few of the recently purchased beauties I'm adding to my collection.

Perhaps my favorites:


The creepiest I've ever found:

Mes Accomplissements

Alright, since this blog feels like preparation for a portfolio, or something of the sort, I want to share the projects of which I am most proud.

My senior prom I made my outfit, and my lovely date's, completely out of duct tape for the Stuck at Prom Scholarship Competition.

I did not win, but proving to myself (and many others) that it was possible was a huge accomplishment. In an attempt to utilize the inherent fake and shiny quality to the material I was inspired by Barbie and Ken. This is also why we are posed so stiffly. I don't know if it comes across well, but the intention was there.

Then for my Pattern Making course in college our final assignment was to design and build an accurate "dress" from the 19th century. Mine is based off of the fashions from 1878.

As you can see, the duct-tape dress was inspired by this time period as well, with the slight bustle, emphasized bow, extended bodice, and layers of skirts. I was, however, pretty unaware of the historical context while designing that one. Both of the dresses I designed and patterned completely independently.

Tah-Dah!

I apologize for the awkward picture, but there is the skirt I made from the fabric I bought at the antique store on Saturday. I quite like it.

Second-Hand News

As I woke up to dreary weather this Saturday morning, I decided to visit my favorite used bookstore, Haven Books, and antique store, The People's Store. Since they're a twenty minute drive I rarely get the opportunity to visit, but it had been far too long.

I work in a bookstore that only sells new books, an issue my conscience struggles with daily, so visiting a used bookstore is quite liberating for me. In comparison to my hyper-organized and clean store, Haven Books has a charming hodge-podge messiness to it:

I must admit that I constantly fight the urge to start alphabetizing while there. Anyways, then I traveled on down the road to The People's Store. I desperately want a chandelier, but first I need a permanent(ish) residence in which to put it.

The store seems to quite literally be bursting with treasures. Antique glass-wear is their specialty, and wandering through their tiny paths that wind through the fragile stacks always makes me nervous. Then I wandered into a room I had never noticed before: THE FABRIC ROOM!

Look at those beauties! Apparently they get the left-overs from Schumacher's in New York.

Schwanky stuff.

My treasures:

I'm not yet sure what I will make with the fabric, but I'll update with the finished products later.

Water & Oil

Photographer Steven Meisel shot a controversial spread for the August 2010 issue of Vogue Italia which featured Kristen McMenamy (in expensive designer clothing, bien sur; it is a fashion magazine) writhing and suffering in various positions on an oil-slicked beach.

Unsurprisingly, the internet is astir with controversy over the spread and debates about whether his intentions were honorable. Is he trying to raise awareness about the spill? Is he making an ecological statement? Is he glamorizing and capitalizing on the suffering of thousands of animals and humans? Or is he just creating art inspired by current events?

It's impossible to say, of course, until the famously close-lipped Meisel makes a statement, but he is a pro at creating controversial photo shoots.

He sexualized and glamorized the Iraqi war:

...sexualized and glamorized 9/11 in State of Emergency, September 2006:

But what really interests me about this photoshoot is the blatant association with the Earth and animals as feminine and exploited.

By representing the suffering of animals with beautiful female models, is Meisel humanizing the animals' suffering? Or further "othering" women?

to be continued...

DIY Fashion

One day I was looking through an Anthropolgie catalogue filled with beautiful clothing that I could not afford, when I stumbled upon a black and white striped dress that took my breath away, but at $118 I knew it was not meant to be. Then I realized my Pattern Making class taught me...well, it taught me how to make patterns. So I did.

Me trying on the Anthropolgie dress in the store.

In the almost identical dress that I made.
Can you see me radiating pride? The fabric cost under $30. My guilty admission: this cotton was probably not organic or fair trade. This is something I am still struggling with. I cannot find a good selection of fabric that is produced socially responsibly. I know it is important to "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" but this is often at ends with my passion for the art of clothing. I buy almost all of my clothes used, but I also find it so satisfying to create my own pieces.

The Story of Stuff

...and Bottled Water, Cosmetics, and Cap and Trade are all incredibly important videos. Watch them now.

Juicy Couture display at the Macy's in downtown Chicago.

"We're trashing the planet, we're trashing each other, and we're not even having fun."-Annie Leonard

To paraphrase Annie Leonard, the average American sees 3,000 advertisements each day that are essentially telling us what is wrong with us, but how we can be alright if we just buy their product. This. Works. And it's not only detrimental to our self-esteem; it's created an emotionally unhealthy society.

And make no mistake, this system is consciously designed for large corporations to maximize their profits: "Our enormously productive economy demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfactions, our ego satisfactions, in consumption. The measure of social status, of social acceptance, of prestige, is now to be found in our consumptive patterns. The very meaning and significance of our lives today expressed in consumptive terms. The greater the pressures upon the individual to conform to safe and accepted social standards, the more does he tend to express his aspirations and his individuality in terms of what he wears, drives, eats- his home, his car, his pattern of food serving, his hobbies." (Victor Lebeau 1955.)

"Imma-a-Diva"

They had me with the name.

Cheesy as it may sound, the Divacup, a reusable menstrual cup, is nothing to scoff at.

A few reasons I've converted:

1. Economical: The average woman spends $150 each year on feminine hygiene products; the Divacup costs around $35 and can be used for a long time. How long is debatable: the product was initially advertised as lasting for 10 years but recently (because of governmental regulations) began espousing replacing the cup each year.

2. Ecological: Much less waste. "an estimated 12 billion sanitary pads and 7 billion tampons are dumped into the North American environment each year (1998)."(From the official DivaCup website.)

3. Convenient: It's not necessary to haul a box of tampons on vacations or stuff enough supplies in your purse. (Also, most women find they have fewer leaks onto their clothing.)

4. Healthier: There has never been a reported case of TSS associated with a menstrual cup. Also, according to Grist:

"Most tampons are made from rayon-cotton blends -- an important distinction, because rayon is often chlorine-bleached, a process that releases the cancer-causing chemical dioxin. This toxin builds up in fatty tissue and has been linked to endometriosis, immune-system suppression, and other health problems. Since it's in a product intended for our, ahem, most intimate of locations, there's definitely another reason to be angry. Some companies offer tampons made of organic cotton, which is progress, and we've reviewed a few brands below. But tampons still pose a burden on the waste stream and the risk of toxic shock syndrome..."

and perhaps most importantly,

5. A monthly excuse to sing Beyonce's Diva.

Warning: There is a bit of a learning curve. If you have troubles, fear not! The lovely ladies at http://menstrualcups.org/ provide a wealth of information and advice for any questions and/or difficulties with the cup.

Now for a bit of theory: I feel like I've been duped for years. Why are we led to believe these products that are bad for the planet and ourselves are necessary? Menstrual cups were patented in 1932! This is yet another disgusting example of men exploiting the earth and women's bodies to make money.

Some clumsy statistics I've found through Wikipedia: Only 2/15 Corporate Directors of Proctor and Gamble (who own Tampax and Always) are female. Johnson & Johnson own Carefree and Stayfree. All 10 CEOs and presidents are male. Kimberly-Clark's (Kotex) CEO and CFO are also male.

WWOOFing in France

I realize it would have been more interesting to read posts while I was in France, and my posts would have been more interesting, perhaps. But I wanted to "live in the moment," and not worry about computers, internet, etc. Upon my return to my family and friends in the United States I was bombarded with requests for a brief summary of my experience WWOOFing in France for six weeks.

“Tell me about it! Did you have fun? Learn much? Did your French improve? Are the stereotypes true?”

To which the short answer is yes, I had the time of my life, learned more than I can recount, and indeed the French wear a frightening amount of stripes. (They also don’t have screens on doors or windows, but leave them open anyway, leaving them to perpetually complain about the bugs in the house.) But it was so much more than that. My experience has completely changed the way I think about the world, and it is very difficult to write a concise summary.

I was fortunate to stay with three wonderful families for two weeks each. The first was a small farm the Scottish family, consisting of a mother, father, and three home-schooled children, bought only two years prior to my visit. Their focus was on living self-sustainably and this permeated every aspect of their life. I slept in an enchanting yurt furnished with a few stuffed animals the children had provided for our comfort and with what we, the Parisian WWOOFer and I, deemed a candelabra.

The other WWOOFer and I normally worked together on various tasks for 3-5 hours each day. The nightly animal chores, which consisted of caring for their two pigs, three geese, four sheep, and five chickens, were quickly adopted into our routine, as well as planting a field, digging new garden beds, watering and planting the plants in the greenhouse, and fashioning “willow waddles”--small fences around garden beds made from willow branches woven together to prevent the soil from flying out of the bed when the chickens scratched for insects.

My main purpose in WWOOFing was to practice my French, so it might seem odd that I chose to stay with a Scottish family, but their description on the WWOOF France website explained that they were interested in learning to use scythe. Living with perhaps the most respected scythesman in the United States, I thought this would be a good exchange in skills. After I had been there one week their scythes arrived, and I was able to pass on what little knowledge and skill I possess of scythes. It was very strange to be the one instructing, but with modern technology a phone call or email home quickly clarified whatever questions I had.

After two weeks (and a teary parting) we said goodbye, and I began on a rather long and confusing day of traveling by many trains to the second farm—a dairy farm with about 65 cows that were milked twice daily. Immediately I noticed a different atmosphere; there was a mother and father, but their four daughters were between 16-21 and rarely at home. The parents only spoke French and, while this was definitely beneficial for my practice, sometimes I had trouble communicating. This really made ordinary events quite exciting, as I often had no idea what was about to happen. David Sedaris wrote an essay titled “In the Waiting Room,” about his mishaps resulting from misunderstanding the French language. “Every day was a new adventure!”

A normal day began at 6:45 AM, to bring the cows “home” (i.e. milking shed.) We normally finished milking around 8:30, had breakfast, and began cleaning the “laiterie” at 9. I did various jobs with the gardens and fences until 12:30 when we ate lunch. I usually had free time until 5, when we milked again. Several days they asked me to help them in the afternoon with tearing down a very old brick house, from which each brick had to be cleaned and neatly stacked in order to be sold, or something. We always ate dinner after 8—once after 9. This is strange for an American, and they were very surprised when I said I eat around 5 normally. I had also noticed in Paris that most restaurants didn’t open until 7:30.

Everyone seems surprised that I actually milked cows while volunteering/working on a dairy farm, but indeed, I fully participated. Of course, they used machines, and could milk 12 at one time, but there was a lot of human involvement. I even became habituated to having cow poo splattered all over me. We also gave bottles of milk to the calves which we had (very tragically...) separated from their mothers. Somehow I never got a picture of me with the cows, unfortunately, but here is me in my milking outfit, which I adored; I felt very Rosie the Riveter-esque.

One of the daughters was home for several days and brought me hiking and biking during my free time. Now, I did not learn to ride a bike until I was 12, and I’ve never been particularly keen on this mode of transportation. I go very slowly and panic whenever a car drives by, imagining my tire slipping on a rock and my flailing body being thrown under the wheels of the passing car, but I agreed to climb on the frightfully crickety old bike anyway. I am extremely thankful that I did, because I saw the most beautiful sceneray of my life on that four hour ride.

Again, after two weeks and a sentimental goodbye I was navigating the French transportation system once more. (Somehow one of my hour and a half bus ride was free, which continues to baffle me. ) The final farm I stayed on was, like the first, very newly purchased and not yet producing for more than their family, which consisted of a mother father and two small children. They have a herd of cows for meat, which took absolutely no work while I was there, and a herd of the sweetest animals I have ever met—goats. They are the sweetest, most intelligent, and most entertaining animals in existence, I believe. You can bring them food, and they ignore it, because they’re just so excited to see you, and they want your love, pets, and attention. Their milk, cheese, and soap are absolutely delightful, and, in my opinion, superior to that of cows. Also, they are much cleaner and it is easier to take care of them.

The family was technically the owners of five sheep, but a few days before I arrived they had escaped. We spent many hours searching, finally finding them, tying their legs together and placing them in the back of a Jeep to bring to another farm with more patience for them. As I work in a bookstore, I found this scene very humorous because of the popular children’s book Sheep in a Jeep, by Nancy E. Shaw. Unfortunately, “Les Moutons dans une Jeep” was not nearly as catchy or entertaining to my companions.

This final picture is of one of my new best friends. He is 6 years old, fairly patient with my French, Star Wars obsessed, and absolutely fabulous. He never seemed to register that I was a foreigner, which was very pleasant. Whenever we both had free time he would invite me on some adventure outside, including but not limited to: picking cherries (for which he very kindly provided me with a helmet), playing “cache-cache” (hide-and-go-seek), cutting hay with his “saberlaser” (lightsaber), and exploring the woods. For my final day the family treated me to a day at the sea, and he and I were the only swimmers (with jellyfish, I might add.) He memorized (part of) my address (Ariana 1900 USA) so he can visit me someday, and told me I was welcome at his house whenever I wanted. Indeed, I intend to visit them again. I feel as if I have another home in France now, and I would not trade my experience for anything.