Last spring, I Von-Trapped myself a new dress out of an old bedspread.
I didn’t think it would be that tricky. I mean, I had it WAY easier than Fräulein Maria. She had to make seven unique but thematically-cohesive outfits for children ranging in age from Holding-Up-Five-Fingers to I’m-Sixteen-And-I-DON’T-Need-A-Governess. I just needed one dress for one girl who was otherwise unemployed. I figured I’d have it done in about 2 hours.
Someday I will learn that what I figure and what actually happens are never the same thing.
Let’s start at the very beginning. (A very good place to start.) Years ago I made myself a bedspread, but it never looked that great with the rest of the decor, so as my most loyal readers [parents] will recall, I replaced it back when I tarted up my drawers. (That story here.) But the fabric still had plenty of wear, so for a few years it sat in the back of the closet, taking up space and waiting for the Von-Trapping to commence.
Then March rolled around and I, like a lot of other folks, started my own little mask-factory. Those of you who were doing the same will recall that it was nearly impossible at that point to procure elastic or bias tape. So I cut the lining out of the bedspread, ripped it into ribbons, and began the boundless tedium of sewing make-shift mask-ties.
But then the bedspread was out anyway, so (a needle pulling thread) it was time.
I’ve always wanted to be Fräulein Maria. In fact, when I was about six years old I decided to become a nun. But then my mom pointed out that 1) we’re not Catholic, and 2) most nuns don’t marry handsome naval officers or become professional folk-singers, so I sort of lost interest in nunning. (But I will say there’s a convent not far from my house, and once in a while I see all of the nuns going into the Chipotle, so I think I might actually be very good at it.) It didn’t take me long to figure out I didn’t want kids either. Especially not seven of them. Nor do I particularly want to get married. (Although as far as men go, Captain von Trapp plays guitar, rips up Nazi flags, and disappears to Vienna for months at a time, so he’s really pretty ideal.) Regardless, play-clothes seemed like the Maria-part I’d like best. I mean, that and the marionette theater, obviously.
Now, I’m a pretty decent seamstress, but my skill at draping is limited (as any actor who’s had to wear a costume I made sans pattern can tell you.) Fortunately, vintage sundress patterns are one of My Favorite Things, and I had a whole box of them that I’d been saving for a rainy day. True, March in Minnesota is NOT sundress weather, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to wear it for a while, but I had confidence that spring would come again, and so the dress began.
My mental acuity and emotional temerity being what they were at the time, I thought I’d best choose a pattern that looked pretty simple. I picked one I’d purchased at a thrift store. It had once belonged to Mrs. Ernest Boots, who was named Janet. Or who planned to make the dress for someone named Janet. Or who decided to give the pattern to Janet? In which case Janet may have been taken aback to find that the pattern is not for the dress pictured on the envelope. THAT dress appears to be the standard logo of the unnamed-mail-order Pattern Company at 243 West 17th Street in New York City. It isn’t until you open the envelope that you see what the dress will actually look like, which appears to have been an unpleasant surprise for Mrs.-Boots-Who-May-Or May-Not-Be-Janet, because she never even cut out the pieces.
But me? I cut out the pieces. THEN I pinned them to the bedspread. I AM A SARTORIAL GENIUS. I’d surely be done before dinner. Except…
I’d forgotten that I’d had to piece the bedspread together in the first place, so there was a giant seam where I’d pinned the front of the skirt. I hadn’t started in with the scissors yet, so no harm done. It would just take a little longer because I needed to unpin it all and rearrange the pieces.
Also, the scalloped neckline was a little tricky. And then I accidentally stitched both of the pockets shut, but that’s okay. When the Lord closes a seam, somewhere He finds seam ripper.
Additionally, I had a little trouble with the sleeves. You might be thinking “But Melanie! There AREN’T any sleeves.” I know, right? Who’d’ve thought that no-sleeves could be so tricky!? The problem was that when I set in the armhole facing, it turned out to be GIANT and made me look like I had enormous armpit-goiters. It’s possible that the Unnamed Pattern Company designed it poorly. It’s equally possible that I did something wrong. In any case, I decided to rip out the facing and finish the arm holes with bias tape instead. (It’s okay. The poor didn’t want THIS bias tape.)
So only the hem to go and then the dress would finally be done! Just in time for dinner.
…except it’s a reasonably full skirt. I was clearly going to be working on it until late. And I can be late for everything…except for every meal. I decided there was no reason hemming couldn’t co-exist with a dinner of schnitzel with noodles, and a viewing of my taped-from-TV-by-Aunt-Delores-in-roughtly-1983 VHS cassette (which is holding up perfectly well, thank you very much.)
And finally the dress was finished. Nothing left to do but try it on! And…
Oh.
Turns out my bedroom gets more light than I thought, and after years near the window, the sun had bleached the fabric until it was pretty see-through. So the next question was, how do you solve a problem like a tranluscent dress?
Obviously, it ought to have been lined, but it was too late for that now. And anyway, I’d already turned the lining into mask-ties. I could always wear it with a slip, but because of its wrap-around nature, the slip would show. (This dress is Governess in the Front, Baroness in the Back.)
Another possibility would be to only wear it places where there is very low lighting, or where I can stand with my back to a wall. Option four is not to care.
I decided to go with that one.
To be frank, the pale color doesn’t look great on me. I was hoping it would make me look like a Blossom of Snow, but really it just makes me look like wet cement. But whatever. It will look FABULOUS climbing the trees of Salzburg.
And as a final touch, I made myself a kerchief. WITHOUT A PATTERN. (Genius.)
Perhaps someday I’ll get around to making a nightie out of Grandma’s tablecloth, but in the meantime, so long!
(…farewellaufwiedesehengoodbye)
