During my enforced purdha from the internet I've been making stuff, most of which I can't show you because it is destined for publication elsewhere. But I promise, I have been busy and not just lying on a chaise lounge eating bonbons.
For a start, I made a skirt but I'm not quite sure whether I like it or not. Below is a picture of the skirt (and trousers) as seen on the pattern envelope, and here it looks fine. Besides, I'd made the trousers before and absolutely loved the results, so I naturally assumed I'd fall in love with the skirt too. But there are two things about the skirt that really annoy me. Firstly the pockets are so deep that if you put anything heavier than a hanky in them, they swish and bash against your shins causing severe bruising if you do anything other than stand still. The second thing is the pocket zips: the instructions clearly state that one half of the zip tape should be sewn to the top of the skirt, meaning that it isn't concealed and looks like a big fat mistake!
|On the model it looks great…|
|I even liked the trousers…|
Nevertheless, I've worn the skirt, and bit by bit it is growing on me, but not before I almost lost it on Wapping High Street. You see, I'm an impatient dressmaker, who often can't be bothered with pesky finishing touches, such as adding hooks and eyes or press studs. So the first time I wore the skirt I had to walk with my hand placed firmly on my hip to stop the back zip coming undone, and the skirt falling to the pavement.
|It's all in the details!|
It isn't the first time this has happened to me either–oh no! As a teenager, I used to make quick skirts by chopping the sleeves and necklines off old T-shirts, adding a hem then threading some elastic through it for support. Except I didn't always have elastic to hand. That didn't stop me though (I was as impatient then, as I am now) I would simply tuck the ragged end of the tube into my tights, and head out in complete youthful confidence that I looked brilliant.
One day, a friend commented on the length of my skirt, which reached nearly all the way to my ankles. Confused, I looked down to find that the tube had worked its way loose from my tights and turned into a giant snood for my lower legs. My bum and thighs were on show to the world and I was a mortified teenager!
So, you would think I might have learnt something from my youthful indiscretion, or could it be that I'm really a closet exhibitionist?