Life gets in the way

I promised you all the wonderful costume creation updates, but it didn't happen. For one thing, as usual, I waited until the eleventh hour to make the darned thing (really the 11:30th hour, if the truth be told) and, as usual, I had a difficult-to-resolve issue with my computer that made it impossible to blog for a couple of weeks. So here I am back again, many many hours after my last post, and Halloween has come and gone without a peep from me on the making of the White Rabbit. It was successful, that much I know, because I got an extra Bingo! card because of it.

Bingo!? you ask? Yes, the New Orleans Bingo! Show, witnessed in full glory on Halloween itself in the city which is perhaps the love of my life. The whole reason I had to have a lightweight packable costume was so it would fit in my suitcase and be comfortable to wear for twelve hours outdoors in the company of 20,000 of my friends at Voodoo Experience. It was brilliant and beautiful and I don't regret for a moment that I forwent the dubious pleasures of the Gourds in order to watch Perry Farrell declare, "Tonight I am a superhero!" Also, I saw Gogol Bordello and the Black Keys and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, who are as famous to me as Jane's Addiction, and a whole host of others. And I got to spend my favorite holiday in the company of two people that I couldn't love more if they were related to me by blood. I was deliriously happy that we were all together.

she was so happy to see those gypsy punks!

New Orleans is not a town for everyone. It is brimming with ghosts and legends and glitter and dirt. It is urgent and spooky and difficult like a lover. It is not full of convenience and quirk. It takes a certain darkness of spirit to adore it, and that is trait that my companions and I revel in sharing.

this was hardly even a costume

It was harder to bid the city adieu this time. Each time I visit a new place, I find myself wondering if I could slot myself into the life that is there, if I could make a place for myself in that world. Would this be my grocery store? Would I wash my clothes here? Would I fall in with these marvelous people, become their friend, have dinner parties at their houses? There is never the questioning when I am in New Orleans. I think to myself: this would be the place I would buy milk. This would be the cafe where I ate Sunday morning brunch. My children would go to this school, they would wear these uniforms gladly. These would be my people, my friends, my tribe. And I wait anxiously until the time comes to return.

a certain darkness of spirit, indeed

Rabbit parts

I have made a little headway in my Halloween costume. As usual, the White E opened its magical portals and I found the basic pieces I needed to create most of my costume.

This is the best picture of the color of these pants, although I think in real life they a lighter cream. They are lightweight corduroy, blousy around the thigh, and I will cut them off just below knee-length to make britches. I plan on embellishing them with some lace and satin ribbons.

Here is the rest of the fabulous I hunted up out of my stash. My vision is a decrepit, fraying-about-the-edges Victorian toy, hence the creams and ivories and taupes in place of the bright whites of the Disneyfied Rabbit.



I like this linen shirt a lot. I like the frocking detail and the tiny Peter Pan collar and miniscule pearly buttons. I think it will be hard to wear a cravat with it, because the collar is so small, but perhaps I will veer from my primary inspiration - the Tenniel illustrations - and wear a ribbon tie instead. I do love the idea of a cravat, though, even if it would be a bit warm.
Finally, the E graced me with a set of rabbit ears. These are being reconstructed as well, as I find them a little bit Playboy the way they are right now. I haven't decided yet whether I want to add elements of the rest of the story to my costume; if so then the ears will be attached to a wee top hat fascinator. If not, then I plan on removing them and attaching them to a headband that is covered in cream satin or velvet, together in a V off to one side. Gratuitously, here are the shoes that I ordered, because I am insane enough to order shoes specifically for a Halloween costume.

So far I have done no actual crafting, but I have lots of inspiration and plenty of materials. I also found in the depths of my stash the prettiest black Bavarian ribbon with hot pink and red roses on it. I think it will be perfect for trimming the dirndl part of Miss Thing's Red Riding Hood costume. If I can convince her that she wants the dress in sky blue instead of red, we'll be in business soon. Otherwise, it may be a slight delay while I figure out fabric options.

The Cap'n has decided he wants to be Thriller Zombie Michael Jackson for the high holiday, so I need to lay hands on a decent makeup kit and maybe on a Jheri-curl wig.

Hopefully the next time I post I will have started on the construction of the vest. I am just awaiting brocade in the mail...

At long last!

I know that you all only come here for the parts when I talk exhaustively about costuming, sewing and crafting, and that you were sorely disappointed last year when I copped out so hugely. Breathe your sighs of relief, then, because I have determined that I will NOT spend three hours desperately wiring rubber snakes together in an effort to make it seem as though I put effort into my costume choice. NO, this year, my lovelies, I am going to make a costume.

It is not as inspired as years past, but my criteria were different. It needs to be packable, longwearing, lightweight for temperature reasons, and reasonably clever. No sticky makeup, no fussy accessories, nothing I will need to constantly check or fix. This immediately disqualified my best ever costume ideas - the story of the green ribbon, and the gutshot cowgirl - and made my favorite forerunner for this year - a steampunk mermaid - seem unfeasible. I settled on something iconic, easy to put together, and yet challenging enough to make me actually want to work on it. I decided to be the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.

The elements are simpler than you are imagining. A vest, some pantaloons, a pocketwatch on a chain, some rabbit ears (fascinator style, natch), and a little pink nose. I am rather pleased with myself. I even have a pattern for a vest that I have been holding onto for years, waiting for the occasion to arise where I might need it.
Also, I might have gone ahead and bought a pocketwatch today. I need one anyway!

HRH is going to be Little Red Riding Hood, which I am also making. I bought a set of red velveteen curtains at a garage sale for $5.00 and threw them in the washing machine not long ago. I hope they survive the trip. They smelled about a thousand years old. IF so, they are going to make a really beautiful, heavy, hopefully warm cape. I want to make a pinafore trimmed with Bavarian ribbon, too, and then she can wear a white shirt and white tights and black shoes and carry a basket.

So now I have a plan, and two patterns and the fabric for one costume. Now to dust off the sewing machine and set to work. I'll post updates - hopefully with pictures, even! - as I make progress.

And now the melody haunts my reverie...

It has been a whole week since the Stardust ball, which, as far as I am concerned, is the pinnacle social event of the year here in the sleepy seaside town I live in. I apologize for the lateness of this recap; instead of filling me with the usual glee, the Stardust Ball this year just helped spur the usual bout of blues that besets me each fall, only deeper, darker, and faster than ever before.

Here's the stuff that happened: My favorite boys in a band did not come back. Luckily I got the chance to see them this year when the carpet monkeys and I adventured in Seattle. I missed them anyway. La Fab and Miss E. and Mistress M. all came to town, and there was the sense that everything was just right again, although there was also the sense that something was missing. We got tarted up in our lipsticked best. La Fab wore my clothes and told everyone she was me. My costume was held on with strategically placed safety pins, a piece of gold tulle, and hope. The sum difference between the congratulatory kisses I received this year and the ones I received last year was five for birthdays and uncountable for playing. (That means many, many less this year than last year.) The band, while talented, was difficult to dance to, and I had either a drink too many or two drinks too few, as I reached a state of intoxication characterized by a bad attitude and a slight headache, rather than pleasant warmth or euphoria. Also, I broke my camera.

Perhaps my expectations run a bit high for this event. Perhaps it is just that I am finally coming to realize that the people I love the best really don't live here anymore; we have to fit a whole year's worth of each other into four surreal days. Perhaps I, too, am outgrowing this town. Perhaps it would be easier to not have them around if I weren't here, either. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, right? I am so skillful at second-guessing. Between the bittersweet experience of Stardust and the just plain perfect experience of New Orleans, I am having a hard time adjusting to the idea that I must resign myself the nonevent that is my day-to-day existence. I will drown my sorrows in rock and roll movies. It's what got me through the last two winters. If you have suggestions for good ones, leave them in the comments.

Guess what time it is, kiddies?

That's right! I have made my decision on my Halloween costume, and the research has commenced. I was determined to have a gaping wound this year, and since I figured that my original idea, the gutshot cowboy, would prove sticky over the course of an evening, I decided a smaller, more localized trauma was in order. Bust magazine had good instructions a few years ago for slit throats, and the seeds of my costume were planted.

I was inspired by this story, which I think I probably read for the first time in one of those lame urban legend books that fall into your hands, usually via Scholastic book club orders, in the formative years of your youth. I remember that the young man in the story was a noble, maybe even a prince, and that the young woman insisted she was a commoner who carried herself like an aristocrat. Or maybe that is just a few too many Georgia Heyer books in junior high.... Anyway, I have been lusting after a mid/late-Victorian bustled evening gown (1873 is the magic year) for a really long time now. That in mind, I have made the decision to set my costume and thus the story in the Victorian era, and to give her a reason for her head to fall off: it was nearly severed from her body in a cruel and gruesome crime of passion.

I am so excited.

Here is what I think I'll need:
1)a new Victorian corset, maybe with a spoon busk if I can justify the expense
2) a bustle, either stiffened lace (a la the 1870's) or "hoopwire" (otherwise known as polyethylene tubing - I LOVE the hardware store)
3) a petticoat
4) corset cover
5) skirt and bodice
6) several yards - 2 1/2? 3? - of green velvet ribbon. I am leaning toward willow or loden.
7) hair extensions
8) neck wound prosthesis
9) latex, fake blood, miscellaneous wound makeup

I like the idea of using pink to underscore the green of the ribbon and emphasize the rosy glow of my slashed neck. I still have many yards of hot pink shantung that never became a holiday dress, so it may find new life. I have to think hard about matching it with the moss green. One solution may be making the base of the dress ivory or pale gold, and just accenting with the bolder colors.

I obviously am still in the planning stages, but I know that I will need patterns for the bustle and gown, and most probably the petticoat, too. That is where I plan to start. I have spring steel still from the MA corset, but no more tips. I will require a busk and about 300" of lacing for a Victorian corset, too. Oooooh, exciting. I'll try to be better about progress pics this time around!

The US Postal Service is so slow!

I finally got all the fabric for the costumes, and I started work on it all yesterday. As usual, I am terrified to cut into any of it, so I am just hovering around the edges, making things out of my stash. Read: constructing only things I know how to make already. This happened to me last year, too, and I was (mostly) satisfied with the way my costume turned out. Someday I will replace all the trim on that one, though, because I hate that it's so slipshod. Bea is completely in love with the stuff i got for her tail, and if allowed will wrap herself in it entirely. I think that instead of just a skirt, which is what I had in mind before, I will make her an Empire-waisted dress, just to take advantage of the glorious pink-ness of it all.


You can kind of see in that last picture how the holographic foil is wonderfully rainbow-y. The frilly hotter-pink stuff is mine. Originally it was going to be just for the top, but I think I will try to incorporate it into a tutu somehow, if I get my hands on a ruffler foot or something.

I WANTED to show pictures of what I made for Princess Japonski for her birthday, but since I keep forgetting that New York is the other side of the planet, practically, she has not yet received it, and I refuse to ruin her surprise. So you have to wait, too. I'll post terrible pictures of its awesome as soon as she opens it.

I am mustering up my courage to cut fin pieces today. Wish me luck!

It's time to sew for Halloween again!

Actually, it's far past time to start sewing again, but since I've been occupied with planning and playing gigs, and friends visiting, and last minute(to me, seven weeks ahead of time is last minute) changes of plan, I am just now settling in to really get some work done. H.and I, because we are remarkably similar in our tastes, got all giddy and excited to dress the band as a circus troupe for the High Holiday. She will of course be the ringmaster, although I secretly covet that exalted position, and I will be the equestrienne/tightrope-walker/acrobat/sitter-atop-elephants/etc. Or the knife-throwers assistant, which only makes sense if there is a knife thrower, I think. Anyhow, I am determined to keep the costumes as 40's/50's pin-uppy as possible, so I am thinking that I will take my costume in a sort of burlesque, Dita Von Teese direction. But still sort of based on the Ceil Chapman aesthetic that I was basing my original costume on. I have already ordered black satiny stretch stuff and pink fluffy mesh stuff and I have some black point d'esprit that I have been hoarding like gold for two years, so that's in as well. I'll dye a few of last year's ostrich plumes pink, and we're golden.

Miss Thing (you know of whom I speak) wishes greatly to be a mermaid this year. A pink one. Okey-doke, say I. Oh brother. What have I gotten myself into? I managed to steer her away from her covetous longing for the officially licensed Disney Little Mermaid nonsense, and am instead contemplating making her one of the pictured tails, complete with fluke.



I am tickled by the idea of the long tail on a train, but I don't know how realistic that is for a fiddly preschooler. I suppose the ankle-length skirt with the floor-length flukes will have to suffice. We've ordered fabric for this, too, a silver on pink spandex extravaganza, with silver for the shells and even (this is how cool I am) some glissenette to make a shirt out of so the fight about a warm coat is preempted.

I am getting over the end of a wicked, grotesque ear infection that required antibiotics and a full two days in bed. Once my hearing returns (!) I will start the muslins for these. I am not using patterns for Li'l Bit's, and mine I am using a dangerous combination of several heavily modified things I have laying about the house, as usual. Oh, and for those who care, Cap'n Jack has decided to be Danny Zuko from Grease, so all that's required on that score is some pomade and a cheap leather jacket. Awesome.

Well, it's finished.

I am done, as you can see. These photos were taken at the beginning of the night, before I embarked on an ill-advised round of general debauchery that culminated in my complete inability to actually have anything to do with a living, breathing member of the male persuasion who expresses admiration for me in any form. To wit, even stripped down to my chemise and related underpinnings, even dancing my fool head off, even when being flirted with overtly and outrageously, I still could not work up the gumption to actually act on any sort of impulse that might actually get me any sort of action. In other words, I choked up on the bat, and bunted.

I had to remove most of the costume, after the contest, which I did not win,

45 hours of work notwithstanding. I really wanted to dance to the band, the Dusty 45's because they were swinging like tomorrow's just a word, and it was not happening with eight yards of satin appended to my shoulders. So off it came, and I danced around in my chemise, looking scandalous and making sultry-type eyes at Billy Joe, the lead guy and flaming trumpeter extraordinaire. This behavior unfortunately did not see its logical conclusion, i.e., when the ball ended. Instead I had to drag it out until very, very late Monday night (or early, early Tuesday morning if you must) when I ran away from the boy who was singing Ring of Fire and smiling in my direction. Damn principals for intruding and reminding me of his conspicuously absent wedding ring.

Now is the let-down. Inevitably, this project has come to its conclusion, and now there is really no reason for me to continue this blog. I suppose I might have a few more pictures from tonight, but that, as they say, is that. Now what? is the question. All of my musings, and what it ultimately comes down to is the best damn birthday a girl could ask for, barring a few stolen kisses with a rock and roll boy, and a very heavy, antiquated set of clothing whose real purpose was to stave off its creatrix's impending winter depression. I suppose I will have to invent something new to help me hold back the darkness, or succumb and spend the rest of the winter indulging myself in what L. calls the Braffian doleful stare and trying to block out the memory of a pair of tight blue jeans topped with a truly magnificent smile. Or I could just give in and make a late Victorian bustle-back evening gown, a picture of which I might add later. Suggestions from my adoring fanbase? Comments? Applause or derision? C'mon, people, would it kill you to say a thing or two?

Waiting and whistling...

I have started this post several times and deleted it. I am not, as you might have guessed, a world class writer, and I have yet to be perfectly satisfied with what it is I've written for the world to see. The problem is not that I am a perfectionist, per se, just that I can't help but hold myself to the standards set by other people. My talents seem small, if that makes sense.

The problem is that it doesn't just pertain to writing. I am beginning to fret the making of this project before I've cut a single piece of fabric. I am intimidated by the ones who are a little better than me at noticing the drape of a piece of cloth, or who are determined to recreate an entire historical costume by hand without using modern tools, or who have such a flair for decoration and color that my efforts look like a colorblind righthanded kindergartener using lefthanded scissors made them. I envy those people, and I admire them, and I hate them. I feel stifled and useless in their presence. Usually I just go and eat some cookies and the feeling goes away, but the longer I wait for the right pattern to come in the mail, the more I'm allowed to second-guess my abilities. I am just waiting for the moment when the scissors slip and oops, there goes the pleated train.

I persevere, tho, because I have already told so many people about this stupid costume, and about this stupid blog, and the natives grow restless and beat drums. I have no desire to end up in a big stew of told-you-so.

May be I should just be a pirate for Halloween instead.