Trial by Fire (and Error)

Reposting - (originally posted 7/17/11 - still relevant!)

Sometimes, despite your best intentions, things can go horribly wrong. Failed relationships, disappointments... make you wanna "make lemonade". That lemonade isn't always as sweet as you'd hoped.

On that particularly dismal trip to Hot-As-Heck, NC in the summer when I was 16, my mom distracted "my grandmother" (my own awkward name for her, since it never rolled off my tongue to call her "Grandma", or anything like that.) outside for a bit, my Dad pushed aside a large dresser to reveal a door in the front room that lead deeper into the house. Behind the dresser, in neatly appointed rooms covered by a thick layer of dust, lay the year 1965 or so. Furniture in conversational positions, and a lovely baby grand piano, showing signs that a real life had been lived here. Organized and bright, these lonely rooms had been untouched for at least a decade, I suspected. And the "kid's" rooms (my Dad and his brother) were just as they left them even longer ago. At times, my grandmother talked about her "kids" as if they were still boys, and her husband (my grandfather) who had died before I was born, as if he were still alive. My Dad showed me the rooms, whispering quietly, unemotionally, and factually about what each room represented for him. We tiptoed out, put the dresser back as it was, and pretended to be sitting quietly when she came back in.

Back to the present:

Wiped out after a dressmaking project that went wrong, I decided to work out my dissapointment with a personal project. Because I had used an expensive fabric from my personal stash (a luscious, black double silk organdy) as a lining to help "save" a dress that ultimately didn't work for a client, I decided to reclaim some of that fabric for a new dress, which I would name "Things we lost in the fire". My obsession with flame motifs led me to buy a lovely cotton emblazoned with a firey mix of reds and oranges, and apply it to a summer dress. Set against a smooth, jet-black cotton, I sketched and imagined until a creative frenzy sent me to the dress form to messily drape the design.



These approximate shapes gave me rough templates for cutting my pattern pieces...




I adjusted the pattern to my shape, cut the dress pieces, assembled the dress, and was pleased.



That is, until I put it on. Somehow, I had created what looked like a grandma's nightgown with flames. Hot flashes? Ode to menopause? Not what I was going for. Knowing I would never wear it, I resolved to find the version of this idea that I would/could wear. Okay, the silk organdy has no place on this dress, either. I wanted to place it as a bottom border, sorta giving the illusion that the fabric had been singed as the flames traveled up the dress. Okay, so I could see it in my head... but on the body? Just Terrible.



All of that to get to this. Black skirt, to be worn with a black tank and my favorite red wedge sandals.




Now, if only I had a tattoo...





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These are not pants...

(Originally published 4/18/08) - You'll see why on my other blog shortly.


"Okay... she's clearly lost her mind" you're thinking. "I am sure I see a pair of pants in that photo"

Well, let me tell you this. I live in a shopping MECCA. If it isn't out of economic or fitting necessity, or an insatiable hunger to have something "different", there is absolutely NO REASON to sew another pair of pants. Of that, I am certain.

But these are not pants. No, they aren't, my friends.

Not meant to be shown to you against the blank walls of our foyer as a backdrop, or shown on my awkwardly posed figure, as I struggle for a clever way to hold the camera, catching the right light, in an emotionally bland, poorly composed presentation. These pants are about the weather I imagine is coming, events I will attend, the life I am leading, will lead, and improvements I want to make. They are more than pants.

They are...

that trip to Seville, Spain I envision myself taking, eating a lovely paella at sunset, near the huge, beautiful Cathedral

or...

a walk in the lovely Spring weather in Central Park, stopping to people-watch at the boathouse.

or...



a casual picnic lunch out with friends, with good music.

Having invested more time and effort than I can reasonably explain, I took the steps to fit them carefully, getting just the right amount of extra width in the leg, and the hip contour to follow my own hips just right...

I put in an invisible zipper, fusing and hand-picking the seam allowances in place, to keep it "invisible" and smooth. (below)



As always, I sewed my "leg inside of leg" crotch seam, to ensure the symmetry of the inseam juncture.




They are not unhemmed and unpressed on the floor, amid toys carelessly strewn about. And they are not just pants. They are the embodiment of my creative fantasy, and happy spring mood. When I do wear them, I won't be thinking about posing for a picture in the right light; I will simply be leading my life. So the pants I am showing you now, are not what will leave home on my body. Those pants will have a life of their own.


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The perpetual shirt...

If my other blog landed you here, you've read the background of my "perpetual shirt", and you're here for the sewing info.  Not a significantly difficult process, really.  It is a simple, raw looking t-shirt, with zigzagged edges, made of a durable, quality knit.  Boldly written on the front, is today's date.  Or mostly any spring date I want until 2019, actually... But if I'm still wearing it by then... I'll need your help.

Did I use a pattern for the shirt?  No.  Just took my scissors and went for it.

So, how do I make the dates change?  Here's the inspiration:

Why?  velcro is too fluffy for the letters to sit flush.  But, if I do this...

By creating a velcro "grooves", I recessed the under layer (soft side) into the shirt, so that the letters could lay pretty flat against the surface of the fabric plaque. Now, I can make it almost any spring day I want... Why only spring?  I didn't want to buy and velcro too many letters, and I probably won't want to wear it in the summer (too hot) or fall/winter.

The "201" is permanent, but the other letters are all removable.

I am a professional collaborative dressmaker by profession, and would make you one, if you want one made... Keep in mind, though, that labor, planning, and materials make this quite a pricey t-shirt!  You can show this example to your own dressmaker or crafty/sewing person to do this for you, if you don't wanna drop a chunk of change.

Who would I imagine wearing this? Myself...

Small Doses

My son was diagnosed with Autism in 2007, and he has since made really ASTOUNDING progress. Some will argue that he may have been misdiagnosed. I disagree. I think we just buckled down and did the work, 27 hours a day, 10 days a week, round-the-clock therapies and carry-over got us to where we are today, with the 6-year old WONDER of a kid we now are so blessed to have in our lives.

Case in point: We live in a busy, bustling NYC environment. There was a time when a fire truck whizzing by used to send our son into a full-on, wild tantrum, from which he found it nearly impossible to climb out, and self-soothe into a peaceful state for at least 1/2 hour or more. I heard about this "Bounce" (Spectrum Connections) set of DVDs, requested them from the library, watched them WITH my son, and WE developed a new plan for these events. When the loud noise would send him into a frenzy, he would say "Break!", and throw up one hand like a stop sign, entitling him to a tight hug for as long as he needed, until he could regain his composure. I didn't care how crazy it looked, frozen in a hug on the street until he was calm again, because I could feel his racing heart gradually slow down, and he was able to tell me when he was ready to resume our activity. Over time, his need for this decreased, and even now, approximately 2 years later, a loud siren will happen, he will look over at me, whispher "Break", and smile, knowing he no longer needs the hug. If I stop and feel his heartbeat, it still races, but he has learned to cope, and now accepts that it will pass.

He is extremely energetic and highly distractible. Despite his highly ADHD behavior, we fought to get him into a regular school for kindergarten in a co-teaching situation (some disabled kids, some not), and he has thrived! His teacher is truly impressed with his progress, and despite her not being allowed to suggest that we medicate him, shared a story of medicating her own ADHD child in an "FYI" (wink, wink) sorta way. She explained that tiny doses could be prescribed to start, and we could gradually find what could work for him, to get him relaxed enough to participate calmly with the other children in a more predictable way. I got it. No, we didn't medicate him. By the end of the school year, he understood what was expected of him, and had achieved his/our/her goals. Beautifully.

The process has been like eating an elephant. Making wedding dresses was great preparation for raising my son... No, really... It was!

If I were to try to make "a wedding dress", I could get trapped in the size of the project, and the work, staring at the dressform, wasting hours, fearing failure, the magnitude of the garment's importance, the pressure of the deadline, and end up procrastinating. Just horrible. This is why I have to think, "Pattern, cut, muslin, fit, fix, cut, sew insides, sew outsides, zipper, buttons, hem..." Small doses gets it done.

I make lists. If I can check each item down a list as I go, it becomes doable, and remains enjoyable! Nothing feels better than to complete a gown for a happy bride.

The Tree

I have a Sequoia theory, which is my own interpretation of a scientific fact I once heard, but have never again seen in any book anywhere... It resounded so deeply within me, that I keep it in my heart, carry it with me, and deeply believe it. Someone said (well, maybe it was a dream, ?, but I heard it loud and clear), that although Sequoias seem to be free-standing individual trees, when you study a group of them all together, they appear to be one organism, with a shared root structure. Dig down, and you can't see where one tree ends and another begins. They are endlessly intertwined and tangled together. I think families are the same way. Every member may grow on his/her own...some thrive, some wither, some in the sun, and some in the shade, but they all connect, and are indispensable in the life chain, and to each other.

"Hi, my grandmother is a resident on your floor, and, I know she won't know me if I ask to speak to her... I'm just checking in on her. How is she doing?" I would call her senior residence every once in a while to find out if she needed anything.

"Oh, what a sweet lady!" (I think the nurse was lying, but I'll never know for sure.) "Sure, she doesn't talk anymore now, and we're not sure if she can see, but she's comfortable, and I've noticed she moves her hands a lot. Did she sew? It kinda looks like she's sewing."

I used to hate the state of North Carolina. Somehow "hate" doesn't seem a strong enough word. I really thought it was absolutely the devil's very armpit. I was about 16 years old on my first trip there, on a spur-of-the-moment trip with my parents to see my grandmother. She was a woman I didn't understand. I only got to "meet" her after her death, and now, finally, it all makes sense.

I wish everyone could get an opportunity to have a "full circle" experience like mine, which will probably take a few posts to explain... but my father never mentioned her... EVER. I mean, we were aware that she existed, of course, but kinda silently agreed that we all suspected some huge scandalous backstory that we didn't want to hear. It may seem strange that a person would never have ANY stories to share about his mother, and that he only sent money, checked in with others regarding her welfare, and only reluctantly called her to say "Happy Birthday" or "Merry Christmas", never forced us kids to get on the phone with her, never pestered us to send cards or acknowledge her in any way... But, what is even stranger, is an outta-the-blue announcement that we would be going to visit her.

So she lived in a ridiculously little town near Charlotte, NC. Well, not near... but there's no other way to identify it. It was mid-summer, and so brutally hot I thought I would absolutely fry. My Grandmother's family (funny how I don't refer to them as my Dad's family) was, for far too long, one of the only African American families in that town, and BOY, could you tell when you got there. In what seemed a relatively affluent neighborhood, my grandmother occupied a very large lot, and lived in, what appeared to me (or to anyone, really), absolute squalor. Was that a house, a shack, or what? Someone had been regularly clearing the weeds and trees, I could tell. This little lady came out to greet us, and her face brightened. I didn't want to go in. I didn't want to stay. She hugged my dad, my mom, and then me, staring at me in amazement, saying "You look just like me!" Geesh, I hoped not. She wasn't bad looking, and in great physical shape, but she must have been about 80 then. So you know what I mean.

We sat down in the front room, which seemed to be her bedroom, living room and parlour, all rolled into one. A huge photograph of what looked like some random native american (I would later learn it was my paternal grandfather), a very old, beautiful sewing machine, a pot-belly stove (seriously), her bed, and other random stuff. We talked in polite, circular conversations for what felt like an eternity. She would disappear in her thoughts, forget who we were, and need to be reminded. She would occasionally glance at me, brighten, and shout "Oh, you look just like me!" The surly teenager in me would repeatedly respond, "I'm your granddaughter" over and over again. This was news to her every time I said it. And she kept looking at my legs, repaeating "Pretty little legs!" happily. There were several doors to this room, but it wasn't until she was distracted for a bit outside, that I got to see the world they were hiding.

My dad got up and explored the kitchen. As long as I live, I will never forget what we saw when we opened it for the first time. I know people eat squirrels, but she had caught them herself, and stored them in the fridge, fur on... Yeesh. In retrospect, I think this trip must have been for my dad to verify for himself that she couldn't live alone. The kitchen was tidy, but showed no sign of an awareness of sanitary storage procedures or food safety issues. This may have inspired my deep love for beautiful kitchens and knitted dishcloths. Just the greatest symbols of nurturing and love, which were absent in this place.

This is a page from Needle Craft: Artistic and Practical, published by Butterick Publishing Company, Ltd. 1889.

A Room of One's Own

(originally posted November 29, 2007)

I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.

-Virginia Woolf

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

Today's message goes out to Mimi, Summerset, Dawn, Adrienne, and all others within reach of my "voice".

Over the past few weeks, I have been haunted by the question, "Why blog?"

I started writing entries simply to combat the frustration I felt over not being free to leave the house, socialize and have grown-up time when I wanted to...

The triple-whammy of my difficult pregnancy with our toddler daughter to care for, followed by my son's serious birth defect and neuro-surgery, followed by an incredibly tight and grueling therapy schedule have left me very little "me time". So I started writing this blog. What I have found to be far more valuable than the catharsis the blog has given me, is the absolute joy of reading the blogs of others...

So it seems, I have found a "community". I was inspired to say this today, as this realisation is hitting me.

When I read your blogs, I "hear" you. I hear the love you all have for your children, (whether they are small or big)and the absolute passion you all share for expressing yourself through your words and creative fingers. I am learning so much through you. Today, I want to celebrate that!

Just so you know, since this online life can be isolating, there is someone eagerly awaiting your next posts, even when I don't comment!

So, why the picture and quote?

Well, when my sister was little, she painted this image of my mother at the sewing machine. It was the 60's, so you can see the color choice was very "of the moment", and the roundness of my Mom's afro is a great fashion statement, isn't it?

Notice my Mom's back to her - she is absolutely in her own world. And happily so. Even at my sister's tender age, she could appreciate that my mother had her own passion, and my sister took the opportunity at that time, to explore her own creativity.

At the time, anyone would have said, "What a cute picture of your Mom at the sewing machine!" But the picture expresses so much more than that. It is not about feeling "left out" of my Mom's creative world, it was encouragement and permission to find her own creative space.

As a Mom, finding your own space, your own moment to just create and really be who you are, is so important. And letting your children know that you are entitled to that space, and having them respect it, is vital. Well, husbands too, but mine doesn't give me any conflict about my sewing. I am still carving out my own time, slowly but surely, since I have discovered that I truly cannot live (and be pleasant, ha!) without it.

The past few days, however, I have been in gourmet mode, stocking our kitchen with homemade-from-scratch goodies. I am well-fed and rested... and on a bit of a sewing binge between Aaron's therapies... the results of which will soon be revealed on this blog.

Stay tuned!

When $9 changes everything...

(Originally published 10/19/09)

A repeat client came to me with a bridesmaid dress that, while perfectly acceptable as a lone dress on a hanger, was outrageously unflattering on her. Luckily, the bride had given her carte blanche to have changes made, as long as she stayed within the color boundaries.

So, after altering the dress to fit her body, we added the optional straps, and I felt compelled to decorate the blank bust area, since the fabric was impossibly thick and unforgiving, yeilding a sort of tight, wrinkled-armour look that I just couldn't live with.

Like, it was bad enough that if someone were to ask who altered her gown, I would consider PAYING her not to respond...

Well, lo and behold, I found a delightful trim in the garment district for about $4.50/yd. I bought two yards, and wound it into a flower effect, and that just took the dress in another direction entirely. I was happy, and so was everyone else! I felt great, and it was quick and easy.

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Drumroll...

Life has been very busy, and the pace of the business has picked up significantly. My client list is now including more corporate gigs, and things with tight deadlines and bigger budgets, so my schedule has changed along with that. The success of www.Findadressmaker.com has been wonderful, and the number of legitimate visitors truly astounds me. I am still very grateful, and occasionally updating the "stories" section of my own website, with things I think are relevant, or help express who I am. See you again when I have a moment to write. There is lots to tell!

So... what have I been up to?

Yup, that's Anna Paquin... and yup, I was working on a movie set.

I have been on the set of "The Romantics", working on some alterations for the wardrobe dept.

Seriously. An example of a dress I altered to fit Katie Holmes is here.

Examples of the nighties I altered to fit Katie Holmes and Anna Paquin are here.

And the reason I was called to do this job, was mainly to alter this Amsale dress.

And what it all looks like together, can be seen here...

Unglamourous (for me), but quite a scenic, fun, and exciting gig!

How odd is it...?

That just when I have something exciting to share, it is actually too exciting to share? So, I'll write this post now, and share the details later.

I am working on a movie... a big one... stars as famous as famous gets. Projects requiring expertise and creativity. So much fun... and alot of work! Can't say much more than that, but now you know why I am MIA from the blogosphere for a moment...

Neuroplasticity and Issey Miyake

Well, it seems eveything always comes full circle. I am now working with a client, making custom kimonos for a kibuki theater project. And, whoa, what a learning experience... Not only that, but learning to make a kimono gives some insight into Miyake's design ideas and shapes. The following post, which I wrote last year, fits into this moment in my work as well.

A recent article in the New York Times, entitled "A Pointy-headed Piano", was so beautifully inspirational and well written, that I have kept the clipping near me, waiting for an opportunity to use it somehow...

Dr. Norman Doidge, the author of a book studying the experiences of scientists, doctors and patients in the field of neuroplasticity (a new way of looking at the brain as a more malleable and renewable structure than the traditional) is featured in this article, describing his beloved Heintzman piano. The article uses the piano as a metaphor for the brain's ability to adapt.

In a nutshell, this rare transposable piano, made in 1895, allows a musician to slide its keyboard left or right, two or three keys in either direction. This, in his words, "eliminates the need to play the entirely different configuration that switching to another key requires." This is much like the brain's ability, when it hits a wrong "key", to transpose to a new one, after a stroke, learning disability, or emotional trauma. As the parent of an autistic child, I have become acutely aware of what an amazingly complex instrument the brain is, and how wonderful it can be, discovering which "keys" to play.

While the author mentions that the goal of the adaptive brain is to perform repetitive tasks, personally, I love breaking out of that mold, and embracing the constant challenge of "new thinking", which brings me to one of my favorite artists/designers... the one and only Issey Miyake.

I made my first Miyake when I was in high school. I used a striped, tightly-woven wool fabric from Art Max fabrics in Manhattan's garment district. How I loved that store... (sigh) It had an assymmetrical, sculptural skirt and a cowl-necked shirt with dangling "straps", for lack of a better description.

So, I have had the following Miyakes for quite some time, and hope to make them soon (the coats first!), but I always find that I am far more inspired by the flats than the photos,

since the models never look anything like me, and the fabrics chosen are always wildly different than anything I would ever choose.

So, here they are...







These patterns, if you are unfamiliar with them, are as close to "fabric oragami" as one can get. Once you have learned to create garments, you have a general understanding of what shape a collar should be, where it should attach, where the armholes should be... well, Miyake patterns challenge all of that, and require that you surrender to the instructions and embark on the adventure.

Pant fitting.... or, "Things to Know..." Part 10

So, I had TWO WHOLE HOURS to myself yesterday. How long has it been since that happened? My husband took the kids to the park, and I had to make the hard decision about whether to nap or sew. I decided to sew. I'm making a straight pair of vibrant red pants, using a very basic pant pattern, and the sewing machine was just beckoning to me, so I put on some music and sewed. It felt great. I carefully thread-traced and sewed my darts, stitched each leg, got ready to sew the crotch seam...and... guess what?


I don't know why, but....


I had made two right legs. One, wrong sides together... one, right sides together. Rookie mistake.




I should have napped. Clearly, I needed it.

Anyway, here are the basic alterations I had to make to the pattern for my figure. I don't differ too much from the body measurements of the size I was sewing, so, there wasn't much to do.




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Creative "auras"

It is said that some people experience an "aura" before a seizure. Maybe a smell, a sensation, a frantic, fidgety feeling...

I have creative "auras". When I feel a wave of sewing or artistic fever coming on, I suddenly go into a frenzy, much like before I gave birth. I clean and organize excessively, store cooked meals so I won't need to prepare new meals for a bit, make all of my calls, clean out my to-do list, and fire up the machine... It bubbles up in me, and feels something like the above jellyfish aquarium shot I took in San Francisco.

This morning, I heard the sweetest words ever. This time from my daughter...

"Mommy, will you make me some clothes?"

So now, I'm in it. You'll see more when I have something to show!

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I quit!

I must admit, I don't just blog for the greater good.

I write because I want to be heard, I want my point of view affirmed and confirmed, and I enjoy it and want to do it, while showing that I am also "listening". I know that there are plenty of people who read and don't comment, who find some kernel of meaning or something of value in what I say, and who feel a kinship through this weird form of communication.

Having said that, I also have my moments when I want to give up, feel badly about a poor choice of words or possibly offending someone, or question if I am putting too much of myself on the web. I sometimes wonder if I am wasting too much time on this, and if my time should be spent, say, cleaning the kitchen... ? Again?

So I had a saved post entitled "I quit!", in case the day ever came that I felt I needed to abandon the blog. Today, I erased and wrote new text for this post, and you will see, I have come to a different conclusion.

When tempted to throw in the towel, I am often reminded that the enormous intellectual generosity showed by great artists, musicians, scientists, craftspeople and "average joes" have given us all so much. And sometimes you can't dig up the gems until you have a whole pile of work from which to harvest the best products. So I keep going... blogging... designing... working... mothering...wifeing... friending.





It took me three tries to make this loaf of bread this weekend. (Don't ask.) And it was soooo worth the trouble. I was rebelling against the gluten-free options we had been trying for my son's benefit. Had I not attempted so many times, I would have just had a disappointing experience to share with you now.

You may already know I am a Metropolitan Museum of Art maniac. When I went to see Jasper Johns 50 gray canvases a few weeks ago, I was reminded that everything is worth doing well. Now, one can become a fanatic, of course, but, from this vast sea of gray, I could see these sparkling pieces of genius, that would have never existed, if not for his endless attempts at conveying his messages with the use of such a non-color. So, it wasn't a exhibit for everyone, but I felt there was a special message in it for me.

Keep going. Keep trying. Persevere. It may not all be worth it, but some of it will be, and you'll never know unless you try...

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I'm giving a talk on fashion...

On April 28th, I'll be giving a talk to a group of girls, ages 12-17... and I must admit, I have an AGENDA. I'm very excited about it.

Let's face it, I'm getting older (more mature?) and I am seeing the way adolescent and teen girls dress nowadays, and I just want to do my best to let them know that clothing is personal expression, communication, and that it is POWERFUL. It can set or remove boundaries, help identify you as part of a group, or NOT part of one. It can show your own artistic flair, flatter your figure, protect you, restrict you, or make you feel cozy, comfortable, or athletic. I want them to know that expensive doesn't mean "better" (although it can), but your pocketbook doesn't limit how creative you can be. I want to show them that dressmaking and alterations are great skills to learn for their personal wardrobes, and that celebrities can be inspiration, as long as you understand that clothing also needs to be practical for your own life.

I wish I could also hold a bonfire for some of the more popular items I wish would just go away... but maybe that's taking things a bit too far.

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Dirty tricks patterns play... (or, Things to know #10)

This is the tenth entry of the Things to know series...

I call these things "dirty tricks", because they are potential deal-breakers when it comes to getting the desired result when sewing...

Multi-part pieces...

When using a pattern from one of the major pattern companies, please note that, due to the size limits of the pattern tissue, the printers of your pattern might find it necessary to divide some pattern pieces into two (or more) parts. So, you may occasionally find a pattern piece that is numbered, let's use #1, as an example... but it actually needs another part(s) to complete it. Both piece 1 and piece #1A (its extension), must be taped together to make a complete piece. This spells disaster for the hasty, artistic mind that sees only piece #1, is not following the cutting instructions as written, and goes straight to pinning and cutting just that piece #1, without noticing that it is incomplete.

Sometimes, the piece has an extension to create another view, when there are different versions of one design.



This Miyake coat has an extension piece for #4, to create View B, which is longer than View A.

On strapless designs...

Strapless garments often measure less than your body measurement at the bustline. This is especially true if the garment does not have significant structural support (boning, etc.). Although the real key to keeping a strapless garment up is the boning and proper, snug waist fit, it needs to hug your bosom tight to keep "the girls" in there.

No provision for above waist adjustments...

This should be read as "Women who are ample-bosomed, or have other major upper-body fit issues need not apply". If you know a bit about design, and can adjust both the fit and design details to accommodate your shape, go ahead and do it! Otherwise, you will be left to wonder why the features are no longer aligned the way the designer intended.






Did you know...Maternity patterns are based on pre-pregnancy measurements (and a B cup)...?

I ask you, who the heck is a B cup when they're pregnant enough to wear maternity garb? Who the heck remembers their pre-pregnancy measurements when buying maternity patterns? Well, I don't know of a better system, but what a pain...



Ever experienced this one? You followed the directions, made the garment, looks great... but you can't move.
Some designs, especially for sleeves, are flawed when it comes to allowing for movement. If the fabric doesn't stretch, and the design looks like this... know that the "funky chicken" cannot be part of the plan for that night.



Also, beware close-fitting sleeves that only have a partial armhole seam. You know the kind... a tiny cap sleeve (usually found in formal wear) that looks like a wing" attached to the bodice? Looks like you'll have to find a waltz partner shorter than you are...

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