Hallowe’en, Age 11
May 19th, 2012
Finally, we come to a costume that’s just too darn small for me to get on anymore.
If you can’t tell by looking, I was a milkmaid. The brown skirt was ankle length (it’s the only part that still fits at all — now it falls about mid-calf). The white peasant blouse closes in the front with velcro and the red bodice fastens over it with more velcro. No wardrobe malfunctions here. There are matching pieces of the flowered lacing ribbon for my braids. I like to think I carried a milk pail instead of candy bag that year…
This costume also makes me a liar. I wrote before that 14 was the first year I made my entire costume. Well that’s just not true. Despite maternal help with costumes 12 and 13 (those posts are on their way), I sewed this one on my own too.
Interesting that my obsession with romanticized female farm laborers of the 18th and 19th centuries began at such an early age. Had I just learned that the stereotypical beauty of milkmaids was largely due to their exposure to cowpox (with resulting immunity to the disfiguring scourge of post-Renaissance Europe, smallpox)? Or was I (am I) simply echoing a genetic imperative from my Germanic and Celtic forebears?
Gingham Gown
May 5th, 2012
After all the careful deliberation over whether to wear the blue velveteen dress or pink ball gown, it turns out I will be singing tonight in purple gingham.
This may not strike you as the ideal dress for Lehar’s Merry Widow to wear to the ball, but there’s a very good reason it won out. I finally saw the costumes that everyone else would be wearing (this is a remount of a show from last summer — my singing sweetheart and I are last minute substitutions) and it turns out that of the four other women in the show, three are in gingham skirts. So this was really the best choice for the overall effect in our ensemble numbers.
The one down side is that the ankle-length skirt of this empire-style frock is rather narrow. Too narrow in fact for me to open my legs to play the cello! It was decided that the best remedy is to wear purple tights and simply hike it up over my knees when I play. Not exactly what you’d call a lady-like solution, but oh well.
If you’d care to know, I came by the dress through inheritance. It was sewn by my Aunt Linny when she was in high school. She inherited the sewing gene too, even minoring in fashion design.
Hallowe’en, Age 16
May 2nd, 2012
I can’t remember if I went Trick-Or-Treating the year I was 16. I think I did, and this isn’t what I wore. But I do know that I made, and wore (what was I thinking????) this dress to my own Night-Before-Hallowe’en party at either age 15 or 16. Since I already showed you my actual costume from age 15, and because whatever I wore at 16 was thrown together and no longer exists as a costume per se, I’m going to pretend this was from 16.
I have a feeling this fits better now than it did then. I remember holding it together with safety pins, which I’d probably need to do again if I actually wanted to move around in it. I also didn’t own suede platform stilettos at 16. They add a lot, I think.
I vaguely remember drinking goblets of fake blood — perhaps while sporting vampire teeth — and attempting to use a Ouija board. Then we probably devolved into an endless string of Beatles songs and incense burning. Ah, to be young again!
Hallowe’en, Age 15
April 29th, 2012
What 15-year-old girl doesn’t want to be a belly dancer? I had a great time sewing this set — a halter top, a bolero jacket, a wrap-around skirt, a paneled overskirt, and a coin-covered belt. I’ve got a metal belt covered in bells somewhere that I wore with the costume, but didn’t bother digging it out just to take a picture.
There’s a funny sewing story associated with this costume. While hand-stitching beads and coins onto the outfit, I suddenly decided that a real belly-dancer would have a pierced navel. And look, there was a needle in my hand! Never mind that it was threaded and attached to my project. I like to think I lit a match and sterilized it, but I do know for sure that I didn’t bother cutting the thread. Anyways, you can guess the rest.
I’m prone to fainting when people even talk about needles or blood. But somehow I managed to get the needle all the way into the ridge of skin around my navel before passing out. My mother found me unconscious and removed the needle. I still have the scar.
Needless to say, I finished the costume and wore it sans belly-jewelry.
Hallowe’en, Age 14
April 26th, 2012
Ah, the joy of trying on old Hallowe’en costumes! I bet many of you made your own costumes, once upon a time — or perhaps you still do. Do you save them all? Recycle from year to year? Or just keep a few favorites tucked away to put on when you want to terrify the neighbors? Where can I see pictures?
When I was very small, my mother made my costumes for me, boldly creating pretty much anything I could dream up. As I got a bit older, and learned to sew myself, she brought me on as a collaborator, until I gradually took over the entire process. I ran into a stash of old costumes this morning and just had to try some on.
I think this was the first costume I made by myself. I was 14 and just learning to drape my own patterns. I was also beginning to be interested in historical accuracy (don’t laugh, I was only 14). And I was reading Mallory’s Le Mort D’Arthur.
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