50s Dress

Here is a drawing of a dress that I put onto a picture of me. The style is one I screen scraped from a sewing pattern from 1951.

One thing I finally figured out about sewing patterns is that they can be somewhat ... idealized. Clothes one finds in stores are made to be worn by someone. Sewing patterns may be designs that look nice, or look like what someone wishes she could look like, but they are like playing the role of the princess in the fairy tale. They don't necessarily play well in real life.

Still, sometimes they do work in real life. This one might ... The drawing is rough and of course, it is topped by my face and my pose is hardly one for the fashion rags. I like to think it has potential though.

The upgrading of style

Just for fun, it would be interesting to look somehow more interesting than that I just got up, put on jeans and a t-shirt & bolted out the door.

So I asked myself, well, what do I want to look like. Actually, I passed someone on the trail wearing orange socks and baby blue crocs. I noticed this from quite a ways away. Striking, but I can't say that it screams out that it is something I would want to follow. It might scream out, it might say this is a unique person who goes her own way, yes. Certainly, I want my style to say that I'm a unique person with my own thoughts, yes. However, I think I would rather it murmur this in dulcet tones, rather like an Austin heroine translating an Italian libretto, while saying she knows little Italian.

I asked myself -- if my look were like a piece of music, what would that music be? Bach's "Little" Fugue in G Minor would do. It appears simple, but is really complex; it is beautiful; it can be listened to over & over again and still be enjoyed each time.