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oiranI am finding my own attitude very ugly these last couple of days. I have such a greedy skull, I'm never satisfied, and then I sulk. Of course, it's in good portion due to hormones, but I can't discount that I'm not feeling very pretty on the inside lately as a completely separate issue.
any 3 questions: Anyone want to ask me anything? Or, rather, three anythings? I'm in a tell-all mood... And I think you're supposed to ask people to do the same, but I won't hold you to it.
I finished Kicky's skirt. It's about an inch too big in the waist, which means I have to pick everything out again, at least at the waist. I think the weight of the fabric pulled it out a bit. Well, now I know for next time I sew a sequin mermaid-ish skirt with a train and detachable double ruffle. However, she's going to go ahead and wear it as-is to the photo shoot next week. At that time, I hope to have photos to show everyone how fabulous my skillz are. I'm really proud of this. I know it's got incredibly limited utility, but it's just damn cool in its little category. And, I made it. I hadn't made anything in about two years, and all of those were fat clothes, for me, and not shiny or pretty. Once I've got this project out of the way, I can work on the jacket for myself that I've got all planned out.
any 3 questions: Anyone want to ask me anything? Or, rather, three anythings? I'm in a tell-all mood... And I think you're supposed to ask people to do the same, but I won't hold you to it.
I finished Kicky's skirt. It's about an inch too big in the waist, which means I have to pick everything out again, at least at the waist. I think the weight of the fabric pulled it out a bit. Well, now I know for next time I sew a sequin mermaid-ish skirt with a train and detachable double ruffle. However, she's going to go ahead and wear it as-is to the photo shoot next week. At that time, I hope to have photos to show everyone how fabulous my skillz are. I'm really proud of this. I know it's got incredibly limited utility, but it's just damn cool in its little category. And, I made it. I hadn't made anything in about two years, and all of those were fat clothes, for me, and not shiny or pretty. Once I've got this project out of the way, I can work on the jacket for myself that I've got all planned out.
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Date: 2004-04-15 11:46 pm (UTC)It's really only been the last few months that I've stopped whining constantly about how much I hate it here. Because, really, I don't. There are very few places we could live where I could spend a year-plus doing nothing much that would allow us to scrape by financially.
I'm close to so many places I like--a day or two of driving from just about anywhere east of the Rockies (if you drive like me, at any rate), and I do like to drive. I've got fannish friends a couple hours away, and my own personal dress-up doll (i.e., Kicky) just a few blocks over. I have a nice house, though I mostly wander around it in a daze and don't notice how pretty it is most of the time.
2) Gosh: Thinking out loud: I love Madeleine Vionnet, but her dresses weren't cut for my body type. Paul Poiret or maybe the modern equivalent/copycat, Romeo Gigli. Surreal and whimsical Elsa Schiaparelli. Adrian, the Hollywood costume designer. Basically, a soft 1920s avant-garde silhouette, or a tailored, skirt-suit fantasy world with lots of gauntlet gloves and darling hats. If I can really only have the one, my lifestyle is must less structured (to say the least) than most...I'd have to pick Paul Poiret.
It's an odd combination, but I know I want Roger Vivier to make my shoes.
3) I don't mind getting older. In fact, I revel in it in a very superficial way. I am routinely mistaken for someone 10 or even 15 years younger than I am, so it's fun to be able to tell people that I'm actually very, very old. However, I panic at the idea of having to live through another 30 years. I feel like a complete failure (and it would be hard to argue the point otherwise), and it's disheartening to think of a great span of time that I will probably misuse or waste in some way. I'm not in a frame of mind in recent months where I hold onto the idea quite as tightly, but the notion that I could opt out at some point has been an odd comfort to me off and on for years.
However, ideally, a 70-year-old me will finally have all silver hair, will probably look 50-ish, will laugh too loud and flirt inappropriately and embarrass the 74-year-old Mr. Glove. I will have written a book that will have had less success than I'd like, because everything I do has less success than I'd like. I hope that some of the friendships that have been kindled in these last couple of years will endure--I miss having a history with people, and the thought that I could have 30 years of memories with people in addition to Mr. G is very nice indeed. This is terribly vague, I know, but I really don't think about this if I can avoid it.
My phobias: addressing the future, answering the telephone.