So if you’ve ever worked with chiffon, you can understand why it’s so frightening to sew with this mercurial fabric. Or rather, cut. Or handle in any way. The first time I used chiffon, I wanted to throw my sewing machine and scissors and pins and everything out the window. I haven’t touched it again for years, opting instead for knits or wovens when I’m shopping to make a dress.
But then I saw this lovely print in the remnants section and I thought I’d give it a try. Maybe that one traumatic experience was an isolated one. And you know what? It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as all. Then again, this isn’t as silky a chiffon fabric as most of them are, and the fact that it’s double-threaded (not sure I’m using the right term here, so I apologize) made it much easier to manipulate. It felt more like a woven than anything.
I made this with an invisible zipper on the side, not on the back because I hate back zippers. I can never get them on without asking for help, and who wants to do that? This actually the first time I’ve ever installed a zipper on a dress, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I would recommend searching some other videos or tutorials on how to install a zipper though, because I don’t think my demonstration was a very good one.
Anyway, here’s the tutorial.
BUT ON TO ANOTHER STORY about this dress and the photographing thereof. This is somewhat unrelated but since this is my blog, I’m going to force you to read it. Well, I can’t force you to read it, but it’s here so. There.
I’ve been petsitting at some friends’ house, watching their little dog Reggie. (You might know him as the co-host in some of these videos and pictures. 🙂 ) The house has an automatic locking door, but I’m usually very good at bringing a key with me, even when I step out shortly to get the mail or something.
The morning I got up to take pictures of this dress was perfect. I actually was up on time, did my hair and everything all efficient-like. My camera gave me no problems, the lighting was perfect, the tripod worked fine.
I took a few shots until I was satisfied, and then I walked back to the house.
And the door was locked.
The door was locked.
THE DOOR WAS LOCKED.
I freaked out. I hugged the door, tried to push it open. I jiggled the doorknob. “Control Z,” I sobbed, “control z, control z.” But of course, there is no control Z for life. And I kept thinking that maybe I’m still asleep and I’ll wake up to realize this is some weird dream that paranoid me has about locking herself out. But nope. I was definitely awake, as the pinching in my toes from my wedges reminded me.
I checked under all the doormats to see if maybe by some miracle I could find a spare. Nope. I checked the garden. Nope. I walked around to the patio. The wall came up to my nose. I tried to haul myself up. Wearing a super tight dress and 4-inch wedges, and managing to convince myself that my upper body strength was clearly stronger now that I’ve been swimming.
But I was wrong. Because not all the swimming in the world prepares you to haul yourself up over a four-feet wall when you’re only five feet yourself. All I had on me was this dress, a jacket, my tripod, and my camera. My phone was inside the house. It was six in the morning.
I went across the pathway and knocked on the neighbor’s door, but there was no answer. So then I walked to the neighbor next door, and of course there was no answer. Not that I blame anyone, seeing as it was super early. So I tried one last time to find a spare. I even tried to ram myself against the door but since I’m not a 300-pound man, that was pretty pointless. All I managed was to make Reggie bark and bark and bark.
I decided to try the neighbor across the pathway one last time because I had briefly said hi to her one morning when she saw me carting my tripod across the neighborhood, so I figured at least we’ve got that little moment as repertoire. And sure enough, this time she answered the door.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” I said, “but I’m petsitting for your neighbors, and I’ve locked myself out. Do you happen to have a spare key, maybe they left one with you?”
She shook her head, which made me want to curl up into a ball and die. “No, we all keep to ourselves around here, pretty much.”
I was dismayed, but believe it or not, this is not the first time I’ve locked myself out. “Is there a leasing office I could try? Maybe they’ll have a key.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s all privately owned homes.”
At that point, I just wanted to sit down and give up. I had to be at work in a few hours, and I had no phone, no keys, no way to get into the house or into my car or anywhere really. All I had was my useless camera and my useless tripod. But at least I had gotten some pictures in!
Then she told me, “Well you can either break a window. Or call a locksmith.”
And I don’t know why the idea had never occurred to me. Not the breaking the window, because I thought about that in all legitimacy and the only thing stopping me was the fact that the neighbors would call the cops. And that I’d be sleeping in a pretty unsafe home for the next few nights until I could get it fixed. But the locksmith–I knew it would be expensive, but not as expensive as fixing a broken window.
“Okay! If you let me borrow your phone, I can google a locksmith and have them come out here.”
“Come on in.”
She let me into her house, and then gave me her phone. It was a Nokia from 1989. Or so it felt. I didn’t even recognize the buttons on there. What is “Send” and what does it do? Then she pulled out a Yellow Pages.
The only thing I could think was, “Are they even going to be in business?” But I dialed and sure enough, someone picked up. They told me they would be there in an hour. So I hung out with Diane, the neighbor, who also let me use her phone to call work, and got me some water, and offered to make me breakfast and take care of me, and kept me company while I waited for the locksmith even though she had to be at work herself.
Thank God for good neighbors and good people and for Diane. I’m totally going to send that woman some flowers. And you know what? She showed me a bunch of her cross stitch projects, and they are absolutely gorgeous. I would show them here, but I didn’t ask her for permission even though I really should have.
Eventually the locksmith came and played with the doorknob. Five minutes and ninety painful dollars later, I was back inside. NINETY DOLLARS. Do you know how many shoes I could have bought with that?
And that is what happened during this photo shoot. You guys can’t say I haven’t suffered for my art. Hope you like it!
Next week we’re making the two-toned, lace body over arrow print skirt dress. You’ll need a yard and a half of lining fabric, about half a yard of lace fabric, and a yard of a print, woven fabric plus some elastic. See you guys on Tuesday for the tutorial!