I go into the living room just to look at it and I caress the pearls. I did the same thing with the plastic feathers of my cardinal dress. I am a fondler.
I just love the actual pearl dress; the photos of it don’t do it justice. (See previous post.)
Each time I finish one, so far, I think to myself: “There’s no way I can make another one I’ll like as much as this one.” I did the peacock dress first and it was a tough act to follow. I was really pleased with it. But the cardinal dress thrilled me. It worked even though it is totally weird.
And now, I think the pearl dress is fabulous. I had my doubts for a while, for sure, but it blazes the eye with its bulbous pearls. And I’ve one more embellishment to add to it. I saw it in Christmas decorations for sale at the craft store.
There is not going to be any slack once the pearl dress is done. Right after I make it, I am going to make the crest for the cheerleader sweater. I am going to use tissue paper I think. (I have a ton of it to get rid of.) Then the pleated skirt; I can hardly wait to do it. It’s going to be two colours — and then, of course, the pom poms.
Then, for sure, is the apron. The apron plays a key role in the script I’m writing. It will be very simple to do and it’s number six.
The other four remain unknown. I think there might be a nurse’s uniform. May be a drag queen dress, too. Maybe. And maybe a Miss Canada dress or a Wonder Woman costume. A poodle dress?
The thing is, I should have written the play first and the dresses should come from the thesis of the curator of the exhibition. But they don’t. I’m starting backwards, with the dresses, and then making the script and curatorial statement for the exhibition fit my desires.
It takes forever to make each one and that’s the point. The best part of each one is all the finicky time-consuming detail work that is super fulfilling for me.
I’d love to smock a paper baby dress, but it’s too pure. My dresses mix beauty and idiocy. When I think of doing a smocked paper baby dress, the only way I could do it would be if it were soiled with (fake) feces. That’s my twisted way.
|I LOVED Namibia and the dunes but it was HOT|
and the air is full of silica — not great for someone
with asthma. Running down was extraordinary