my camera is breaking up with me.

one saturday morning before a double shift, i woke up and decided i needed a new dress for a birthday party later that night. i'm running into this situation lately, i have the fabric i want to wear, but it's not made into anything wear-able, it's stting folded on my shelf. it's like my fabric stash is now my closet. a problem when you're short on time.

i had this awesome silk that i found at a very odd fabric store down in chelsea for a dollar a yard (!), but i didn't have any patterns that came close to what was in my head. i'd been afraid to cut into these 6 yards of gorgeous for several months now, at the price i paid i'm not sure why... maybe because it was such a steal? if nothing good came of it, the bargain would be lost-- and that might be worse than ruining real-world priced fabric.

now, i'm afraid i can't really show you this dress. i would like to show you this dress, very much. i'm sorta proud of it, for reasons to follow. but my camera had other ideas. here's the best shot:

and here come the blur:

sadly, i think it's time for a new camera. is six years too much to expect from the life of a canon powershot A80? i'm dreading buying a new one with every fiber of my being. i get so OCD... hours in front of the screen stressing... but this baby is now producing an overlay of tiny red dots, and doesn't want to focus so much anymore.

the reason for my pride is that i draped it on myself. my dress form is still far away in LA sunshine (and for that matter, has honkers waaaay bigger than mine). i folded the fabric on the bias, cut two rectangles, then swished, pinned and handstitched for two hours till it was ready for machine sewing. it has angles and pin tucks and asymmetrical    slashes and abstract sleeves and layers and folds...
 


i can hear the internet thinking: and?







i know! you can't see how cool it is! (but look how cool i think i am, ignorant oona blissfully unaware of her camera's evil intentions. ☞)

i swear it's awesome in person. at the birthday party, one of the ladies loved it so much she's hired me to make an evening gown for a gala. no lie.

feh. i'm off to hunt for a camera.

happy fishy new year

on december thirty first we have a standing date with ten of our closest friends. it is a motley crew consisting of a nurse, carpenters, designers, a pharmacist, a teacher, small business owners, some actors and a writer. two of this crew could be a chef and a sommelier if they ever decided to jump ship on their chosen careers, and these two whip up a twelve course meal that starts in the eve and ends some time in the new year, usually around four in the morning.

we don't see the ball drop, much less look at a clock and realize the next 365 has begun. phones and computers are switched off and put far, far away. champagne is popped to celebrate the start of the evening rather than the start of a new year. it becomes increasingly hard (and more dangerous) to get up from the table for any reason as the courses pile up-- and even harder to remember whose turn it is to toast. we do seem to remember to open the wine specifically chosen for each course, and to scream in delight at each new bite and sip. the children sleeping soundly upstairs don't mind, apparently raucous behavior is in their genes and they are content to dream of the age where they'll sit together at their own new year's feast.

before complete inebriation takes over, homemade presents of rum cake, beautifully written cards, breakfast sausage, irish cream and lounge-y pants are handed out (they were a success!). people do get up, with some effort, to take turns crashing into the sofa between courses (i was guilty of that party foul twice). by the time dessert rolled around, it was a communal undertaking of twelve happy hands grabbing for dark chocolate fried up in crispy cinnamon wontons. the planned shot of bourbon hot chocolate and glass of tawny port were intelligently saved for the morning. we followed through with this detour-- sipping port in lounge-y pants and giggling at the kids playing proved to be the perfect hangover remedy.

there was meat involved, but the photographer started to get sloppy around the fourth course... that time of the evening when you start to take pictures with your brain. and the pictures in my brain are the best. they'll keep me happy till 2011.

may your new year's memories keep you happy as well!