my hump: the apparently bootylicious maxi skirt.

i have to clean the house today.

instead, i will procrastinate with a post on a much neglected blog (said neglection, pinky-swear, to end now, with no boring excuses for past behavior.)

lately i've been sewing sans pattern. mostly because i'm completely and utterly disappointed when the pattern made garment doesn't magically fit me like a glove. this could have something to do with not making a muslin, trying it on periodically, or you know, checking the measurements, but whatever. maybe further reading over at the cupcake goddess will provide some insight, but for now i'm winging it.

this maxi skirt is made from a many colored seersucker, dollar a yard (my favorite). i cut two hee-uge squares, basted the side seams and used the stripes to form pleats until my waist was snugly wrapped, stitched the pleats down, threw a couple darts in the back, then inserted ye olde invisible zipper.

the oona parental units breeze into town every so often for a sophisticated lunch with daughter & son in law (read: we are on a mission to find the fanciest & cheapest prix fixes in town, and have done quite well so far). it's becoming a tradition, and i like to wear something handmade. something comfortable so that i can also stuff myself.

that said, would you consider this to be a sexy number? form fitting? showcasing, specifically, the derriere? eh, not so much. a pervert biker, however, whole-heartedly disagreed. he found it sexy enough to quickly and quietly pedal up behind me on the sidewalk in order to grab my ass.

yes, that's right. that's the view this loser had. 4 yards of fabric. here's how it went:

(it is a warm spring day. birds sing. for the first time in months, new yorkers bask in the sun. oona strolls happily, smiling at patrons sitting at a sidewalk cafe, off to her own outdoor luncheon. suddenly, she hears the sound of a bicycle, quite close, and a hand grabs her left butt cheek. a red shirted bicyclist pedals casually away.)

oona: JACKASS! I HOPE YOU GET HIT AND DIE!

(the patrons at the sidewalk cafe, unaware of oona's predicament, stare in horror at the now insane new yorker ruining their spring lunch.)

i still love the skirt. and i'm plotting exactly what i will do if i ever hear a bicycle behind me again. it involves an elbow and the full hundred and ten pounds of my weight.