OWOP DAY SIX: DRINKLOG, JUST POUR ME SOME WINE

(a little updated pre-script, my family thanks you for the warm and fuzzies.  i know i often confuse the issue by writing about stuff that has absolutely nothing to do with the dress i'm showing off.  i wasn't super close with my nana, but i'm hella close with my kalkatroonaans, and the miles of exorbitantly priced separation fueled my typing [see; face in shot below]. but we're all good, and happy we'll be together.  okay bye.)

i woke up one morning finding myself wanting to work with this felty black lace from my last visit to the mood remnant box.  i tried to blame it on the poly dye fumes,  on Tigress' chic eyelet mini, on the alcohol.  but really, i just thought it was cool in all its blackness.

as i was stitching, i mused: this is the kind of rift in the fabric of reality that provokes a funeral. 

so, not that i control the universe or anything, but my maternal grandmother is gone this morning at the age of 94.

we spent a maddening morning on phones and computers, operators telling ruggy the special emergency discounted bereavement fare would be $1200, online searches dangling inexpensive fares just out of my grasp. (they've got these great little dinky smarmy toolbars that'll show you the low fares other people got just the day before YOU started hopelessly searching! because it's helpful!)  i was enraged that we couldn't make some attainable airfare appear, because after all, I CAN DO ANYTHING I SET MY MIND TO.   even when i don't mean to! doesn't the universe know this?  see: rift in fabric, black dress.

(i swear to god i'm wearing a slip under this.  mount crackatoa isn't imploding, so you know i'm not lying.  but it sure as hell looks like i'm nekkid.  perhaps a colored slip next time?)

i joke, but really.  i wanted to be with my family.  not surprising.

which prompts the question: what the hell is wrong with the world?  at one point, an airline told ruggy they could have me there one day after the funeral, and oh, BONUS, after the scant five hours of daylight they'd give me at my destination, i'd need to get back on a plane, sleep in a frigging airport, and catch another plane home.  for only $700, ONE WAY.  and i lost count of how many agents told us to "have a nice day" after they were unable to help us with tickets.  to a FUNERAL.

it's not the operator's fault, but it is not the computer's fault either.  ultimately, some fellow human sets these rules.  the fact that we don't do the right thing for each other, in so many circumstances, is some human being's fault.  

you can see i started down a slippery slope.  so i stopped.  and got dressed up. 

and then felt absolutely stupid stomping around in this getup, considering the situation.  but i needed a break.  it was always my intention to look model-irritated in these, but now i just look... pissed.  

shoot over, rage still high, brother beast called, and his confidence in my persuasive abilities got me to try one more avenue.   eureka, american airlines frequent flyer program came through and released a couple of seats for me.  i told the operator i wanted to jump through the phone and hug her.  she was happy.

i think she had a good day at work.

this is my "look at my pretty hem and don't think about airlines" picture.  but really, i just look inebriated.

you wanna know about the dress?  okay.

i didn't finish the neck and armhole edges (you can see the shoulder edge flipping out say hello to the world above) because i'm not sure how i want to finish them yet.  maybe flesh toned organza?  maybe just leave it raw?

for the hemline, i cut around the design to create scallops.  when the hem refused to lie flat, i backed it with another line of scallops.  worked like a charm.

there wasn't much of this material, it said half a yard, and it meant it.  if by "meaning it" you mean "eyeballing it while intoxicated".  but the bolt had been wide, the half yard was long and skinny, and fancy cutting prevailed.  i have about a four inch square left.  lots of strips joined forces to make the gathered square skirt.

of course, there was no black zipper to be found in the west coast kalkatroonan residence. in my kaleidescope of coils, this shiny silver separating zipper was the winner.  i inserted it upside down so that the zipper head hangs down at le booty.  i thought that was fun.   the lace being quite... holy... i turned it under 1/4 inch, sandwiched a thin strip of interfacing into the ironed fold, and topstitched it onto the zipper.




yes, that's purply midnight blue thread.  WHAT.  my only spool of black thread resides in east coast digs.   it shall not have any californian mates.

OWOPS are documented and drinks ready, after all, i'm going to the land of parental kalkatroonans.  much will be imbibed.  as mama kalkatroona said, ninety-four is a big damn number, that's a lot of toasts.

(but i can't promise you i'll be wearing said outfit in public.  i sure as hell won't be wearing this to the funeral, i'll tell you that much.  Not.  Appropriate.)

outfit:

dress:  PR's gathered sundress, modified skirt
glasses: etsy
hoops: vintage
shoes: zara

drink:
wine, godammit.