Post Fourteen: Zips Don't Lie

Remember the skirt I draped that I was talking about the last time I blogged (if not, it's no big deal; just scroll down a ways and you'll be promptly reminded)?  Well, it turns out that there needs to be some sort of functioning closure (something I only ever half considered in my designs).  Ipso facto, my 3D classmates and I were treated to a demo on how to sew an invisible zipper.  There were many steps and I took copious notes.  Usually, when there's a demo in class, I understand what's happening, but have the utmost difficulty in applying the procedure within the comforts of my own home.  Perhaps it's my nerves, but whatever the cause, I took extra care with my notes this week.  

Observe: 

Needless to say, I am not as experienced a sewer as my 3D teacher; imagine the level of intimidation I felt upon seeing her invisible zipper (which, if you ask me, looked more like a normal seam from the front) and wondering how on earth I could make one even remotely similar.  I was in awe of how well she made it.  Granted, there were issues with the tension on the machine she was using, but her process seemed effortless and the product was fabuloso.  

Observe: 

Realizing that I couldn't let my fear paralyze me, I got down to business.  I cut and ironed my muslin and zipper, marked out all my sew lines, and followed every instruction as I had written it.  It wound up not being as hard as I thought it was going to be.  Overall, I'd say it was a very straightforward process. Even so, I felt ridiculously satisfied when I reached the end product.  

Observe it: 

I realize that this is far from perfect.  I also realize that my being able to sew a sample invisible zipper does not make me a master seamstress.  However, it makes me feel like a rock star.  I have a new-found love for invisible zippers, and can't fight the urge to put them into all of my designs.  I have yet to learn how to sew in centered and lapped zippers, but something tells me I'll be obsessed with those as well.  I've always liked zippers (Schiaparelli style), but now that I more thoroughly understand them, I can appreciate them, or at the very least accurately value them.  

Look!  My zipper actually opens!  If that isn't the coolest thing ever, then I don't know what is.  

Post Thirteen: Through the Drapevine!

My first twelve or thirteen weeks here in the Fashion curriculum have been ridiculously informative; I feel like I'm learning/hearing about new things every day.  Things that I barely know existed three months ago are now my current obsessions -- and what's more, they actually make sense!  The most recent addition to my list -- "Things That I Didn't Understand When I First Heard About Them A Few Weeks Ago" -- is draping/pattern drafting.  

This "draping" is something I have heard of for a while, and once thought pertained only to non-tailored garments.  Then I reached Week 6 of my Integrated Studio 1 class, and things changed.  I was "draping" shirts to make new shirts and it was exciting.  Meanwhile, my teacher had been mentioning "draping" collars -- zero sense.  She had spoken of "draping" patterns, and how she preferred that method to using slopers and pattern manipulations (the only thing I knew!) -- less sense.  I could not wrap my mind around how someone could put fabric on a dress form, pin it, and then mysteriously have a sloperless pattern.  What seemed to me was that using a 3D dress form to make a 2D pattern that would go onto a 3D person was confusing; I much preferred (conceptually) the idea of taking slopers and making alterations to them.  

Then one day, during one of the most eye-opening demonstrations I have received ever in my 13 weeks in the fashion curriculum, I was shown how to "drape" a skirt.  All of a sudden, everything made sense -- darts, curves, this "twill tape" I was instructed to buy, grain line.  I felt enlightened.  After the demonstration, my teacher sent us off to "drape" our own skirts and make patterns from them!!!!!  I thought (and still think) that that was the coolest thing ever.  I went crazy.  I was a "draping"machine.  True, I barely know the difference between a tuck and a pleat, but that's no big (I hope).  Participating in this activity -- which  presume is relatively simple -- gave me a sense of legitimacy and cemented my intent to become genuinely interested in and fully consumed by the things I explore with/design.  Below are some of my findings!  

Here's a skirt front with some pleats.  I think these are inverted box pleats?  I know I should be embarrassed that I'm not 100% positive, but I'm too distracted by how excited I am that I can make a pattern from this.  

Oh, here's an example of my going fold-wild.  I don't think I would be able to make a pattern out of this "drapery" -- maybe next semester.  But I do give myself an A for effort!  

Here's a pattern I actually drafted myself!  This part was so nerve wracking and also exhilarating.  I was so scared that my line would look hideously wonky or wouldn't resemble a skirt pattern in the least.  I think it came out pretty okay for my first time!  I just hope that when I actually make the skirt it works.  

Here's what I "draped" to make the pattern!  In my head, it's ridiculously edgy and 1000% cool.  I am well aware that it isn't obscenely interesting, but I don't really care.  I designed it from scratch; that's all I really need to feel great about it.  

Post Twelve: The Timelessness of the Fashionista

When you think of grandmas (specifically, ones who go by 'Grammy,' or 'Grams,' for short), what images come to mind?  For my Grammy, the images include rice balls, playing cards, and polo shirts.  

For every styling-related urge I had throughout my childhood, Grammy as my canvas; whenever I wanted to play with someone's hair, it was hers.  Whenever I wanted to put make-up on someone's face, it was hers.  

To my pure delight, Grams and I went to Saks Off Fifth.  If you knew Grams, you could imagine the amount of complaints she had while I styled her with the various designer accessories we found.  But, unfortunately for you, you don't know Grams.  So you don't know how she went on and on about how "stupid" I was making her look.  I'll have you know that by the end of our style sesh, she was picking out accessories herself -- and even combining them.  As much as she may have pretended to hate the whole experience, she and I both know that that was not the case; she was in hysterics the entire time.  She's been a little stressed lately (without going into too much detail, she just sold her house and is in the process of moving), so making her laugh is currently one of my favorite things to do.  You might think that it's a cheap connection to fashion, but I loved finding a way to merge making Grams laugh and designer fashion accessories.  She is one of the most interesting personalities I've ever met, and I love making her happy.  One of the things I want most out of my career in fashion design is to make people that happy.  You don't know true happiness until you've made a seventy-one-year-old laugh hysterically in the middle of a Saks Off Fifth.  

Perhaps what I found most inspiring about the entire experience was the fact that Grams, whose wardrobe consists of polo shirts that don't come from Ralph Lauren, was modeling.  Every time I told her to strike a pose, she did, as if she were on the runway.  I found that very interesting -- how jovially casual she was, and how that compares to runway dramatics.  It reminded me of the Lanvin 2011 ad campaign.  To me, both that and Grams's photo shoot are fashionably fun, and all I need to smile.  

$350 sunglasses?  No match for this fashionista.  Did you know she can blow bubbles with any kind of gum?  Observe the polo shirts.  You can't tell, but she's loving this.  Obviously, so am I.  Any time I can combine my two favorite things, fashion and family, I am set.  

Grams is well aware of the oncoming trends.  Here, she models a colored fur hat.  It's rabbit, in case you were wondering.  

Here's the 2011-2012 Lanvin ad.  It was shown to me a couple of weeks ago in my Integrated Studio class, and I can't get over it.  While I respect, recognize, and observe the earnestness of fashion, I feel that there is absolutely a place for clever movements such as this.  

Oh, and one more thing!  Grammy granted me permission to use blog these photos only under the condition that I show a photo of how she really looks.  So, everyone, here she is.  

Post Eleven: Ruh Roh

I'm not going to lie -- I was a total cartoon junkie when I was younger.  I spent my productive childhood being entertained by the likes of many a cartoon -- from the classics (Bugs was my top Loony Toon), to the gritty nineties' Ren & Stimpy, to the fairly modern Spongebob Squarepants.  I loved them all.  Even today, I find myself tuning into the occasional wabbit season, or accidentally laughing out loud at The Fairly Odd Parents or Futurama -- two of the more clever shows I've come across.  I don't quite know what keeps me coming back to them; I'm well aware of how embarrassing it is to be happily watching them, but I can't stay away!  I'm fairly positive that my kindergarden self wasn't attracted by the witty banter, but rather by the jovial use of movement and color.  I know this is going to sound absolutely absurd, but cartoon characters have an animation (really, no pun intended) that I find fascinating.  Their liveliness and indestructibility are things that we, as humans, can't legitimately possess.  I've never really thought about it before, but those qualities are very well epitomized by the characters' appearance.  Most cartoons are made up of simplified, stylized lines and flat, often bright (depending on the time period, demographic, and artist) colors.  These qualities push the characters just far enough away from reality so that viewers may suspend their corporeal disbelief.  I realize that I am more than likely reading far too deeply into something so childish, but the topic really got me thinking.  Moreover, I started to think about the idea of cartoon color/line/movement schemes and fabric prints; if clothes could embody the ideals portrayed by cartoons, then the clotheswearer would follow suit.  If handled accurately, a person could be dressed to look 'lively and indestructible' -- unwaveringly fun.
That being said, you can imagine my delight when I feasted my eyes on the scene showed below.  Yes, somewhere, deep within the residential streets of Staten Island, there lies an extremely devoted member of the gang (for those of you who aren't that familiar with the many adventures of Scooby Doo, the characters are well versed in seventies jargon...and fashions).

I'm completely obsessed.  I'm thoroughly jealous.  I'm aware that this is almost as embarrassing as carrying around Pokeballs (...of Pokemon.  Don't worry; I was never really a fan.), but I was literally stopped in my tracks by how cool this was.  

It isn't a bad likeness either; I've seen some seriously homemade versions on TV or the internet.  But this is borderline professional.  I'm thinking of hiring the owner of the vehicle for some detective work.  

Here's the gang.  I think they very much visually demonstrate what I was writing about.  For some reason, instead of making them seem stationary, their two-dimensionality and flat, bright colors work to bring them to life.  

I used some colors I "eyedroppered" from the first photo to make a motif; the colors are somewhat dated, so I sought out to make a motif that followed suit.  

While I certainly can't see such a print on Daphne (why, yes, I did just reference that fashionista cartoon character as if she were a real person), I dig it.  I tried to reference the movement of the characters as well as their colorful flexibility.