Above & Beyond
Nov. 1st, 2011 11:20 amA discussion I had with my classmate Liah yesterday has inspired me to do this blogpost (and yes, school was good again. I went despite being mostly down with a nasty cold and I don't regret it one bit).
You might know I have a muse that does some pretty nasty things to my inspiration. I've named her Θάλεια (Thaleia) just because of the way she acts around my sewing projects (it's a pretty nasty comedy, but it's comedy nonetheless...).
I was speaking to Liah about my inspiration for a Waywatcher's cloak. Asterion has made himself one, based on the Warhammer miniature, stitching fake leaves over a green cloak. I had been collecting fall leaves, and tracing them in a notebook to compare relative shapes and sizes. I told Liah the plan was to appliqué the leaves onto a linnen base, and use at least ten shades of green. Her reaction was "'t Is maar waar je zin in heb." - a pretty grim way of saying "gee, if that's your cup of tea...."
I guess my plans for this cloak are pretty elaborate but let's face it...aren't the most elaborate costumes the best ones? When we watch someone wearing an amazing costume, we know there's a ton of work involved, that someone has gone to great lengths to combine several items of clothing in just such a way so that they make up the perfect costume for their character. We're not talking about the fifteen-bucks-standard-larp-shirt-with-a-belt that we used to wear. This is the big leagues, the Drachenfest Orks, the equivalent of the Oak Leaf Dress. We're spending months on a costume Because My Muse Told Me So -- or maybe Because It's Just Better This Way.
There's no questioning motives for these kinds of things. If you're going to spend months on a costume, why not make sure it fits well? So you get out your pattern, you make sure you make a mock-up to ensure it fits you right, you buy good fabrics that might be a bit more expensive than the buck-a-yard you get at the market, and you make sure that while you spend months on the damn thing, it's going to bloody well survive the Apocalypse. You get up at eight and spend three hours hand-sewing oak leaves onto the dress because That's What It Takes. (I've read the Oak Leaf dress diary and am following her next project the Peacock Gown (another Worth Dress, now fully embellished) with bated breath. You can still donate and get in on the action, to follow Cathy Hay's every step in this process!)
I think it's a learning curve. I used to be "meh, it doesn't fit well but at least it's done! Thank GOD it's done!". But I learned, I got my hands on better tools that allowed me to do simple tricks for complicated results -- the difference between using a ruffler foot instead of hand-gathering the whole ruffle; the difference between making your own bias tape instead of using a pre-made one that very nearly, but not quite matches your fabric. You start paying attention to details. You realise that the reason that fabric was so cheap is because it was a bad dye job, it doesn't keep its colour well, it is hell to work with, or it's just dead dinosaur. Once you realise that lined garments just hang better, it's a small step to foundation canvassing and padstitching, really.
In short: one can interpret it as the difference between being a hobbyist and a seamstress.
Maybe it takes a long time to do it the official way, but you're far more in control of the final, finished product. And in the end, you'll know it's worth the effort.
And I'm glad I've come this far. I don't mind tracing my pattern onto the fabric if it makes sure the whole gown will fit better in the end because I'm not 'fudging it'. I know that every long, tedious, minute task will contribute to the end result of a fantastic garment. And maybe, it is my cup of tea. But what awesome tea it is!
You might know I have a muse that does some pretty nasty things to my inspiration. I've named her Θάλεια (Thaleia) just because of the way she acts around my sewing projects (it's a pretty nasty comedy, but it's comedy nonetheless...).
I was speaking to Liah about my inspiration for a Waywatcher's cloak. Asterion has made himself one, based on the Warhammer miniature, stitching fake leaves over a green cloak. I had been collecting fall leaves, and tracing them in a notebook to compare relative shapes and sizes. I told Liah the plan was to appliqué the leaves onto a linnen base, and use at least ten shades of green. Her reaction was "'t Is maar waar je zin in heb." - a pretty grim way of saying "gee, if that's your cup of tea...."
I guess my plans for this cloak are pretty elaborate but let's face it...aren't the most elaborate costumes the best ones? When we watch someone wearing an amazing costume, we know there's a ton of work involved, that someone has gone to great lengths to combine several items of clothing in just such a way so that they make up the perfect costume for their character. We're not talking about the fifteen-bucks-standard-larp-shirt-with-a-belt that we used to wear. This is the big leagues, the Drachenfest Orks, the equivalent of the Oak Leaf Dress. We're spending months on a costume Because My Muse Told Me So -- or maybe Because It's Just Better This Way.
There's no questioning motives for these kinds of things. If you're going to spend months on a costume, why not make sure it fits well? So you get out your pattern, you make sure you make a mock-up to ensure it fits you right, you buy good fabrics that might be a bit more expensive than the buck-a-yard you get at the market, and you make sure that while you spend months on the damn thing, it's going to bloody well survive the Apocalypse. You get up at eight and spend three hours hand-sewing oak leaves onto the dress because That's What It Takes. (I've read the Oak Leaf dress diary and am following her next project the Peacock Gown (another Worth Dress, now fully embellished) with bated breath. You can still donate and get in on the action, to follow Cathy Hay's every step in this process!)
I think it's a learning curve. I used to be "meh, it doesn't fit well but at least it's done! Thank GOD it's done!". But I learned, I got my hands on better tools that allowed me to do simple tricks for complicated results -- the difference between using a ruffler foot instead of hand-gathering the whole ruffle; the difference between making your own bias tape instead of using a pre-made one that very nearly, but not quite matches your fabric. You start paying attention to details. You realise that the reason that fabric was so cheap is because it was a bad dye job, it doesn't keep its colour well, it is hell to work with, or it's just dead dinosaur. Once you realise that lined garments just hang better, it's a small step to foundation canvassing and padstitching, really.
In short: one can interpret it as the difference between being a hobbyist and a seamstress.
Maybe it takes a long time to do it the official way, but you're far more in control of the final, finished product. And in the end, you'll know it's worth the effort.
And I'm glad I've come this far. I don't mind tracing my pattern onto the fabric if it makes sure the whole gown will fit better in the end because I'm not 'fudging it'. I know that every long, tedious, minute task will contribute to the end result of a fantastic garment. And maybe, it is my cup of tea. But what awesome tea it is!
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Date: 2011-11-02 05:01 am (UTC)