I have just spent several hours looking at vintage patterns online. I must be missing my mother. Or maybe I'm just missing that girl that had the 30-inch bustline. Way too skinny for my height. Anyway, at the end of eighth grade, Mother sewed the sleeveless striped dress for me (in pink) and it fit perfectly. The boy I liked said it looked pretty on me.
The other two patterns are dresses I made myself in the sixties. The one with the tucks, I made in a burnt shantung--the plain short sleeves. It was the best dress I ever made. I also made the one with the scalloped collar, but I always felt like I was wearing a homemade dress when I wore it. Wrong material, I think. I stopped sewing soon after. I was generally baffled with the domestic arts.
These old patterns break my heart.
I can still feel the weight of the pattern books in my little girl hands, and sense the possibility of those pages. It was so easy to get lost in the wonder of seemingly-infinite combinations of patterns and fabrics.
ReplyDeleteAnd now I’m missing my mother.
You know I'll bet you looked glorious in that dress. It seems perfect for the girl you must have been.
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