Skip to main content

Scout the Seamstress

As I have mentioned, I design book covers. For the next few weeks I'll be focused on putting together covers for a series of romance books. These aren't your typical trash books with sultry images on the cover—bodice rippers, those are called. These are more wholesome and will only have an image of the main character, fully clothed, and a background general enough to let you know where the stories take place.

Easy enough except that four of these books are historical, and the costumes have to be reasonably accurate. I wandered through a costume warehouse today with my teammate, the other designer working on this project, and we found a few suitable dresses, although it was tough going. This warehouse rents costumes to theaters, so all of their dresses relate to specific shows—Oklahoma, South Pacific, and Greek tragedies that require togas. We have a lot of fun in this shop and like to imagine wearing the dozens and dozens of hats and wigs with the hundreds of dresses and old uniforms from WW1, but we don't always find what we need.

I did not find a dress from the 1650s today because there isn't a play from that time period, or so I'm told. So, I am going to make one myself. We do what we have to do. It will take the weekend, I'm sure. This is the pattern I will use, and I will have to make some slight modifications to make it as historically accurate as I can. Sigh.

My mother sewed most of our clothes when my sisters and I were growing up. I was twelve when my parents bought a dress for me from a store, actually already sewn and on a hangar. I was amazed and felt a little guilty because it cost a total of $24.95. It was a dark blue jumper with a coordinating striped blouse, and I thought I was the coolest kid in town in that thing.

My machine isn't too different from my mothers, but it's worlds apart from my grandmothers, the Wilma Flintstone version of a sewing machine with the big foot pedal that kept the thing running. I don't know how sewing was done in the 1600s, if they had a machine or made all the stitches by hand. All I can say is I'm glad I've got a modern machine in a modern world. I'll show you the results when I'm finished.

Comments

dive said…
Cool!
I can't wait to see the result, Robyn.
Those pesky Puritans weren't really into the theatre but I'm surprised the costume shop didn't have some early settler style clothes.
Hey ho.
Making your own is much more fun.
Anonymous said…
Robyn,
Who's going to be wearing the dress on your book cover? Are you going to put one of my nieces' faces on her? So many options - how do you decide!?
Mrs. G. said…
What a cool task. Can't wait to see the results.
Shazza said…
I am in awe of anyone who can sew! Can't wait to see the final product!

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Birthday...

to me! Update: Since you have asked, I only got one actual packaged gift, a beautiful hand-made bracelet from a friend, but both girls were home for the weekend, and we had dinner at the lake and a relaxing weekend. Thanks to all of you for your lovely wishes!

My Sitemeter is All Bloated and Not Quite Itself

I'm tempted to let it sit on the couch with its feet curled up under a blanket, a hot cup of coffee in hand, a block of cherry almond bark Chocolove within reach, and An Affair to Remember spinning in the DVD player. I'm one of those obsessive bloggers, the kind who checks her sitemeter as often as possible throughout the day, the kind who gauges the quality of her writing by the number of readers who regularly stop by. I've become less interested in the overall number of hits and more interested in the number of repeat hits. The return visitors are the ones I long for. When my sitemeter reads forty at the end of the day, and the majority of those hits are webpals who have conversed, I'm happy. Forty may seem low to many of you, but I've only been at this since August. To me, forty is a jackpot. A few days ago, I sat down at my laptop and discovered a number somewhere in the eighties. Eighties! Yippee! Yeeha ! Hoo-rah ! I've been discovered by the webworld , o...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...