No, I haven’t died. No, I haven’t completely abandoned my slightly-completely-insane wedding dress project. No, I haven’t found anything better to do with my time, sort of.
In truth, I did get a full-time appointment at my job, which puts some pressure on me to look like I deserve a salary (which means reading Cracked instead of knitting at the desk). I also spent a good part of the past month making Christmas presents for a bunch of people and then forgetting to take pictures of them, which I could have put up here to make the people who didn’t get handmade presents feel bad. Although most of those people got liquor instead, so at least they have a good way of dealing with the pain.
I have worked on the dress a little bit. Last week, Nick bought me this totally badass needle set, and I got really excited and immediately switched the dress onto the new needles. I even brought it to work, because the semester hadn’t started yet and the one person requiring my help desk assistance didn’t seem to notice the giant pile of knit lace in my lap. Then there was a freak accident involving some clumsiness on my part (I apologize if you just fainted from shock), and one of the needles promptly broke. So we’re on hold for a bit until I can order a replacement.
In the meantime, however, I decided that after this post I should probably try to figure out dress construction in a way that results in fewer gigantic question marks and imagined consternation from Bravo personalities. So this Sunday I woke up, spent a few hours communing with my dogs and working on my not-a-white-power afghan, and then decided to rip up some old sheets and pin them to my butt.
In case you’ve forgotten, this is what I was going for:
My hypothesis was that I could achieve that kind of train by stapling a rectangular piece of fabric into a skirt-shaped piece of fabric. I was originally thinking that the skirt-shaped piece should be a…uh…rhombus? No, that’s not right…Google, can I get an assist?
Okay, I know the shape I’m thinking of exists, and it probably has a name, and your average third-grader could probably give it to you. But ten seconds of Googling didn’t reveal my solution, so here’s a crudely drawn image instead:
Anyway, in making my bedsheet mockup I decided to eschew the rhombotenuse and go with two old-fashioned rectangles instead. Good, comfortable, name-having rectangles.
This is what happened.
From the front, Frankendress looks like an innocent, if ugly Goodwill bedsheet or an outdated vision of what a frat party is like. It also goes beautifully with my Target pajama top.
But wait, Frankendress has a secret…
BAM! My butt has a train growing out of it. Also, seven thousand straight pins.
As some of my more apt readers may be able to deduce, this does not look a whole lot like that Coral’s Bridal dress up yonder. In fact, it looks a lot more like an outdated frat party than a fancy wedding dress. On the other hand, I don’t really know if I need that much train anyway — you all know I would just trip on it.
What do you think? Would this look better if I had gone with the rhombotenuse + rectangle combination instead of sticking with a couple of bum rectangles (pun totally not intended but worth it)? Should I just give up and get married in this? Is it possible to pin yourself into a bedsheet mockup wedding dress skirt without sustaining multiple pin-related butt injuries? How awesome was my choice of footwear?
Don’t be jealous.