Inspired by a velvet dress she had seen in Vogue Taryn set out to recreate it.
Around the age of eight, my grandmother taught me how to sew a crazy quilt (which is essentially made of scraps of fabric, sewn together to form a rectangle).
I remember the thrill of creating something large, colourful and interesting out of bits of fabric and padding. My sewing skills haven’t developed much since then, but not for lack of trying, or lack of ambition.
When I was 17 I made my own prom dress. It was inspired by a dress I’d seen in Vogue. A long, red velvet gown, tight – fitting with a split down the front that turned into a split down the side. It laced up with red ribbon. It was raunchy, edgy and show – stopping. It was also an incredibly challenging design to re-create, especially without a pattern.
My first mistake was buying velvet that was too thick, the original had probably been made with stretch velvet but the local fabric shop only had velvet so thick it wouldn’t be out of place upholstering a couch. I didn’t know it at the time but the fabric’s thickness added a good few inches to my girth, creating a most unflattering silhouette. Thick velvet is a nightmare to sew with and I shed many tears over the sewing machine as I tried to stitch two pieces of fat fabric together on my poor little learner’s machine.
I didn’t allow enough fabric for the hem when I cut the fabric and with those few snips all of a sudden my floor – length evening gown became above – ankle length. Tight fitting, long evening dresses look a bit ridiculous when the bottom of the dress sits just above the ankle – but I didn’t know this at the time either. I begged my mother to let me abandon the project. Her response was that she’d spent a small fortune on velvet upholstery fabric and that her money was not for wasting.
The laced up part of the dress was supposed to begin between the breasts, move in an elegant curve down towards the hip and then run all the way down the leg. A challenge for an expert pattern – cutter, a guaranteed disaster in my hands. When I tried the dress on, we found out that the cut of my curve was off.
I couldn’t wear knickers as that would ruin the look of the ribbons crossing the exposed skin. But there was no way I was going to my school prom with no undies on, especially when the curve of the dress was already flying so close to the sun, so to speak.
On the night of the prom, I had to wear flat shoes with my dress because high heels looked absurd with the length of the dress being so strange. I’d not cut big enough arm holes so within minutes of wearing it I had red chaffing along my armpits where the lush, thick fabric cut into my skin. I spent the night twisting myself and the dress to keep the split away from my nether regions. I panicked incessantly about someone pulling on the ribbon and leaving me naked. It was a disaster of a project. Inflated confidence in my abilities equally measured my dire lack of skill.
I was reminded of the prom dress this week, because folks, I’ve done it again. I started an overly ambitious, over-the-top project for Pride and I nearly had a breakdown last week because of it.
This time it’s not my Mum reminding me how much she spent on materials, it’s me. I’ve invested so much time and money that I must finish it. But sure if it’s a disaster, at least I’ll have a story to tell.
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