An Ominous Tropical Portent

Let me start off by saying I really like Fabric.com . It's accessible, it's cheap, it's easy, there's a huge selection (even if they do sell out quickly), and I've had good experiences with the fabrics. So this is in no way targeting Fabric.com.

That said, I recently put in an order through Fabric.com. I ordered swatches for curtains and a few things in anticipation of starting one of my next projects...and I'll post pictures of that design in good time once I've gotten closer to finalization. It's going to be fluttery and white.

Tonight the order came (hooray!) and I pulled everything out happily and started oohing and aahing and then I realized that something was missing...and something else was in its place.

I ordered 3 yards of white taffeta lining for the base of my upcoming piece...which, I'll reiterate, is going to be pretty white-based.

This is what it looked like online:



And this is what it looked like when it came out of the box:



Uh...ok, I know that colors may vary due to monitor settings...but I'm pretty sure that's not white taffeta lining. No, that is the beginnings of a muumuu.

Anyone who has sewn with me (specifically Liz) knows about my muumuu track record. The very first big project that didn't involve ironing that my bosses at the costume shop gave to me was assembling a muumuu last minute from this hand painted fabric that had been flown in from Africa. (Technically it was actually a caftan...but to this day we refer to it as "the muumuu.") I was absolutely delighted to have been given a project and determined to show them that I had been learning all along that semester and had costume chops. So I ran downstairs with the pattern, laid it out carefully, and snipped all around the pattern, which detailed the shoulders and neck hole of the muumuu.
I was so proud of myself for having done this that I hurried upstairs, practically leaped into the upper shop, and displayed the tiny piece of fabric that was left, which was basically a yoke.
I've never seen my boss that close to tears before. Turns out I was only supposed to cut around three sides. And the fabric had been FLOWN IN...from AFRICA! For a show that was happening in a week! And it was HAND PAINTED! By (maybe) AFRICAN VILLAGERS... with INTERNET ACCESS, apparently!

Luckily there was just enough to try again. So in the end I didn't entirely destroy the semester musical. (I'm told the caftans were on stage for about three minutes total for one visual gag.) Though I will say that finally assembling the thing, I stitched it on the wrong side and created a fabric-filled tube instead of a flat caftan...but luckily I found a seam ripper before anyone caught me and fixed the problem.

So here was a ghost of the muumuu debacle grinning up at me from my Fabric.com box in place of the angelic white taffeta I'd ordered. Maybe it's an omen...but luckily it's an omen that I can probably ship back to Fabric.com pretty easily in exchange for that taffeta lining I want.

D-Nyed!

So, since the last post I've graduated and moved into an apartment, continued seeking a job, and been rejected from the fashion industry. True story, more to follow. Currently I'm working as a temporary receptionist at a well known book company...which is a job I'd prefer not to elaborate on. Essentially I spend the hours from 9 to 5 sitting behind a desk in a lobby all by myself staring at the elevator door and trying desperately not to fall asleep. I do this by playing endless rounds of Free Cell.

I've not done any sewing at all since the Antichrist project, mostly since I have yet to bring my beloved sewing machine Johnny to my new apartment. He's a heavy piece of equipment...but next time I'm home I figure I'll suck it up and drag it back here on the train with me.

Ah, yes, rejection from the fashion industry. For anyone even considering a career in fashion...be forewarned that it's kind of a clique. And in order to join that clique, you need to go to fashion school...which is something that I have not done. I did manage to get myself to a final round of interviews for a colorist position at a certain well known department store that may or may not sponsor a Thanksgiving Day Parade every year.
Now, the truly baffling part of this rejection is that the final nail in my fashion coffin was not that I was not able to do the job advertised...but rather that I showed a large amount of promise for the job without having attended fashion school. I'll explain further.
Throughout the interview, the woman made it clear that she was confused as to why I'd been sent through to the next round seeing as how I've not got a degree in the field...even though I attempted to explain to her that I had taken every relevant class my school had offered, in addition to working in the costume shop. Finally, she gleefully sat me down at a light box and presented me with several boxes of what looked like tiny eyeshadow containers, all out of color order and announced that I was to take a color test. I had never taken one before, or even heard about it, and she seemed confident I would fail.
Apparently color is something you can kind of train yourself to see over time as you gain experience. To move up through the colorist ranks, you need a certain score. The better you score, the higher up on the chain you can move.
Here's a site where you can try it.
Anyway, I did the test and, first time through, scored a 4...meaning I got one wrong. My ranking was "superior." The woman was pretty surprised and dismayed by this and said, "Oh, well, I'm not necessarily looking for someone who scores that well." I wish I were kidding.
Now, I'm not trying to come across as some sort of color arranging genius here. The thing is, I don't think this is something you actually need to go to school to learn how to do. Either you're able to see differences in hues or maybe you cant. You may have perfect pitch or you may be tone deaf or you may be somewhere in the middle. These are things that come naturally. These aren't necessarily learned skills. Over time you can improve your ability to recognize a pitch or distinguish between colors if you work with that medium on a constant basis, but some people just start at a different point. It's not like I walked into a mathematics convention and, having never opened a textbook, randomly started divulging the greater mysteries of calculus. I just successfully managed to line up a bunch of eyeshadow containers in accurate color order.
However, I guess the fact that I was an outsider of sorts who had just proved that maybe going to fashion school wasn't entirely necessary for that line of work sort of just made a bad situation worse.

And so here I am, temping as a receptionist and staring at that beige wall...but you know what? Maybe it's ok I didn't end up with that particular company. Everyone there seemed a little too excited about wearing jeans to work on Fridays, anyway. There are cooler industries...I just haven't found them yet.

And until then...I have endless hours to doodle dresses that, once Johnny moves here, can become a reality. And (another perk) I get to do my own designing and do my own thing...and not have to worry about someone else's vision.