Posted in Crafty, Sisters, Thanks for the memories

Little Blue Homeschool Prom

Once there was a girl.

A little homeschooled girl.

A little homeschooled girl with several siblings.

The little homeschooled sister was a participant in a homeschool co-op.

The city in which little homeschooled’s co-op was located had a prom.

This prom was for all the little homeschooleds and their “dates”.

Do homeschooleds even know what dates are?

This little homeschooled had a big sister.

I am that sister.

The homeschooled thinks her elder sister can sew.

I can.

I also have transportation and a driver’s licence.

And ‘Preferred’ Status at the local JoAnn Fabrics.

Prom dresses for the most part are the reason we have Planned Parenthood.  Also the reason for Visa and Mastercard’s success.

And I am the reason my sister’s dress was the awesomest at the Titanic shindig whose true purpose was celebrating clumsiness, lack of social skill, and inability to “get down”, by which I do mean dance in the strictest sense of the word.  Seriously, strict doesn’t cover it.  See all these stretch marks, teens?  You don’t want these.  See these dark under-eye smudges?  Not smeared mascara.  Not vampiric.  Tiredness is a direct and indirect result of sex and pregnancy.  Don’t do it.  At all.

I was waaay off.
I had a notion of what it would look like.

The dress was paid for in cash before its construction.  I do believe the total came near $48.

About 12 hours went into the fashioning of the masterpiece.   Is there a feminine form of the word masterpiece?  It would seem more appropriate here.  Perhaps the ‘acme’ of my creations up to the present.  Even surpassing my wedding dress.  O, yes.  I made that too.

The outer layer of the promenade apparel was a shimmering midnight blue of the taffeta persuasion.  A slippery material lent itself as the lining.  Glitter-infested tulle comprised the calf-length embellishment.  (What?!  It was a homeschool thing.  I had to throw ‘calf-length’ in there somewhere.  At least it wasn’t denim.  With a jacket of some kind.)  Boning provided structure.  I pray I needn’t mention thread to hold it together.  If I do, go read a different blog.  Buttons fastened the straps adjacent to the rear invisible zipper.  gggggrrrrrrrrrrr…  invisible zipper…  ggggrrrrrrr…  Beat-dubs: I hate installing the blessed things.  By blessed I truly mean cursed.  As in hell and damnation and all that is unholy.

Kake was in charge of the photography department.
Much measuring and securing proceeded the cutting of pattern-guided material.

 Twitter followed the progress under the hash-tag #promdressprose.  I dare you to search.  You will pee yourself laughing, or you will understand nary an inside reference.  Or we’re not as funny as we think.  High probability.  But we laughed.  And that’s what really matters.

That and turning a mass-produced McCall’s pattern into something individual and astonishingly breathtaking.

The general structure of the dress follows the pattern, but the liberties we took and the details we enhanced made it its very own idea.  It may even be self-aware.  I should warn Katie that a zombie party dress hides amongst her insentient teenage attire.  But where would the fun be in that?

Katie learned more about the art and science of sewing through the course of this project than she had any idea that she didn’t know.  Raise your hand if you don’t know what a dart is.  Besides being a swift dash in a stealthy manner.  And a weapon usually coated with poison.  She learned a practical and ordinary term: boning.  And practiced acupuncture on the pincushion Kyleigh made for me awhile previous.  We broke the rules and added a 3rd layer between the outer and the lining.  Such rebels are we!  The tulle ruffle in itself has the Alliance looking for us, so we took it a step further and tucked the hemlines up to render the circumference of the skirts billowy and feminine.

Sexy armpits, she has.
She modeled each piece to ensure the perfect fit.

For the full and compete story, as told by the camera, you may view here & here (preemptive apologies for any redundancy).

Don’t go getting any ideas.  If I make another garment such as the one chronicled here, the cost to the purchaser will be upwards of $300.  That’s right.  As of this moment, I have decided that my going rate is $25/hour.  Amen.

I am proud to say that I was not up late the night before the event, feverishly adding finishing touches to the dress.  I, in a rare show of adult responsibility, paced myself well and completed the mission in a timely manner.  I was, however, coerced into performing various beauty rituals the afternoon preceding the gala, which had me careening wildly down the road  in order to return her to her home in time to meet the rest of her party.

Did I mention I also provided the accessory which adorned her painstakingly curled locks?  Beads and fabric scraps alternated and gathered with complimenting tulle fragments affixed to a hairdressers clip made up the crowning (get it?) jewel in collusion with carefully applied makeup.

This doesn't seem like a tablecloth to me.
"Say, uh, Cousin Wash, I suppose it'd be the acme of foolishness to inquire if you had a hair net."
*pinches cheeks*
Ain't she loverly?

What was that?

Enough of the babble and meaningless drivel; you want to see the finished product?

Why ever didn’t you just say so?

O, right.  You just did.

A far cry from a table cloth.
Not bad for a homemade homeschool prom dress

Then, she did this cuz she’s fun like that:

because I made it with... magic!
so much more pizzazz!

I also make unicorns.

name that movie
"You can't have the You-Knee-Corn!"
Advertisements

Author:

I rock. I also paper and scissors.

Come on. Let it out. You know you want to.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s