My Love/Hate Relationship with White Fabric

There's just something utterly compelling about straightforward white fabric. It could be a stretchy, it could be a woven, but it's all just the same color of the Blogger post field I'm writing on it. A blank canvas.

And that's pretty exciting in some ways. It's like, wow, I can do a thousand things with this. If it's a lightweight woven, like a batiste, I can dunk it in a pot of Kool-Aid dye and make it something non-white. Or, I put some chizimi thread in the bobbin of my Viking Husqvarna sewing machine, regular thread in the spool and just do some random, free form stitches here and there. Steam it with a little iron (no pressing though) and the stitches pucker up to resemble the center of a daisy. Or I could put some matching elastic in the bobbin, and do some wild and crazy stitching all over the place with my darning foot on the machine. Just move the fabric in a circular motion and sew like you're creating this a maze with no way out!

My point is that white fabric has a lot of promise, it's kind of like the blank sheet of paper back when people (including myself) used to create wordy masterpieces on typewriters. You'd insert the paper, crank the roller, center it, set your tabs manually, and then stare at the vast whiteness in front of you for a while before you started typing because you couldn't undo what you wrote unless you used White-Out, which also used to threaten to gunken your keys.

Sewing white fabric is a little like that, I think. A bit intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. The plainness of the fabric is just so full of possibility, kind of like life. You can approach the fabric with the attitude of "Oh, this is so boring. I don't know what to do with it." Or you can say, "Wow. There are a kazillion things you can do with this."

It's funny, I don't have that same attitude about black fabric, although the same principles apply. It too is a void eager to be filled with something, with life. Somehow darkness isn't nearly as compelling as light. Just like its antonym, black can
be embellished to your heart's content. You could do smocking, applique, twin-needle stitching, spray it with glitter, draw on it with fabric paint to create this incredible designer fabric unlike anything else in the universe.

Another thing about white is that I feel a little daring with it. I kind of feel like, "I"ll conquer you, yes, I will!" It's a bit of challenge. Not only will I pretty you up, but I'll keep whiter you than the sheaf of paper sitting in the paper tray of my Lexmark X73 printer. Black batiste and indigo denims don't test me in the same way. I don't have to worry about mussing up the canvas. Fading I might have to contend with it, but dirtying up, no.

Which brings me back to white. It's a test of wills to keep it pristine. Even during the sewing stage, I furrow my brow wondering where a brownish smudge came from. I wash my hands before I set the fabric underneath the foot. I might even use handwash, or rub my hands silly with one of those antibacterial gels.

Once I actually finish my white garment, the struggle to keep it unsoiled escalates. I swear ketchup practically leaps on the fabric, so I stay away from hamburgers. Ditto pizza. Greasy tomato sauce just wants to land on my blouse right at the bustline, never at the hem. Why is that? Sipping a red wine is equally challenging. Sweat stains? Didn't I just read in Lucky Magazine about soaking all your whites in a bucket of water with an aspirin tablet and then wash as usual? Weird.

Mud likes white and so does grass. I've no idea why, but I've noticed the two (turf and dirt) enjoy play dates with white apparel.

Getting back to white, there's a certain appeal to wearing it. There's the lure of wearing something that will reflect the sun when it's hot. The untested promise of a piece of clothing that appears to be comfortable and airy. Something that will make you look great. There's a certain uniformity about it too. It goes with everything, jeans, skirts, shorts, and just about any shoe you put on your feet. It's no wonder French designer Anne Fontaine has built an entire business around white. She knows women can't resist it.

Besides, white does make you look sporty. It is the color of choice for tennis players and golfers, so it has a reputation that's well earned. And if you're tan, white can make you look you have a well-funded savings account.

So what's white in my wardrobe? This. I think that's the only thing at the moment. But there's more of this same eyelet in my collection. I'm thinking of another top. But I don't really like messing with holey fabric and buttonholes, so whatever I do has to slip over my shoulders. I might even do something with some red top-stitching. White really likes red thread. They make nice sand castles in the sandbox together, don't you think?

Funny as much as I like white fabric, yarn of the same hue isn't nearly as intriguing, although a knitted white sweater, especially in a medium-weight cotton, looks refreshing, reminding me of the short-sleeved, scoop-necked summer top I wore for years until it got too stained for my liking, and I got rid of it. I could probably use something like that again. But I'm more likely to buy it, then to make it on any one of my knitting needles.

How about you? How do you feel about white? Do you have a lot of it in your wardrobe?

Who Cares About Symmetry?*

I do. It's a bit of hang up for me. Everywhere I go...everything I look at, I think about whether it's symmetrical, balanced. Houses are a big one for me, and it's an easy one for me since I spend an inordinate time on a bus watching the world go by at a stop-and-go pace. Of course, now that I'm Twittering while I'm in transit, I'm not looking at the places that surround me nearly as much unfortunately.

But when I'm not texting, I look around and speculate about buildings and how they once might have been. I can look at an old brownstone and see that the entryway isn't quite "right." There's a new 1950s overhang that replaced something more substantial. Or there's this Victorian house across the street from my place that has a more contemporary porch that hides a doorway that must have an "eyebrow" design that matches the 1880s windows on either side of the porch. What's more, there's all lackluster ugly avocado siding that's got to be covering beautiful, original wood. Each time I walk by, I 'fix' it up in my mind, making it housewalk-worthy. Right now, it looks a tad ho-hum next to the 1920s spiffed-up 1920s red-brick apartment building turned condo and its grey painted brick Victorian neighbor.

I can either count this obsession with symmetry as a blessing or a curse. I chose the former, because while on the outside, it appears that I'm superficial, on a deeper level, I'm truly passionate about beauty and aesthetics. It matters that there's just the right number of tulips in a vase or that there should be something in the background of a photo to draw your eye in. I don't always accomplish this in my own photography but I do think about it. It's why I even like this picture a lot because I can't help but smile at the duo waaay in the back.

So anyhow, my love for balance is a blessing because A) It keeps me entertained when I'm sitting in snailpace traffic whether I'm in a car, a train, a bus, or even on the back of a moped (which hasn't happen in a long time, but I digress). It makes me quite content. It feeds the inner architect, designer and urban planner within me. I might not act on my impulse to re-arrange a garden, a house, or a park, but it fortifies my imagination for free. It's likely I won't have a chance to fix up that aforementioned Victorian, but I can pretend. Who knows? I might even bump into the homeowner one day, mention my thoughts, and he/she just act on my design modifications.

My little design world is great to for those days when I don't have a book or my knitting to keep me bored. In my mind, I can "restore" missing windows, lentils, and portals as I'm making my way to a particular destination.

B) This little knack for balance also helps me as I'm coming up for story ideas. It gets me asking "What if...?" and "I wonder who might know more?" and gets me searching on the Internet, and in some cases, local archives for information on actual paper.

On the flip side, my preoccupation can get me a little overly attached to the past. For example, when I board this train, I can see the old tracks for this line, which was kaput a couple of generations ago. Still I mourn the loss of this commuter rail, wishing it still existed as a viable means of transportation. "If only if ...!" I often say to myself, "Maybe they could bring it back...." in a more wistful tone. All about something thousands of commuters don't even know about as they make to their way to downtown Chicago.

All this a bit of long introduction to my nearly finished sweater. I looked at it this morning. I noticed that the garter stitch and bind-off on the sleeves is uneven. There's an extra row on one side. Of course, I see this error glaringly, and I'm certain others will notice it off the bat. Do I fix it? Or leave it alone and move onto the next project? So I go back and forth on this conundrum. I'm at the point where I'm nearly finished. I've got the DPNs (double-pointed needles)all set up on the neckline. Four rows of stitching, and I will be finished! Unless, I decide to fix the edging on the sleeve.

Here's the thing: I wear a lot of clothes I've sewn that are not quite right. For example, I'm wearing this top. When I made it, I wasn't thrilled with the ridge-like twin-needle stitching on the sleeves. The top itself feels a little large, and the shoulder seam looks, to my dark brown eyes, a little 'off.' But I still wear it, flaws and all. Perhaps I'm not as consumed with perfection as I think. Besides, I find that wearing my projects with their little designer touches tends to be keep me moving forward, completing the unfinished projects, and starting new adventures. If I ditched all those clothes that weren't quite "right," I'm certain that I would have abandoned sewing and knitting and crocheting by now. I really do tell myself all the time that anything I sew/knit/crochet is all about the journey, even if I "goof" up on pricy fabric. If it's wearable, that's all that matters. I think a knitting shop owner in Iowa told me once is that most expensive knitting is the stuff you don't use. She's right. My favorite and warmest "shawl" is a skirt with a flounced on the wrong side that I couldn't bring myself to rip out because I was afraid I'd rip the somewhat fragile yarn.

So here's to a little symmetry if it makes you happy. But if it makes you overly sentimental and pouty, forget about it and get over it already (and I'm speaking mostly for myself). For those of you who make apparel, how do you reign in perfection? Where do you draw the line in the white sand?
* I know I've been tagged...I'll get to a post on it, I promise. You can read more about the top above here.

Thinking Ahead....

I'm thinking about my next knitting project. I'm eager to get my hands back into doing something lacy. I want something that's portable, and won't bulge out of my purse like a big, lumpy bag of candy. I also want something challenging, but yet it won't cost me a small fortunate like knitting a sweater or a skirt might. So I'm leaning toward making a knitted hat with a wired brim. It's been a while since I've wired a brim, the last one was so wonky I just gave up and stuffed the whole expensive experiment in the linen closet, where it remains nicely squashed between some picnic clothes and pillow cases. I'm willing to give it (making a hat) a shot again because the hats below are so pretty and besides, I know you all will hold my hand and help me through that part if necessary. Please help choose which hat to make. There's a poll at the end of this post. Suggestions on yarn and trim are welcome. By the way, these are all Annie Modesitt patterns. She's an ace milliner, if you can't already tell!

1. I'm more enamored with the color of this hat than anything else. But I'm not trying to get attached to the papaya orange, because it might actually to be hard to find this yarn. But there's something utterly compelling about the style because it knitted up in a such a cheery yarn. It just makes me want to go out there and get a Jamba Juice smoothie. How about you?

2. I like this one, it's got that nice early 1930s vibe going. I feel like my hair is perfect for this topper. My bangs are Katie Holmes-short, if you get my drift. This hat would be so much fun to trim. You could switch the embellishments around in a couple of heartbeats too. The downside: not much of a brim if I'm looking for a little sun protection. Actually none of theselacy hats will protect me from the sun very much. All those holes! These hats are strictly just really decorative - and guy magnets.

3. The wiring on this one scares me. It looks too perfect, too hard. Why does that intimidate more than the actual knitting? Egads! But you do really get to see the lace very well. I know this one would score high in the "Ooh, you made that? Wow" category.

4. Talk about gorgeous. This masterpiece is from the book, Romantic Hand Knits: 26 Flirtatious Designs that Flatter Your Figure. I love the blue and white theme, so retro. I could see this with a pair of sailor pants and a fitted white tee shirt as well as with a full-skirted 1950s dress. The only other color combo I can see is perhaps navy and burgundy like the hat below. What do you think?

5. Sorry, this picture is as small as it is. It's from the book, Lace Style. There are some other views of the hat if you follow the link. My concern about this hat is two-fold. A) The hat looks ready to fly away. I suppose you could anchor it with a hat pin, but I'd be afraid to damage the knitting. B) The hat doesn't seem to really fit, in my opinion. I'd want my hat to sit firmly on my head, hat pin or not. I think pins are extra insurance, not the only insurance. I suppose you could put in an elastic band in the back (after putting in a grosgrain ribbon on the inside). This one is pretty too, but again I'm scaaaaaaaaaared of the wiring.

What do you think? I'm leaning toward the first two; they just look less tasking.

A Sweater All Sewn Up*

Who would have thought that the one sweater I wear over and over and over is one that I sewed up on my sewing machine, not on my knitting needles? Actually I don't have any completed knitting projects that have long sleeves. Not one. I've a sleeveless top made out of a cotton yarn that will be more appropriate mid-June, but not now. I've some shawls and shapeless skirts, but nothing hand-knitted that remotely approaches what we call a sweater: a warm top with three holes: one for the head, the other two for the arms. The limbs are covered by something called sleeves. I've plenty of warm fuzzy things that meet the above description that were made overseas on knitting machines, but not here in the U.S. by me.

So back to the sweater you see above. The v-neck isn't perfection, and look that hem! Assymetrical! I've no idea how that happened. Methinks maybe Donna Karan, who's got plenty of designs with unusual zig-zag hems in her portfolio, got her hands on this mid-way. Did this fuzzy fuschia pointelle knit stretch after I cut it? Or has wearing it made the hem wobbly? I don't think this is a situation whereby I could block the sweater back into shape.

I don't care. I love this sweater. Better yet, it adores me and that's all that's important. We give each other love pats. I tell it, "You go with everything; you're the best." It tells me: "Baby, I'm going to keep you warm, really warm and I'll hang out with your friends. It's cool."

And the v-neck sweater keeps it word, even when I pair it with things like my Santa Monica Tee, or a jersey camisole. The Santa Monica Tee (the blue/brown version) goes especially well (I feel like I'm talking about wine, but I'm not. At least not today). I like the contrast of textures and colors. You've got the flat texture of the lace right there next to the lofty, slightly pilled knit. Both have blue tones - the Tee is more icy with some coffee thrown in for good measure. The sweater is bluish pink. so they complement (and compliment) each other well.

I wore this sweater when it was so cold the sparrows wanted to come inside. I don't think I'll be wearing when it's so hot that that aforementioned birds want to take a bath in my kitchen sink, but I will push the limit. I could easily see myself wearing this still at month's end after Memorial Day, when more often then not, I'm still tempted to wear gloves when I walk outside. (Which brings me to a minor pet peeve: I lost a pair of nice leather gloves a month or so ago. When I try to replace them at local stores, nobody, and I mean nobody has gloves in stock. They do have bathing suits out. Surely, I wouldn't like to try one on?)

I don't think this sweater will become an office staple: you know the one sweater you can constantly hang on your chair and you wear when it's so cold inside you need to dress like it's winter. This v-neck is not easy on, easy off that way. You have to slip it and off over your head, not something you want to do when you're heading into a meeting and your hair is standing up cornstalk-straight thanks to static electricity.

No, this is a sweater that needs to some forethought. You can't really wear it by itself because, well, that would be indecent. So this is the sweater I wear when I'm sitting in front of my laptop and no one's around. Or I'm about to go to a movie. It's a fantastic top to wear with my frayed-at-the hem jeans. It's got the casual look nailed.

This is Kwik Sew pattern 2900. I actually tried making this same exact sweater in another fuzzy aqua knit and it was a complete disaster. The V-neck was actually more like a U! I've no idea what happened. I was so mad...because I was so infatuated with the knit (which I've since seen in a local boutique stitched up in a funky tank top) that I wanted the whole project to work smoother than canola oil from the get go. The neckline didn't cooperate. So that sweater? It made friends with the kitchen trash can, I'm sorry to say. I still have more of the aqua knit, but not enough to make a fraternal twin for the fuschia sweater. So sad, very sad. Oh well.

But that Kwik Sew is going into the time-out corner. It needs to be disciplined. I'm telling you that's terrible behavior for a pattern that never goes on sale (at least in my corner of the world - it might be less pricey online). I mean - have you ever? It seriously made me want to try out other V-neck possibilities. For one thing, (and you don't have to tell the Kwik Sew pattern this), I'll find something with more shaping on the sides. No more of this boxy, I have no-waistline stuff on my sewn sweaters. If I can shape knit objects with my knitting needles by increasing and decreasing like somebody's business, by golly, the sweaters that come to life underneath the sharp needle on my Viking Husqvarna will look just as good if not better!

Why such trouble with one sweater? Who knows. I surely don't. I'm not about to dissect it in detail either. I've got more important matters to dwell on. Like, what am I going to have for dinner? Can I sneak out to Jo-Ann's for the Simplicity pattern sale? (I went last night, found out the extravaganza starts today, left the store only to get drenched in the rain when I attempted to walk to the bus stop without an umbrella) I'm more interested in the next great adventure. If I can wear the experiment, wonderful. If not, I'll go shopping, but probably not for sweaters. Maybe hats, shoes, or the gloves. I'll find a pair if it's the last thing I do this summer.

So shopping as solace. Isn't this the best strategy?. Have any of you tried sewing a sweater? If so, how did it turn out for you? How comfortable are you sewing thick knits on your machine?
* I included that middle picture without me because I'm not wild about the ones that I'm in.

Fabric of the Week...

I'm not sure how to describe this fabric, which I bought from Kashi at Metro Textiles last year. It's a super lightweight corduroy, humongous black fuzzy-textured flowers on a white background. I got about two yards of it...in retrospect, I wished I'd gotten more, in retro-retrospect, I wish I hadn't ruined what I bought. Oh well. It's all about the journey, that spectacular trip full of twists and turns that not even Mapquest could accurately predict, right? Oh for heaven's sake, let's get the sentimental hogwash out of the way. Here we go: I'm not much for pre-treating fabrics because I sew a lot of jerseys which don't need to be shrunk. Well, when I got my long-nailed fingers on this fabric you see above, I thought, "I better get this pre-treated." I promptly dunked the whole shebang in a sinkful of cold water in my bathroom. Almost immediately I saw the water turning blue. I thought, "Oh, that'll come out when I rinse the fabric." I didn't realize it at the time but my massive black blooms were dying. The water had released the inky dye into the water and it was spreading all over the white portions on my fabric.

I really didn't see the damage until I hung the fabric over the curtain rod in my bathroom. The flowers were no longer no longer basically black...they were paler, and had a definitely blue pen ink colored shadow. Uh oh.

I let the fabric dry out, and bagged it up in a Barnes & Noble green bag and visited the folks at Vogue Fabrics to see what remedies they could suggest. Someone recommended dying the white parts purple. Unfortunately, that would hurt the black flowers (can't you see them wilting now?) further. Another suggested putting rhinestones or doing some free-form embroidery on the accidentally dyed parts. That didn't excite me in the least...it just felt like more work. To be honest, a good chunk of me just believes I should leave it alone, and just sew it up as is, damage and all. After all, brush-work fabric is in now what about starting a new trend with dyed-damaged fabric?

Here are some other ideas I have for this yardage:

1) Stitch it up into a curtain, and let the sun bleach it until it's grey. Really, that great orb in the sky is quite good at doing its own magic with fabric. You know how it sucks out the sheen out of shantung rather quickly. I'll let the sunrays have fun with my fabric. It'll look rather Shabby Chic in a matter of weeks.

2) Make it into a Sound of Music playsuit that looks like it's been dunked in the water. I wouldn't have to make the outfit look like it's been worn, it will already have that appearance. Now, the only danger is more H20. Whoever wears this and gets shoved into Lake Erie by mistake might not only begin to feel blue, he or she will actually begin to look like they've got hypothermia.

3) Cut It All Up and Turn It Into Hats. I'm thinking a big, squishable hat with wire in the brim. Probably by the time I cut out the massive brim, I'll be close to using up all my fabric. I'll just hide the stains with a large, matching grosgrain ribbon or some of those huge vintage black coat buttons I sometimes see in antique stores. What's leftover will make for a cute vest.

4) Drape It Over my Couch. I've got a cream-colored couch that was only that hue on the day it was recovered more than six years ago, it's getting kind of brown. It has some oil marks on it from the time it was moved into my apartment. My brothers scooted it across some street pavement without covering up the fabric touching the ground. I never did get those marks out, I think I'll just add some green grass marks and get one of my talented toddlin' nieces or nephews to add their handiwork on the sides. But the black, white and grey fabric might draw the attention away from the couch damage.

5) Stick It Back into My Fabric Collection, Never to Be Seen Again. This option is warming up on me. There are plenty of fabrics crowded into my closet that are in good shape that would be easily and handily sewn up in jackets, tops, skirts, and whatever else grooves me. I'll simply pull this black, white and grey beauty out whenever I want to revisit my New York trip, circa 2007. What do you think?

I just remembered another fabric that bled all over the place when I dumped it into water. I got this exquisite 1940s sheer floral rayon from an older woman, a friend I met through this organization. She knew that I loved to sew, so she gave it to me. I'm not sure why I thought it needed a little water love, it certainly wasn't going to shrink. Well, the dye shimmied out of the fabric in no time. It was one big mess, I can't even remember what color the water was. Red? Blue? Pink? Green? It's a big blur in my mind. I let the fabric hang out to dry, and got some opinions in the meantime. Kim Grant of onetime Silk Poppy website fame (who sometimes still resurfaces at the Sewretro Yahoo group) emailed me to tell this sometimes happens with old textiles.

After that email exchange, I just tossed the whole mess.

Somehow I'm not ready to do that with this particular find. For one thing, I bought this with hard-earn but sickly American dollars. The other fabric was a freebie, so nothing was lost, in a sense. This Metro Textiles Beauty? I want to salvage it. It's got a great story already, I just need to give it a few more chapters and great sob-worthy finale. Any ideas? What have you done with fabrics where the dyes have gone amok? Given it to Goodwill? Turned into a cover for the dog's bed? Do tell, I want hear and be comforted.

Summer Dresses Vs. Winter Dresses*

It's not quite what you think. The summer dresses are not duking it out with their winter counterparts in the closet. I was just pondering aloud about what I like in summer dress versus the same kind of garment worn the rest of the year.

Summer Dresses
1) Will it breathe? Fabric has to be supremely comfortable - 100 percent cotton or linen is ideal, but a blend is ok, although I will bypass the poly/cotton eyelet that I see parked on the walls at Vogue Fabrics. I can spot that stuff an armslength away along as I have my contacts on. The giveaway? The shiny, polyester thread. Blech. This fabric is just flimsy, and has no heft like the completely natural eyelet does. Besides, it just looks cheap. Another cottony fabric I like a lot is lawn - one sprinkled with bright and cheery florals is perfect. Ok, I'm walking through the store mentally right now. Another fabric I've my brown eyes on is this gold metallic Georgia mud dirt 100 percent linen from Italy. I think this particular fabric is like $14.99 a yard, not bad considering it's from a country shaped like a shoe with prices that feel like a kick in the pants. I could see that made up in a floaty strappy dress that will feel awesome especially in mucky August.
2) Can I layer it? This is also quite important since you can go from 90 degree weather to a 60 degree weather in a nano second, and that's not just because you're inside an air-conditioned office. If a particularly cold breeze blows through town, you need to be prepared. If you're near the lake (Michigan), you're going to feel colder than an ice cube in a freezer tray. Sitting in the shade will do the same thing. Layering for me in the summer usually means whipping on a jean jacket, but I despise carrying around the same. I'm not one to wear sweaters in the summer, not even lightweight cotton ones. For me it's a jean jacket or a straight-jacket.
3) How about a hat? Can I wear it with a hat? Yes, a lid of some sort is probably the quickest, easiest, most sane way to get warm in a hurry. Besides, it's so portable. If it's squishable, you can just put in your purse and go. If the temperature drops, pull it out. Now, it might not keep you warm in the same way a jacket or a sweater would, but it'll at least keep you from getting too cold. Or at least keep you from freezing until you can get somewhere warmer like a car or a campfire. A hat is also handy if it starts raining, and you're caught without an umbrella. It will keep your hair somewhat dry while the rest of you get damp. It also insulates you in the event you become wet and cold. If I wear hat that doesn't fit inside my purse, I make sure to bring a plastic bag, in the event the sky dumps water on me unexpectedly. That way my super-cute straw hat can stay dry while the rest of me is drenched. Yes, I'll be shivering but at least my pricey sun hat will remain in shape and dry.
4) How cute does it look with sandals? This is a fairly important question for me, because I live in sandals and wedgies nearly every day during June, July, August and sometimes September. So anything on the top of my body has too coordinate with what's on the bottom. Now that I really think about it, most dresses I own would look cute with sandals, especially my Borns which have interchangeable flowers. I probably need to deliberate more about whether my feet have a decent pedicure more than about whether my footwear goes with my dressware.

Winter Dresses
1) Can it Be Layered? During the cold winter months, I'm more like to put layers beneath my clothes than on top. I'll start with a tank top and put on tights. I'll slip on the dress over that. If that's not enough to keep me from quaking like a leaf, I'll put on a shawl on my shoulders or a sweatercoat. If that doesn't do the trick, clearly I need to move somewhere warmer. I won't quibble with the fabric quite as much during the month of my birth (November) as long as I can bundle up and keep my teeth from chattering. That said, it's not likely you'll find me in eyelet or linen on December 1. But I might still wear a jersey knit wrap dress, but I won't wear it the same way I might wear on July 1.
2) Does it look good with boots? Not all dresses can be worn with boots. I find I can wear virtually anything, including burlap, with sandals. Not so with boots. I don't like when the top of my boots clashes with my dress hem or worst yet, its beneath the dress. When I walk you see the bulge of my boots beneath my dress. From afar, it looks like I've got shin guards on, or I'm going to kneel down and do some garden work. I'm not opposed to wearing boots during summer but they have to stay a good distance away from any hems, particularly those on dresses and skirts. There will be no fighting between leather and softwoven goods. Not even flirting.
3) Can I wear a coat with it? Now I really don't like to wear a long dress with a three-quarter length jacket. It just looks like I fled a fire and I don't have anything else to wear. If I'm going to wear something floaty that skims my ankles I'll wear a wrap, shawl or even a lengthy sweater coat.
4) Who cares how it looks with a hat! It's nice that by this time of the year, I don't give an owl's hoot about how my hat looks with my clothes. By now, any dress I don is hidden underneath my coat. You can barely see it.

What about you? What's important in a summer dress?
* The dress above? It's another surplice-wrap dress, made from fabric from Metro Textiles in New York. The shoes are a well-loved 1940s pair of suede platforms.

My Favorite Blogs*

I'm not sure what I did in the morning before the Internet became part of my world. It's hard to remember exactly. I'm sure I picked up the Chicago Tribune, which was tossed up onto my doorstep (I lived in a walk-up at the time, so lots of the things got tossed up to catch my attention). I'm not even sure what my ritual breakfast is now, but what did I eat pre-Internet? I suspect I ate a lot of Grape Nuts. I do remember that being important for a while. So that's what I likely did: sat on my nubby (and I mean nubby because I'd get these little pebble imprints on my bare legs) cream-colored couch, balanced my breakfast on my lap and read the paper. I'd scooped up my sodden Grape Nuts (I always ate it with milk), turned the page, more Grape Nuts, turn the page, until I was done. I never drank coffee, even then. What was my morning beverage? I'm not sure. Maybe orange juice. I'd let a frozen tube of juice defrost overnight, pour the orange goop into a glass pitcher, make sure I poured exactly three juice-containers full of water. If I didn't pay attention, I'd pour four, and ruining my drink of choice.

Nowadays, I wake up....trot to the kitchen in my flip-flops, pour water into an electronic tea kettle for some green tea (which reminds to buy a new package), turn that on, slip out a pre-packaged portion of oatmeal flavored with maple syrup and nuts. While that's all heating up, I boot up the lap top. I return to the kitchen for more breakfast prep. Cereal into bowl, tea bag into cup.

Scamper back to the office. Click on the stamp icon on my computer, boom! I've got email, mostly coupons. Click on the orangy yellow fox chasing after its tail icon (Firefox). Bada-boom! Internet. Instantly I check in with my favorite blogs.

1. The Panopticon. What is Franklin Habit up to these days? I'm particularly fascinated with his cartooning, because its an artistry I'm constantly trying to master myself. If there are no new 'toons to read, I admire his stellar photography. All his pictures are just right - the proper lighting, cropping, you name he's done it. Extra points: Franklin doesn't own a car, just like me. I wonder if he's a member of I-Go Car Sharing. If not, I'll have to introduce if I bump into him anytime soon on the bus or train.

2. Miss Celie's Pants. Most of the time I really don't see too much in the way of trousers, despite this blog's name. Where are the pants? I see blouses, skirts, dresses, sometimes a pair of pants or two. Come to think of it, I wouldn't want to see too many pants, than that would make this weblog Pants of the Day, and who needs that? There are far too many pants (of all types, particularly denim jeans). But I do admire Cidell's energy, willingness to try new things that I'm downright lazy to try right now (Fly zipper? No way. Lined jackets? Maybe in the fall. Quadruple button holes on a blouse front? In another life). So I live vicariously. I like that Cidell frequently updates her site, so we readers know exactly what kind of progress she has made on her various sewing adventures. Extra points: Cidell's single like myself.

3. A Dress a Day. I must be pathetic because I know precisely when Erin updates her site. It's about 8:15 a.m. CST every morning. I can almost time it. It's pathetic, I know. Those mornings I visit Dunkin-Donuts, I race back to refresh the screen in time for some more comic relief. I like how Erin introduces me to words I might want to know to impress friends (her Twitter twod is particularly good for that. Check it and out follow if you're so inclined.) But she's always commenting on vintage patterns I've never seen before, so I'm usually educated about Butterick, McCall and Vogue patterns from the 1950s, should I ever decide to recreate a dress from this period. I rather not, at least right now. I'll let Erin do all the hard work and let hilarity, as she tells it, ensue. Extra points: Erin lives in Chicago, just like me.

4. Knit and Tonic. I'm somewhat fascinated with how Californians live. To be honest, they're not like us Midwesterners. They have constant sunshine, lemons and avocados in their backyard, virtually no snow and they drive everywhere. Can that be real? I just cannot relate to that kind of lifestyle, you know? I was very enthralled last year when Wendy told her readers about an encroaching wildfire, and how she intended to abandon her yarn stash! Thankfully, the fire turned (probably because she said that) and I was very thankful because any damage out west would have disrupted my daily ritual of blogs I must read or I'm Really Out of It Today. (I even read 'em on the weekends. Moronic, I know. I don't have a TV, so I'm somewhat sane, ok?). Extra points: Wendy doesn't take knitting too seriously.

5. Posy Gets Cozy. I'm absolutely amazed how many comments Alicia Paulson gets on her site. She pops a tire on her bike? Five hundred sympathetic murmurings. Cavorts with her dog in the countryside? Another 600. Add some of her stunning photography with incredibly crisp colors, and I begin to understand the following she has. It's all about her lifestyle; it's the romantic life of design that she lives that others want to have someday. I think that's the appeal. That's why my blog won't catch on in the same way. My home is creatively strewn with materials and books (another way to avoid saying that I've got a bit of mess). Oh well, I've got more than 100 friends on Facebook if that means anything. Extra points: Alicia's a former Chicagoan.

6. The Sartorialist. Now if anyone has better photographs than Alicia, it's Scott Schuman. This man must have amazing energy (probably from getting up at all hours to attend to his children.) I was up early this morning a 3 a.m. CST and Scott's uploading images in France at that very second. He must not get jet lag from all the travel he does. It's no wonder he takes pictures of others, because honestly all that jumping across the pond in a plane would take its toll on me, and there's no way I'd want my mug taken, even if I did have a cute canine at hand. I don't Sarto think would take pictures of me if I were traipsing across New York City, something about my shoes not coordinating with the rest of my outfit would send him running the other way. Just sayin'. Extra points: Scott's a Midwesterner, even if he lives in New York City now.

That's really it, my breakfast reading in a nutshell. Somehow it sets me up for the rest of the day. I have to tie my hands to keep myself from checking in to see if by chance any of the above have been updated mid-day. Sarto's really the one who might do that. The rest? They have a life.

What are your favorite blogs?
* The hat I'm wearing is adorned with a flower I made for a Craft Magazine project. The kiss? It's for you and because it's Friday.