Hardly Workin'

I just worked eleven days in a row, mostly 11 hour per day. Because apparently it was someone's bright idea to build an entire show out of flimsy silken nothingness and no one planned on... you know... hiring people to put it together. My joints no longer function, but that's okay; my brain doesn't either.
An incredible amount of the past two weeks of my life is in this picture:

 just click on the damn thing for the attribution, I have 

no brain nor patience left for that shit

and even though I pretty much despise every single one of these dresses, now, at least it is over and done with and my life can spiral slowly back to normal. Which apparently means binge-watching the entire fifth season of Downton Abbey in two days, but whatever.
I took class last night. Apparently I have forgotten how my feet work.

Princess Furball (or Whatever)

My instructions for this were just that it had to be a Cinderella dress that "looked like the sun". I'm not certain which version we are dealing with, but that pretty much sounds like Peau D'ane to me. Or Catskin, or Sapsorrow, or Princess Furball, or... You get the idea. Princess Furball was pretty much my jam back in elementary school. That and The Paperbag Princess.
So, anyway. Peau D'ane is a Cinderella story with a princess who goes to three balls, wearing three beautiful gowns: one as silver as the moon, one as golden as the sun, and one as sparkling as the stars. There you go, that is pretty much all you need to know.
I was given a plain little white romantic tutu and an ugly (and boxy) thrift-store Indian (?) skirt and blouse of orangey cationic chiffon with beaded front panels. And then told to do whatever. But without being able to fit the dress on the girl who will be wearing it, so it needed to be somewhat adjustable, stretchy, and forgiving. I was also instructed to add sleeves come hell or high water. This is what I ended up with using only the materials provided:

It really did not photograph well. And in the end I had to get it done in a hurry, so some of the sparkle and jazz that was going to go on the white bodice never happened. Sigh... Anyhow, I left the boob region mostly uncovered, for the sake of fit. The little underbust bustier thingy laces up the back (again, for the sake of fit) and I love it and want one! The sleeves are puffy, which you would be able to see if I had bothered to put the arms on my display form. The skirt is slit down the center front so that the white skirt tulle flashes through as she leaps, mostly to balance out all that white on the bodice that I couldn't get rid of. It looks pretty awesome on the girl, but I am almost sure she despises it because it takes so long to get in to and requires a helper. I dunno, guys, I just don't know.

Pleats Fo'EVA

So, my best friend is getting married. Whateva, whateva, whateva makes ya happy, girl*. She's set the date for late August (outdoors, in central California. HAHAHAHA! So droll) and things are kicking in to high gear. She is making her gown. She has designed a skirt adorned with graduating tiers of pleated organza. Now, this would normally not be a problem. We work together. She's a pro. She's made ball gowns of gold tissue lamé. She's beaded. She's boned. Girlfriend knows what she's doing. But.
But, six months ago, at the very height of theater season, she had a stroke. A damn-near fatal one, at that. She has spent the past six months in the hospital/rehab facility/working like a dog to try and get her body functional and her life back together. She's winning, and I am so proud of her. But let's be honest. This dress needs 36 yards of pleated organza. 36 yards AFTER pleating. That's... that's a hella** lot of fine motor control. So I offered to do the pleating.
At first I thought, ha ha ha... oh no problem, I will buy a pleater foot for my industrial sewing machine and somehow magical sewing angels will arrive on the crest of a rainbow and deliver unto me 36 yards of pleated organza whilst the choir sings and butterflies flutter about my studio. But, alas, it was not meant to be. In other words: AW HELL NAW that ain't workin' out for me. This son of a bitch is going to need a pleating board, several pots of tea, and the patience of a frikkin' saint.
This is all just a very long-winded way of saying that I have a pleater foot, now, which might be kind of handy for making tutus in the future, perhaps. I really need to learn to get to the point...

*and thus ends my one and only attempt at writing a Beyoncé song.
**slang courtesy of 1995. You're welcome. 

the Purple Tutu

Still working on recital costume repair/alteration/etc.
You see this tutu?

This tutu makes me sad. It's not constructed badly. It's made from a pretty standard pattern. There is a full underlining/flat lining. The basque and bodice are separate pieces. It's all as it should be. But the materials they chose to make it out of? They are awful. The acetate satin is bad but forgivable. But that skirt, regardless of the fact that it is constructed exactly the way a classical tutu should be constructed, is made with such limp and lifeless tulle (that has then been washed a hundred times, probably) that it just sort of... droops. It makes me sad because someone must have put so much time and effort in to it, and the result is so... just... sigh...
Oh, and it was closed all the way down the back with velcro. I don't know if you have ever accidentally caught tulle (or lace, or your pantyhose, or that beautiful silk chiffon blouse you just made...) on the scratchy side of a piece of velcro, but it's insanity. I couldn't even wear my wrist braces while working on this thing because the tiny edges of velcro that hold them closed kept catching on the tulle and shredding it. As you can imagine, the velcro closure has done horrible things down the back of this little guy.
My seamstress's heart. It aches for you.