Llama Rama

Around the middle of last winter, I was overcome by a desire to have more casual winter tops—you know, something comfy enough to laze about the house in, but cute enough to answer the door in and possibly even take out on some errands.

 

Fortunately, I had just the shirt to start me off: a plain grey long-sleeved T-shirt handed down to me by a friend.

I spent lots of time trying to come up with decorations for this shirt. For a long time, I thought I was going with a dinosaur theme, but several of those ideas proved impractical, so I switched my trajectory to fuzzy mammals. The fake fur that I used for my Mothra costume was just the ticket. By this time, I had removed the black fabric front and replaced the fur in my stash, so it was ready to use.

 

My initial idea was to do an alpaca, an adorable animal I fell in love with on a trip to New Zealand. However, I found that alpacas don't have a really recognizable silhouette, so again the theme changed, to the larger and more distinctive llama.

I found a llama photo I liked on the internet, and converted it to a black silhouette in Photoshop. Then I enlarged the graphic to the size I wanted it on my shirt and printed it out.

 

I (temporarily) glued the printout to the fabric, and cut around outside it.

 

Next, I folded the edges under to achieve the final llama shape.

 

I ripped off the paper so I could work better with the fabric, then hand-stitched the fuzzy applique to my T-shirt.

 

A long time passed. My llama needed a face, but I wasn't sure how to achieve it. First, I tried buttons for eyes, but they looked positively ludicrous. So did the eyes I had salvaged from my now-totally-destroyed unicorn slippers. 

 

I decided to illustrate the eyes and attach them somehow.

 

Here's the design I came up with, drawn with marker and cut out of paper. Now how to convert them to a material that would work on a T-shirt?

 

I don't know how to embroider (and thought that would be too difficult over the shaggy fur in any case). I thought about getting custom-made embroidery patches, but that would send the cost of this cheap DIY into an astronomical range.

Custom-printed fabric swatches? I thought about it, but they might pucker and/or fray.

 

Felt was the way to go. For a long time, "felt" sat on my shopping list, as I envisioned that I would make detailed cutouts with every color of the facial features represented by a corresponding color of felt.

Then one day, I realized there was no need for that; I could just use a sheet of brown felt I already had and paint on the contrasting colors. So that's what I did!

 

I carefully cut out the felt pieces and hand-stitched them onto the llama, then the llama onto the shirt. It was a year ago now, but I know I was concerned that the felt wouldn't hold up in the wash, so I'm pretty sure I decided to make those pieces easily removable. When I do the laundry, I'll just have to detach and reattach them. That's a lot of maintenance for a loafing-around-the-house shirt, so I made it worth my while by wearing the llama shirt out for dinner!

 

Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of that outfit, so allow me to console you with a few other llamas that have graced my life in recent months.

 

First, some llama lloafers, that I picked up at the thrift store last spring for just $5.49 (probably 20% off?). I've already worn them once, but again, that was an outfit unworthy of a blog post.

And, in a rare non-fashion-related purchase, I also acquired a "Fa la la la llama" decoration early last year, which I made the centerpiece of a holiday-themed table in my house when I decorated for Christmas this month.

 

 

Though I've been saying it for decades, I finally get to say it in my blog: I llove llamas!

Reupholstered boots

Those white chunky-heeled boots, how I loved them! I loved them from 2013 through early 2019, and I wanted to love them even longer, but, like all synthetic leathers, they began to lose their thin outer layer of plastic in a manner most flaky. But still, they were my most flattering pair of boots, and I couldn't bear to give up on them.

Resfashion to the rescue! Like the equally beloved pair of white pumps before them, I thought to disguise their scruffy exteriors with a fresh coating of fabric. 

I planned to use some sheer floral chiffon from my stash—the remains of my tiered sundress-turned-coverup (which, I have to say for the record, turned out to be too unbreathable to really work for the beach).

I noticed the original boots were basically constructed of two halves joined at the front and back, so I decided to use the same model for my fabric covering. I traced the front line of one boot onto the chiffon, cut it out, and repeated three times. I even remembered to reverse the direction for the opposite half of each boot, but I don't think it mattered because the front of this fabric looks the same as the back.

I joined the two halves and sewed a seam down the front line of each. The material was so sheer, that I had to temporarily glue the two halves together and  support them with a piece of paper while sewing.

Once the paper was ripped off and the glue washed out, I started work with a different kind of glue, to attach the fabric to the boots. Having had decent success with Mod Podge outdoor glue on the last shoe project, I used it again. I started by painting a thin layer of the glue onto the left forefoot of the boot.

Starting at the toe, I began fitting the fabric to the boot. I lined up the center line of my fabric cover to the center line of the original boot, then pressed the material down into the glue. I did not go very far, because the chiffon was too thin to really grip the glue, and it kept sliding around as I tried to stretch it to fit. So, once again, I found myself gluing very small areas, then waiting an hour or so for them to dry before moving on.

I found this was much easier to do with the shoe actually on my foot, to lend some support from the inside. On the first boot, I glued down a significant portion of the left half of the foot before moving on to the right. But on the second boot, I did the left and right halves at the same time, which seemed to result in a smoother finish.

After several days of this piecemeal gluing process, I had worked my way completely up the boots' shafts. At this point, I decided to work on the bottom edges. I chose to make these shoes as "authentic" as possible, and tuck the fabric in between the uppers and soles. I pried the sole from the uppers, just around the edges, with a screwdriver. 

I used the same screwdriver to press the fabric into the gap, once I had filled it with E-6000, my most heavy-duty glue.

Now came a challenge: Finishing the edge along the back zipper. To accomplish this, I folded the fabric to the underside and pressed a crease into it with a flat iron.

Then, I glued it down along the length of the zipper. This required the use of copious numbers of binder clips to hold it all in place while it dried.

While on the subject of clipping things, let's talk about the top edges! I flat-ironed another crease into the very top half-inch of the fabric, and then folded them over the boot tops to the inside, so that the raw edges were safely enclosed. 

I discovered that the binder clips were causing indentations in the soft material, so I switched to clothespins  halfway through.

When I had cut out the fabric, I'd left enough for the heels to be in one piece with the uppers. But due to the way the fabric had conformed to the shoes, the remaining material wasn't quite long enough. Since the original idea for the heels wouldn't work, I cut the fabric just below the line where the bottoms of the uppers meet the top of the heels.

Normally, the fabric for the uppers and heels are tucked into the gap between them, but since I couldn't actually remove the heels to create a space, I did the next best thing: sew a seam into the fabric. Because the uppers were already firmly glued on, there was no way I could machine-sew this seam, so I did it by hand.

Then I wrapped the material around the heels and glued it down just as before, doubling it over on the inside of the heel where it can't be seen.

At the very bottom of the heel, there was a nice big cavity where I tucked the remaining fabric. The taps popped right back in over this. And that was it!

Am I happy with the results? Mostly.

The fabric really didn't want to stick down firmly, and sometimes it puckered around folds and curves, so the texture is less smooth than I would have hoped. However, the busy pattern mostly disguises these flaws.

For their first appearance in the real world, I really wanted to wear the boots with something that made them stand out, but I couldn't seem to find any dresses that didn't completely clash. So in the end, I paired the boots with a color-coordinated outfit of green and blue.

The embroidered velvet slip dress

 

Have you ever had a piece of special-occasion clothing so special, that you waited so long to wear it, that it just plain went out of style? I have!

It all started with the slip dress wave of 2015. I wanted so bad to hop on that bandwagon, but my budget kept me away until the next year and beyond. I took so long to adopt the slip dress trend, in fact, that several other big trends had a chance to surge in the meantime. Beginning late 2016, it was velvet.  I mention this because, when I finally succeeded in acquiring a slip dress, it was made of crushed velvet. 

 

 

However, that was in May of 2018. By that time, velvet had already reached the end of its trajectory (which probably explains why I was finally able to buy a tags-on velvet dress at my cheapskate price point).

Fortunately, slip dresses were still a stylish option, and another, newer trend was going strong: embroidery. I had a collection of patches that I'd bought as soon as I realized embroidery was going to be big, so I figured I'd use the largest and most ornate of them to embellish the plain pink frock, and help give it a more up-to-the-moment look.

The hardest part of the project was deciding where to put the patch. It was originally one large piece, but it didn't look quite balanced just floating on the side, so I decided to cut it into two parts. To help me decide what to cut and where to paste,  I photographed the patch and the dress, and played around with them in Photoshop so I could experiment with placement without actually making any irreversible cuts.

Design by Photoshop

That done, I went ahead with the cutting in real life, and attached the patches to the dress with water-soluble glue—the idea being, as always, that after I was done with the decorated dress, I could separate the patches from the dress and reuse them (and then resell the dress!)

My original thought had been to wear the dress to a wedding, but the only weddings I attended after the completion of the dress were in the summer—entirely the wrong weather for velvet. No semiformal occasions presented themselves over the next few months, and I decided that the colors and floral motif lent themselves better to spring than the winter holiday season. Valentine's Day was a good contender, but by that point, my relationship with my boyfriend was on the rocks, and we did not celebrate Valentine's Day in our usual style.

Before I knew it, spring had come and gone, then another hot summer, and by the time fall rolled around and events worthy of a velvet slip dress started occurring again, I realized that, by now, even the embroidery patches were passé, and there was no way I was going to wear this dress to a function without feeling behind the times.

So, I did what I always do with special-occasion clothes that are no longer so special: I wore it to work.

The outfit is, if nothing else, a masterpiece of layering. It's too cold to wear bare shoulders this time of year (and spaghetti straps are inappropriate for the office anyway!) but I couldn't wear anything over it, because that would obscure the lovely flower detailing on the neckline! So I took a page from the Fashion Girl Playbook, and put a long-sleeve shirt underneath. This had the effect of toning down my dress from cocktail attire to something more casual.

Unfortunately, the pale pink fabric is quite translucent, and the demarcation between where the deep purple shirt ended and my underwear/legs began was obvious. So I added a pair of burgundy leggings, which I folded up to stop just below my knees, providing a consistent undertone the entire length of the dress.

Observe, the secret leggings revealed!

Honestly, layering ingenuity aside, I'm none too proud of this outfit, and am happy to have checked it off my list! Now I'll just remove the patches and save them for something better! Anyone in the market for a used velvet slip dress?

Pumpkin Spice Latte

The dog really matches the color scheme admirably.

I have to confess (or gloat, as the case may be) that I have never in my life had a pumpkin spice latte. Nonetheless, today's outfit is an homage to the drink. Thanksgiving is pretty much the last day of the year that pumpkin is a socially acceptable theme, so I wore my gourd-geous ensemble for my workplace's Thanksgiving potluck.

There's not much to explain about this theme: the orange colors represent pumpkin, and the flowy cream skirt represents "latte."

To cement the symbolism, I added a pumpkin brooch.

Simple, but pretty enough for a party—even if an office lunch barely qualifies as a party.

Special occasions are for suckers

If I've learned one thing from years of buying fanciful fashion, it's that if you wait for just the right occasion to wear a special something, you'll end up waiting for far too long. I'd be lying if I said that I've weaned myself off that procrastinatory habit, but I am making a more conscious effort to wear my new stuff while it's still new.

Case in point: this year's Birthday Shoes, which (in stark contrast to the sandals that sat around for over a year before I wore them) have only been in my possession for slightly under 2 months—a record low for a pair of Birthday Shoes!

Despite their rapid integration into regular wear, these booties have a long history. I first noticed them on eBay at least 3 years ago, falling in love with their subtle gold sheen and architectural Lucite wedge, but there were other shoes that were more important to acquire. I waited and waited, hoping I might find a pair in my regular price range, but I never did. When I finally pulled the trigger on August 8th this year, I paid $61.91. They were still a record low price for Birthday Shoes, and just as well, because they're also the most disappointing.

The picture that made me buy them

From the pictures online, I believed the shoes I was buying would be an ever-so-slightly metallic gold; the shoes I received were a muted harvest gold. There was nothing remotely metallic about them. They look much better in my photos than they do in real life.

 

They're okay, I guess, but not the fab party boots that I'd been envisioning when I blew my Birthday Shoe budget on them. Oh well, don't expect good quality, consistent sizing, or believable imagery when you buy direct from China! Live and learn! Or don't, as this is not the first (or second, or third) time I've made this mistake and vowed not to repeat it!

Well, since I'd already proved myself a sucker for breaking my trade embargo with China and living to regret it, I certainly wasn't about to make things worse by waiting around interminably for a special occasion. I wore those boots as soon as the weather got cool enough, on an entirely ordinary Wednesday at work. 

 

 

The only thing special about this occasion was that I finally got to unburden myself of the sadness I feel at getting a subpar Birthday Shoe for the second year running.

Better than before

Usually, the first outfit that I wear with a garment becomes my favorite outfit with that garment; there's no time like the first time, apparently!

But such is not the case for this black sheer dress dotted with hearts, which I wore for the first time this May.

Its second (or possibly third?) time around, I got to take advantage of the cool weather and try a little artistic layering. The purple cardigan is not only a perfect match for the purple shade of hearts in the dress; it also adds a little much-appreciated waist definition when fastened on the middle button.

Last but not least, I added a purplish-pink necklace, which perfectly filled out the open neckline of the dress. You might (not) recognize the necklace from the last time I remember blogging about it: over 5 years ago, when I wore it as a headband. It had faded and yellowed a little since then, so I decided to refresh it by dipping it in some pink hair dye. Though it ended up slightly more purple than I had intended, it was better than the unwearable shade it had been, and it turned out to be a great complement to this outfit!

And what an outfit it was! I didn't put a whole ton of effort into it, so I was surprised when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror at work and realized I liked what I saw! Much more impressive than the last time I wore this dress; everything involved was better than before!

Suits and Sneakers and Sparkles

 

My employers probably haven't realized it yet, but I am a champion of dress-code reform! Every time I do something bold and daring like anchor my work outfit with shorts, I am breaking down boundaries. Maybe they're just self-imposed boundaries, but they still count! I feel powerful when I juxtapose the business-casual with the totally casual.

While I once used to challenge myself to see just how formal I could dress at the office, I'm definitely enjoying taking it in the opposite direction these days.

Or am I? 

 

 

When your ultra-casual shoes are ornamented with ultra-dressy embellishments, does that make them more casual or more formal? Could it possibly, magically, unite the two extremes into the perfect paradigm of professional attire?

I'd like to think so, because that's what I wore to the office today.

I was going to go all out with a complete set of dress and matching jacket, but I can no longer pretend that I don't feel overdressed showing up to work in a full suit—even when I decorate it with a squirrel and leg warmers. So I took the ultimate middle path and paired my fancy-not-fancy sneakers with a (fancy) suit dress and a (not-fancy) cardigan. I've worn this combo before, but I have to say, the rhinestones bring it to the next level!

The world's longest refashion

Many, many years ago, a friend gifted me a new-with-tags dress among a large collection of other old clothes she was getting rid of.

The fit was everything that I avoid in a dress (strapless, blousey, ruffly, ankle-length, you name it!), but it had two things going for it: 1) a lovely lavender color, and 2) butterflies! I'm a sucker for anything with pretty insects on it!

My goal was to find a way to make this dress actually look good on me, and it only took 5 years and some change for me to figure it out.

The first year, I got as far as deciding I didn't like the dress in its current form, but by the end of the summer, I still didn't have any ideas as to how to fix it, and I lost interest in refashioning a summer dress when it was winter.

The second year, I tried it on at a few different lengths, and experimented with making the bodice tighter. I still couldn't decide what to do with it.

The third year, I finally settled on a cut: I would convert the dress to an empire-waist style with sort of Ancient Grecian vibes. 

I even went so far as to decide on where I'd cut the bottom portion from the top (the fold line at right in the photo).

The fourth year, I figured out how I would form the bodice: I modeled the neckline on a halter top I have.

I stuck in a few pins to mark key points, and got so far as cutting out armholes before I ran out of steam and let the project sit for another winter.

The fifth year, I really charged forward with the project! Over the course of a month and a half, I laboriously completed the basic shape of the bodice and attached it to the skirt.

But the sixth year (that's this year), I decided all the previous work had to go! The empire-waist dress was a stupid idea, completely impractical for my lifestyle and too complicated to sew! 

In retrospect, I have no idea why I came to this conclusion when I was in the home stretch, because what I ended up doing was certainly just as complicated, but I guess the years of frustration were finally getting to me. 

I decided instead to make the dress into a skirt!

I marked the top of a waistband with pins and cut it out.

When the waistband was folded over to the inside and not-so-artfully sewn down, here's how it looked!

All that remained was to put in a side zipper, which I accomplished more or less gracefully (at least from the outside view).

The skirt is not finished on the inside by any means, but it looks passable on the outside, so at that point, I decided my creation was good enough to wear in public.

And... here it is!

Now that I've had a chance to look at my photos, I think I should have worn it with less highly contrasting shoes and shirt, but after 5+ years of work, it's kind of miraculous I wore it at all!