We had to run to the fabric stores to pick up some new prints to finish the cut in our cowl neck top. We needed a couple of hundred yards so we had to source out some nice prints. We found some pretty good stuff that we bought in small lots to make about 25 tops per roll. But we are a little heavy in the paisley.
Then the midget Mexican girl has to measure them on the roller machine and you have to watch her so you don't get ripped off. The fuckin Paki that own's the joint is all "Rosa do this" and "Rosa do that." But she likes us as I tip her a few bucks for all her help because she deserves it.
Finally when it is all said and done we load it up into the SUV and drive it back to Brooklyn. I am beat.
25 comments:
I have terrible memories of being dragged to fabric shops by my mother when I was a small child. *shudder* Never again.
The fabrics look like material for making rugs.
You do work miracles with pinking shears.
The fabrics look like material for making rugs
Rugs? I'd never wear a color like that on my head.
Speaking of rugs - any of youse louts wear one? I'm considering...
Why? Tan your head, use the money to buy another motorcycle. Or sports car.
But if you must slap some freakin' roadkill on your pate, talk to Garage - he can hook you up with some righteous pelts.
I welcome baldness and grey hair. Signs of survival.
Speaking of rugs - any of youse louts wear one? I'm considering...
Nope, I've still got all of my hair. On my head. I've got extra hair on my back now, but that's another story.
Just shave the head and go for the Walter White look. It's been an in look for some time now, and it works well.
I was considering it myself about three years ago until I was in a friend's wedding. He had a bunch of us stand with him as best men, about six I think it was. As I was standing there, thinking about shaving my head, I looked down the row of my friends, all around age 40. I was the only one that did NOT have a shaved head. All the rest had already done so because it gave plausible deniability on the hair loss. At that point I realized I had to keep my hair, just because I could.
Haz, "Say it loud, I'm bald and I'm proud." Sixty makes a good point. Since I walk a lot I have a tanned head most of the year. I think it looks better than a hair hat.
Icepick! My brother by another mother! There was nothing NOTHING worse than being dragged into fabric stores.
I blame that for my compulsive nudism.
It's hard to conceal nudism. Or is it the other way around?
Blake, the one remaining thing my sister and I agree upon is that Hell is a fabric store.
Hell is for children.
Children of seamstresses, quilters and crafters.
Hell is for children.
Children of seamstresses, quilters and crafters.
Truer words were never written....
By comparison, I've had a shattered leg and a broken back. I've done 15 hour shifts bagging groceries. (Don't knock the misery of that - tedium x 1000.) I've read comment threads heavy on Dinga. I have NOT had a ruptured testicle, though, so I can't say being dragged to the fabric store is worse than a ruptured testicle. But Lord, it ain't good.
Well, let's pray we're never able to make THAT comparison.
The local fabric store was on the mezzanine of the JCPenney's in my town. Every time I needed a new outfit for an 'event' Mom and I would go and select everything needed. I have blogged elsewhere about being the third of three sisters [and a brother, but she rarely sewed for him] and so I got not one, not two, but THREE outfits of the same fabric and slightly different styling. It was a big yuck back then to me. Upside was that no one else had my dress at prom or homecoming.
In my 20s, I thought it meant we were poor. But then I realized that she was an excellent seamstress and when I was selecting the style and fabric, she was really amazing. She made two fully-lined business suits for me which I used to get jobs after law school.
Now, with kids of my own, I have asked the same Mom to make heirloom quality outfits for my girls. She made baptismal gowns out of raw silk and alencon lace. Last year, she made First Communion dresses out of bridal fabric and lots of tulle crinolins. My daughters looked just like bridesmaids in a recent Royal Wedding. So I'm full circle. Happy memories and it will be a sad day when Mom no longer sews because it'll mean she's gone on to her eternal reward.
My mother made our clothes. I still prefer custom made shirts to off the rack ones, but what are you going to do? We also raised our own food, and my father was frequently paid in vegetables and fruit - I hope I never shuck another ear of corn or pit another cherry.
Eventually my mother started her own business making braided rugs. Then she started buying tons of wool with which to make said rugs. Bolts and bolts of that stuff. I got to go along on the buying trips to mills all over the mid-Atlantic states. I was the human forklift.
Anyway, she started teaching how to make braided rugs, then got really serious about buying material.
I ended up buying the store and business, and learned that wool is subject to spontaneous combustion when it gets wet. The roof leaked and I ended up taking 10 tons of wool remnants to the dump.
Hoarding scraps of wool under a leaky roof is beyond stupid.
Anyway, that fiasco ended with a lawsuit, in which I prevailed, and thankfully everyone involved is now dead.
Well, I'm not, yet, but give it time.
Now pardon me while I cough up a ball of lint.
@Haz: What about hair plugs or a "weave"?
I still have head hair though it's grayed far beyond the mousey brown it used to be. It is naturally curly, but I wear it short enough that it doesn't show.
@Haz: You could just get one fertile patch on your head and grow it out long enough to wrap around for coverage.
@Haz: You should try for the look Dick Dale sports in this video: Amazing Grace
Sixty, Are you Apache?
No, but my jeans are.
Or, Haz, you could go for the Monks look.
Needs moar tambourines.
... and thankfully everyone involved is now dead.
That sounds like me telling stories about my family.
Mah mommah made my clothes when I was a wee bairn, and I just adored it.
My sister hated it. It was at the time when home-made = poverty.
But my mom used Vogue patterns and stylish materials and so on, and what'd I care what anyone thought? I don't think I've ever been as proud to wear clothes as those she made.
I think the difficulty of the task for a working woman and ingratitude of the elder child drove her away from it. To commemorate the first grandchild, she started making quilts.
And they are amazing things, for sure.
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