I have finally sorted through the entire sweater collection and the turtleneck collection. Despite the overabundance of certain color families — I seem to have a deep-seated need to purchase every shade of blue-green turtleneck I can find — there are actually gaps.
Next up: finding something to actually wear.
I have a friend who would tell you in a moment that she doesn’t cook. Now there are people who really don’t cook – people who eat every meal out of the house except perhaps for a cup of coffee and a bagel in the morning – and I know a few of them. Then there are people like my friend who don’t cook but do feed their families. She doesn’t like to cook, but she puts meals on the table. Nothing fancy comes out of her kitchen, but that doesn’t mean it is not a healthy meal. Burgers, chops, potatoes, rice, salad, simple vegetables. We all know about these kinds of simple meals. In fact the “not cooking” that I have been doing a lot of this past summer is very similar to this – fresh vegetables, steamed or grilled. Meat on the grill. Simple stuff. Not the kind of cooking I love to do, the kind that takes time and attention. But there is a time for everything in life.
When I say I am not sewing, I mean something much the same as when I say I am not cooking. If I said I was not sewing in my sewing room, my serger might say: “if you aren’t sewing why are you rethreading me twice a day?” My Bernina would probably choke on the baby quilt that is sitting next to it and say something like “and what is this stuff you have been feeding through me all day, if it is not sewing?”
Now I know a lot of people who say “I don’t’ sew” and really mean that they don’t sew, that they couldn’t even attach a button and would have to send their shirt to the tailor or throw it out. But when I say I am not sewing I mean that I am not doing any creative sewing, just maintenance, or things for other people. I am not sewing things I enjoy sewing, but then again, I would rather be sewing/mending/altering than be out looking for replacements. The shopping isn’t really an option right now anyway. But taking a t-shirt and making it a size smaller is not thrilling stuff; necessary yes, thrilling no.
There has been some sewing for other people, but I don’t really have control over the design or fabrication of those things. As they really aren’t mine and don’t represent my choices in anything I don’t really see any point in posting them here. I am sewing aprons to help a friend who sells them at craft shows/fundraising yard sale things. I have done this kind of thing before and I always say I won’t do it again. Ha! The apron patterns are cute, kind of vintage, the fabric, kind of country calico prints would not be my choice and I frankly find them kind of boring. This is probably a good thing because if they were in cute fabric I would hate to give them back. I do need a few new aprons, so perhaps that is one more thing to add to my fall sewing list.
Oh, and I have been sewing diapers and diaper covers. Another friend’s daughter has a new baby, and she wants cloth diapers. What did I know about cloth diapers? When I said I would help make diapers I thought they were pieces of fabric you folded and pinned around baby, or at least they were the last time I used a cloth diaper on anyone. But these are cute, and fasten on with little snaps or buttons or velcro tabs and they do actually require sewing up. They look a lot like washable designer pampers, which is I suppose why they are so expensive in the store, and why I am helping to sew cloth diapers.
I am still thinking about sewing, and thinking about clothes for fall, although it is still warm enough that the transition is more in "feel" than in actual garments. And all this thinking about clothes and sewing has actually inspired me to get the cutting table at least partially cleared of clutter, cleared enough that I can see the surface, and cleared enough that I had enough space to block a sweater. I might even have enough space to cut a new slip/lining for that maroon skirt, which is shamefully still sitting on the cutting table waiting for me to do something about the lining. Luckily, the color is good for fall, and I have more things to wear with it that are appropriate for fall than were appropriate for this past summer.
And the clutter should be a little more confined soon. I really do need to stop that habit of punishing myself when I get behind by piling everything up on my workspace. It is as if I have some mental taskmistress that is telling me I can sew when I get all my chores done, but I never quite manage to get them done. Enough of that!
But back to my current chain of thought. I have been thinking about clothes for fall, and I have ordered a few things that aren't here yet, and I do want to sew several things, including that pleated organza coat (and everything else I have written about here).
Part of the process of thinking about sewing is thinking about what I want to sew (organza coat, wool fused-yarn coat), what I need to wear (very casual) and how to work out some equilibrium between my actual and my fantasy wardrobes.
At the end of each season I do like to look back on what I wore the previous season because it gives me a kind of idea of where my life is. That period of reflection, along with a look at my calendar and my closets helps tell me what I might need or want.
It also always intrigues me that although I love reading the fashion magazines and looking at the runway shows, there is more or less correlation of what I wear with what I see/buy/make based on a wide variety of factors. Looking at all the fabulous clothes coming down the runway now for next spring reminds me of all the things I wanted to make for this past spring. But I have never been consistent about making something and wearing it in its season. Sometimes I wear it in a timely manner; sometimes a garment has to mellow in my closet a year, or even two before it is ready to come out and play. I never intend it this way. I always think I will wear everything I sew or buy right away. But I am too much a creature of moods. So I find "what did I wear?" to be much more interesting than "what did I buy?"
So what did I wear this past summer? I'm going to look at the shoes here as we all know there was little sewing, and you will have to trust me that the clothes were completely boring, basic linen and chinos and an assortment of tees.
As I mentioned it was a casual summer and several old favorites were in constant use. The blue Aerosole wedges shown up at the top have been a favorite since I bought them (how many years ago? 3? 4?) They make me smile every time I put them on. I will be heartbroken when they finally collapse from overuse.
Other old favorites were a couple of pairs of practical "comfort"
sandals, which I hope still have a little more style than the average
merely functional shoe. But even if they don't, one always needs comfortable shoes for wearing around the house with chinos and shorts. Since I rarely got out of the house except to go to the grocery store or farmer's market these shoes got lots of use.
But it wasn't all comfort and practicality:
I surprised myself by falling in love with some sandals I bought last year but never wore. In fact at the beginning of the season I was considering whether this pair had been a mistake and was contemplating selling them. I should have known better, I make few major mistakes, at least in terms of purchased clothes, anymore. I can't imagine why I thought they were too stiff and uncomfortable last year. This year they were pretty much the sandal I wanted to wear almost every day. Of course it didn't happen, shoes need to breathe and they didn't go with everything, after all.
What didn't go with the bronze sandals more than likely did go with these sandals however and these were the second most frequently worn sandals for this past summer. Oddly enough I didn't wear them last summer either. I thought the strap was too tight across the top of my foot. Do you think 12 pounds would have made that much difference in the size of my feet? I don't think so.
Whatever the reason, they were perfect this year.
One new pair of sandals made it onto my frequent wear list:
I bought these sandals early in the season for an obscene amount of money. I am rationalizing it away by telling myself that I bought fewer things than usual this summer, and I have worn these so frequently and I love them so much I know I will wear them as long as possible, even when they are completely out of fashion. I love the style, I love the purple heel, I love the thick almost industrial buckles at the ankle — I guess I should have taken a better photograph of those. And I can wear them well into fall. No dainty summery sandals these. I feel tough and pretty and in control.
Gee, that is a lot of pressure to put on a mere shoe.
And although I had little reason or opportunity to dress up this past summer, if I did, I made sure that whatever I wore had to go with these sandals.
This was another sale pair. I do sometimes love the way everything goes on sale right in the middle of the season in which you want to wear it. I think it is stupid, but I don't mind taking advantage.
Besides, it would have been a very sad summer indeed if there was no room for frivolity.
So, I am getting my head back together enough that I am beginning to think about sewing again — perhaps it is all that playing with fabric, perhaps it is just that life seems to be running a little more smoothly at the moment. It is not that I feel more in control, dangerous territory that, but that I feel less out of control.
That doesn't mean I am not thinking about sewing.
We went to a marvelous barbecue at a neighbor's house this weekend. It was really nothing special: a bunch of people sitting outside at a wooden picnic table, drinking diet sodas and wine, with fresh tomatoes and hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill. It was just casual and fun, and the kind of thing that I have not been to in a long long time. In fact, it was the very ordinariness that made it perfect.
It is 8:30 AM and already I am exhausted. That could be because I have been up since 4:30. It could be because I was also up at midnight, 1:30 and 2:30, although I was able to go back to sleep on those occasions, although at least twice the sleep was only achieved through use of a sleep mask, ear plugs and a cold shoulder. Sometimes it tears me up to do it. But one of us has to be alert.
"We can't do this any more." and "I don't want to go to any more of these things because you waste the day waiting for it to happen".
Yesterday I was stopped at a traffic light minding my own business, pretty much anyway. My attention was caught temporarily by a car that was approaching fairly quickly behind me and I looked up into the rear-view mirror for a moment, just to be sure it stopped. It did.
It
is true that at times I can feel quite selfish. When faced with the
prospect of giving up many of the concerts and musical events, of not attending
the summer film festivals and plays, I was sad and somewhat petulant.
Although I always realized that I was quite lucky to have that life, I
had also come to accept it as a part of my definition my place in the
world. Accepting that this may no
longer be a part of my life therefore has been difficult.
Now
I always knew that it would not go on forever. But knowing something
intellectually and dealing with the reality is not necessarily the same thing.
Still, over the course of the summer I have come to realize how much the
change in routine upsets G and how much more confused he grows when faced with
new situations or too much information.
That
does not mean that I was not happy that we did indeed manage to make it to part
of the Bard Music Festival this past weekend. In fact, we actually did more
than I had anticipated. And G handled it pretty well. I believe that listening to the music had a calming effect
that almost overcame the confusion.
Friday
night G surprised me by asking to attend the opening night dinner. Now we have gone for years, but
previous experience has led me to believe that these events are a bit
overwhelming for G right now so I had planned a simple dinner at home. Indeed the crowd of patrons, closely
pressed together in a small area for cocktails due to the downpour outdoors was
a bit much for G, but he seemed fairly content to stand in a corner with a
drink watching the hullabaloo from a safe distance. Luckily he was stationed near the door to the kitchen so he
had access to all the tasty hors d’oeuvres that were making the rounds. He even managed to muster up a
conversation with his neighbor during dinner, fortunately for us a fellow
physician, as his professional knowledge seems to be the one store he can
reliably call up.
The
concert was very good, mostly chamber music, all by Prokofiev. G seemed to relax and enjoy the music,
although he had difficulty following the program. Because the Bard programs are always long (often over 3
hours) we got home late for G and he went right to bed and slept several hours
before beginning his nightly perambulations and agitations.
Saturday
afternoon we went to another concert, this time in a smaller hall, which is
easier for George to navigate.
I think he slept through various scattered bits, and generally our row
mates were pretty good about just trying to step around or over him as they
tried to get in and out of their seats. He enjoyed the music very much and occasionally even
commented on how he liked this or that.
Once again he would have trouble following the program, asking which
piece we had just listened to, or what was being currently performed. And he would forget who the musicians
were during the brief moments between when they would leave the stage following
a performance and return to take a bow.
He also had trouble identifying favorite musicians. For example he has long liked Jeremy
Denk, whom we heard several times Friday and Saturday. Each time he performed G would ask who
he was and say that he was wonderful and ask why he had never heard him play
before.
Many
of the pieces played on Saturday were by Prokofiev’s contemporaries and
teachers, and several of the pieces were interesting perhaps for appreciating
the atmosphere of the time. The
Prokofiev pieces, as well as the Stravinsky piano works and the Glazunov string
quintet were fabulous. I realize
that I was only vaguely aware of Prokofiev as a composer of chamber works, with
the exception of works for solo piano, a situation that needs to be corrected
as I was quite entranced by several works performed.
Sunday became a rather ambitious day for
us. We attended the afternoon
concert, to which we were almost late because of torrential downpours. We got into the concert hall, G made a
pit stop and then I was fretting as I was holding the door open while the usher
was trying to close it to start the concert and G would get distracted by
various bits or things that caught his eye as he crossed the lobby. I felt if I abandoned my grip on the
door we would be shut out, but I was having trouble keeping G’s attention long enough
for him to cross the room. We did
get to our seats just as the musicians took their seats.
That concert was interesting and lovely,
all woodwind and piano works with a few songs. I love woodwinds, am particularly fond of the oboe, but have
decided that three hours is a bit too much woodwinds for me.
George enjoyed it enough that he wanted to
go to the evening concert, which really looked fascinating to me. The title of
the program was “The Cult of the Child” and there were many lovely and favored
works to be performed including Satie’s Gymonopedies,
Ravel’s Ma Mere l’oye, and
Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf .
We did not make it through the entire
concert. In the first half we
heard the Gymonpedies, which were
absolutely lovely, and Poulenc’s L’histoire de Babar, le petit elephant. I adored “Babar”. The piano played by Lucille Chung was
just wonderful and Michael York did the narration. It was just charming and fun, bringing back memories of
reading Babar as a child, but was also full of wit and humor to listen to as an
adult.
I had admittedly wanted to attend this
program, partly because I love many of the pieces, and partly because I wanted
to hear Michael York on whom I had a tremendous crush as a teenager. I did meet him briefly at the dinner on
Friday night, and I knew he was narrating Peter and the Wolf on Sunday. I had not read the program thoroughly
so was unaware of Babar, much to my surprise and joy since we did not stay for Peter.
Even though we left at the intermission, I was happy to have heard Babar, and
happy to have at least heard part of a concert I would have been sad to
miss. The concert started at 5:30,
and it was 7 by the time we left at the end of intermission. The day was
already much to long for G. Had we
stayed I am sure we would not have been out before 8:30 and would not have
eaten until after 9. As it was G
was in bed by 9, exhausted, allowing me to catch up with the clutter around the
house and watch Mad Men undisturbed, itself a rare pleasure these days.