Oh look – it’s HRH and Autumn’s next Hallowe’en costumes:
“Are you kidding?” said t!, who brought over the soundtrack today (and who called it “Rick and Evy go to Sleepy Hollow”). “You guys dress like that every day. Where’s the fun in that?”
(Hey, wow – it’s rated PG-13 for “non-stop creature action violence and frightening images, and for sensuality.” How’s that for a night out?)
Since people seem to think my odd hobby has some coolness to it, I’m about to throw caution and my shyness to the wind and share my first project. Here’s a couple of pics of the Yule gift I gave to our local cougar:
The OOAK Morrighan Barbie wears a hand-made black linen skirt with two full-length slits in the front, laced shut at the front of the hips with copper floss. Her hand-dyed black halter top with mesh sleeves ties at the back. Woven into her left front braid is a pewter feather; another pewter feather is laced with copper floss to her hand-painted spear, along with a black crow feather. On her right hand lands a hand-made raven, wings held wide. Around her waist is tied a hand-tinted miniature of the recipient’s Craft tradition third-degree cords.
And a decent look at the feather cloak which rests on the Morrighan’s shoulders, designed to look like two folded raven wings:
I was really pleased with how the whole doll presents an air of alert motion and activity. For any OOAK fans who stumble across this post as a result of a search engine and who need to know, the Morrighan was created from a Kayla Secret Spells doll, and her face was not repainted: I managed to find one off the shelf who had a perfect disdainful yet amused I-can-see-into-your-soul look on her face that I wanted, without any touch-ups required.
The next doll I’m customising is very different from the active and alert Morrighan, however; I’m trying for a softer, dreamier look. And then there are the three dolls I have sitting to the left of my desk, who are destined to become a shadowbox scene of the three aspects of the goddess Brid: muse, smith, and healer. None of them require repainting, thank goodness, only creating original costumes from the sketches and colour notes I have in my notebook. (Yes, yes, fine: the dolls are Batik Princess, TRU Charity Ball 1997, and Grand Entrance 2 respectively. Happy, fellow OOAKers?)
There. More than I ever thought I’d let anyone know about this hobby. Hey, it’s costuming in miniature: saves money, saves time, and the result isn’t just worn once then hung in a closet.
Some of you know I’ve taken to costuming fashion dolls, after my stunning success of creating a Morrigan Barbie for a certain cougar last Yule. At the moment I have rough sketches and a few nekkid Barbies in a box, upon whom I’ve been practicing my painting skills to further customise them.
My second secret project is now well under way. Tal saw it last week, and when I said I was in the midst of repainting the eyes, he said, “No you aren’t,” which was incredibly satisfying because it meant he couldn’t tell the difference. What once was a purple-eyed Barbie showing her little white teeth in a plastic smile is now a dreamy green-eyed lass with a demure close-mouthed smile. I’ll let her finish drying and then varnish the paintwork to seal it. Then, ah then, I costume.
I checked the prices of sewing machines at Sears this afternoon; the mid-range model with fourteen stitches and a hard case is $249 on sale till Saturday. Hmm.
Painting and blending the exact shade of natural lip colour was precisely what I needed after alternately wanting to cry and tear things to shreds this afternoon. Writing a severe memo regarding the plagiarism issue made me want to shake the author until her teeth flew out of her head. I can’t write in this mood, but apparently I can paint.
It’s been a while since I updated my reading list. I’m now enjoying Zodiac, a vintage Neil Stephenson. I really like his early work. I’m the only person I know who’s read The Big U.
I’m currently munching rice cakes. While people might surmise that this might have something to do with shaping up my physique for my annual body-skimming superhero costume, it’s nothing so health- (or fashion-) conscious: I just like the little spiced styrofoam disks. I’m weird that way.
Speaking of superhero costumes, I found the wickedest red satin spike heels with ribbon lacing today at the Le Chateau outlet. I also found the perfect top and skirt to kit-bash to make my costume, which I will pick up when the bank thaws my money at the beginning of May. (Yes, “thaws;” Ceri and t! came up with the term as an alternative to “unfreezes”). Hey, if it cuts down on the amount of sewing I have to do, and the cost ends up being approximately the same as material plus sewing-machine hours would be, I’m all for pre-fab costume elements. I’ll actually be picking up two skirts, one to wear and the other for extra material to with which to do other nifty costume stuff. Everything will require modification, but modification will take significantly less time than kit-bashing a pattern and sewing it from scratch.
The shoes are just so damn funky. The heels are hilarious. The idea of me in spike heels just makes me giggle helplessly, especially woven satin spike heels with ribbon lacing all the way up the calf. I’ll never wear them again, but for nine bucks, I couldn’t resist.
By the way, go to CBC’s Great Canadians contest and vote. Canadians are cool. Molson says so, but we knew the truth long before the commercials told everyone else, didn’t we.
Yes, you know you’ve always wanted one. Now you can make your very own felted pointy hat! Simply visit the Pointy Hat Page page for full text and illustrate dinstructions. Go on — be the most fashionable witch on the block!
Oh, gods, I am such a geek. Have I mentioned recently how much of a geek I am?
No reason, really; this is just a random geek-out moment. Actually, yes, there is a reason; I’ve just spent way too much time poring through costume photos from The Return of the King, specifically the gorgeous selection of Arwen gowns. I am a sad, sad, costume geek.
A geek, I tell you.
My vices could be worse.
Actually, now that I stub my toe on it, there was one fly in the weekend’s ointment: my beloved toy-like sewing machine is dead. I discovered this while crafting (I love double meanings!) the finishing touches of last night’s Yule gift for my coven-sister. This sweet little machine had two speeds, Bunny and Turtle (I kid you not, those are the icons), and has been my trusty companion through Star Trek outfits, several Renaissance faires, ritual robes, Hallowe’en costumes, curtains, skirts, dresses, coats and cloaks for eight years now. It was a gift from my parents, and I don’t know how long any of us truly expected it to last, being such lightweight plastic.
I have a couple of options: I can take it into a repair shop and pay goodness knows how much for an evaluation and/or repair, or I can think about a new sewing machine. A grown-up one. Ceri and I were talking about this when she was doing the research to invest in her own machine a couple of years ago. I ought to be responsible and take my sweet little toy in to at least be looked at. I owe it at least that much after mercilessly subjecting it to heavy tapestry fabrics and thick wool that were all theoretically too much for it to handle. With whispered words of encouragement, the occasional prayer and the even rarer swift kick or hard knock, it got the job done, though, no matter what I asked of it.
Until last night, that is. Last night’s project was completed entirely by hand, with the help of a curved needle (why haven’t I ever used one of these before?), a glue gun, and a passle of cats who were very interested in the feathers I was using.
So.
Naturally, as my sewing machine is down for the count, I desperately want to sew again. Let’s hear it for human nature.