Summer Daydreams

The heat of the past few days has dissipated, and tonight it'll be down to nearly 40. Baby is sleeping in her little one-piece jammies instead of the diaper and onesie she's worn most of the past week, and I haven't heard the air kick on outside the wall to the studio all day. But what I think most today, as the cool soothes and I am thankful for not needing the A/C in the car this afternoon, is that my wardrobe is scandalously shallow. Not shallow in the sense of lacking a depth of spirit and joi de vivre, but shallow in the literal sense of not having many component pieces.

In 2005-2006, we moved four times. FOUR, in twelve months. Once to State College to work on my PhD at Penn State--bitter cold and funky, slushy snow; mandatory uniform: jeans and tee shirt; dressy occasions: nil. Huge cleaning of the wardrobe at that point, including dumping all my old "professional" teacher-years clothing. (Let's face it, dressing up as a teacher is still four steps down from "dressy," so no great losses when I donated the 10-year-old dresses and skirts that had been worn so infrequently that they were perma-creased.) Then, back to Atlanta to move in to a new house, and another massive purge, in order to take a smaller moving van and not be forced to pack all my stuff all over again when I had JUST gotten rid of the the last box. Then, only weeks later, to D.C. and life in a very, very small apartment for six months. Another purge, and since I was pregnant at the time, the clothes I bought while there are of no use to me now. Finally, back home to our little house, with boxes and boxes and boxes of baby clothes but nearly nothing for me past my due date. My wardrobe was decimated, in the truest sense of the word: I now have a tenth of the clothing I had three years ago.

I don't cry over it, now, honest, because let's put it in perspective: I spent very little on my wardrobe while teaching school, and in grad school I loved my five pair of jeans. No classic investment pieces were sacrificed in the making of my new life. But as the heat of these past days grew and crescendoed, I recognized that I have virtually NO THING to wear that makes me look as though I've made the least bit of effort that doesn't involve a tee shirt or slacks. A good collection of skirts, but almost no tops; plenty of sun dresses but no everyday heels; some pants, but none of good quality and fewer of flattering cut. I got diddly.

So my summer daydream was to find the time to make stuff FOR ME. Radical concept, thrilling hope, fantasy world. I aim so often to tackle the projects for which I have set aside "My Fabric," the stuff that's SO good I would never sacrifice it to the needs of Pretty Jane, the stuff I love so much and have hoarded for my own selfish desires for so long that my clammy hands would grasp it at the moment of surrender to death before I'd use it for any garment other than my own. The stack is moderately-to-very large, but I have yet to make a substantial dent in it. And if we end up considering another baby any time soon, I'd better get crackin' or I'm looking at yet another year where I make nothing for myself...

Must go sew. I'll let you know how it turns out...