So what did you do while the hurricane passed? We bought a few jugs of water, some batteries, and I sewed this navy dress from McCall's 1207:
But, blargh, it's not really working for me. The fit is all off, probably because it's a "Misses" pattern, and cut to fit someone much younger than me, with a fat back and a tiny waist and a butt that starts at the base of her spine. It's just weird. And kind of uncomfortable. It's all big in the back, yet I can't really raise my arms (and I really like high-fives, so that's an issue for me). And I just don't think I have it in me to make the appropriate changes.
It has been a rough week, and I don't know any other way to say it than this: I was mugged by a crackhead in a park a block from my home. He punched me in the face in front of my three-year-old daughter, and ran off with my bag. (This is what journalism types call "burying the lede"). The police caught him within a half-hour and he's in jail now. Naturally, he was out on parole (most men who punch ladies in the face in front of small children probably are). I had to drink milkshakes for days because my jaw hurt so bad. I have a purple moustache and goatee. And my three-year-old knows the meaning of the word "mugged" now. Worst. Week. Ever.
And then, of course, a couple days later, a Category Mindfuck Hurricane blew through New York. So the past seven days have been damn near apocalyptic for our family. I thought staying in all day and sewing this dress would be therapeutic, but mostly it just frustrated me and reminded me why I started drafting my own patterns in the first place.
It looks cute on the dress form though (and isn't that print awesome?):
Except the booty is all off. In fact, I think my butt would have to be about six inches higher to look good in this. And if I lift my arms, it does very strange things. Maybe if I stand still with my back against the wall, I could get away with wearing it.
It looks pretty terrible on me. It stinks actually. And there are too many issues in too many directions for me to bother with fixing it, I think. If I wasn't working on my last nerve, maybe. Perhaps a huge belt would cover up enough to make it better? I need a dress fairy to pay me a visit.
Anyway, now I don't think I'll use this pattern for the peacock-print dress I was planning. I'm just going to buy something at H&M. (There. I said it.) Also, I finished my pink pegboard (which you can see in the background of the above photos) the day before I was mugged. But in the week since we have decided to move out of this neighbourhood, which means all my hard work measuring, drilling and mounting is a total fucking waste because I will be taking this down again in a month. The police officers told me the park where I was attacked is not safe and I shouldn't go there, but the parks are the best thing about this 'hood (the crackheads are obviously the worst). We feel so stupid for not moving sooner: we see tiny ziploc bags littered on the ground within a block of our building (and yet an apartment in my building is on the market for $650,000! Only in New York City). So where does that leave us?
I don't know. I don't want to leave my home. I can't even handle anyone walking behind me. And now we're moving, which is a goddamn arduous task in New York City. Someone please tell me to take the bodice off this mess, take it in at center back, and just draft a new skirt. It's not so hard. Also, moving can't be that bad if I've done it 15 times in my adult life, right?
People keep telling me, "Well, now you've been mugged, which means you can't be mugged again, so that's good!!" If only the universe worked that way -- with a non-transferrable hole-punch card for the all the bad things that could possibly happen to you.
Am I taking out my anger over this assault on my dress? Maybe a little. But what else can I do?