I wish I could say this was an ironic gift

It's a good thing my mom doesn't have the Internet. Or a computer. Because otherwise I might feel bad about sharing this book she sent my daughter for her third birthday this week.

Little Mommy was written in 1967, and it depicts a simpler time, when little girls knew their place and could happily play out their maternal fantasies without fear of judgment from their bitch feminist friends (like me).

 

 Aw, isn't that sweet? A little girl playing with her dolls. Just delightful. This is probably as far as my mom read before buying this book. I am generously giving her that benefit of the doubt because I would hate to think she read the whole thing and still thought it appropriate for my 21st Century girl.

 Wait, what? Is this book set in Westchester? And does daddy work in advertising? I guess Baby Betty Draper does look pretty happy...

 Doing the dolls' hair sounds OK, but playing at wiping fingerprints off the door? What kind of weirdo OCD kid plays at cleaning a door? I don't even do that and I AM a mom with several doors in need of a good wipedown. I think Little Mommy's mommy needs to make an appointment with one of those head-shrinkers she's been hearing about.

 It's all so idyllic...but I've seen Mad Men. I know the only people who had it better in the 1960s were alcoholics and rapists and she's absolutely seething with resentment. There's probably a cocktail spiked with downers hidden in that laundry basket. Oh, here's comes Billy/Daddy, home for dinner. Is that lipstick on his collar? His secretary is such a slut. But if she says anything, he'll slap her again and Little Mommy is out of pancake makeup.

I hope Little Mommy has a Little Something on the side because I bet that asshole Billy doesn't appreciate at all how hard she worked to wipe his scummy fingerprints off her damn door.

Why I Love Vintage Sewing Books

Love those prints!

 The reason I love vintage sewing books is not because they are helpful. In general, I find them to be pretty useless. There aren't pictures to correspond with the explanation of complicated techniques (like sewing a welt pocket, for example) and the instructions assume a great deal of knowledge that would likely presuppose you reading "The Complete Book of Sewing" (pictured here, published in 1972). If I need to know how to do something (today I'm sewing a fly, for example) I turn to online tutorials. But if I need a laugh, I crack a sewing book. I'm sure it's copyright infringement to publish all these pictures here, but I consider this a public service:

This book predates "Annie Hall" by five years. Maybe the costumer was inspired by "The Complete Book of Sewing?"

Sure, some of the looks are quite timeless, like the photo above. But most are not. Because this was the '70s. Remember the '70s? All those weekends spent fishing with your family in matching overalls? Wait, is that Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys?

 And some looks are just so incongruous, I have to wonder what was really going on in America at the time. Like this braless Holly Hobbie. Is this some early version of what we now call a Slutoween costume? "Little Whorehouse on the Prairie"?

 

The '70s were a costumey period in fashion, alright. How cute is this?

 Off topic, my husband thinks this following picture was shot at Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. I don't think so. Any New Yorkers care to weigh in? Whenever we go by that fountain, Ryan says the exact same thing: "This fountain was in the opening shot of Angels in America." And then I say, "I never really cared for Della Reese," which never fails to exasperate him no matter how many times he hears it.

 

 Moving on, I love the advice in this book – and there's plenty. For example: "For a fashion conscious teenager, make a tote and suspenders to match. Sets like this are great moneymakers at bazaars!"

Actually, that's kind of cool.

Can anyone tell me what a "vestee" is?

Little Green Dresses

I had a birthday recently and my kind brother sent me an Amazon giftcard, which I used to order a few sewing books, including Little Green Dresses by Tina Sparkles. The book contains 50 different patterns and instructions for dresses, skirts and tops — but with no actual hard copy paper patterns. So the interesting thing about this book then is that if you start at the beginning and work your way through it, you would be a pretty skilled patternmaker (and sewer) by the end. I haven't made anything yet using the book, but I was impressed that right away Tina Sparkles walks you through making both bodice and skirt slopers (what she calls "The YOU dress"). The method she uses for drafting the bodice slopers is different than what I have learned at the Fashion Institute of Technology, but the results look pretty much the same and there are many ways to achieve a good sloper. (A skirt sloper is super simple and her method is pretty much the same as I have learned.) There are plenty of super easy patterns (tube dress, drawstring skirt) but many that go way beyond cutting out a square sewing it together. Many of the more challenging patterns in this book build on those drafted from instructions on the earlier pages, so your skills would really grow as you go from project to project. Take the "Power Slope Dress" — (sorry, no picture), it's a pretty complicated pattern — more so than I would expect in a book about repurposing thrift store finds.

Many of the dresses and other pieces, as they are styled in the book, are a little young (read: short/tight/quirky. Also: rompers. Boo.) for me. But with any pattern if you use your imagination a little, (and add four or five inches to the hem) there are so many opportunities to customize something for your tastes.

I'm Fat Because You Can't Put Your Hands Around My Waist (and other things I learned from Little House on the Prairie)

You know what myth I'd like the Mythbusters crew to tackle this season? That reading in the dark causes nearsightedness. Though that would be the most boring episode. Picture it: a time elapsed video of nerds with flashlights reading under the covers, reading in the back of a dimly-lit minivan, reading under the bleachers during lunch-hour at school...(you see where I'm going here). THEN: a time-elapsed video of other non-nerds running and playing, doing whatever it is that kids who hate reading do. AND FINALLY: (some years later) the vision testing segment. My money is on the nerds all needing glasses. In university I would conduct informal surveys in my head whereby I would count the number of people in any given room and then calculate what percentage who were wearing glasses. Example: Romantic Poetry class — almost everyone is wearing glasses. Meanwhile, Wednesday Wing Night at Maude Hunters — NO ONE IS WEARING GLASSES. My conclusion: nerds wear glasses, probably because we read too much as kids.

I read a tonne (yes, metric) as a kid. And what do I have to show for it except a cool pair of glasses? Yes, like all the other nerds: an English degree.

However, I remember so little of the books I read, it's shocking. Let me clarify: it's not shocking how little I can remember; it's the things I remember that are shocking.

Who didn't love reading Little House on the Prairie? I know I did. At the time I didn't wonder how old Ma had to be when she married Pa. But now I do. Because one of the only things I remember from that book is the fact that when they were married, Ma’s waist was so tiny that Pa could span it with his strapping hands. Think about THAT for a minute: Her waist fit in his hands. Make an "O" with your hands together and look at the space in the middle. Picture a late 19th-century lady in there. A tiny, little kitten-sized 19th-century lady. Because a kitten is about all I could span with my hands. I have long fingers and I can’t even wrap my hands around my two-year-old’s belly (however, she is shaped a little like little George Costanza — like all two-year-olds).

So thanks, Laura Ingalls Wilder, for making my tween self feel fat for not having the dimensions of a kitty cat. 

Some of my other fave books as a kid and the useful things I remember:

• Harriet the Spy — If you write shit about your friends, they WILL find it. (So be nice on your blog.)

• Anne of Green Gables — This one really is useful: croup symptoms can be allieviated with steam and syrup of ipecac. Also: in the olden days crying together was like playing Wii. Girls did it together all the time.




• Little Women — falling thru the ice is a great way to garner enough sympathy to be forgiven for anything. Also: if you’re writing a novel, back it up, dummy!