I've Learned My Lesson

Let me begin by relating a true tale, usually told roughly half way through my vintage fashion show, The Stories My Clothing Can Tell... 

...I was especially happy to find this gorgeous black, silk shirtwaist because I'd just read the shirtwaist of the 1890s was one of America’s few original contributions to ladies fashions. Throughout its entire regime, haughty Paris dressmakers sniffed at it, pronouncing the death sentence upon it three times before 1909. Whereupon American ladies sniffed back...and bought more shirtwaists. By 1910, New York’s production alone was valued at $60,000,000.

Perhaps this appealed to my sense of patriotism. Whatever. But, I had to have one and the one I bought fit beautifully. I wore it to an event hosted by the Historic Cemetery Association, attended by mostly Civil War re-enactors.

For those not familiar with Civil War re-enacting, these folks – because they're portraying true historical events – are persnickety about costuming. Some have teasingly call them stitch counters or costume Nazis. If you walk among them incorrect in your interpretation of Civil War era costume, you do run the risk of a raised eyebrow. I was a maverick strolling about in late Victorian style – especially as I was sans the proper corseting.

I was so very careful all morning. I knew that though my shirt waist was a pristine beauty, she was a fragile girl.

But as fate would have it, I developed a small itch at the top of my head requiring a small scratch. I should have brought my head to my hand, but, alas, I brought my hand to the top of my head. With that small, innocent movement, the entire left back of my beautiful shirt waist ripped wide open, quite audibly, from top to bottom and without a seam in sight. There I was, exposed and...sans corset. 

Fortunately a Civil War re-enactor friend, with the deepest of frowns, lent me her shawl and with as much dignity as I could muster, I beat feet to my car.

Although the humor of this did not escape me, I was devastated that I had destroyed a piece of history by my carelessness...  

So, you think I'd have learned my lesson, wouldn't you? I've my Facebook friends to thank for saving me from the same pickle jar.

Upon learning a vinyl record can be softened in the oven and then refashioned into a handbag - or a bowl, clock, earrings and...well just about anything really - I naturally felt compelled to add such a specimen to my Bagology program display.  

Without a vinyl record in sight, I threw onto Facebook a request for one and was soon blessed with an amazing specimen - a Franklin Mint collectible featuring music of the Big Band Era. And it's RED!

Having never experienced the cool factor of a red vinyl record, there was hesitation as the oven preheated. Perhaps practice on a plain old black version by an unknown artist of a non-iconic era of music should rule the day. 

And I wanted to share with my Facebook friends the image and my hesitation. 

And so began the firestorm. I was going to do WHAT!? NO, don't do it! You'll be vilified. Don't destroy a piece of 20th century musical culture. Oh no, you didn't! 

I even received two private email messages begging me to reconsider.

I was shocked yet intrigued. Would anyone offer big money to halt this latest handbag effort?

While I question the true collect-ability of anything Franklin Mint, in the end I realized I didn't have to make a vinyl record handbag at all. Putting this red record on the display table with the other handbags and sharing the story was infinitely more interesting than any handbag I could create from it.  

There was also the possibility guests at a woman's luncheon would feel even stronger on the subject than did my Facebook friends and begin hurling their desserts at me if I shared the story with the record already transformed. 

Now back to my shirt waist...the incident brings up an often controversial question in the vintage clothing world. Does a garment reach an age where it becomes irresponsible to wear it? Vintage clothing is a part of our history. My silk shirt waist was perfection and did not appear as fragile as she was. A better place for her might have been in a museum rather than upon my back. It's food for thought. 
 

What would Benny Goodman have had to say about it all?

The web abounds with the how-to for this.
Mine was to have a more vintage look.
Perhaps someday it still will.