Urban Slumber's Consolation

Purchased a yard of patterned silk in the garment district. Brought it to the studio to sew a set of pillow cases. Its woodgrain pattern in violet, green and white was difficult to pair with other colors. Looked about for a fabric to use as a border. Nothing worked well. Then found a small scrap of olive green silk that was nearly perfect. There was enough for one border. For the other border used a different fabric. (They are fraternal twins.)

Many sounds [one might more accurately write "noises"] in Brooklyn: sirens, incessant car horns, construction. (If a car horn were as loud inside the honking car as outside would it be used as liberally?) Am longing to write, work and sleep where nature's sounds are unmasked by the city's loud rumblings. Until then, an urban consolation: to slumber with one's head upon a soft silk pillowcase--grassy green, orchid purple.

Never Finished... And That's a Good Thing

Summer Nightgown. Cotton,  2013

The heat of a summer night asks for nothing more than the simplest nightgown of finely woven cotton. This one has pintuck pleats each adorned with an embroidered stylized blossom. It was only after sewing the nightgown with its pintucks that an element appeared to be missing: a dash of color. A month or two later embroidery was added.

Designing and making clothing rather than shopping since 2008 have produced a fairly complete wardrobe. (This summer stitched a new lingerie design which I'm loving.) As with the nightgown, recently find myself reworking garments: modifying a neckline, lowering a waist, raising a hem. Read about an artist who altered paintings even as they were on exhibit in a museum. Understandable impulse. Rare is a piece static enough that imagination resists dreaming of its further development.

Detail: Embroidery & Pintucks, 2013

Bedding and Its Descendants

Duvet Cover: cotton, 2013

Tugged on the duvet cover to bring the duvet's warmth up to ear-level on a recent chilly evening. Heard a distinct sound--the rapid buzz of fibers giving way.

Made a new cover (photo, above) cutting panels of fabric for a snug fit. A friend has observed that having a cover that is slightly tight prevents a duvet from shifting and bunching. This is decidedly true.

Tears and holes are patchable until the surrounding fibers are too weak to support a patch. Then large pieces of fabric are divided into smaller ones using the strongest pieces for new projects. It's an organic progression. A calico sheet became the lining of a hat and a pair of pajamas. After awhile the pajamas began to wear out. The fabric is now becoming part of rug.

Random details:
A curtain rod with fabric draped across it serves as a headboard. (The bed looks mighty small from this perspective!) The pair of pillow cases were made, gosh, a long while ago. The afghan was inherited from a grandmother. Never saw her with a crochet hook; unsure where it originated.

Lilies are on the nightstand. As lily blossoms begin to wither they emit a concentrated fragrance that swirls about. It's an incredible sensory moment before they entirely fade.

Arabian Nights

Detail: Deep neckline held with ribbons

Ah...bedtime! Recently made two nightshirts--one based upon an 18th century shift and another with a Middle Eastern influence (in photos). Long--with high side slits and a deep v-neck with ribbons. From hem to neckline the vertical weave alternates between translucent furrows and opaque ridges. Made of a diaphanous fabric, it floats around the body.

Nightshirt, 2012 It looks so much better on the body!!

Wearing while writing this--early in the morning!