I’m not really a Shoe Girl.
I typed that sentence, and a voice in my head—a voice which sounds disconcertingly like my mother’s—snorted derisively. Ok, yes, the pile of shoes that I’ve amassed in my closet is pretty damning evidence to the contrary. But I dream in dresses and coats—shoes tend to be an afterthought.
Part of my indifference toward footwear definitely stems from growing up Tall. Self-conscious about my height, I was always one of those awkward girls slouching in corners, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I didn’t have the gumption—or, to be honest, the coordination—to wear high heels. And it IS high heels that Shoe Girls love.
And while I’ve obviously outgrown that aversion to attention (nothing screams “Look at me! Look at me!” quite like writing a blog in which one posts photos of oneself) a vague reluctance to don heels lingers. (As, unfortunately, does the terrible posture.)
Anyway. This is a very roundabout way of explaining that this project began in a very roundabout way for me.
It started with this pair of pumps.
I bought these shoes to wear to a wedding and immediately had a fairly substantial idea of what I wanted to wear them with—something girly and vintagey and sweet, with a full fluffy skirt and a fitted bodice.
Something like so:
a. 1950s Dress, DearGolden Shop at etsy.com
b. Brown and Ivory Tulle Skirt, TutusChicBoutique at etsy.com
c. Presenters Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly wait backstage at the RKO Pantages Theatre during the 1956 Academy Awards, Allan Grant—Time & Life Pictures
d. Custom 50s-inspired Cocktail Dress, Elegance50s Shop at etsy.com
Of course I didn’t actually own anything like that, so I decided to make something.
Because I hate myself.
I’m labeling this as a “Thrift Store Couture” post, but that’s kind of misleading—I did start with a garment from Salvation Army, but I basically cut it up and completely started over.
The after: a definite improvement, no?
The rest I just winged, creating a gathered tulle circle skirt with a pink silk overlay. The waistband is black velvet—a total splurge, guys. That strip of fabric was, like, $12.
Truthfully, the flimsy silk was probably a poor choice for a dress this structured/tailored. I lined the bodice with a stiffer fabric, which helped—but it still wasn’t ideal.
(Upon further reflection, that actually might be my Grandma Joyce’s voice. Or that of Mrs. Downing, ballet teacher.)
(Probably all of the above.)
Confession: I couldn’t actually decide whether I preferred the skirt simply as tulle, or with the pink silk overlay on top.
SO I sewed the pink skirt and sash together, but did not attach it to the rest of the dress. It’s its own separate, removable piece—it just ties around the waist.
Now I can wear the dress both with and without the overlay. Total design cop-out. Because sometimes decisions are hard.
Without the pink overlay: