You guys. I’m so annoyed with myself right now. I can’t even believe I did this.
That is my precious, delicate, fragile Missoni fabric. That is a sleeve sewn inside-out to the body of the garment in my precious, delicate, fragile Missoni fabric. What you can’t see from this photo is that I already very carefully trimmed, graded, clipped, and finished the inside armscye seam. Yes, somehow without realizing that the entire mumble-mumble sleeve was inside out. (Insert many curse words here.) Trying to pick it apart has resulted in tiny puffs of multicolored fabric shredding all over everything. I do have enough fabric leftover to re-cut the sleeve, but I have to try to preserve the body pieces as best as I can, and it is not going well.
So the project might just have to take a time-out in the closet to think about what it has done and realize that it should be very, very sorry.
(I can’t even believe I did that.)
(There might not be enough scotch in the house to get me through this disaster.)
Let’s think happy thoughts for a moment. Here’s one. I hung the mug rags for my jewelry. This isn’t perfect yet — I’m still sorting things and trying to figure out the best way to cluster things on each peg, so only about half my pieces are hanging here so far — but it gets the tangle off my bedroom mirror and dresser top. It’s not neat, exactly, but it’s a heck of a lot neater than it used to be, and it has made trying on necklaces so much easier.
And why was I trying on necklaces, you ask? I lucked into some last-minute tickets to see Renee Fleming in Capriccio at the Lyric Opera. I’m not exactly an opera buff (I like it for the spectacle, but prefer good old drama), but I think Renee Fleming is a magical performer, and there are only four performances of this opera. I can’t believe we got tickets, and even managed to get a bargain on them. We decided to have a great dinner at Lloyd’s before the performance, which was a real splurge when you’ve been on a diet for almost 16 straight months. So it was a real event, and I was thrilled to be able to wear these pants.
There’s a little story behind these pants. Those are snakeskin-printed palazzo pants that I bought back in May and probably spent too much on. They didn’t fit me then, not even close. They were more like leggings than flowing challis pants at that point. I almost didn’t buy them, even thought the style is SO ME. They were pricey, and I was afraid I wouldn’t lose enough weight to wear them, and they’d be that thing every woman dreads — a too-small garment, new tags still dangling, rebuking her from the back of the closet for the failure to make a goal.
But they fit now. So that made me really happy, and it made the night feel like even more of a special event — wearing tiny pants, eating TWO desserts, watching a world-class performer deliver a piece she loves, and blissfully unaware that I had already ruined my Missoni dress. (grumble, sigh, that dress — where’s the scotch?)