Remember Requiem? Song of The Dead? Or For The Dead…or was it…. By The Dead?
Well, anyway. Summer’s over. I mean really, really over. Perhaps an autumn day (or several) will emerge from its frosty morning almost balmy, almost summery, but it will be esteemed by its more frigid sisters as a freak. And will be forced to stand alone. A lone, lonely loner.
The backyard zinnias are brown. Dead. The pumpkin vines are withered black/brown, dead. Even the pumpkins are frostbitten. Summer is gone. And because I loved it, I (even though I’m not dead) will sing a wistful farewell to it. In a dress. Gray (not grey)… perfect for a summer requiem.
I’m singing. Ok, typing. And not actually literally in a dress; I sit at my laptop in grubby clothes so besmeared with paint, they’ve become crusty. I do have pictures of the dress though. Which helps with the whole illusion of my having sung summer’s dirge in a dress.
It was lovely and warm when we took these pictures. Summer was in full stride. I wasn’t though…my thrifted orange pumps are a half size too big. I step lightly in them, lest I lose them Cinderella style..
They’re just so cute (my Pumpkin Pumps). Even if they don’t fit, quite.
And the dress… I made it. Five, six years ago. Out of clearance fabric. I wear it maybe twice a year, probably because it’s a little too snug in the bust. And yet, I love how it looks once I’ve got it on (which is kind of hard, in all honesty…I used a zipper that was just a little too short; the only way into this dress is over my head, wriggling the narrow opening over my shoulders and bust).. Princess line patterns are a dime a dozen, but ones with pleats in the front…not as easy to find. The pattern I used to make this dress disappeared mysteriously, the victim of a disintegrated pattern envelope and my further mismanagement. I cannot find it…. which is kind of a bummer because I’d love to repeat the pleats. I’ve found a vintage Vogue pattern (V2093) that sports a much fuller skirt, with pleats both in the front and the back. Maybe I’ll try that sometime, when I’m not so paint splattered. Or busy pretending to sing requiems. Farewell, summer. Goodbye zinnias and tomatos and light gray summer dresses. For now.
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