Meet My New Best Friend! Ummmm, What's-Her-Name

For years I've been wanting a sewing mannikin.

[Note: I started to write "lusting after" but since I'm getting ready to write about a naked life-sized human figure, I thought better of it. I did make myself laugh, though.]

I want one of those that has the fabric covering you can stick pins into, and I want it in Exactly My Size. And on a sturdy movable base.

Of course, I also want it cheap, which is why I don't have one in my house right now. It's kind of down at the bottom of the list of Things I Need. Of course, since I discovered yesterday that I won't be eligible for an upgrade so I can get the new iPhone until next August, there's one fewer item on that list.

So I was at BJ's this week (I've taken to hanging out there rather a lot, trying on other people's clothes and talking and thinking about ways to alter everything in the entire shop), and the owner, Trish, said she had an old mannikin in the back. She didn't want it, and I could have it. I didn't get too excited, because who knows what it would look like, right? It could have had some Frankenhead or something. A mustache. Who knew? I knew it wouldn't have the fabric padding, and I knew it wouldn't be Exactly My Size, but still--I could make it work, at least for now.

She brought it out, its nekkidness covered by a white shirt--"I made sure it was cotton because I know you won't take home anything made out of polyester!"--and we took her apart and loaded her in the truck. Still not excited, but increasingly hopeful.

Then we went to Lowe's to get a rod to stick in her butt because Trish couldn't find the stand yet. She's actually really well made, very sturdy, with a screw to hold the rod in place. (The mannikin, not Trish.)

Here's our trip to Lowe's:

I brought her home and got her set up. As long as she's leaning against the sewing desk (The EGE's old school desk that they were going to throw away (and isn't that just marvelous: they give you an old desk to use for years but then, because it's missing drawers and stuff, don't think it's worth saving when you retire)), she's very stable.

Although she's my height, she's definitely not my size. She's about 4" smaller than I am on every measurement. That would make her, I'm guessing, about 90 lbs In Real Life. Her feet are exactly the right size, though--my shoes fit her as if they were made for her.

 Her head is way smaller than mine (duh: almost every normal person's head is way smaller than mine. My head is the same size as my dad's, and he was almost 6' 5" and weighed 13 lbs at birth). She has no hair, although Trish says there's a hairpiece floating around somewhere.

And of course she's about 35 years younger than I am, poor girl.

So I got her set up and found some temporary clothes for her. The bustier is another Oleg Cassini one--I have the one that fits perfectly; this is a size smaller and too small for me (I can zip it up, but I can't breathe). But it's fabulous and was only $3, so I had to have it. On her, it's too big, but safety pins hold it in place. I'll ditch the apron as soon as I find some tiny black tights or bike shorts--something tight and black that will work under the stuff I put on her.

 Trish says there are arms in the back of the shop, too, and that she'll find them eventually. I don't really need them--she's got shoulders to hold stuff up, and that's all I need.

While the stuff I'm trying on her will all be too big, what I mostly need to see is how it will look on a body. I don't need it to fit--I don't work on a lot of form-fitting stuff (I have form-fitting stuff, but I don't mess with it much). Here she is wearing the vest I'm working on. It was a black Bryn Walker knit, on clearance, and I started not to buy it because it was--duh--black. And knit. But it was so soft, and it looked great on. So I bought it (months ago) and then thought about what I was going to do to it. First I stitched up the sides--they just tied and were dorky--and that looked so good I added pockets made from old t-shirts. Now I'm adding the heart on the front. Yes, hearts are cliche. And I'm going to find one that's actual-heart-shaped: for me, they're a reminder about the warning sent to me by my actual heart (you can read about that in yesterday's post, if you're so inclined).

Anyway, I got totally jazzed this morning--I put the vest on her and was pinning the heart in place, and it was one of those moments that is Just Perfect: a mannikin in the sewing studio, doing her mannikin job, making my life easier. Just Perfect.

I think I may call her Alex, after Alexandra Jacopetti Hart, who wrote Native Funk & Flash, the book that set my brain on fire in 1974. Although there's been a lot of other stuff along the way--other interests, various jobs, other lives--it sometimes feels, taking the long view, that I can see the whole path so far, leading me into the world of altered and embellished clothing. It was life-changing, although I didn't know it at the time, and since I have no idea what other life I might have had, it didn't feel like a change, but more like a spark. Whatever.

Feel free to suggest other names--she can have more than one. Everyone needs a middle name, a nickname, an Official Name. Everyone needs Three Different Names [smell a reference here, any nerdy people?].

And because I suspect that I'm not the only one who adores peeks into people's horrendously messy studios, I took these just for y'all so you can gasp and go, "Oh, my god, that poor EGE! It's worse even than we imagined!" and then make plans for an intervention.

 That table stays up all the time. It's on risers, so it's a great height. I'd rather have the 6-ft table up (this one is 4 feet), but it takes up so much room I can't get to one of the (3) sewing machines. Not that I ever use it, but still. That's the cats' daybed in the background and the window that was supposed to be THREE windows by now. Still no handyman/contractor/carpenter. None. None in the whole damn town. Since our economy is officially still booming and we have a severe housing shortage, I may NEVER get windows. Grrrrrrr.

 There's a sewing machine under the Snoopy pillowcase from when I was in high school. That blue butterfly shape on the bulletin board in the background is a pin cushion I made for my mother when I was about 5, out of 1)cardboard, 2) fabric, and 3) a chunk of styrofoam. In kindergarten, I'm guessing. I have so few memories of childhood that I just kind of have to guess when things occurred.

 No, I don't leave the ironing board up. I put it away at the end of the day so we can, you know, actually walk from the kitchen into the bedroom without crashing into one thing or another.

OK. I've got to go take a walk so I can get dressed and go over to BJ's and see if she has a 50-ish cocktail dress for really cheap. There's a Rat Pack Tribute benefit show tonight at the Hilton, and we were given last-minute tickets. I never liked these guys, but our parents listened to them back when were kids, so I thought it would be fun. Then I read that, for $5, you can get unlimited martinis. I don't drink those, but that made me think that some people, surely, will get into the whole mood of the show and dress up. That would be way fun--I love dress-up! would say I wish I had some of my mother's clothes from the 50s, when she was wearing little suits and white gloves and dresses with full skirts, but 1) she didn't keep any from that far back and 2) since she had a 19-inch waist for much of her life, there's no way I could wear them.

I could, however, put them on Alex~~

XO