While on vacation last fall in the States, I found a place that sells real silk fabric at prices I can only dream of here in Canada. I found some at a price that I’m hard pressed to find in a decent cotton. If I do find it here at that price, it is so hideous that you’d have to pay me to cart it out of the store.
The thing is, the cost of silk is ordinarily so prohibitive for me that I’ve never knowingly used it. (I did hope that a bolt of fabric I once found at a thrift store was real silk but I’ve never found out for sure). That prohibition has caused me to fear the day I’d cut into it and sew it. What if I botch it up and I’m left with a huge pile of expensive useless? What if I pull it off and manage to sew something that fits and stays on my body and I wear it and dump cranberry juice on it or tear it on the car door before I even get to my event? What if I try to wash it and it shrinks into some sort of horrid worm shaped doll dress? Oh the humanity! These fears have hung over me, even though I didn’t actually pay the high price. KNOWING that I would have paid a high price for it HERE has frozen me solid!
I’ve stalled and procrastinated on that project long enough. Today I took the plunge.
Now I have to decide what to call this dress. 1860 …..hmmm….Silky Skies Dress? Sure why not.