From the moment I laid eyes on this fabric I just knew I had to have it, and it had to be a dress. Elegant 50s fashionistas promenading past Parisian landmarks with a rich cobalt blue and fierce pink vibe on soft cream. Mmmm. I even like the shots of apple green. Delicious. I’d recently whizzed up a ‘teapot’ dress from McCalls Fashion Star M6554 and decided it was the perfect summer dress to make again in another quirky cotton print.
This time round I changed things up a little, making the neckline a gentle curve rather than square and adding a couple of inches to the bodice length so it sat near my natural waist rather than the empire line of the original. Things I love most about this pattern include the inset piece at the front of the skirt and the perfect pockets … I get really grumpy if I have a skirt with no pockets nowadays! It was a pretty quick make and this time I didn’t even bother lining the skirt, although I was good and did handstitch the hem. I finished it just in time to shove it in my suitcase as we headed off to Arts Week in a little seaside town in Kent.
After rummaging around in the wardrobe I came up with the perfect pink belt, one of my favourite jackets from Next (so much love for this shape and style that I have it in black, cream and navy!) and some polka dot pink shoes from Moshulu. Finishing touch was this lovely pink shell necklance that I borrowed from my Mum (I did return it and then went to buy the very same one from Matalan).
So there we are, April in Paris, now translated to July in Deal.
I have actually experienced April in Paris, and let’s just say it wasn’t as lovely as my dress! I went with an ex who was obsessed with The Doors, and more specifically Jim Morrison. I managed to develop full blown flu somewhere in the middle of the Channel Tunnel, and my lasting memory of the whole Paris trip was sitting in my kettle-less hotel room trying to swirl lukewarm tap water at the right speed to mix my Lemsip before downing in one. That and standing in the freezing cold at the Père Lachaise Cemetery in the pouring rain searching for Jim Morrison’s grave. Yes, I think romance was very dead that day!