As everyone has written about on social media, it's incredibly hot for late September. It feels like the earliest weeks of August even though a few weeks ago the temperatures sunk into comfortable jacket weather. The light is changing, leaves are collecting, and those of us who wait all year for the creepy season are knee-deep in our Halloween media.
I hit Edwardian-white heaven the weekend before last. I'm only keeping a few pieces for myself, and swapping some of what has been languishing on my own clothing rack so that it's not entirely a swiftly-developing hoarding-habit.
Last Monday I spent the entire day doing my favorite part of collecting and selling vintage and antique clothing: laundry. It was a sleeves-rolled, tubs full, dirty water kind of day. Everything got it's own specific mixture of cleaning potions depending on the extent of stains and condition. Most came out nice and almost-white, some a little crispy (oops). One piece, a nightgown that wasn't in great shape when I got it so it was only ever going to be mine, had some stubborn stains (not to mention several tears). Rather than bend over it in the sun, baking-soda and peroxide paint brush in hand, I tossed in an inky bin of black fabric dye. I did a bad job patching one of the holes. My usual savior, fusible interfacing, did the trick but in my rush to wear my night-ened nightgown, I stuck it on the exterior of the thing instead of the reverse side. Again, oops, but at least with these kinds of garments there isn't a huge difference when you wear it inside-out.
My little nod to Vanessa Ives while staying cool. Now I have to keep my fingers out of the dye and prevent myself from turning every white piece of clothing I own something inky.