A Stitch ... in Time?

Long ago, it became apparent that I have a predilection for new challenges.  In pursuit of this, I often come up with ideas which, when viewed by the cold dual lights of day and sobriety, appear to be ... inappropriate.  I'm not speaking morally or ethically inappropriate, merely things to which no intelligent person would commit herself.  It has long been my hope that by surrounding myself with intelligent, creative people, I would provide myself with a safety net.  In other words, someone would tap me on the shoulder and say, "Ummm.  No."  For some reason, though, this hasn't worked.  All those intelligent creative people either say, "I think that's a great idea for you," or "I'll join in!"  So instead of simply straying from sanity's path alone, I lead the pack.

Okay, it is possible that I exaggerate a bit.  It's not like I've led Arctic expeditions or squeezed a half-dozen people into a small plane to search for Amelia Earhart.  I've never even made Kool-Aid, much less persuaded others to drink a poisoned version.  I'm a low-key, risk-adverse kind of adventurer.  I'll decide that we're driving four hours (each way) to a certain restaurant for dinner, but I'll make a reservation.  I'll put together a group to fly on trapezes, but I know we'll fall safely into a net.  I'll move thousands of miles away, without a job, friends or an apartment ... but I'll know a phone call will net me a return ticket home.

So why am I bemoaning my current situation?

My sister once summed up our personalities well.  She assumes, if she has never done something, that she is unable to do it.  She might prove herself wrong, but she's not optimistic about this.  I, on the other hand, assume that I can do anything until I prove myself wrong.  Granted, I prove myself wrong quite often!  But I always start with the belief that I can do it.

So when, several months ago, I saw a picture of a dress in a magazine and decided I wanted one just like it, I decided to make it.  After all, I can sew a seam on a machine.  I've no clue how to read a pattern, much less how to sew a dress without a pattern, but hey - I don't know that I can't do this, so surely I can, right?  To protect myself (see first paragraph, above), I showed it to a friend, who actually knows how to sew, and asked if "we" could make it and she (see intelligent, creative people sentence, above) said yes, we could.  Excited about the prospect of wearing this glamorous dress to my holiday party this year, I began telling people that I would be making my dress this year.  And then the sewing began.  Turns out my friend, who truly is an excellent seamstress, had never encountered a challenge of this magnitude before.  What looked, to my naive eyes, like a very simple garment, involves no end of "notions" (that's what they call them), some of which I'd never even heard of.  Still, when we bought these strange things at the fabric store, my friend kept nodding, sagely, it seemed, so I felt comforted.

Then the sewing began.  First, mind you, rather than waste good fabric, we decided to make a muslin prototype.  Yes, this means making the dress twice.  Or at least a good chunk of it.  We were actually fairly successful at this.  But somehow, when we used the muslin prototype as a pattern, the problems began.  Now I need to lose two inches in my hips to wear it, it's suddenly gotten so low-cut in the front that I'm afraid I'll be arrested for indecent exposure - in my own house - and with any hem at all, I'll have to wear the shortest of flats.  How did this happen?  And can it be fixed?  Although I am loathe to admit it, I fear the answer is no, at least not by us.  After all, it took the two of us and another friend, three intelligent, well-educated, professional women, to figure out how to put the pieces together in such a way that it wouldn't resemble a court jester's outfit.  

I may have to give in and call in a professional.  Can it all be made to come together into a glamorous dress, just like in the magazine?  Of course!  No one has proved yet that it can't!