My rich and fulfilling fantasy life

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It is my habit, in times of stress and overwork, to imagine a life in which I have free time and sufficient energy and concentration to do something with it.

In that imaginary life, I'm the kind of person who faithfully goes to bed at 10 or at latest 11, and gets up early to go for a run, because my classes have all been prepared the evening (or possibly even the week) before, so there's never a mad a.m. scramble of dear God I thought I had that lecture somewhere OMG I haven't even read the text yet where are the images! I was supposed to make up the exam when? and life proceeds on an even and cheerful keel and I even have time to get dinner going first thing in the morning, make the children's lunches, make sure they've got their homework (which, in this fantasy life, I helped them with the night before) and wave them off to school with a cheery smile before heading out myself.  In this fantasy I am already dressed and have had breakfast before the children get up.  In this fantasy, I suspect I got up at 4 a.m. But whatever.

In the fantasy, I have ample free time and the concentration and energy to do something with it. I'm not spending all this extra time that has mysteriously appeared in my life writing (or even reading) for publication, because the very thought of doing that causes me enough anxiety that I hastily shy away from it. I mean I can't even imagine, as a fantasy, enjoying doing that. And I truly do not enjoy reading most of the things that are published in my field anyway. These activities have no place in a fantasy life; they are very much Real World. They may be why I fantasize in the first place.

In this fantasy life, I sew a lot. Marvellous things. Mostly for me, though occasionally for my family. And during term time I find myself wistfully buying patterns, more and more patterns, as a promise to myself that the time WILL come that I will be able to muster the energy, and time, and concentration to make them all, every one of them.

This term my fantasy life has been particularly rich and compelling, thanks to a great pattern sale at Vogue (also Butterick and McCall's, but Vogue really caught my eye).  Now I have never made a Vogue pattern - I have aspired to do so many times, judging from my pattern stash - but never actually tried.  But my fantasy life has apparently decided that's what I want to do.

So, by way of sharing my fantasies, here are all the patterns I have bought this term; I mean since September. In my dreams, I have the time and even the skill to make every one of these things, and furthermore, they will all look fantastic.

These fantasy projects come in many different styles.  There are the ones I might conceivably be able to make, and the ones so far beyond my skill set only complete ignorance would make me consider them.  There are the ones I might even wear somewhere, and the ones that even if I could make them, I'd have to remake my entire image - not to mention my body - to take them out of the house. But still I'll tell myself, happily,  "I could wear this to teach!" Or, "Ooh, just the thing for lounging about the house!" - as if I ever wear anything when lounging about the house besides old Course Union t-shirts* and yoga pants.

So here are this term's fantasies.  I've bought every one of these patterns since September.  If I quit my job and did nothing but sew, it would still take me a year - or so - to make them all:

*****
*My favourite is the one with the steatopygous Venus captioned "magnae clunes mihi placent, nec possum de hac re mentiri."**  I forget which year's union produced it.
** Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back", translated into Latin.  For an interlineated translation, translated back into English for added hilarity, and with lengthy scholarly discussion in the notes (I'm not making any of this up), click the link.

(Patterns below the fold)

Butterick 5534.  Looks easier than it is.  As if I would ever wear a knee-length skirt with boots ... if I could fit the vest properly it might look good, but that's a big "if".  And trousers are always harder than you'd think; if you don't want them to fit like pajamas, at least. 

Butterick 5559.  This one is actually pretty easy, except (as always) for the fitting issues, but those are easier with knits.  What's not easy? Looking like that in it.  But if I got it to FIT right it would be PERFECT, my inner optimist tells me ...

Butterick 5495.  These baggy-around-the-waist things are all the rage right now, but I can't help but wonder.  If I could wear it while pregnant, how likely is it to be flattering when I'm not?  One has to ask.

McCalls 6084.  Everyone seems to be wearing these.  I actually made this one last month in some leftover fabric (my fabric stash dwarfs my pattern stash, and takes up a whole closet downstairs, neatly arranged by colour and fabric type - woven or knit?) I chose it because fitting is really not an issue with this thing, so I could just make it without fiddling with the pattern first.  Easy, looked great, and my one main error in construction has not been spotted by anyone but me ...

McCalls 6163.  In theory the style should look great on pretty well anyone. If you can get it to fit (waist & shoulders where they should be).  In practice I am not sure it's going to be as flattering as all that.  One way to find out would be, you know, to make it. Radical, I know ...

McCallas 6165.  Not sure what I was thinking when I bought this, but I eventually realised it was not for me, and bought it again in a smaller size for my daughter, who is tall, willowy, and it will suit her perfectly.  I also promised to make it for her. And have I? Right ...

 

Vogue 1019.  Vintage pattern from 1945 I think. And here we step straight into fantasy land.  There is simply no way I could make that jacket with less than a year's lead time.  But it's so PRETTY!

Vogue 1072.  A pattern from the 1940's, reissued. And still on Fantasy Island.  Could I make that blouse/jacket?  Can pigs fly?

Vogue 1136.  Vintage 1947 I think.  That dress wouldn't suit me even if I did make it (does it come with the wine glass?)  The jacket is so far beyond my abilities that I might as well fantasize moving to Paris and starting my own couture house while I'm at it.

Vogue 2885, vintage 1944 (you can tell that it doesn't use as much fabric as the 1947 pattern).  I just love this. It's described as "loose-fitting" - for what, a broomstick?  It would look great on anyone.  On the 4th try, because fitting that jacket would be a precision affair.

Vogue 2980. Now this I could probably make.  And wear to work! I think excitedly.  I'm sure I could figure out how to raise the neckline so it didn't fall off me every time I bent over!  Absolutely I could!

Vogue 7837.  I could make nightgowns for all the women in the family for Christmas! I thought.  And use up some of the 14 miles of lace I bought at the closing sale of the local Stretch & Sew.  Of course I already have five or 6 nightgown patterns, but no matter.  Note the cute little bags on her feet (slippers, I think they're supposed to be.) Matching slippers, ooh! I could make those for everyone too! says my inner optimist ...

Vogue 7862.  Actually useful, a travel bag with zippered pockets for stuff like your passport, cut to fit around your hip.  Might try this one, particularly if I buy myself a MacBook Air and want a bag to carry it in.

Vogue 8643.  Another vintage pattern; this one is 1952.  Hostess aprons, just like your Mom probably never wore either!  I can make one for everyone for Christmas! In gold lamé! It will be so cool!

Vogue 8685.  There's no way I could carry off this dress in the version they've made up, but the red one (top left) would be nice, if it weren't that the two-piece waist would be a right bugger to fit.  Possibly worth a try anyway though ...

Vogue 8686.  Vintage 1932.  Deep Depression, so low hemlines (why?) but a straight skirt, and that's not a jacket, it's a dress with a belt with some added fabric to look like one, so minimum fabric use all round.  I LOVE this one.  I would LOVE to make this one.  It is, like all the other vintage patterns, fantastically (ahem) beyond my skill set, but I think I'm going to give it a try anyway.  And since we're heading into another Great Depression it may well be fashion-forward by this time next year.

Vogue 8687.  Vintage 1956.  Cannot be worn without the haughty expression and raised eyebrow.  Dress AND loose coat, so lots of fabric used, but we're in the prosperous 50's now and fabric is available.  I love the dress; not sure about the coat; but wouldn't mind trying it.

Vogue 8689.  Multiple sizings.  I fall for these shirts every time, I think I have around 6 shirt patterns that I want to try out because it would be so nice to have even one shirt that actually fit me.  But I haven't made any of them because learning how to fit the shirt would be such a pain ...

Vogue 9668.  The sleeveless one would look ridiculous on me, but length with cap sleeves would be nice.  If I could figure out how to fit the waist and bust.  

Meanwhile, my actual sewing project, at this very moment in time, is a dressing gown for my daughter, made in 2 colours of fabric because I ran out of one and couldn't get any more, and she's grown 5 inches (really) since I cut it out a year ago so it will be too short anyway, and she will politely tell me she loves it, and I will know better ... so I've been avoiding making it for a year now, but I have to make that before I can make anything else.  Also I owe my son a dressing gown too.

I mean that was part of their Christmas present LAST year, a promise that I would make them each a dressing gown.  So ideally they should get them before THIS Christmas. And I may have to make my daughter two because she won't like the first one ...

But I really want to make Vogue 1019!  Because it is so cool!

But first, I must set some exams and make up some syllabi ...