Let me backtrack…
I have a wedding to go to next week back in Ireland – assuming I get there: the school has had my absence request since forever, but won’t give me a decision. Or rather, the deputy head, Mr Piggy McPigpig who doesn’t want me knitting on the school grounds, won’t give me a decision. At this stage, I might not be able to afford the flights (Rant over). This weekend is the only time when I can look for something to wear both for myself and Ickle Baby Cthulhu – thanks to recent family events, everyone has seen all my current dressy-uppies, and IBC’s growth demands new frillies for him.
Being of a somewhat Mediterranean physique, I was approaching the shopping trip with trepidation. Britain is not a good place to locate suitable clothes if you’re a busty long-waisted hour-glass type of gal, let me tell you. I’m three different sizes here – about 18/20 bust, 8-10 waist and 12/14 hips. In addition, to get tops that don’t look cropped, I need to go for Extra-Tall ranges, but I have to go to the Petites section to get skirts and trousers with a waistband in the region of my real waist instead of my nipples.
Needless to say, I have very few dresses.
And trying on clothes is so much fun. I have had to be extricated from clothes more than once by the shop staff. That smock thing I tried, with the zipped placket. I zipped it up – and halfway up it stuck. Crushingly tight. Pinky and Perky jammed flat, hardly able to breathe. Interestingly, I could have made another top out of the excess material round the waist – if I had any talent with a needle – even though I was about five months pregnant at the time. I struggled with the damned zip til I was sweating and panicky and scared I was going to rip it, before crawling out of the cubicle to ask for help from a snotty stick-insect (who nonetheless had a very fat waist for her size, snerk), giddy with embarrassment. And the trousers. Though that really wasn’t my fault – the zipper came off the zip when I was doing them up. But even so… Big old grey knickers of course.
I dropped in to the Bull Ring yarnshop as normal before commencing on the clothes shopping. Nothing too interesting – well, some Aran-weight cotton, but I restrained myself. However, I noticed a nice colour in the corner of my eye, a softish purple, similar to a wildflower that’s frankly a bit of nuisance back home – grows everywhere and hard to eradicate, but pretty. Mum would know the name. Some kind of willow-herb. The yarn is a 20% wool yarn that I’ve got before – not great quality but cheap. I immediately started thinking “dress”. I’d seen a knitted dress last week in Rackham’s sale which had taken my fancy, but I hadn’t bought it because it was a) Empire line – not so flattering if you’re top-heavy, b) knee-length – never a good look on me, though higher or lower hemlines are fine, and c) Khaki green. Nothing wrong with khaki green – I spent 8 years wearing it professionally, it matches my eyes, and lends me a certain exotic mystique that most women get from black. In fact khaki IS my black, my standby. Black is more like my everyday. When I don’t necessarily want people realising I’m gothick, I pull out the khaki. I even had a DPM ballgown, once upon a time. Yes, that’s right – my Little Black Dress was GREEN. Wonder what happened to it?
But I digress. I just didn’t want a green dress because I wanted something that I could wear to work later, and I have lots of green that I wear to work. Time to throw something else into the mix. So purple yarn. Lots of it, too: at least five 400g balls that I could see, surely enough for a dress. But again, I restrained myself. Seriously, 6 days isn’t enough time to knit a dress, especially when I’d have to come up with a pattern. I’ve seen a few on Ravelry, but I’m thinking more Stephanie Japel Fitted Knits extended down into about mid-calf. Though I suspect the precise thing I want is lurking in one of my vintage knitting books – I’m almost certain there’s a 1940’s fitted New Look style dress there somewhere.
This set me on my way. Debenham in the Bull Ring had a 70% off sale on, and lo I found TWO knitted dresses, one cerise and short-sleeved, and one mock pinafore in black with a white ‘under’ blouse. The cerise looked hideous on – my biceps are too butch for short sleeves (thank you, IBC) and the colour was too bluey. So that left the pinafore. A nyim over knee-length. I also found a John Rocha boiled merino jacket in a nice muted cranberry which will look nice over it – something like this, but with 3 huge buttons and no stitch detail at all. Almost got a JR lace wrap too, but restrained myself. I am getting SOOO good at this! The fact that it was described as crocheted when it was clearly knitted helped. As was a JR scarf – well it was obviously crocheted but said knitted on one label, and crocheted on the price tag. Really John Rocha! You work in IRELAND for pity’s sake! You should KNOW this stuff. Grannies on the bus should have beaten it into you by now.
Total cost 35 pounds. T’was only on getting it home that I realised it was a maternity dress… Oh well. That would be funny if we hadn’t been ttc for the last 18 months.
Still, it will look hawt with my Pirate Argyle stockings, if I ever get round to casting on. Especially since I scored a pair of Demonia Bat coffin heels (PU version) for only 25 pounds to go with it!!!!
No knitting or crochet of consequence occured recently. I have put in a little work on Cillian’s Trellis cardi and Libby’s unicorn, have almost finished a crocheted knitting needle holder (OH! the irony), and crocheted a couple of hair scrunchies from fancy fur and eyelash yarns. In khaki.
Troublingly, I actually paid cash money recently for Sirdar Bigga MULTI… Hawaii AND Etna… I have to go and lie down every time I think about this…