Quilting Olympics

It’s a bit of a tradition that during the Olympics I make something. 

Once during the Winter Olympics when I was working on my PhD qualifying exams in the US and Mr C was on a Fulbright in Iceland, I made a lopi peysa out of some beautiful wool he mailed me. I can focus on the sports when I want, and tune out the commentators and interviewers by focusing on my project.

with Marilla, in my rather generous lopi peysa (1994)

This Olympics I have taken apart a quilt top that I made a few years ago but could never finish because it wasn’t right. Here is the original post in which I introduce the fabric—from 2013!

I removed the elaborate border that was in place and added this solid, simple one. The main fabric is, fittingly, from Japan, and really more of an upholstery weight. The inlay stripe (one at each end of the quilt top) is from Liberty. Everything is (and will be) hand stitched.

Here it is, in the top corner, folded over our garden gate. (This is why I do not take photographs for my blog.)

Now I must venture into my armoire to see if I can find the quilt back I made—again: some years ago.

Should I quilt it in rings?

Woven Bags (Via Mail Bag, Colombia Collective) and Salt Straps

Remember that 2019 article in the NYT about Park Slope mums' new uniform: clogs and Salt bag straps? It came to mind the other day when I saw a gorgeous collection of woven totes from Italy, each with a Salt-like strap.

I do love woven totes. I purchased my most beloved one at a long-gone boutique on Sparks Street. It had a generous woven bowl and the final third was soft leather, secured by a drawstring. The tote had two long handles that I could put each arm through and carry the tote as a modified backpack as I biked through town. I carried my workout gear in it and even my schoolbooks, until it finally wore out.

These first two totes (above and below) are more refined (I wouldn't stuff them with workout gear) as they look to be more for wallets, etc. They are by ViaMailBag and I discovered them, ironically enough, considering yesterday's post, through a pop-up ad for Mirta on social media.

The next totes are by Colombia Collective and come as an oversized basket (think laundry hamper) or a carry tote. These I discovered this morning through Vanity Fair, as they are a favorite of Hermés creative director.

Have any readers adopted a Salt strap for their bag? I have a slim, fairly large LV mailbag that I'm considering one for. My strap isn't removable, so I guess I'd just tuck it inside the roomy bag itself.  So: add some salt or is the bag seasoned enough?

Online Sales Strategies: Passive Aggressive and Personification

As I've been more active on fashion websites these past weeks, I've increasingly noticed how different sites attempt to convince one to sign up for emails or texts: through the promise of 10–15% off a purchase. 

I've signed up for these on occasion, usually if I'm buying my children clothing or a gift but more often than not, I want to bypass and simply go to the site. 

The problem is that some of these sites are passive aggressive, offering a "Yes, I'll take 15% off" option or a "No, I don't want to save money on my purchase" option, the latter of which is designed to make the potential customer feel foolish and coerce them into signing up for emails they don't want.

The other tactic I've noticed is the overly intimate pop-up--usually when I'm scrolling through social media. One business admonishes "Don't forget about me!" which I find particularly invasive. This company uses personification, so a handbag either makes a plea (as above) or appears in stalkerish fashion: "Me again!" It's the 2021 corollary to Clippy.

While I enjoy the freedom of online browsing, I don't like when it's accompanied by a soupçon of guilt or talking products. How do gentle readers approach/experience such online sales strategies?

Those Chanel Tipped Colorful Cardigans from Summer 2019

I'm not the biggest fan of wearing logos in earnest: I like my Gucci watchstrap precisely because it's made from a recycled bag and looks somewhat ridiculous on my tech-y boxy watch. 

Still, I have been coveting these Chanel logo cardigans ever since I saw them on not one but two Real Housewives. (Actually a third has one but she doesn't inspire me.)

I love this one tipped in blue on Gizelle (from RHOP)

and this one tipped in red on Garcelle (from RHOBH) is a close second.

It may seem illogical, but these logos represent logos to my fashion eye.

A Latte Chai (Celebrating the Japanese Quartet's Style)

Sometimes a beautiful image and the promise of a pun is enough. Images are by Shina Peng for the NYT from Jeremy Gordon's article about the Japanese quartet Chai.  

When punning, please pronounce "latte" as "latta" (Dickinson slant rhyme?).

Reprise: My Story on Stella McCartney’s Olympic Designs

 I can’t believe it’s been eleven years since I wrote this story for what remains my favorite textile/style and magazine, Selvedge.

Emma Corrin's "Quirky Blue Jumper": A Bloomsbury Mystery No More (Designed by Feben)

I just love clothing that evokes Charleston, the country--handpainted and embellished--home of Bloomsbury notable Vanessa Bell (and Duncan Grant). 

Sometimes the clothing makes a deliberate reference, which I find to be less compelling than those serendipitous connections. 

I like my clothing to be as an Emily Dickinson poem: "Tell all the truth but tell it slant––." And adding a bit of mystery only steepens the slant.

To wit: I have been captivated by this trompe l'oeil sweater that Emma Corrin wore to the premiere of their play Anna X. The same details (indeed, the same story) have been run in multiple sources, describing it only as a "quirky blue jumper." 

If anyone knows the designer, I'd welcome that information. (I was thinking maybe Miu Miu since Corrin is their new "face" but haven't found confirmation.)

*Update: Thanks to Sue, who let me know that Feben is the designer! Here is the image from her Instagram:

And here is a link to an interview.

Ocean View: Clothes by Sea

I grew up on the beaches of PEI, as gentle readers may know, and the sand/surf combination is what I consider home, wherever it may be. 

This summer I'm finding it via Sea, a new-to-me label that evokes coral reefs, 

the inky beauty of an octopus, 

and the cheerful stripes of a beach blanket or beach hut. 

Waulk this Way: The Pungent Charm of Harris Tweeds

I grew up with a grandfather who wore Harris Tweed jackets every day. He had deep Scottish roots: his family moved from the Highlands to Cardigan, PEI, where they settled.

Harris Tweeds were a part of our home; I didn't think they were anything remarkable until I stepped out as a twentysomething and learned that they were made by hand, in the Outer Hebrides. 

And as recently as last month I learned that Harris Tweeds undergo a process called "waulking" or "fulling." The setup reminds me of a quilting bee: a group of women sit around a table (or a quilting frame), working together on the same textile. But instead of adding quilting stitches to layers, "waulkers" rhythmically beat the tweed cloth against the table to cleanse it and, I've read, to slightly felt/strengthen it. 

And part of the process is to soak the tweed in urine, which would help set the dye of the yarn (and soften it). A video is here:

The blog Glamourdaze.com (from which this video comes) is one useful source; "waulking" has also been included in the show Highlander, a video of which is here:

My grandfather used to take daily walks in his Harris Tweed jackets. I wonder whether he knew that the fabric had been on a "waulk" of its own.

Wally Funk and the Flying Bunch

 

Actually just Wally Funk. 

This 82-year-old astronaut, should she wish to wear it, would look smashing in Vivienne Westwood's green Harris Tweed suit from her Time Machine collection.

The suit can be seen at the National Museum of Scotland, from where these images are found.