My dentist man came home from work Wednesday and informed me during our hurried “before co-ed soccer” dinner that the company party this Friday would be semi-formal. My eyes bulging like a cartoon character must have let him know something was up, as his next response was, “What?”
In two days, we had to have something semi-formal to wear, along with school, car repairs and still making dinner. Not an issue to a man who has business suites, military uniforms and frequently updated work clothes (we won’t go into the 20-year-old flannels). It was a bit more of an issue for a stay-at-home mom who’s necessity for “fancy” clothes was extremely limited and consisted of shirts without stains and jeans without holes. It’s just not something I think of?
Yes, I could have run to the store and bought something…. and then proceeded to alter and hem it. $100 to do what I could have just done from the beginning? I think not! So, bright and early Thursday afternoon I went off to the fabric store. I must admit the local place is *very* limited in their nicer fabrics, but I did find a brown silk that would do just perfectly. And as an added bonus, it would be my first time wearing silk.
And this is where that clever title above comes in. The importance of a muslin in life. After going over my measurements once again and shedding a tear or two as I cranked “Betty” to my new correct size, I began to look over the pattern size I would be needing and realized I was two sizes larger on the bottom than the top. Three actually, but the pattern didn’t go that small on top. *sigh* It’s a good thing I know how to decrease.
Before even attempting to cut into my on sale, “you bought 1/4 of a yard too little” and “you’ve got one shot at this because tomorrow is the party” fabric, I made the first muslin. Sure enough, it was too small in the keester. As in, stitches were popping and no amount of shaving my legs was going to help it ease up. And the top was gaping open as if to say “Seriously – you really have that small of a chest?” No worries, I proceeded to retrace the pattern in the adjusted size.
*SLIP* It went over the bod like butter and not one thread of my fancy fabric was harmed.
While this may not be a tale of woe or a super huge lesson on life itself. Had I jumped over this step to try to save time, I would have had to show up in my fanciest jeans and nicest t-shirt. Oh how impressive.
Making a muslin = no skipping steps. You can use it as a metaphor for life.
I looked smoken’ by-the-way!