Aka Kim Fozzard. Former Sewing Bee Applicant - Now Dressmaker Seamstress

 

Clever Doris has finally decided what she wants to do when she grows up. It's only taken 20+ years or so - no danger of rushing into things then.

 

I have spent all my working life in catalogue artwork production, so I know things about colour, proof reading and page layout etc. I was rather ok at it all and it provided a stable income, so on I plodded...

However the spectre of stifled creativity always loomed in the background, occasionally tapping me on the shoulder with its long gnarly finger, saying menacingly: "oi, you should be making stuff". However a combination of fear, lack of self belief and the little annoying matter of Children Needing Things kept me going, like most of us, as a slave to the salary. This daily corporate schlep had an inevitable knock-on effect on all 4 of us Clevers, so after much adding up and conversations about sacrifices we decided last year that I would resign my then role in order to spend some time at home. This change was to be a means for us to catch our collective breaths and claw back a bit more quality of life.

I have since spent the last few months doing a bit of Del & Rodney/Steptoe & Son type wheeling & dealing, whilst trying to come up with ideas on how to do something life changing/family friendly/financially viable. Oh to reach the Holy Grail of work/life balance eh?

Which is why I decided to embark upon Dressmaking/seamstress-ing for a living. When undertaking extensive and highly scientific market research (local mums, over wine) I was amazed to find how many people actually had all sorts of mending/alteration/curtain projects they wanted doing. And actually it's only an official way of doing what I've always done, ie mending ripped trouser crotches and enlarging jeans by inserting v shaped mismatching denim panels into the back.

Ta Dah! The light went on...

 

 

 

1st paid project, in the form of 5 metres of seaside loveliness. Not actually intended to match the landscape (featured landscape being Cornwall only 2 weeks ago).

 

 

To summarise:

• I would never have had the confidence to embark upon said new venture had I not applied for the next series of The Great British Sewing Bee.
• I would never have applied for GBSB had I not started this here blog.
• I would have never started this here blog had I not left my old job.

So you see therein lies a logic and natural order...

 

 

Anyway -  back to The Great British Sewing Bee: there's a tale (naturally). 

I initially applied after boring myself stupid with weeks of shouting at the telly during each episode of the first series. ("whaaat, you mean you don't know how to insert a fly front?!" and "Wheres the stay stitching?" yada, yada, yada...). So as per a previous post (Sewing Doris: Getting A Bit Brave In Her Dotage...) I applied.

Imagine my surprise when, at the beginning of June, I received a call from the production company saying I'd been shortlisted and after a 1 hour phone interview I was informed they'd let me know within 2 weeks if I'd got through to audition. Only 2 days passed before I received another call inviting me to audition in that there London. Flipping Heck - I couldn't believe it. 

 

 

 

 

I was asked to take 3 items I'd made; 2 of which had to be garments displaying a range of techniques. I decided to take the dragonfly blouse, the lined linen shift dress and the old lady tablecloth quilt (all shown in previous posts).

 

 

Feeling rather pleased with myself I lovingly wrapped the items in tissue, stuffed them into a case and hauled my Northern bottom down to London.

Dragging wheely case behind me, like a bewildered Paddington Bear going for a lap dancing audition, I eventually arrived at the allotted Londony place at the allotted time, signed in and made my way to the holding room where I had to transfer my items from case to hanger. My self satisfaction soon dissipated however when my fellow applicants produced such items as wedding dresses, military uniforms and hand worked quilts. I suddenly felt like a very small and embarrassed fish...

Stage 1 was The Critique whereby I was asked to 'talk about' my items. Fat Tongue Syndrome well and truly set in and, feeling I'd blown it, skulked back to the holding room all ready to pack up and leave. Imagine my surprise however when I was invited to do a screen test. Now that's a weird old process, sitting on a chair talking about yourself, trying not to look like a wobble headed loon, whilst trying to disguise any trace of cringing. After 15 minutes of terror it was over and time to leave. I was informed that I would find out within 1 week if I'd reached 2nd audition. It was a long week.

In fact it was actually 2 long and very painful weeks before I heard that I had not made it through. I have to say I was rather gutted but relieved to know all the same.

 

I like to think that perhaps I was on a pin board somewhere with a big permanent marker question mark over my head, being heavily deliberated over. Or stuck to a perspex screen like what they have on detective programmes. CSI Sewing Bee.

But we'll never know for sure will we?

 

So Clever Doris soon bounced back and decided to learn from the experience, hence the decision to embark upon the path of Dressmaker/Seamstress-to-the-locals.

'Reasonable rates/no job too small' (and other rubbish taglines).

 

 

A friends no-more-than-a pelmet/should-know-better-at-her-age skirt bought from Next for £11. Lengthened by inserting wide velvet ribbon. The original lining was made from what could only be compared to a black binliner, so I remade it. The currency in this case was an evening of childcare and a bottle of red (these trading terms have now expired!).

 

 

So there you have it: Clever Doris's career path. If it all goes horribly wrong I could always pursue my other ambitions to be a Sagar Makers Bottom Knocker or a Stump Grinder...

 

Wish me luck!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something To Do While Watching Glastonbury...

 

A narcissistic word score of 17.

 

...at home on the tv. Again.
And I'd vowed the previous Glastonbury would be the last one I watched via the medium of the telly box. Whilst ironing. On a Friday night: Rock and, indeed, Roll.
I recall Bono swaggering around sporting unfeasibly unsuitable, slightly obscene-and-should-know-better-for-a-man-of-his-age leather trouserage. This year of course we had the vision of Mick Jagger strutting up and downstage in a pair of lady-jeggings  (jaggings) and orthopaedic trainers.
Us Clevers did try (boy did we try) to purchase tickets at the very moment the lines opened last year. 3 of us, like 3 Rick Wakemans with multiple keyboards, all eager and poised with 2 laptops, 3 mobile phones and 2 landlines on speed dial. You should have heard the cries of "Nooooooo!*#*#!!" (and other expletives besides) when the lines shut down after all tickets sold out. I think I was ironing then as well with my phone wedged between ear and neck.
Although I bet Rick Wakeman couldn't iron and (not) order tickets at the same time.

Anyway this year, ticketless and at home, I resigned myself to watching the festival on tv again. So instead of ironing I opted for a spot of light nonsense and, some may say, pointless crafting.

 

Clever Doris has been wombling again - only 1 of your English pounds. And it was a complete set.

 

 

 

Quick wash and dry.

 

 

 

Little magnets (purchased from Ebay), a blob of glue, and an overnight set...

 

 

 

...and tah dah! - you can make rude words on the fridge: very important for the education of a young Clever.