SILK FROCKS

After a month of inactivity, with my arm sling finally off and the surgical site on my shoulder healing, I felt a great need to create something with my hands before I got back to drafting on my novel. So over the past few days I whipped up two sundresses for our upcoming week on a Mexican beach (Los Cabos in February). They’re simple shifts, both made of drapey silk charmeuse—one in vivid tangerine and the other a dusty eggplant with copper sequin trim.

I love to sew! Of course, this is the reason the main character in my novel loves to sew as well, the texture and weight of cloth in her hand bringing her (as it brings me) a deep tranquility:

From the time she was a child playing with scraps that fell to the floor, listening to the drone and punch of Mom’s antiquated Singer machine, she’d hankered to sew. She learned the smell of the flax beneath linen, savored the variance between silk and wool. She had a habit still of chewing a strand each time she laid out a length of yard goods, ready for the shears. She made a sacrament of touching and sniffing and tasting—a sensual adulation. (The Third Grace, page 46)

I used to stitch almost everything I wore, just for the pleasure of creation. It started with a pink gingham cotton apron in 4-H  and progressed through a high school Home Ec project, and then on to a flirty halter top and a “maxi-dress” that I wore during the hippie days. I even planned to sew my own wedding dress out of rustic unbleached muslin (it was the ’70s, remember, and “natural” was in), but thankfully Mom talked me out of that one. I made adorable outfits for my three babies, sewed my rancher husband a double-breasted suit that he never wore (no wonder!), and—like the character in my novel—I designed costumes for rental at a local shop: a wizard, a princess, a little Dutch maid.

But I’ve gotten out of practice lately, and I’ve gained some weight since I last bought patterns, so the orange sundress was a real challenge. I ended up cutting it too small and then having to pick a lot of stitches and replace the back completely. Both garments hang loosely to allow tropical breezes in; I might pair the frocks with heels for a funky look. But even if I wear the shifts only as cover-ups for lounging on sand beneath palapas, the process of creating will have made it worthwhile. Now I feel ready to get back to writing!