Skirting the issue

I learned to sew when I was a kid. I always wanted to make very specific outfits for myself and my dolls, and my mom, who is pretty handy with a sewing machine, taught me. I was never all that good at it. It is very, very frustrating to go from a vision in one's head where everything is just so, to a sketch, to drafting a workable pattern, to fitting the garment on an actual moving body (or in the case of a doll, just a moveable body), to having something someone would actually want to wear.

Yep, my mom's handiwork, ca. 1975

When I was very young, my ballet school had an annual recital in full tutu. These were the real deal: little girls wore short classical tutus with a basque and everything. Big girls wore romantic tutus. My mom sewed the first few tutus herself, which having attempted just the skirt part of that that some years ago (see the post), I can only shake my head about now. After a while, though, she hired a guy who was a costume designer that she knew through her connections to the weird and wonderful world of experimental theater and dance, and he would sew them for her. Either way, it is pretty crazy that every little girl at Cornish had a custom, handmade tutu every year!

Over the years, I've sewed a lot of things, but never a complete tutu. Probably, other than my kid's "Maria Tallchief" history fair project, the closest I came were the dresses that I used to sew to fulfill the kid's annual request to "the elves" for the hybrid of Christmas, Hanukkah, and Solstice that we celebrate in our house (complete with the Festisaurus, a large, wooden dino skeleton that we decorate with ornaments and lights). I'd get presented with a drawing, and then, at about midnight the night before the gift was expected to appear in the morning, I'd start sewing. 

My kids both loved the
 elf-made dresses!

I also started sewing ice-skating costumes and gymnastics leotards around this time. I just could not bring myself to pay the prices that were being charged for little tiny skirted leotards covered with bling that were required for the child's ice dreams (blessedly short lived), and I refused to shell out the three-figure sums that were standard for leos for my kid's approximately 15 seconds of fame as a gymnast. The homemade versions I produced were decidedly inferior, but fortunately the kid either did not notice or did not mind.

So the ground was laid... fast forward half a decade and about five thousand yoga classes. I decided to go back to ballet after a very long hiatus. I rousted out my old leotards (I had kept two, both very early-90s, high-cut legs, rather unstretchy cotton), full-sole ballet slippers, and a pair of tights that sort of resembled ballet tights, and took myself off to my first class in forever. Anyone who has ever "gone back" knows how awkward it feels to stand at the barre in first, ready for plies when one has not done so in over 15 years. It is bad enough, when you are not wearing The Wrong Outfit. Which I was. Those horrible high-cut leotards! Those tights with the tell-tale "garter" around the thigh, those ancient, stiff pink slippers, and worst of all, the lack of a skirt. Every single other woman in that class was wearing a skirt. As a student, I was never allowed a skirt, so it had not occurred to me that as an adult one could wear whatever pretty thing one wanted. All my leos were black or burgundy, but that class was full of people in fun colors, fluttering wrap skirts, playful legwarmers... I felt very bare, and very frumpy.

The first thing was to buy some more pleasing, colorful leotards (which I did), and to stock up on real ballet tights and a pair of split-sole slippers. Then, a skirt! I decided to make one. I found a pattern online, and cut into some chiffon. To be honest, it was a disaster -- it just did not fall right, because I had not yet learned how to use the bias. I gave up, plunked down $20, and bought a skirt from the local dance shop.

Gradually, I've become more and more of a leotard and dancewear connoisseur and collector. I really like to buy my gear from small, often dancer-owned businesses, and as someone familiar with the difficulty of sewing well, I am willing to pay a little more in order to support these often dancer-owned enterprises. I have leotards or other dancewear from Olly Designs (she is doing more streetwear these days), Cheval Dancewear, Lucky Leo, Label, Chameleon, RubiaWear, Jule, and Class In. I like that when I purchase from these sellers, I'm really directly supporting artists and their families and contributing to the culture of small business. 

Oh, another one I really like, though so far I've only purchased a t-shirt and a pin (Only cried a little. Yay!) from them, is Cloud and Victory. I appreciate their inclusive view of ballet, and the leotards I've seen one of my classmates wearing is very, very good looking and flattering on her curves. So, link through to these small business sites if you're looking for unusual, beautifully made, and even custom dance clothing. I am not being paid to advocate for any of them, nor do I receive any benefit from doing so in the form of discounts or free merch. 

The whole skirt thing, though. I knew that it could not be that difficult to make pretty skirts, and after a friend gave me a skirt she bought in Germany, I thought, "I want another one like this!" I bought some georgette (similar to chiffon but drapier), and got sewing.

This super-long skirt
is an experiment...
and I kind of like it!

As a grownup, I do like a longer skirt a lot of the time. I like the way it flows and ripples with movement. I like that it covers my butt and upper thighs. Rehearsal skirts, or those with a front hem about mid-thigh and a back hem just at the knee or a little below, are really elegant and flattering on most bodies. So I started with those, modeled on my German skirt. It turns out to be easy, once you figure out how to sew on the ribbon waist tie (sew on with the right sides facing, turn, press, stitch in the ditch). I have a pretty decent hobbyist's sewing machine -- a Pfaff -- and if I edge the selvage of the fabric with zig zag twice, it's a pretty good approximation of a rolled hem, which is way too advanced a technique for me. All in all, I think my homemade skirts are pretty nice -- if you're interested in one, you can private message me on Facebook ($30 with shipping included in the US, but please don't ask me to do black... so boring to sew and hard on my eyes).

Another cute Lucky with
one of my shorter skirts

I also like the shorter skirts made by Bullet Pointe, and so I've produced a few in that style as well. The fabric I can find isn't quite the same as theirs, and I'd still choose their skirts over mine any day except when I want something with a fun print, but the advantage of DIY is it's sooooo much cheaper. And you can make a matching skirt/legwarmer combo if you want. Legwarmers from stretch fabric are ridiculously easy -- just a tube of fabric with a hem.

Legwarmers: me
Skirt: Cheval Dancewear
Leotard: LuckyLeo

It's fun to have cute outfits to dance in, though of course it does not make me a better dancer. I also really find the process of making pretty satisfying. Because ballet skirts and warmups, unlike princess dresses and tutus, are quite quick and easy to sew, the gratification to work ratio is high. I can generally produce two or three skirts in an hour, depending on distractions and how many times I jam the bobbin. For me. ballet is about finding some purely creative, positive space in my life, and making pleasing things so that I can do pleasing things feels kind right. I don't wear most of the skirts I make -- I just like the idea that I could, if wanted to, or that someone else will. 

These were our uniforms. Not cute.
That's me in the back with the too-crooked arm.

When I look at my over-full drawer of ballet gear, I know I'm deep into the territory of "too much stuff," but at least I'm in good company. When I go to my summer intensive, one of the common conversations begins with someone guiltily admitting to having brought two dozen leotards for six days. This will lead to mass confession, plus show-and-tell. Not everyone there can afford to or is interested in accumulating leotards, skirts, warm ups, etc. but it does seem to be a pretty widespread phenomenon amongst adult ballet dancers. Maybe like me they were forced to wear a rather boring and ugly uniform as kids, or maybe they just like fashion, or maybe we are all victims of capitalist acquisitiveness. When I'm dancing away in my colorful togs, for a moment, I don't really care.