Finally, pictures of the finished dress from the most recent diary of a work in progress. The gold part is the underdress. The cherry part is a safeguard and jerkin. (There was not a safeguard and jerkin in the original plans. It's a long story. I did i make the flanders gown, but due to, erm, technical difficulties, it ended up in a pile, which basically made it a cat bed for a tabby who does not consider herself spoiled, thank-you-very-much, and I didn't feel like cleaning it off.) The jerkin was rather a spur of the moment thing, because, um, well, it looked like it would look cool, and there are far too many very dark colors in court. Both dresses are very plain, comparatively. That was a choice made for a number of reasons. First off, the character being portrayed (Magdalen Dacre, Viscountess of Montague) is an older woman and a staunch catholic. I thought the more severe, spanish style would help emphasize that. Also, there's the fact that the underdress is made from silk, and I did not want to detract from the fact that it's *gorgeous* fabric. (The silk had a not-entirely anticipated theatrical effect. Between the dress and the gold (silk with patterning in metallic thread) veil I wore, I ended up with a halo in direct sun. I think that's pretty cool.) Lastly, as always, I failed to finish quite precisely everything I had planned on. Originally, the underdress was to have a little more fal-der-a between the lines of braid on the skirt. I decided I actually liked the look with it more plain, so I left it that way. The jerkin (red vesty looking thing) and the safeguard (red skirt looking bit) were made as a sort of riding costume. They are made of grosgrain (faille, unmarked moire, whatever you want to call it) in a cherry color. The darker red on the bottom of the skirt and around the collar on the jerkin are rust red leather. (The leather at the bottom of the skirt more than makes up for the fact that the grosgrain lacks weight and body, and makes the skirt very easy to clean.) There's a little bit of color from a trim that is cornflower blue gimp on either side of a dark gold center. I had meant to put gold (ish) filigree medallions on the collar and around the bottom of the jerkin and safeguard, and I still might at some point, assuming that I haven't used them for something else by the time I get around to feeling like it. (That's always a problem, isn't it?)
I generally write up articles to tell how things were made and share tips and tricks and design elements and things. This has a nice side effect of being very good for my ego. I'm going to try something a little different this time. I'm going to focus on specifically what makes this dress "work" and what detracts from the overall effect. I liked the overall effect of the outfit, and I liked the fact that it's a very flexible look. I think it demonstrates some crucial parts of the elizabethan "look" very well. It also fails in others. There are a couple of crucial things to consider when looking at a garment that attempts to recreate a specific era: line/silhouette, design, and execution.
As it goes, I think the general lines and silhouette turned out rather well. The goal is to look like a portrait from the period you've chosen to recreate. There are a number of key checkpoints for the silhouette on an elizabethan gown (I'm focusing on english, roughly 1570-1580). From the front, the sides of the bodice should be smooth, with no buckling seen. The doublet does fairly well in that category, the jerkin does not do as well. One of the key points of elizabethan clothing is that fitted pieces tend to be absolutely fitted. Wrinkles along the sides of a bodice indicate a fitting problem. Wrinkles along the side by the waist tend to indicate that the bodice is cut too long at the sides, wrinkles that work from the center point of the bodice drop up to the sides at or slightly above waist level indicate that the point is being pulled oddly - possibly to far down, as is the case with my jerkin. Wrinkles from the side that run diagonally upwards indicate a problem with the cutting/shaping at the bust - it was cut either too height or two low. (This is one of the few things that's terribly difficult to pattern on a dummy, btw. Janey is a compressible foam, so she can be corseted, but corseting a dummy tends to compress the foam inwards, whereas a human will show a distinct 'my cup runneth over' effect. I made janey a pair of, well, falsies, basically, for the cutting and double checked the pattern against myself. For the photos, I actually stuffed the top of the doublet with plastic bags. Recycling at its finest....) Always always make the patter with the corset you intend to wear for the finished product, just like you should always wear the intended foundation garments when getting a prom/wedding/etc dress fitted. Finishing up with wrinkles, the little bit of bucking you see across the drop at the front of the bodice is caused by the fact that the bodice and skirts are, essentially, arguing. The bulk of the skirts pushes the bodice out. The problem here is that I did not add enough shaping to the bodice at waist level to accommodate extra bulk, and while I'm perfectly happy to accommodate the fact that janey's foam does not behave like the squishy parts of my bosom, I blissfully ignored the dreaded tummy fat (note: effigies are buskless - anticipate this issue if you are similarly blessed with a rather Aphrodite-esque soft belly).
Moving right along in the silhouette department.... I think the skirt swell at the hips from the front, back, and sides is actually rather perfect. There are two things at play in the draping of the top part of the skirts: the stiffness/type of pleating and the size/position of the bumroll. With only the gold dress on, the skirt goes over the bumroll and descends nicely. The addition of the safeguard makes a more domed shape at the top of the hips. The gold dress has very stiff cartridge pleats that are sewn in rows to about 2" from the waistband. Hence, when the fall over the bumroll, they don't bend and droop. The safeguard is pleated with a series of stacked knife pleats (box pleat only at the center back), and those pleats are separate from the second they leave the waistband. As they fall, the drape and droop, and give a much softer look. If you ever wanted a good showing of the difference between the effect of cartridge pleats and the effect of stacked pleats, that's it in a nutshell. In either case, wearing a bumroll of the right size at the correct position on the hips is essential. In this case, I am wearing a roll that is about 4" diameter at it's widest. That's it. It's sitting along the top of the hips at the sides, and the a little lower than that at the back. The bumroll should not be worn at waist level. I know it's tempting. It feels more comfortable. You can't feel it on you butt all day. It just doesn't belong there. You end up with a drink tray behind you. While this might be great at a cocktail party, I've seen no pictorial evidence that makes me believe this is the look you're going for. If I were wearing a skirt with less stiff pleating (either fewer lines of stitch on the cartridge pleats, thinner fabric, or stacked pleats instead of cartridge) I would probably want a somewhat larger roll. Stiffer pleats do a lot towards holding themselves out, though. Looking at the overall hang of the skirt from the side view, the fact that there is a lot more of an angle at the back of the skirt than the front is correct, i my estimation. (There aren't enough portraits that show gowns from the sides, darn it.) What is incorrect is the fact that the front is at as much of an angle as it is. I'm doing research in this particular area right now, and I will try to have that posted soon.
The second major area to consider when looking at a gown is its design. Beyond the obvious choice of period styles, design also includes choices regarding color, trim, and fabric. The most important thing, i think, with period recreation pieces is, 'Does it look like something from the period in question?' This is where research, even if that just means 'I looked at a lot of pictures and I kinda liked these', is important. (Please note: if you follow the 'I just looked at portraits' school of research (which, frankly, I often do), it's extremely important to try to pick portraits from roughly the same time and geographic local....) Things that I find particularly important to look at with a critical eye are necklines, bodice drops (by which I mean 'that weird thing the bodice does where it extends below the waist line), and how the clothes relate to the probable anatomy of the wearer. (What? They're *on* the probably anatomy of the wearer! Like, duh, missa, that was so not rocket surgery.) Ok, seriously, hear me out on this one. Elizabethan costuming is all about illusion. While nutrition and lifestyle have made some distinct changes in the human form in the last 500 years (largely in the last 150, really), it's not like we suddenly all grew extra ribs that make our waists way wider, or suddenly got way shorter legs or something. The basic proportions of a human figure that da vinci established way back in, er, like 14something still work with modern bodies. A person is roughly 7 heads high (if I recall that correctly - it's a drawing proportion technique I never actually got around to using - but I'm inclined to believe its one head for, well, your head, 2 more for torso, one for waist to hips, and three for legs or something basically a lot like that as a general guideline. Obviously, anyone who sews is aware that human figure never actually deign to follow general guidelines and you will always have to adjust the nape->waist measurement on any commercial patter, but the idea here is to get a *general* idea of where the human is, and this is a good way to sight it. There is a magic guideline for shoulder width, as well, but I have absolutely forgotten it. Mind like a steel sieve, I tell ya... If only I could retain facts as well as I've been retaining water lately.) Anyway, the really important part, with most female portraits, is that the torso (bottom of chin to waist, which I realize does technically include some neck, which is not torso, but this is are analysis, not biology, so we can fudge that), is naturally roughly twice the height of the head. If you look closely at a lot of Elizabethan portraits, you will notice that the skirts are slightly above waist height. (This is extraordinarily apparent from the back, which you almost never get to see, so that prolly doesn't help you much.) They eye naturally picks the appropriate location for the waist. I dunno why. Humans are good like that. Since the skirts are placed high, the waist you see is about 1-3" down on the bodice drop, where the bodice has started to narrow. In a large number of portraits, this trick (combined with sleeve styles that put the sleeve right off the edge of the shoulder, rather than mounted squarely on top of the shoulder as modern sleeves are) creates a "waist" that looks significantly smaller than it is. (Yes, yes, I know that there's records of french women tightlacing as far back as the 1570s, but like, they're french, ok? I happen to like using this trick instead of tight lacing because a) it works fabulously, b) I am terminally addicted to breathing, and c) it works fabulously.) This illusion depends on the bodice drop being cut correctly. If you look at portraits from the period, you will find that the bodice drop is *wide* at the top. Making it skinny at the top will not make your waist look thinner. it will completely ruin the illusion you are trying to make. Depending on style, exact period, and geographic local, the bodice may come to a sharp point or a rounded bottom. The style I used is rounded, which is more typical of spanish styles. The neckline is also very crucial the the illusion of an impossibly perfect figure. When the elizabethans wore bodice style necklines (as opposed to doublet style), they wore them very wide - shoulder tip to shoulder tip, practically. With a doublet neckline, the shoulder should be smooth to the tip, and the collar should be as close to the throat as possible. You want to create the widest possible line across the shoulders. This creates the illusion of wide shoulders. The width of the shoulders is one of the comparison points the mind uses when figuring out if a woman's waist is large or small. (Ever notice how football players always look like they have nicer butts when they're in uniform? It's not just the spandex - it's the huge shoulder thingies.) At any rate, there's an awful modern tendency to put the straps of the bodice right at the edge of the trapezious (the muscle that makes that odd angled bit on the shoulders from the lower neck to about mid-shoulder) so that the straps wills stay nice and secure. This makes your waist look wider. Well, now, if that don't just beat all..... Doublets, I think, are primo if you're looking to make your waist looks smaller, since the line is absolutely unbroken across the shoulders. They also make the torso look very long because they do not break it basically in half like a bodice does. Unfortunately, they're warmer, and fred and alastair occasionally need air. (Yes, the two bald men have names. I figured that if I was going to spend as much time in corsets as I do, with the resultant attention being paid to my breasts, I should at least be able to introduce them properly. It's a long story. I almost went with statler and waldorf....) The point here is that, when you're looking to copy a style from a portrait, the key points you have to get right to get "the look" are the neckline (check the width of the longest unbroken line across the shoulders), the bodice drop (width at top, length of drop, style of bottom) and the position of the top of the skirt and the start of the bodice drop relative to the natural waist of the wearer. In this, I think the gold dress and even the safeguard/jerkin do rather well. The longest unbroken line across the shoulder actually follows the topmost line of trim, which goes from shoulder point to shoulder point (check the cover of Patterns of Fashion III for a reference). The skirt/bodice drop are about 1.5" above my natural waist (which is harder to judge on janey, who inherently has no head, but trust me on this. Oddly, this is one of the reasons that everything looks slightly better on a proper dummy - your brain has a harder time checking the proportions). The bodice drop starts wide (it comes in about an inch inside the normal line at the top), and drops at an angle to about 2" above the pelvic floor. Check portraits of Anne of Austria to compare the skirt height and bodice drop. Also, there is a quote from roughly 1580 that states that the bodice is worn very low "... almost to the honor..." (If you have to ask which part your honor is, you are not thinking in the terms of elizabethan culture. And yes, I know I should dig up both portrait links and the exact quote there. It's on the to do list.)
The next issue to consider in design is the choice of colors, trims, and fabrics. I'll hit color and fabric first, since they directly impact each other. Obviously, you want to stay with period colors. This is not always something you can get from portraits. In many cases, original colors have changed over the centuries due to pigment oxidation, poor cleaning techniques, yellowing of varnishes, etc. I strongly recommend a book called "Dynstasties: Portraits in Elizabethan and Jacobean England" for not only a more in depth analysis of changes to the apparently colors of clothing in portraits, but also for a series of stunning portraits accompanied by explanations of the context of the portrait and the imagery intended to be evoked in the viewer. It's stunning. There is a particular example of a portrait with a heavily pearly forepart that appears pale pink, but when the frame was removed for cleaning it was found to be rose colored where the pigment had been protected from light (the forepart, that is, not the frame - I have no idea what color the frame is, and I couldn't care less). Grave clothes are also not much of an indication. Let's face it, most things change color in the immediate presence of a rotting corpse. I certainly would, although that's rather a different phenomenon. You can read period accounts, which will give you a good idea of what the elizabethans considered a smashing color combination, however, a) some of the color names aren't too normal, however descriptive they might be, and I'm inclined to consider explanations of color terms suspect because, really, it's pretty hard to describe a color (I know two women from court who each wore dresses they described as 'gooseturd green' - they were both different colors. They insisted that one was simply a grain fed goose, while the other referred to a corn fed goose. It's a point. Anyone who has been forced to change diapers repeatedly knows the the exact color of baby shit brown depends an awful lot on what originally went into the other end of the baby. 'Obvious' color terms are maybe not so obvious. Take 'camel snot khaki' - everyone tells me they know exactly what color I mean, but I have to confess, I've never actually seen camel snot myself. It just sounded cool. The elizabethans are pretty notorious for making up and combining words just because they sounded really cool or seemed to work pretty well together.) So, what does that leave us with? Well, we know the dyes and mordents used in the period, so we could do a study of the dyes available, with the mordents available, on the fibers available, and then we'd have something approaching a good answer to the question, "Is this a good color to use?". That sounds a lot like work to me. I don't like work. I do enough of it as it is. I have two thoughts when it comes to judging color usage in a costume, with a nominal third whim. The first thought is, "is it a screamingly fake color used in large amounts?" Is the entire dress, say, neon anything? Is Crayola asking you for suggestions of new and interesting colors that the world has never seen before? If look at a dress and answer yes to either of these questions, odds are the color could be described as 'a bit off for the intended effect'. My second thought is, "Is it 'courtier camouflage'?" In other words, what are the odds that two or more persons in the area where the dress is primarily worn are wearing the same color? (The same color of the same fabric is even worse! The fear of showing up in the exact same dress as another person is a modern byproduct of mass production. Fabric supplies and dyelots were far less standardized in the elizabethan era, for a number of reasons, not the least of which includes the fact that this was significantly before the advent of fabric store chains.) Courtiers competed for attention like mad, and color was just another way to set yourself apart. The presence of largely homogenous color/style in some group portraits can confuse this issue, but it occurs, to the best extend of my knowledge, only in family groups. It seems to me that what we are seeing is the result of a family simply buying an entire lot of a given fabric, then making use of it. I chose gold for my dress because no one else wears the color, and there's very little use of cherry/rust combinations as well. Unfortunately, there are other people who use these colors (separately). The 'whim' I referred to has to do with color symbolism. A lot of people get as far as using black to indicate that yes, they are a 'bad guy'. I like to think that colors chosen should convey something, should influence a first impression of the character. If I had to look at the dress, the gold would probably say something about wealth, and I am at a loss to find an obvious meaning in the red. It seems rather bold, I guess.... As much as I like the colors, I confess that they fail to "speak".
The other half of color is fabric choice. What? Here's the deal: you choice of fabric controls whether the color you have chosen has depth or shine (velvet and satin are probably the opposite ends of that spectrum; velvet absorbs light, satin reflects it), what kind of folds the skirt falls into (which adds apparent texture (many small folds) or apparent smoothness/weight (stiffer fabrics), and how "rich" the overall look is. You might have noticed that matching a velvet and a satin (aside from plain white or plain black) is a trick affair at best. You actually need a darker satin than your velvet. The depth of velvet makes it look darker (because the pile absorbs light, and color is determined by light absorption/ reflection) and richer (because light and shadow play more softly on velvet, which does not have a flat surface). Satin, contrarily, looks lighter and, well, chintzy a lot of the time. The smoother the satin, the lighter it looks, and the taller the pile on the velvet, the darker it looks. Surfaces with patterns give the eye more of a workout. Additionally, some kinds of shine scream "synthetic" (rayon velvets and acetate satins are good examples) and some types of weave will just never look as expensive as they are (ever seen twill silk? Why bother paying so much for something that looks like cotton?) The fact that a fabric is 100% silk does not mean that it doesn't *look* like a medium poly/cotton or cotton/linen blend. If you have to explain to me that it might look like rayon velvet but it's actually silk, then the really important part is that it *looks* like rayon velvet. I don't care what it's made out of (except for the obvious heat issues) - if it looks like a rayon velvet or a medium weight cotton broadcloth, then it doesn't look appropriate for a noble of the elizabethan period. That's just it. (I will acknowledge that occasionally, you come across a portrait of an elizabethan noble wearing something that does not look appropriate for an elizabethan noble. The little boy wearing what janet arnold describes as 'possibly ikat died silk', which, for all the world, looks vaguely like tie-dye springs to mind. The point here is that if you have to keep explaining over and over that it's not what it looks like, then something's wrong.) ps- chenille drapery weaves really don't look like voided velvet. I've seen both. Trust me. And yes, silk velvet does look a lot like rayon velvet. (Always remember, rayon was originally created as a silk substitute, before they figured out how to get the silk worm cocoons apart without having to unwind them....) Why spend a lot of money on something that will just confuse people? "It's authentic" doesn't really cut it as a persuasive reason in my mind. The fabric choices for the gold gown aren't perfect. The silk, in spite of being a really good quality, is slubby (it's got irregularities in the width of the threads in the weave), which is far more popular now than it was 500 years ago. The grosgrain is a very authentic weave of fabric, and I think very authentic looking, in spite of an absurd lack of natural fibres. Leather hasn't gone truly out of fashion since the cavemen.... The stuff I used I feel is actually too thick, though (it's cowhide for leather upholstery - if you ever get around to the Kane County flea market, there's a guy there who does leather upholstery and sells his offcuts. He's usually in the last barn (dairy 1966, I think). Tell him you heard about him from one of those crazy chicks that buys leather by the bundle for costumes.... He always remembers me and my friends... Very nice guy, incredibly good prices. Just don't buy him out before I get there!)
The remaining design consideration is the trimmings - all applied elements, including "trim" (be it ribbon, gimp, contrasting fabrics, or what have you), embroidery, lace, and sparkly bits (jewels, rhinestones, filigree thingies, etc). Most period portraits show gowns with trimming at edges (closing edges at the center front of the bodice or skirt, top neckline edges, shoulder strap edges, edges of epaulettes, skirtings, and tabs, and grading around hem bottoms), over possible seam locations (side back, sleeve join, etc), down the center front of a backlaced bodice, center front of a skirt or forepart which does not open at the center front, diagonally from the outside edge of the neckline to the point of the bodice drop in bodices, and horizontally across the front of a doublet, either in pieces of a constant size or on progressively sized from small pieces at the point of the bodice to longer pieces at the shoulders. It is important to note that this is not simply a guideline for ribbon placement, but for almost any applied trim. Lace tends to occur at the outer edges of ruffs and cuffs. Embroidery may follow normal trim locations, or may be all over the dress. Sparkly bits tend to occur in the same location as trimmings, or follow a pattern within the embroidery (especially if you count pearls as a 'sparkly' bit). What might properly be termed a jewel by virtue of size seems to be far more common than the small rhinestones that are so common at ren faires. Small sparkly bits include small metallic beads, seed beads (yes, that's what I wrote, and yes, I mean the little glass hummers, which came from venice), and seed pearls, coral beads, and turquoise beads (none of which, admittedly, sparkle). Clear stones, like diamonds, tended to be backed with black. The gold gown and safeguard do not fall into the common 'disco courtier' trap. If anything, there is not enough trim on them. While it was not impossible to see a courtier wearing so little by way of embellishment, it became progressively less and less likely towards the end of the reign. In 1574 (the year in which bristol is technically set), embellishments seen in portraits are somewhat simpler than what you see during the 1580s. (Note: I normally wear a fair amount of jewelry with this, either a veil with metallic gold woven into it or black veil with silver and gold metallic trims and laces, and decorated gloves. Often, accessories make a huge difference with an outfit that is otherwise leaning towards under-embellished.) I will say that I consider the brown ribbon I used as a bottom guard rather disappointing. It just really doesn't blend with the rest of the outfit. When it's covered in dust it's not too bad, but it does not work with the rest of the outfit when you can see the color. It draws attention to itself without adding anything to the overall effect.
The last major thing I like to consider when looking at a gown is the overall execution. Execution, to my mind, encompasses everything from sewing technique to how the gown works with the person wearing it. (That last might be hard to judge, since no dress looks the same on a human as it does on a dummy. For one thing, dress dummies have unflinchingly perfect posture. For another, humans have heads.) Concentrating on what we can concentrate on, the first things I look at overall fit, trimming, and closures. A bodice or doublet should fit smoothly, without gaping away from the wearer. There should not be an obvious bulge where the corset ends (especially right by the arms in front or back) - that means the corset is not cut right (it probably needs to be continued an inch higher than it is, or it might need more or an angle to make more room for the bust). Necklines should fit smoothly at the front, rather than standing away from the wearer's body. Also, the finished garment should not set directly at the waist - it should be fitted as a dress in a portrait is (see above). The skirt should be ground length. You get maybe 2" leeway on that rule. The skirt should not be ankle length. (Hint: it is very very important to take all your measurements wearing the proper foundation garments and the *shoes* you intend to wear with the costume. If you work with a dress dummy, adjust the height to reflect your ground to waist in shoes!) Also, foreparts should not arch up at the front - they should be cut with a slight downward curve (ie, longer at the absolute center front) to avoid this. With the obvious exception of the italien multi-layered skirt look, all you skirts should be the same length. Trim that is straight, or curves smoothly, is a good sign. Trim (including lines of fake pearls) that are "wobbly", or rows of trim that don't maintain an even distance from each other, look 'homemade' (or, in more period terms, "domestic" - they look like the work of someone who is not a professional and maybe isn't focused). Ideally, the stitches holding the trim down should also be straight, and in a color that blends with the trim in question. Standard flat gimp has a "channel" down the center (between the two lines of curly-q thingies). Your goal is to get all of your stitches right in that channel. (This can be done. This can be done quickly and without pins. I'm at a loss to explain it. It's kind of a zen thing. What I can tell you is that the trim is less squirrelly when you stitch with the curly-qs than when you go against them, lead the trim with one hand and the fabric with the other, and line up with the line in your presser foot, not the needle. Trying to line things up with the needle will make your eyes cross every time. In a pinch, a judicious amount of fabric glue works well. (Ahem, and there is still some evidence of wax and seize being used to seal edges and possibly as tacking on surviving garments, thankyouverymuch.)) Closures are an area where you un into some firm opinions. To my mind, the most important thing is that the closure edge should be neat, and the close should be precisely edge to edge. With internal hooks and eyes, or hook and eye tape, the edge should not roll open to reveal the lining. Looking at the gold dress, the closure is a complete failure. This would be far less obvious if I had ever gotten around to the 30 second solution of making a placket (a 2" rectangle of fabric the length of the closure done in the outer fabric, which sits behind the closure just in case the closure gaps. In this case, specifically what is wrong is that I do not have any stiffening at the closing edges, and the doublet is not lined with anything stiff enough to get it to hold a straight edge. Oddly, it's not an issue of the doublet being too tight, as there as about 3/4" extra fabric. But it pulls a little funky, and since the edge is not stiffened, it pulls the closing end open in gaps.
Now, I have a personal theory that all costumes naturally look better on a dummy. Dummies hold perfectly still, resist the temptation to ever throw all their weight onto one hip (a decidedly modern stance that really messes up skirt falls), don't breathe, and never complain about the heat. Dresses that people are moving in are rarely given such an optimum showing. Walking in a skirt, for example, is the easiest way to make more of the skirt shift towards the sides and back, which bows in the hoops, which in turn push up the front of the farthingale. *grumble* This dress was prone to that, especially with the slight pull-out train. Dresses on a human have to deal with the fact that humans tend to move their shoulders. This doublet style is significantly less affected by that than a bodice style would have been. My silk changes color when faced with pH's of a biological persuasion. I found that out when a cat, who was very upset about the ordeal of moving, peed on the skirts. ("oh, my goodness, do you mean to say my normal litter is clay, not silk? Ooooh, my bad.") This also became a problem with sweat. I was a little surprised. I don't normally sweat. I almost never sweat on my face (that normally takes a 2+ mile run). This was the summer of the sweats. The perspiration fairies became my constant companions. I was *not* amused. Fortunately, the color change is slight, and silk is rather shifty in the color department anyway. But still.... Strike up another in favor of dress dummies - they never sweat. They don't even glisten.
All in all, I think it's a fairly solid dress. The design and patterning are solid. The colors are effective and stand out well. It could do with a little additional trim, possibly. The execution is good except for the closure, which really must be fixed. But I didn't think it would be fair to let that slide all season then fix it right before taking the pictures.... ;) It was, as always, a learning experience.
