Dance and Crafting
I'm part of a dance school/cultmunity. No big thing. Just a bunch of incredibly supportive and fierce men and women who knock about to the tunes of the high priestess Beyonce. That's right - I said Beyonce. No shame here. Come, join us. Be one of us.
Every year, we have an epic end of year performance in which students - both new and old - get a chance blow your motherflippin' mind with their incredible talent and stank face skillz. The whole thing is masterminded by Bey Boss Liz and her crew of captains. Liz is a powerhouse of creativity. Now, I am not going to go into the full year long planning that Liz and her team did for this years performance (which would ruin the weakest of us) I'm just gonna jump straight to the sequins and spandex. Planning a dance show means making costumes - and plenty of them. I remember when mum made my sister and I rollerskating leotards back in the 80s and that seemed pretty intense. Any show mum knows how much work it takes to get your kid-lets to sparkle. So it is no surprise that Liz is a whiz on the sewing machine not just the d-floor. Also, she has an over-locker so you know she means bidniz. Just. Look. At. This.
Images are reproduced courtesy of Bey Dance student Alex.
In the month leading up to a showcase - in between running a business, teaching classes and being an amazing mother - Liz spends her time trawling fabric stores and her late evenings designing and sewing costume after costume after costume. Like I said - she is a powerhouse.
I myself made one glorious visit to spandex-city - also known as GJs Discount Fabric - in order to pick a costume colour. The costume was a clever charade of black shape-wear undies from Target and a metre of glorious spandex to make a smokin' hot Bootylicious outfit. This was my first attempt with spandex and it was so good I think I will be making everything from it! In a cruel twist of fate I was not able to commit to the performance so I will just have to wear this to the gym or the work Christmas party. But I was determined to help Liz with the weighty load that is costume creation.
So when I volunteered to come to the full school rehearsal a week out from the performance, packing my sewing machine and good scissors into the boot of the car, did I know what I was getting myself into? It is safe to say I did not.
My first task was sewing the cravats for Vogue. Luckily Liz had done all the boring cutting the night before, I just needed to fold over an edge, feed through the tap and put in a couple of stitches so the things would stay bunched. Basically I was the last person with the baton in this relay. First cravat, done. Second, this is pretty easy. Third, I've got quite the rhythm going here. Ninth, I wonder what's happening in the studio. Twelfth, almost done. Fifteenth, I hate my life. Last one, I'm never making a cravat again. I feel about cravats the way I feel about cupcakes. Repetitive just ain't my thing.
What's next? A student needs help attaching the elastics to her new ballet shoes. Hmmm, sewing shoes, I've not done that before. Luckily I bought my Jeans needle with me. What a patient student to suffer through my pedantic fitting technique. But never mind, ballet flats are done.
Oh hello, yes, I will give you advice. Wait, no, I don't know anything about how you might do that. Sorry.
Another enquiry, yes, how may I help? Definitely get your mum to sew the sequins to your bum whilst you are wearing the costume. So much easier, what could go wrong? You are welcome.
And then. There it was. The red menace I had been avoiding. Sitting there, in the corner of the room. Its inevitability staring at me. I was going to have to fix a red PVC costume. These costumes looked bangin'. Students were each told to find a seamstress and have a custom, unique design, red PVC costume made for them. I had not volunteered myself. I have never made anything that fitted or that PVC-ee. But here was a student who was literally busting out of their custom made costume. The error by the dressmaker was an incorrect selection of stitch (sharply draws breath between clenched teeth). Everything else about the costume was amazing. The fit was snug, the cut was flattering - but the stitches could not hold up to the demand placed upon them. I pulled Liz in for a consult as I breathed out 'I've never sewn PVC before'. This was the last week before the performance and no dressmaker in Melbourne wanted to make another red bloody PVC outfit. I felt the weight on my shoulders.
I dove in knowing that my amateur sewing skills were going to be all that lay between this trusting performer and a Janet Jackson-esque revelation of flesh. The stitch selected was number 14, also known as 'the stitch Liz pointed to'. Then I proceeded to sew over the existing stitches, roughly unpicking it as I went. I used this opportunity to reduce the seam allowance for more ease (PVC has an ease rating of -1). Would my work last through multiple performances? I wasn't sure but I had to keep going. My thread kept breaking. No time to stop and figure that out. Keep going. Keep sewing. Keep trying to forget that this costume if freshly damp from the sweat of a rehearsal. It may have been an hour - but it felt like a lifetime. Once completed I returned the costume to the student, announced I'm never sewing PVC again and wished them the best of luck - my work is not guaranteed! I now hate red PVC like I hate cravats and cupcakes.
But you know what, on the night, god damn did those cravats look effective. And that red PVC was HAWT! AAAAND - patting myself on the back - the new stitching held in place. High-fives all round. Check this S*^t out!
Except Beyonce, images are reproduced courtesy of Bey Dance. Photographer: Theresa Harrison
My brief foray into the making of performance costumes was, educational. I will always put my hand up to help, I love the feeling of being part of a community. I also love sewing and being creative and helping people. And even though my contribution to the overall costume run-down was pretty freekin' small - I feel fairly chuffed with myself. I take off my glittery hat to Liz and all the other performers and dance school creatives to make their costumes year in and year out. You all deserve a medal.
NOTE: I have chosen not to reveal the identity of the dressmaker or student whose design I repaired. Let's just all be impressed that anyone put their hands-up to make one of those.