Telling stories through fashion.
What’s first, the story or the dress?
The story.
Each piece I sew, each garment I take apart to assemble it in a different way, every design I paint in my thoughts, origins from a story, a moment. Made up or real doesn’t matter. But there has to be a story.
I was walking through the busy streets of a Turkish seaside town. Jumping between the trottior and the Street, which ever bared more space at the instant I passed. Trying not to get run over by some recklessly driving scooters. I am already distracted by everything that happens around me. Shop windows, the way people dress in the street, checking out a little restaurant and what is on peoples plates, a huge tree in the corner leading to the next street.
Thats when I see her! The car of my dreams!
An old golden Renault, looking like a proper car from a children-book, square shaped, four wheels. Just like any kid or person not into cars would draw one. But the colour is what really got me. Who doesn’t want to drive a golden car? That would make the driving a whole different experience. Closer to being carried in a precious coach than driving a car on the highway, getting annoyed at expensive gas prices.
Thats where the story came from.
I would have to wear a headscarf knotted under my chin, sixties style, with some fancy sun glasses. The other halve of our expedition team would have to grow a moustache. And maybe wear something like a linen shirt. Then we would buy some Turkish carpets and maybe some kitsch coffee cups, to drive back to Europe. Unrolling our carpet whenever we pass a beautiful spot, just to have a coffee, an apéro or a picnic on that carpet, next to our golden Renault.
My scenario burst, into “not going to happen” when I heard about Turkish car prices. Insane!
I still got the sunglasses and the headscarf.
My aunt, well knowing about my silk obsession, gifted me this piece of fabric.
It gloriously fits my very minimal wardrobe, that started to drift into earthy tones, lately.
Tempted to sew something fancy with this piece of silk, I started to wear it as a shawl. “Inspiration will follow.” I thought. As you already know, Inspiration came, and that was to leave the piece as it is.
But the edges where fraying out terribly.
Which didn’t fit into the story at all.
I choose a few embroidery threads.
Somewhere between matching and contrasting.
Sorry, Roberto Cavalli, you have to leave now.
Stitches all around.
Three rows.
A few long hours of stitching after dawn.
Trying on the results in the sunlight.
I didn’t yet get the whole story together. But I am wearing my flower printed headscarf with fancy glasses, wandering along the sea shore. Wondering if I will ever drive an old golden Renault through eastern Europe.
So what's first, the story or the dress?
It is a pleasure to have you all passing by, Thank you!
All photos and words are my own, taken and written in the last week.