Loralee's 2014 Resort Collection

So after much, much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth and many, many more hours than I would have liked to spend, the Blue Bayou collection is finished. Well, my Blue Bayou portfolio pages are finished. (No actual clothing made up.)

For this assignment we had to illustrate a five-piece line of resort (summer) wear. I chose Roy Orbison's Blue Bayou as the inspiration for this collection. So I tried to think of things you might do on a visit to New Orleans—a relaxed, do-whatever-you-feel-like-at-the-moment vacation.  You could go to the beach (about an hour away), you could tour plantations, you could visit museums, you could shop (you fashionista, you!), and of course you would want to listen to awesome jazz music and go dancing.

After the illustrations were finished I had to draw technical flats. These are, basically, line-drawings—front and back views—of the garment which show where all the seam-lines are, and zippers, buttons, etc. so that if I sent the flats overseas someone could just look at them and then produce the clothes—and they would turn out just like I want them.

I also had to include a color page or fabric swatches, and then lay out the whole thing so it looks just fabulous in my portfolio.  In an ideal world I'd also have photos of people modeling the clothes.

Well, anyway, here are my Blue Bayou pages in the order they will appear in my portfolio:

First we set the mood with pictures—a lot of them are images conjured up from the song ("that familiar sunrise, fishing boats with their sails afloat, silver moon and evening tide . . .") 

Here's the little number you want to wear to that jazz restaurant, where you can dance with that guy of yours.

This outfit and the one below are for shopping,
going to museums, plantation tours, or even out on that sailboat.

A vintage-y swimsuit for your trip to the beach.

And one more go-anywhere, comfortable little dress. (Although I'm not sure how comfy those shoes would be. ;-) )

So there it is. Maybe one day I'll actually produce some of those things. In the meantime, they really do look pretty awesome in my portfolio. :-)

An Odd Ceremony

Last spring semester I made the President's list at school. This means that I took fifteen credits or more and got a 3.8 GPA or higher. I guess I made the Dean's list as well, because to do that you have to take 15 or more credits and get a 3.5 or higher. So I got an email sometime last summer telling me congratulations, etc.
I kind of thought, Oh. Okay. Cool,  and promptly forgot about it.

Well, a couple weeks ago I got an email saying that I was invited to a "recognition reception" for students who had made the Dean's List or President's list.  I didn't think too much about it, but then I got another email, and a paper invitation in the mail. I wasn't too sure I wanted to go to some ceremony—although it is nice to be recognized. But finally I did RSVP that I would be going and taking my husband and a couple of kids.

The reception was tonight and, naturally, I am swamped with a ton of schoolwork so I really wondered if it would be worth the time it took to go to this thing. But we decided to go.

First of all, when I went to check in they didn't have me on their list. But the check-in lady said, "We believe you," and gave me my stuff and we went in to the assembly.

The first three or four speakers said something to the effect of, "Congratulations! You have made the Dean's list/President's list," and one of them explained what that meant; each of them briefly mentioned that we had worked hard to get there.

But they spent the most time telling us, basically, that we couldn't have done it without them. They told us how the administration makes it so we can do such great work. (Um, not so much.) They told us that we did so well because of our fantastic teachers. (That one I can agree with.) They told us we achieved because SLCC is such a great school. (Okay, whatever dudes.)  I was beginning to wonder if the reception was to recognize the Dean's list recipients or the college administration.

After all that, they told us about an Israeli man who has started a campaign of sorts. It started with a facebook post, and now he does TED Talks and goes around the world telling people about his idea. Basically he makes posters telling people who are supposed to be his enemies that he—or rather, his people—love them.  So something like a poster with a nice picture of nice people and a caption that says "Israel ♥ Iran."  And when he goes to speak somewhere I guess the people he talks to get in on the action and they make posters which he posts on his facebook page. After they told us about all of this they had us all stand up and hold up paper hearts so they could take a picture and post it on this guy's facebook page.

Huh??

Now I did not want to walk up in front of a group of people to receive an award; I really didn't. I didn't necessarily even want them to read my name from a list. But what on earth did that little demonstration have to do with anything?

Well, after they finished telling us how cool they were (and, oh yes, we did good work too), and after we posed for their little heart picture, we did have a pin ceremony. Bruce put a little pin on my shirt—one that they gave me before I entered the room, actually—and that was it. The student-body-president-elect stood up and told us what a great school it was, then another guy told us congratulations and please eat the rest of the refreshments. And they told us we could have a photo opportunity in front of  the Dean's list/President's list backdrop they'd put up. Not only that, but . . .  This is so awesome! . . . We could nab one of those amazing administrators (we'd recognize them by their corsages or boutonnieres) and we could have our picture taken with them!!! Yay!!!

It was an hour I could have spent doing a lot of better things. But, hey! I made the President's list last spring. Yay me.

Blue Bayou

My collection has reached a point where I can take a very brief breather from sewing. Very brief.

Which is a good thing, because I have a big, hairy mid-term due for Portfolio next week. I am to design a five-piece collection of either holiday-wear (winter) or resort-wear (summer). I have to illustrate the collection, make flats (technical drawings) of each piece, make a mood-page and color-page, possibly have fabric swatches, and arrange it in a beautiful layout to put into my portfolio.

While I was sewing a few weeks ago I found myself listening to Roy Orbison and thought Blue Bayou would be a great name/idea for my resort collection!  So that's what it will be. (Click the link; take a listen. This version is a little faster-paced than the recording I have.)

Now, being a fabulous designer ;-) (you can giggle here), I started doing some research. Obviously there's the feel of the song to go by, and some of the lyrics (but not the part that says "I feel so sad, I've got a worried mind...").  I'm going with the parts of the lyrics that make me think of a lazy vacation—where you sleep all day.  And then there's fishing boats with their sails afloat, and that familiar sunrise through sleepy eyes, and silver moon and evening tide. And, of course, what is a vacation without that girl (guy) of mine by my side?

So here's my inspiration/mood/color page:

Then, being the amazing designer that I am ;-), I did even more research.  Where, exactly, is Blue Bayou? Louisiana is the first place I think of when I hear about bayous—is Blue Bayou in Louisiana?

It turns out the only place Blue Bayou exists is in Disneyland. :-/  Now I like Disneyland as much as the next guy (although probably not as much as Laura or Bethannie), but I am not designing resort-wear for the Disney resorts.  So I asked the all-knowing Google if Blue Bayou was a real place, and here is what I learned:

"Blue Bayou is an intangible figurative place. It only exists in the hearts, minds, and emotions of people."

I'm OK with that. It sounds like it could be kind of relaxed and vacationy, doesn't it?

So now I'm creating a collection of resort-wear for your vacation in New Orleans. Naturally you will play in or on or near the water—probably at a beach about an hour away (see, I really did do my research). You will go to nice restaurants that have live bands and dancing. You might go tour some of the plantations. You will go to museums and, of course, you will go shopping. You might even go see a real bayou, who knows?

So what do you want to wear?

Magic Mirror

The other day a friend of mine sent me this email:

"Another FAFSA night for Lindsey...
She is almost guaranteed to have school 100% paid for. What a shame to not use that when other kids are struggling with two jobs to pay for school (i.e. M— is graduating with 2 degrees from the U. having worked two jobs to pay for it)!"

I was not very happy to receive this email. In fact I was a little bit angry at first and then I was sad.  It's not because Lindsey is getting big enough to graduate high school and go to college. It's not because I've received a few reminders from this friend already. It's not because I've already filled out this form five times in the last four years for myself and so I didn't want to attend a FAFSA night. (This last sentence is all true, but that's not what made me unhappy about the email.)

I was cranky because I felt like my friend was telling me that if I was a good mom I would go with Lindsey and help her take care of this. I read between the lines that my friend had already told me about this kind of thing quite a few times, and why hadn't I done anything about it yet?

I wanted to reply that I already know that I am the worst schmuck of an uncaring mother, but that I could handle filling out the FAFSA without help. And what did M—'s working two jobs have to do with me or Lindsey anyway?!

But—you can breathe easy—I didn't do that.  I didn't because I can truthfully report that I knew my friend wasn't really saying or thinking those kinds of things about me. I am sure she was really just trying to be helpful. And so, after a few minutes of thinking and cooling-down time I was able to email her back and say "Thank you for the reminder," and even assure her that we'd take care of it that very day.

But I was still upset. And it didn't take me long to figure out why:

That email made me upset because it made me hold up my own mirror and look into it. The mirror that shows me that I am the worst schmuck of an uncaring mom. The mirror that says I have quit taking care of my kids and my house since I started going to school, and that I continue to put them on hold while I pursue a degree, not knowing if said degree will do me any good at all. This is the same mirror that says my friend's daughters are all beautiful, and well-dressed, and confident, while I can't even manage to get my kids new clothes or shoes more than once a year, let alone put them in dance classes or on sports teams. The mirror that says it's pretty obvious to everyone around us that I don't take care of my family. The mirror that says my kids should have more than I'm giving them or doing for them. This mirror tells me lots of things about myself that I don't like to hear.  So when I got the email my magic mirror told me that if I cared about anything more than my own self I would have helped Lindsey with the FAFSA long ago.

I hate that mirror.

I think—at least, I hope that my mirror is prone to extreme exaggeration. Like a fun-house mirror that shows you much, much fatter or thinner than you are, or with crooked legs and a pinhead. But it's not very fun, and it is very persistent in its attacks on me. I really hate that mirror.

Well, the good part of the story is that my kids happened to have that day—the day of the email—off from school and so I had already made up my mind to take the day off from sewing as well.  So while Lindsey was home we filled out the FAFSA and she will probably get all of her schooling funded, just like my friend said.

What do you think of them apples, mirror?