The Blue Gardenia learns to sow her blossoms

Yes no maybe so certainly yes no maybe so

To say yes? Such a commitment, she thinks, as she fingers the pages of Modern Bride. Such a commitment, she knows. She loves him. Certainly. That is not the question. That is not the issue. The issue is union. Solidarity. Taking her eyes off the door. Having no escape hatch. Because to her, marriage means forever. Forever. The word resounds in her brain. Forever.

It's not washing their smelly socks together that makes her hesitate. It's the finality. The limitations. Saying no to other possibilities. Accepting that he is the one. That he will be. Forever.

Accepting that she will be part of a couple. Legally. What is that saying — Buddhist, is it? — we are not two but one, we are not one but two? Impossible, this decision, she thinks. Impossible.  As are the gooey confections on the glossy pages of this bridal magazine.

She would choose something simple, should she decide to say yes. Something that speaks to the solemnity of the occasion. Something like Vogue's Bridal Design 2809. Even if she says no to him, she might say yes to this dress. In black velvet and lace. Knee length. No ribbon. Absolutely not. And if she says yes, yes to that lifetime challenge, perhaps silver satin. Yes. Definitely. Silver. Not white. It is not her color. It's dull. It's boring. It's traditional. 

Ahh, but the question. His question. Yes no maybe so certainly. If only marriage was as simple as skipping rope. Well. She will not answer the question today. The laundry beckons.

Silly? Perhaps. Mischievous? You bet.

Do you ever have those days? You know? You burn the toast, and, gosh darn, those were your last two slices of bread. You drop the half-gallon of organic, BGH-free milk. It spills all over the kitchen floor. The accountant does not return your calls. Neither does her assistant. You puncture your pantyhose with a fingernail whose No Spain, No Gain polish is chipping. Drat. Darn. This is the day you need a pick-me-up, something more playful, with more attitude than caffeine. You need a frisky hat. A saucy hat. A hat that stands tall and defies the world to say boo. A hat that announces you will not be ignored. But yet  . . . a hat that laughs out loud in bell-like tones. You need this hat, from 1939. Ladies Home Journal 1615. Take it on the chin, naysayers. Because you will not be defeated. Not by blackened bread. Not by a soiled floor. Not by number crunchers. Not by nail polish. You have a sophisticated hat. Oh. So. It could be from Paris. London. But. You made it yourself. So there.

Inspirations: And don't forget shoulder pads the size of Learjets

Does bad taste sometimes relentlessly clutch you and refuse to let go? Do you sometimes want to channel Krystle or Sammy Jo or push Alexis in the swimming pool or yank her hair until she yelps? Or maybe you just want to have fun and rock the '80s? Well, I suggest Simplicity 8358, copyright 1987. With leggings and booties and yachtloads of attitude. 

Autumn in Mexico: This is what the gringo said to pack.

Today, current ex-pat, former newspaperman and ever-so-handsome and sometimes disagreeable (Is there a man who isn't? If so, introduce me. Now.) co-worker Felipe Zapata shared a video of his town, Patzcuaro, in his blog,  The Zapata Tales.

Of course, I thought of visiting. Naturally, the thought of what garments to pack for my fantasy trip came to mind. One item that would be a definite take-along: McCall 5760, copyright 1944. It has that Ilsa flair, does it not? It does. Absolutely. Emphatically. And I would look quite the 1940s film heroine if I accessorized with Granville Millinery's Power Play hat. But would would this catch the unwanted attention of the narcos? Mmmmm. I do not know. One must look to Mr. Zapata for that answer.

Shameless plug: How about a nice, juicy strawberry?

So. I've taken some time from my busy life to add patterns. Just for you. And you. And you. Yes. And you. I did not forget you. I didn't. And here are a few of my favorites:

You're feeling prim yet sophisticated. Straitlaced yet sassy. Is there any more suitable dress for such a mood than Vogue Couturier 252 from the 1930s? I think not. Just look at those godets.

And for those chilly evenings this fall, when you want to look regal in the firelight as you ponder deep girly thoughts, choose Simplicity 3593, copyright 1951. Or you could stitch up the short house dress version and don it for Saturday morning chores. If you must. I won't be responsible for frightened dustbunnies. I won't.

And speaking of Saturday mornings and household tasks and all that, McCall's 2015 from 1955 is just the thing to wear as you whip the eggs and fry the bacon and squeeze the oranges. Because you do squeeze your own orange juice? Of course you do. I know it.

You like? I hope so. If not, scurry on over to The Blue Gardenia. You'll find something you like. I'm sure of it. And now for those pesky details, new additions always go at the beginning of each category. And we take Mastercard, Visa, Discover and Amex, as well as Paypal to make it easier for you. And, of course, checks, money orders and cold hard cash. Actually, we take warm soft cash, too. We are so agreeable.

Inspirations: In the sewing room. On the dance floor.

If you read the Times today — and I know you did — you may have seen the review of the Natalia Hills and Gabriel Misse Argentine tango performance in New York on Thursday. Naturally, I had to rush to YouTube. Naturally. And naturally as well — considering the breadth of videos available — there they were. Sexy. Breathtakingly so. Gliding legs. Exquisite footwork. Absolutely.

Now. I want to wear Vogue Paris Original 1507 the next time I do the Argentine tango. (Of course, I need more lessons first, as does His Bertness. And then there's that little matter of learning to sew. Oh, dear. But. Mere pesky details. I will not let them spoil my reverie.) Vogue Paris Original 1507, designed by Gres in the  1960s, has an elegant yet sexy neckline. Gorgeous shaped seams. And it is cut on the bias. You know what that means, if you choose the proper fabric: Seductive movement. Oh. I love it. How. It looks grand on the dance floor. Yes. It does. I see it now.

And if you want to see Natalia and Gabriel dance, well, here you go. I'll make it easy for you. Naturally. So. Watch them. Now.

Have a tall, icy glass of water close at hand. I will not be responsible if your temperature soars to dangerous heights. I won't.

Sunday? Yes. Sedona? Yes. Sewing? Not so much.

OK. I admit it, dear readers: No sewing at all this past Sunday. None. Nary a stitch. Instead, I fled. To Sedona. With Bert and the pups. 

Our first stop, a roadside park in Oak Creek Canyon. So green. Lush even — not words often used to describe Arizona.

They are so cute. Don't you agree? Of course you do. Right? Absolutely.

Does anyone really use these picnic stand grills? Really? You're not just pulling my leg? You won't convince me that the flames kill the germs. You won't. No need to even try. His Bertness scoffs at my squeamishness. But I am the one who cooks. So there.

And why, you may ask, am I blogging about Sunday on Tuesday? Because. Because I have been doing things. Important things. Fun things. Like sleeping.

Inspirations: It's timeless. Beautiful. Elegant. And it is you.

You're planning a trip to the city. A trip for shopping. For dining. For dancing. For seeing Phantom Sighting: Art After the Chicano Movement. You want a dress that will move from event to event effortlessly. Easily. Timelessly. A dress that is comfortable. A dress that is chic. A dress that is you. Totally. You and no other. Absolutely. McCall 7080, copyright 1947, is that dress. It is. Indeed. In a coral 4-ply silk. Or a retro rayon. You decide. Either way, you can't go wrong. You can't.  I promise.

Inspirations: I'm getting sleepy.

Ahhh.  If I were but a Bust 34, then this pattern would provide yet another garment for me to procrastinate about sewing. Alas . . . I do so love Anne Adams Instructor 4919. The shoulder ties, so enticing. The lines, so delicious. 

 I wonder . . . do these Instructor patterns actually instruct?

She never bothers with people she hates. Call her what you will.

For eleven years — yep,  count 'em, each and every one — she's toiled to be nice. Being polite to phonies. Going to lunch with people who bored her. Attending wakes for people she did not like. Keeping her mouth shut when people were marginally prejudiced.

She is ethical. She does the right thing. And she will still do those, even when it pinches or binds. Absolutely.

No. She means nice. She means being pleasing. Agreeable. Socially acceptable rather than authentic.

And you know what? She is done. Done. Absolutely. Completely. Totally. Totally.  

And what better dress to announce this than Butterick 6092, from the 1950s. And where will she get this pattern? Why, at The Blue Gardenia.

Of course.

And, no. She will not wear the bolero. The gloves — and the jacket — are coming off.