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.

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. 

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.

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.

Inspirations: He will say please. He will.

You are meeting him for coffee. A daytime date. Your first. In  the daylight, that is. You've met for dinner. Thrice. The movies. Twice. You're ready to kick the relationship up a notch. Or two. Or three.

To be blunt: He is hot. Sizzling. In fact, his pot is boiling over. He's smart. Witty. Empathic. Successful. 

And it is time. Time for him to fall at your feet. To howl at your beauty like a dog in heat. To be your man. (Thank you, Leonard Cohen.)

So. You face that old question. What to wear? Something chaste? No way. Something all out Joan Holloway sexy? Mmmm . . . not quite. You don't want to be too obvious. McCall's 4418, copyright 1957. That is what you need. Perfection. It hints. It whispers. It is perfect. Absolutely. He will step into the ring. For you. And he will not let you down.

Take one capsule of fashion fantasy, and call me in the morning.

So, my friends, today I have the blues. You are doubtless shaking your heads in disgust, saying, "Denise, every day you have the blues. Every day." And sometimes, you know, I feel that's true. Absolutely. I do.

(And if I may quote Townes Van Zandt, I ask you, my patient readers, will you still love me when I'm down and out? Will you stand by me in my time of trial? Or something like that. You know what I mean. Don't you? I know you are doubtless bored to tears by my damp tissue dramas. But. I beg you: Hang in there. WIth me. By my side. Etc.)

Anyway. What's a woman to do? Switch anti-depressants? Toss the Celexa? Try Lexapro instead?  Wellbutrin perhaps? Well. Maybe. But, first, there's that unpleasant COBRA situation that must be straightened out. Resolved. In my favor, of course. Faith, my dear readers, faith and action.

Another possibility: Call a friend. No. No can do. They are likely bored with my sniffles. And if they slammed the phone down, think how devastated I would be. That might push me right over the edge. And quickly.

So. I decided the best option, the best avenue to a happier mood, was the gorgeous street of dreams, vintage sewing patterns. I turned first to the 1930s. The Great Depression, yes. But also the era of Carole Lombard. Irene Dunne. Myrna Loy. Just looking at the patterns brightened my day. A bit. But which pattern, if made up and worn, would actually make me feel better? Stronger. More able to competently, coolly, calmly — without raised voice — handle life's sometimes nasty realities? Like health insurers, senators, representatives.

I chose Butterick 6303, view A. All the views are terrific. They are. Each and every one of them. This is truly a pattern to make the accountant smile. But view A has that wide collar that I find so irresistible. It's double-breasted. The sleeves have those ever-so-sassy cuffs. Love them. Love it. Completely. Absolutely. I see it in a periwinkle cotton sateen, with a white organdy collar and huge mother of pearl buttons. Huge.

Yes, I feel a smile playing around my lips.  I do. I feel that darn attitude of gratitude Oprah constantly touts swelling in my heart. Oh. Yes. Yes.

Life isn't so bad. Really. It isn't. And with Fred Astaire (lovely, lovely, never ever change) on the CD, it positively — forgive me — sings. Albeit in a whisper.

When the wind blows free, let this protect you from fashion gusts

 

Oh, sure. It's sweltering outside. At the moment. And the last thing, the very last thing you want to think about right now is a cape. Or any kind of coverup. Unless it has an SPF of 20 or more. But soon, the wind will blow brisk. And you will need protection. And is there anything better than this cape? The collar oozes attitude. So dashing, so sassy turned up just so. A perfect foil for your eyes. Absolutely.

Think how comfortable this cape will be. It's full. Roomy. No need to fret about pulling your dress sleeve down inside the coat sleeve. Egads. That can be so cumbersome. You know it.

Ahhh, yes. Vogue 8416, circa 1970s, fits the bill for winter fashion. It does. And it's very easy. Look. Right there on the envelope. Very easy, Vogue brags. And we know they wouldn't lie.

Inspirations: Friday night. At home. With Ella.

Oh, I am being a glum chum. Indeed. I should be at the dance. Should be. (Don't you hate shoulds? I do. Although I guilt-trip myself with them. Frequently. We're actually quite close, shoulds and I. But that's another story. For another time. Maybe. But tonight, dear readers, you're safe. I won't bore you with the Denise-Should affair.)

So. I am staying home. (I won't dance, don't ask me. Oh, Blossom, love your version of that song.) Anyway. Here I sit. Black yoga capris. Black tee-shirt. White socks embellished by a touch of soil - the merest smidgen. My ensemble on this night.

But if I had been a good girl, if I had been a dutiful and fruitful student of stitchcraft, I would be wearing this comfortable, yet fit-for-a-1930s-film goddess pajama and bolero number. Simplicity 2509. Is it the most? It is. Absolutely. Love the sash. Adds that touch of carefree elegance so needed to lift a gloomy Friday-night-at-home mood. Just the ticket for nesting. For cuddling. For watching House Hunters. For fryin' up a mess of catfish.

And that, my sweets, is what I am off to do. Just the thought lifts my spirits an inch or so. Or maybe it's Ella and Harold Arlen working their magic. Mmmmm . . . oh, well. This moment, this minute, catfish calls.

Inspirations: Galitzine, zipped or unzipped.

Phoenix. Paradise Valley. Scottsdale. 113 degrees. Oh. My. Can you say hot? Or, to quote Buster Poindexter aka David Johansen, hot, hot, hot! Or should I quote Soca musician Arrow, who wrote it first? Mmmm . . . decisions. Questions. Et cetera.

But when  the weather is sizzling hot, when you are beyond glistening, this is the dress to wear. Definitely. It's sleeveless. It's stylish. And those flattering princess seams. Yum. Would Galitzine steer you down the wrong fashion avenue? I think not.

Vogue Couturier Design 2162, circa 1960s, is one cool number. Zipped or unzipped.

May I suggest whipping it up in a daffodil linen? I may. And I will.

Inspirations: It's elegant. It's sleek. And is it ever powerful.

Have you ever had one of those days? You know the kind. The driver in the scarlet Miata cuts in front of you. Your boss yells at you. You get a hangnail. Your lawyer forgets your appointment. Your dog slips past you at the door and you trip and scuff your left knee and your vintage Levine pumps chasing after him. 

Do you want to scream? Holler? Roll on the ground? Stomp your feet? Don't. Wear this instead. This 1940s suit affirms that, yes, you are powerful. Yes. You are. You have presence. Yes. You do. This suit warns: Don't mess with me. Absolutely. Don't. Embrace your power. Enfold it in your strong arms. Claim it with your nimble intellect.

Your enemies have been warned. Your lawyer will return your calls. Your boss will speak to you with soft-voiced respect. Your dog will sit at your feet awaiting your requests. Black cats will be afraid to cross your path.

There. You feel better. You do. And all because of Vogue Couturier Design 309.

And, yes, it is available at The Blue Gardenia.