For the dress, I knew right away I wasn’t touching a pattern. Not a chance. This was going to be a drape-it-and-see-what-happens kind of situation. My first attempt? Let’s just say the pleats started giving full Bridgerton debutante, and I had to shut that down immediately. Beautiful? Yes. My vibe for a black-tie masquerade? Absolutely not.
Since I knew the bottom half of this gown was destined to bring the drama — the swish, the pouf, the whoosh — I decided to keep the top more classic. I draped a clean bodice, cut a few panels, and suddenly it all started to look like… me. The fit is perfect… and by perfect, I mean I can’t actually breathe, but that’s okay!
Now the real debate: sleeves.
I love a puffy sleeve with my whole heart — spiritually, emotionally, artistically. But I refuse to let this dress turn into 1988 Prom Night: The Revival. So we’re still in negotiations. It's just me and the sleeves in a silent standoff every time I walk past the dress form.
Stay tuned. Either I commit to the drama or I behave myself. It’s genuinely a toss-up.
