The term “haute couture” has filtered its way into
the common fashionista’s vocabulary. It can mean anything
from an allusion to so-called “high fashion” to
custom-made garments from France.
Though many of us, cough, me, cough, are far from having
custom-tailored and custom-designed clothing, over the course of
the past several months, I have had the opportunity to be on the
crafting side of the process.
I was a haute couture designer for six months ““ because it
took me that long to make the darn thing. No, I wasn’t in
Paris, but I did make a custom-tailored garment for a client. Well,
more like a friend, but whatever.
I have been making my own clothes for a while now. However,
there is one major problem with making clothes for someone else:
They won’t fit the patterns I have made for myself. I have to
alter the pattern to a different shape.
I struggled with recreating my own creation in another form. I
was just as embarassed to make it too small as too big.
It’s difficult to figure out how to enlarge a pattern.
I’ve been teaching myself to sew, and I made up my own system
for pattern making, but I’m not exactly educated on the
subject. My findings consist of what I’ve learned from taking
my clothes apart and from what I observed watching my mom make me
sequined princess costumes for Halloween (when I was much younger,
of course).
I once confided in a friend from fashion design school how I
make my patterns, and she burst out laughing. Luckily, I was able
to show her not only the process, but the outcome.
Making the garment was especially difficult because, rather than
couture-ing up a simple A-line skirt, I was making a six-panel,
two-pocket, form-fitting knit blazer with a hood. Without going too
“grandma,” and explaining what the above phrases mean
in sewing terms (or revealing that I knit, drink tea and crochet
also), all I will say is ““ it’s difficult.
I used four different articles of clothing: Sleeves, pockets,
hood and body were all pieced together from various attempts
involving scissors, pushpins and very large sheets of paper.
This is so not how the professionals do it.
I cut apart my own clothes to make new clothes. Kind of
counterintuitive, isn’t it? I took apart sleeves and used
pushpins to create patterns on drawing paper.
I can’t believe I’m admitting this. It’s
embarrassing.
But hey, at least it’s “couture,” so to speak.
I don’t think it’s couture if you design it for
yourself, it’s DIY. I’ve decided though to never rule
out the possibility of being a couture designer, but that will have
to wait ““ at least until I’m no longer a full-time
student, photographer, designer and columnist.
Actually, in retrospect, I guess I’m cheating, because the
concept of couture implies that the garment is one-of-a-kind, but
this garment is now two-of-a-kind. My friend wanted one because she
saw one on me.
Before I gave it to her, I was terrified. I avoided seeing her;
I was worried it would never fit her, constantly surrounded by
doubts. I was done for two months, terrified to do the finishing
touches, because then I would have to discover whether it fit her
or not. Then I finally gave it to her.
When I was around her, she wore it for several days all in a
row. In fact, she liked it so much she didn’t care that
she’d worn it the day before. Now that’s couture.
And let me tell you, it looked haute.
Tell Rood if she’s haute or not at
drood@media.ucla.edu.