My mum sews real good
My mum is an incredible seamstress.
She would probably tell you otherwise; she’s self-taught and doesn’t make her own clothes. She used to make costumes though, and somehow to her that doesn’t count as real sewing experience.
But my mum has made some wonderful costumes. Both my sister and I dragged her to dance classes, where she fitted and mended leotards and tutus for our concerts. Later, I got obsessed with doing local theatre – with Mum’s skills called upon once again*.
But some of my favourite things Mum made were for Book Week, where I got to dress up as my favourite fictional characters. Even though I had an eccentric taste in books, my mum never so much as batted an eyelid. Instead, she was like the fairy godmother from Cinderella, creating something from nothing that would transform me, just for a day.
Here are some of her creations.
Violet Baudelaire, Book Week 2006 (Aged 8)
I started reading A Series of Unfortunate Events at Book 8: The Hostile Hospital. Apparently, the other kids had checked the first seven books out from my primary school’s library. My teacher, Mrs Fagan, pressed it into my hands with a knowing, ‘I think you’ll like this one.’ The series had big words in it, like ‘macabre’ and ‘cranioectomy’, which I liked because it meant I was expanding my vocabulary. And I liked the Baudelaire children; Klaus was my favourite, because we were both bookish kids with good memories. But I aspired to be like Violet, a talented inventor who, when she was working, tied her hair up in a ribbon.
This dress was inspired by the costumes in the 2004 film starring Jim Carey. The designs take inspiration from Victorian and 1930s silhouettes – think utilitarian clothing with dramatic, puffed sleeves and lace-up details – in drab, miserable colours. It was the first time I properly appreciated my mum’s sewing prowess; not only did she make the dress, but also a petticoat to give it some extra swoosh, and a larger-than-life ribbon for my hair.
Beatrix Potter, Book Week 2007 (Aged 9)
I used to fall asleep listening to audiobooks: Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, The Snow Queen, The Fisherman and his Wife. Later, the first Harry Potter book, narrated by Stephen Fry. And all of Beatrix Potter’s stories; The Tale of the Pie and the Patty-Pan was my favourite**.
I don’t remember whose idea it was to show up to Book Week as an author instead of a character. Probably my mum, because we were obsessed with Miss Potter, the 2006 dramatisation of Beatrix Potter’s life starring Renée Zellweger (and the dreamy Ewan McGregor). Edwardian fashion is easy to schmooze using modern clothing; I borrowed Mum’s white button-up blouse and shawl, and she made me a blue skirt.
She also leant me her cameo brooch. Years later, I swiped it for my own pin collection. Sorry, Mum.
Not pictured: My sister in a bespoke Princess Jasmine costume, also created by our mum. I think it counted because she had a book of Disney fairy tales, including their 1992 film, Aladdin. She had to wear a pink long-sleeved shirt underneath for warmth (Book Week happens in winter). She looks very pleased with her outfit. So was Mum; years of sewing dance costumes had paid off.
Also not pictured: The year after, my sister wanted to dress up as Peter Rabbit. Mum made the softest brown trousers, the most darling little blue jacket, and the sweetest bunny ears fixed to a headband. And then my sister got sick and had to stay home. Later, the costume found a welcome home in the dress-up box.
Professor Severus Snape, Book Week 2010 (Aged 12)
I can’t find any photos of me in this costume. It was the simplest of my mum’s creations, a black rectangle with holes for arms. It made a pleasing swish sound when I walked. In my mind, it was as elaborate and well-tailored as Alan Rickman’s costume in the Harry Potter films. As far as Book Week costumes go, it made me feel the most ✨ fabulous ✨
At the time, I had a dark bob-cut (it then evolved into an unflattering grown-out phase, then long hair I used to wear in plaits, peaked with a pixie cut, and now resides in amorphous mullet territory). I remember deciding not to wash my hair for the three days leading up to the dress-up day; Snape was known for having greasy curtains of dark hair.
Playing Card, Swimming Carnival 2011 (Aged 13)
This was the first and only time I dressed up for a school swimming carnival. Attendance was compulsory and consistently a wasted day, because a) I wasn’t confident enough in the pool to sign up for the heats, b) I didn’t have any friends and c) I inevitably spent the day by myself. Sports carnivals were better, because they had food trucks and the canteen was always open. Arts days were better, because they were genuinely of interest to me. And it was easier to dress up when you were going to be on campus. But swimming carnivals at a public pool? They were a bust.
I think this was the last time Mum helped me make a costume for a school event. I remember this being a hasty DIY a few days before the carnival. I think that’s why I’m an ace of hearts from the front, and a five of hearts from the back; Mum and I grabbed what supplies we could from K-Mart, and made it work as best we could. I don’t remember why I’m an anything of hearts though…
I still enjoy dressing up. But now instead of making costumes (or asking a certain someone to make them for me), I use my own clothing. I closet cosplay, wearing all black to channel a vampiric energy, or a bright jumper that makes me feel like a primary school librarian.
It’s not the same, though.
*During rehearsals, she was there every Saturday for four hours. Sometimes she took costumes home so she could finish working on them at night. The theatre company considered this ‘volunteering’.
** In this story, a dog is invited to afternoon tea at a cat’s house. Knowing the cat will bake mouse pie, which makes the dog feel sick, the dog prepares her own pie. She then breaks into the cat’s house and bakes the pie in her host’s oven, hoping the cat will serve this pie by mistake. Little does she know that the cat has two ovens; the mouse pie is served, while the dog’s pie burns to a crisp.