Today was the late spring day of anyone’s dreams — high seventies, sunny, dry, breezy. I planted seeds without breaking a sweat. We had cocktails on the patio checking out the tiny brilliant moth who joins us for drinks every night. Life is good. But I’m not gonna forget a couple of nights ago when the temp and the humidity almost had me lying on the tile floor with the cats, naked, too hot to eat, too hot to think.
I’d had the late night refreshing shower and all, but when I looked about for something to slip into, I was screwed. Terrycloth robe — har! Jeans , no way. In fact anything — pants, even an apron worn commando, would have been too tight and hot. I wanted something easy, long, floaty, cotton pull-over-the head-easy.
That would be a caftan. I haven’t thought about caftans since the seventies, when Elizabeth Taylor dressed them up with a couple pounds of emeralds, Michelle Phillips floated about, and Aretha nailed them down politically. But on that sweaty night, as I was standing on the bathmat and reviewing my wardrobe choices I yearned for a caftan.
Well, yeah, I sew, so I decided to get a step up on the sultry days to come, and find a caftan pattern. Off to Joanne Fabrics and a half hour with the pattern books. I felt sad. I made most of my clothes for a coupla decades and as an hereditary seamstress and fashionista the current books depressed me. Even Vogue Patterns. Lord, I used to sew jackets from YSL when I was in my thirties. Even Vogue doesn’t have those rights anymore. God, I’m glad I saved the patterns for that Bill Blass shirtdress and that Ungaro suit.
A caftan pattern in 2010 hard to find. This is what I bought:
This is hardcore caftanhood, but I think I’m going to make the white caftan on the white dude, but not in white. If it’ s as easy sewing as I think it will be, I’m making a few for that stifling night step-out-of-the-shower moment. Or the drinks on the patio moment. Please send emeralds.