So, when I saw that Paper magazine cover of a stark full-frontal naked reality TV star, along with her well-oiled, beautiful posterior, my reaction was a peculiar blend of evenly-measured giggle and wince.
Then, I reflexively crossed my legs and clutched my own breasts protectively even though I was fully clothed at the time. I decided to think carefully about why my own legs came together of their own volition.
Did I cross them because I imagined that it was I splayed across that magazine cover and the thought of globally exposing the pencilled-in stretch marks on my modest bottom was a bit too much for my heart to bear? Yes.
Did I wince because I am quite the prude who still automatically crosses her arms in a futile attempt at replicating that Adam and Eve “Lord, now we know that we are naked ” scene, when her mother flings opens the bathroom door with a smug sense of entitlement (or is it ownership?) that can only come when one carried you within their body? Yes.
Did I giggle because whenever I see a bare bottom, the mental image of the bottomee sitting on the toilet seat doing a Number 2 flashes before my eyes. Yes. The visual imagery of anyone straining to relieve themselves, participating in the biological ordinariness of the digestion slash excretion process like any other mere earthling makes them ordinary and more relatable to me.
You see, it immediately strips them off that glossy air of mystery and they become matte, just like anyone else. I inadvertently begin to feel a sense of kinship with them, like we are all one in this dog-eat-dog roforofo life. Them with their sizeable bum and me with my modest cheeks, we are all trying to breathe, eat and poop and just live this tough life.
Well, nudity has become mainstream, the shock factor isn’t there anymore, I think it got left behind somewhere in the Lycra Nineties. The owners of perfectly sculpted bodies can no longer bear the thought of imprisoning said bodies behind the shackles that are clothes, either to inspire those with less than perfect exteriors or simply to pepper dem.
Highfalutin morality aside, the way I see it, some people have already mastered the subtle art of undressing fully clothed people with their eyes and vivid imagination, who am I to deny them that delightful thrill of achievement, that electric “Eureka” fist pump moment, if one is already 100% unclad? It seems unfair really.
Anyway, I made a Kimono slip-on jacket. In terms of the architecture, a Kimono silhouette is achieved when the sleeve and bodice of a garment are cut together as one piece with no shoulder seams.
I used an adire indigo print light-weight cotton that I found at the bottom of my stash, I’ve become a fabric junkie, unable to resist their woven charms. Sensual silks and glossy satins beckon and I succumb powerlessly to un-budgeted purchases, not unlike an unfaithful spouse.
There are several ways of drafting the kimono pattern. One way would be to modify the front bodice sloper by extending the shoulder point and adding wearing ease from the underarm to waist to give it a blousy silhouette Also, not stitching any darts and extending the length to a few inches above the knee.
The back piece would also be cut from the modified front sloper, but with a higher neckline depth than the front and finally, a tubular sleeve extension mid-arm long was attached to the bodice.
Both the neckline and the front edge were finished with the facing technique.
I really enjoyed making this, it’s perfect for concealing the requisite belly bulge from too-many portions of small chops. 🙂