As with anything you yourself do, you can bet the house that no-one you know will ever do it for you. As such, my walls are bereft of portraits of me, and my wardrobe without any clothes made especially for me. Oh wait – there’s that dress made for me by that ex-boyfriend ages ago. Now there’s a story – there’s something decidedly NQR about a boyfriend that can hand-sew better than you can. I really should have seen the light flashing when he presented it to me with a blonde wig and a set of false eyelashes – I mean really, did he want to pretend he was going out with Paris Hilton or was he planning to pimp me out? I never did ask, and again I digress.
There really is nothing like having a garment hand-made for you, to your measurements. The measure-up, the fitting-like-a-glove – it’s a line you’ll cross that you’ll never want to go back over. Lucky for me in my circle of endlessly artistic/clever/talented friends, there is a source of such a thing.
I’ve been coveting the designs of Kara Baker since I saw them on the catwalk at The Venue in St Kilda in 1984 (I was 3) in the Fashion Design Council’s maverick parade. Even better than buying them off the rack is visiting her in her studio to peruse the sample collection, try them on, choose a style, get measured up, then start the satisfying wait for the especially-and-only-for-me garment. It’s the only way to shop, and makes you feel very, very spesh. File it under T for try it.
