Crazy Crafty: Where the BEAUTY At?!!

Isn't it cute how beautiful people get to use Halloween as an excuse to play at being unattractive, charmingly dabbling in the seedy underbelly of the genetic lottery, casually day-tripping to the underworld of the grotesque in which the rest of us ugly mugs are forced to exist everyday?  In direct contrast, we are left to exploit the holiday for its democratizing properties, sprucing ourselves up just enough to timidly step out of the shadows, hoping that our efforts to improve will at least be met halfway by their sweet attempts to slum it.  Feeling fairly confident this Halloween, I was still taken aback when a friend actually remarked that I looked "handsome" in my costume.  So don't be at all surprised when I trade-in my signature specs for a turban!

Screen-captured PROOF!
Although I did such a stellar job at blurring things out, the possibility
remains that I might have left the comment on my own Facebook post.

Seriously, if it means wearing fifteen pounds of costume jewelry, donning a scant amount of eyebrow pencil, and fumbling around in a state of legal-blindness to make me look like a passable human being, I will just have to do it.  But exerting so much energy on my own appearance would leave me entirely unable to pursue other projects; such was the case when it came time to think about Mary's costume.  Usually, all of my creativity is focused on designing her costume, using whatever energy remains to throw something together for myself in the few days leading up to Halloween.  This year, however, I began with mine, completely burned out by the time I was done.  I used the distraction of a pumpkin patch to casually mention to Mary that she was on her own for a costume.  Just as I was explaining my utter lack of motivation, she bet on the winning piglet at the pig races.

In the form of a rubber pig nose, Mary won Halloween inspiration.
As soon as she donned her prize, we knew that when it came to this
year's costume, beauty would definitely be in the "Eye of the Beholder."  

While to me every episode of The Twilight Zone is essentially the same (anxiety inducing in its heavy-handed dramatic irony), even I am able remember a few standouts.  The star of TTZ's second season was entitled "Eye of the Beholder;" in it, a young woman recovers in a hospital room from a final surgical attempt to make her look "normal."  As the bandages are unwound, a lovely face emerges (not only free, in typical television fashion, from bruising/scars/stitches but also attractively made-up).  Strangely horrified by the results, she flees from the room as the "normal" faces of the hospital staff are revealed.

The beautiful people
Every day is "Opposite Day" when you're in The Twilight Zone.

On the basis that an early-'60s nurse's uniform could easily be pulled together from the contents of her closet, I committed to crafting a mask for Mary inspired by the characters in "Eye of the Beholder."  Starting from scratch was unrealistic, so I picked up a mask from the dollar store to use as a base.

Except for the ears, the feline face already had lines
reminiscent of old Florence Swine-tengale (above).

Trimming down a pig nose and sawing off a cat's ears was nearly enough to have me jump ship as a moderate carnivore and swim to the island of vegan delights - almost.  After the basic remodel, it was time to build up some of the broader contours of the face.

Tools of the trade

After removing the choice, tiger-print spandex from the mask, I built up a
topography of unadulterated ugly using paper straws, hot glue, and papier-
mâché.  To smooth things out and fill in the nooks and crannies, I employed
ordinary household spackle (also found at the dollar store).  My work was
finished with a couple coats of craft paint.

Mary took over by using things in her make-up bag to add some shading/depth/repulsion.  Falling decidedly in the "inspired-by" rather than "faithful-reproduction" category, in the end, I believe our mask was a success.

Proven by the impact of Mary's dramatically-lit, Halloween-night selfie

For all the work I usually put in, my favorite costumes are often the last-minute, homemade
jobs; Mary's wearing all her own clothes and the nurse's cap is just a folded piece of paper. 

Failing to take any pictures of the mask-building process or of our Halloween festivities, I wasn't sure that I had enough material to warrant a blog post.  My hesitation, however, was no match for the insistence of our pal, Kimmie, at That Girl the Wheelchair - and I quote, "I need a blog post about this.  Now."  Here you go, Kimmie; thanks for the kick in the pants!!!

"Eye of the Beholder" from The Twilight Zone (1960) 

I hope your Halloween was enjoyable and that it too left you pondering the meaning of beauty, reexamining the importance we place on it in our society.  I hope you understand that beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.  I hope you remember that we are all capable of an internal beauty, a beauty that will shine through whatever genetic shortcomings we feel we may have.  Okay, not really.  More than anything, I hope you ate so many treats that your Reese's hangover was as bad as ours!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Jack O' Brownie Lantern

You know how you watch every episode of The Great British Bake Off/Baking Show (plus all of its auxiliary programs/interviews) on YouTube before you realize that they offer the latest season on Netflix which somehow translates into a first-class ticket to the world of misplaced confidence, thinking that you can (and should) do anything they can do on the show and do it better?  Well, I do.

Intent on making Halloween last as long as possible, I confidently sauntered up to the Kitsch-en Kounter to do a quick Halloween-themed "bake" - a Pumpkin-Spice-Cream-Cheese-Dark-Chocolate-Brownie Jack O' Lantern.

I saw a technique on the show where a contestant achieved a patterned cake by piping a tinted design into the cake pan and freezing it before adding the bulk of the cake batter.  With pathetically-primitive piping skills, I figured that I could at least eke out a classic jack o' lantern.  As a contrast to the main pumpkin cake,  I piped the design using a batch of dark-chocolate brownie batter, working out a crude, but recognizable, pumpkin face.  Without a proper pumpkin-shaped pan, I simply used a cake round, adding some contour lines and a top-knot stem.

I had no idea if the technique would actually work so I hedged my bets by adding the remaining brownie batter and a cheesecake swirl.  I figured that if the face did turn out, the cream-cheese-brownie swirl would be a great surprise; if the face didn't turn out, I would simply serve it swirl-side-up and no one would be the wiser.

Much to my surprise, it actually worked!
Meet the Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Jack O' Brownie Lantern!!!

My staunch refusal to adhere to the exacting standards of modern baked goods combined with the fact that this was an experimental recipe, meant that there was an overwhelming surplus of batter.  Undeterred, I thought WWMBD? (what would Mary Berry do?); immediately, I retrieved a loaf pan from the cupboard.

Using the remaining batters, I settled upon a pumpkin loaf with a cream cheese swirl.
It seemed a little unfinished, so I whipped up a quick streusel topping. 

I probably should have left well-enough alone.  With nowhere to go, the cream cheese swirl got lost somewhere between the pumpkin bread and the streusel topping.  As is my attitude with all of my baking experiments,
however, I believe that the taste is paramount - and nobody, but nobody, was complaining!

I might not be ready for the pressures of a "showstopper" challenge, but you can be darn sure that I am ready for the spookiest night of the year!

Not to worry, I am definitely not the weirdo handing out
homemade treats or, worse yet, pennies/pencils/raisins!

How are you preparing for the big day?  We hope it is with full-size candy bars!!!  However you choose to celebrate, we wish you a Happy and FRIENDLY Halloween!!!

Casper the Friendly Ghost in "To Boo or Not to Boo" (1951)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

wacky tacky icons: Agnes Moorehead

I had started composing this post about three years ago but somehow it got lost in the shuffle of the draft folder.  I was reminded of its existence when, bored and scrolling through Facebook, I took one of those online quizzes that logarithmically determines from which celebrated historical figure one is reincarnated, which ice cream flavor represents one's birth order, or which Disney princess one would most likely consume in the event of a fairy tale apocalypse - only this one tells you "which witch" you are (based on Hollywood's most famous examples).  I wasn't a bit surprised when the results came back "Endora!"  Equal parts mischievous, mean-spirited, and dramatic, Halloween seemed like the perfect time to cast a flickering light on television's favorite witch.

Samantha Stevens is not without her charms, but watching Bewitched was really just a waiting
game until Endora appeared in a flurry of lavender chiffon to deliver the show's wittiest lines
before disappearing into a puff of green smoke.
(Source)

Most people remember Agnes Moorehead for the exaggerated eye make-up, infernal meddling, and intentional malapropisms (see: "Derwood, Darwin, Dagwood") of Endora.  To me, however, she will always be the cantankerous Mrs. Snow from Pollyanna.  "Pills and bills, just pills and bills!"

Quickly reformed by a bunch of violets and a healthy dose of prisms and quilt guilt!

Pollyanna (1960)
(Source)

Like most character actors of her generation, Moorehead had what we in the business call "range."  Some of our favorite performances include:

The breathlessly-chic sociopath, Madge Rapf, in Dark Passage

Dark Passage (1947)
(Source)

The merciless, celebrity evangelist, Sister Alma, in What's the Matter with Helen?

(Will the real Sister Aimee Semple McPherson please stand up?)

What's the Matter with Helen? (1971)
(Source)

The unhinged, if incredibly loyal, family servant, Velma, in "Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte"

"Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte" (1964)
(Source)

The kindly hash-house confidante, Violette Shumberg, in The Big Street
(Source)

The Big Street (1942)
(Source)

Once she even played one of America's greatest first ladies,

Eleanor Roosevelt, for a television fundraiser in 1964.

Blessed with that slightly-affected dialect of New England society dames, Moorehead's languid tones and knack for transformation translated into a six-decade career in theater, radio, film, and television.  Her talent was as undeniable as her sophistication and offbeat beauty.

(Source)

(Source)

For all of the vanity intrinsic to her most-beloved portrayals, ego rarely played a part in Agnes Moorehead's character choices.  She was always willing to appear silly, strange, downright unlikeable, and...

...unapologetically wacky tacky!
(Source)

Much is made of her personal life (divorces, illegitimate adoptions, sexuality) but those issues are of little consequence given her overwhelming contributions to the arts - not the least of which is my favorite game show of all time, What's My Line?

Agnes Moorehead as the mystery guest on What's My Line? (1973)

Agnes Moorehead's second go-round as mystery guest on What's My Line? (1973)

Given all of this information, the question remains this Halloween season, "Which WITCH are you?"

Are you a sweet Samantha or an enervating Endora...
or maybe just a "confirmed bachelor" like Uncle Arthur?
(Source)

Now that you've decided which witch you are, you still have to decide what
you will be for Halloween; even a proper witch has to choose a costume!
(Source)

From our coven to yours, Endora and I wish you a very peaceful and Happy Halloween!!!

Agnes Moorehead
December 6, 1900 - April 30, 1974
(Source)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Crazy Crafty: Le Chat Noir

I'm seriously considering changing the name of this blog to "True Confessions" - mostly because I have spent the last two months cleaning out the family garage.  You read that correctly - the last two months!  After nine donations to the thrift store, ten oversized trash barrels filled, four truckloads hauled away by a scrap metal company, a large hazardous-waste removal (paint, car fluids, chemicals, etc.), three take-what-you-want days for family and friends, and two illegal visit to a commercial dumpster, the garage could still appear as the "before" reel on an episode of Hoarders (a necessary preamble so as to set the scene for one of the most frightening experiences of my life).  Warning: It's about to get all American Horror Story up in here.


Many years ago, around Halloween time, I was working on a term paper for an Ethics class.  As I am wont to do, I put off the paper until the last minute, foolishly believing that the time constraint would inspire genius.  Distracted by the many wonders of a ceiling fan, I lollygagged in our spare room (a room that happens to share a wall with the garage) waiting for inspiration to strike.  As the fan circulated the air, it also began circulating a faint-but-foul odor throughout the four walls of my paper-writing prison.  Recognizing the importance of gazing endlessly into the void of Microsoft Word, I decided that the odor would be another problem for another day.  The following day, the temperatures rose in direct correlation to the threat level of the odor.  But papers must be written!  I vainly hoped that somebody else in the house would notice the smell first, allowing me to coyly bat my eyes and innocently respond, "What smell?" when they inquired if I had also picked up on the scent (because, you know, ethics).  Unfortunately, I was to learn later that I was up against champion contestants in the I-Smell-Nothing Game.  By the third day, neither the term paper nor the the smell were improving.

Now unlike the garage, the spare room is rather tidy with very few places for a lingering odor to hide out.  So, after a cursory inspection of my surroundings, I plodded outside to the garage.  The roll-up door retracted only an inch before I knew that the call was coming from INSIDE THE GARAGE!!!  Faced by mountains of boxes, a piano, surfboards, Christmas decorations, guitar parts, thrift store treasures, power tools, garden gnomes, and long-forgotten furniture pieces, I knew that the better part of my afternoon would be dedicated to ferreting out the unholy odor.  It became a real game of cat-and-mouse as nose-blindness set in.  Gingerly shifting the contents of the garage, I grew increasingly panicky as I waded deeper into the abyss.  Next to a tumbled tote of my Halloween decor, I found a few realistic ravens, some plastic spiders, and one of those hissing, black cats with the glaring eyes and bared teeth.  It wasn't until I leaned over to return it to the bin with the rest of the decorations that I remembered I didn't have a Halloween Cat!  Neighbors gathered after they heard the scream.

The call to Animal Control went something like this:

"Hi, um, [sniff] we have a cat in our garage...but it's not our cat.  Actually, I'm allergic to cats so we couldn't have a cat even if we wanted one.  Oh yeah, [sniff, sniff] and this cat is dead.  But we didn't kill it.  It's just dead.  And my sister and her husband moved to Hawaii and left half their stuff, so the garage is really full, so the cat is kinda hidden and I'm afraid of cats because I'm allergic to them.  So do you guys come and get cats?  Because we don't want it.  And also, we're not hoarders [sniff]."

Convincing, no?

Inspired by the Halloween season and a desire to fill the serious feline void I discovered in our holiday decor, I set out to make a proper, odor-free, Halloween Cat with materials found only in my fabric stash.

Et voilà!  Le Chat Noir
I was forced to dress it in a jaunty, little Halloween outfit...just
so I could tell it from all the other dead cats in the garage.

I never think of myself as the type of person to sit around making precious little 

outfits for dolls but I guess Halloween is a time for many a cruel discovery.

The jacket is a few scraps of my favorite Marimekko print and the pants are made
of an autumnal-plaid remnant that will be featured in a forthcoming Sew What?! post.

Having used the faux fur for a few different projects, I didn't realize until the cat was near
completion that it was quite so shaggy.  At one point I could have continued making
the cat or gone all the way and made a replica of Eddie Munster's beloved Woof-Woof.
Instead, I held the course, choosing to give it a little haircut along the way.

The "eyes" have it!
The face went through many iterations; in the end, I decided that simple was best.
The crescent-shaped eyes are made of vintage buttons and vinyl.

I thought I was done, but looking over the cat, I decided that it needed a finishing touch - a hat.
Believe it or not, I just happened to have a miniature, coral-orange, conical hat in stock that I
trimmed with rickrack and a black pompom.

By the time I finished Le Chat Noir, I was reminded that as hard as I try, I will never be a "cat person."

The closest I might come would be this rather literal interpretation of "cat person."
As if I wasn't already questioning my decision to make a stuffed cat, I now realize it
could have been worse; I could be the crazy cat stuffed into the cat's pajamas!!!
(Source)

Epilogue:  Just in case you were wondering, the Animal Control technician assured us that the cat was elderly and had died of natural causes.  He explained that often times cats, aware that the end of their ninth life is drawing nigh, will seek out a comfortable place to expire.  I was placated by his attestations of our innocence...but not by the fact that the cat's "comfortable place" was the cushion of the vintage sofa given to me by my grandmother.  Undoubtedly you've heard of the remarkable images imprinted on the Shroud of Turin; well, imagine the shroud is threadbare upholstery and instead of the vestigial visage of Christ our Lord, the shadowed simulacrum of a former feline.  Yep, I am definitely not a cat person.

"The Great Cat Family" (1956)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! Sketching A Showgirl

I am of the completely-unqualified opinion that everyone has at least a little bit of OCD.  Whenever I become self-conscious of my own bizarre behavior, all I have to do is observe the "highly-questionable" conduct of others and silently express my gratitude for not being totally out of control like the lady I saw on TV who must perform every task on an even minute (e.g. 12:20 flush the toilet, 7:38 turn on the light, 9:44 lock the door, etc.), or my friend who counts his steps (ten steps to the front door, twenty-three to the car).  I am so forgetful that I am lucky to remember to lock the door, let alone count down to the appropriate tick of the clock, and so lazy that I max out around fifty steps before I call it a day.  I suppose we're all lucky that our own little exhibitions of compulsive behavior don't seem that weird to us.  One odd way in which my OCD manifests is in designing/creating a sewing project, especially when it is a Halloween costume!

Until I begin cutting and sewing, I will endlessly sketch pictures of the design concept.
Unable to focus on any other form or figure, I will obsessively draw and redraw the same (or
similar) image over and over and over again on almost any available surface - napkins, shopping
lists, envelopes, paper plates, bills; nothing is safe.

Like obsessively...
I think the only reason I sew (a practice I've always viewed as a necessary evil), is simply to get the
idea out of my head and into real life, finally allowing myself move on to the next great obsession.

Creative sewing can sometimes mean releasing conceptual control and allowing the materials to dictate the direction a project will take.  Burdened with yards and yards of a ruby red, swap-meet-quality fabric that we'll refer to as velveteen (more like flocked "velvette" or something akin to those weird moleskin-type, inflatable neck pillows used for flying), and a couple yards of floral, raspberry brocade, it was obvious that Mary's Halloween costume would have to be some kind of showgirl.  The saturated hues of the velveteen and floral brocade were crying out, "Make us a saloon girl!"  Not willing to abdicate total power, however, I thought about something a little less specific - western influenced maybe, but hopefully evoking a bit of Hollywood glamour as well.

After nearly a zillion rough drafts, this was the final design, very
much inspired by showgirl costumes of '40s cinema.

Sure, there have been far better and far more elaborate showgirl costumes but I was actually pretty proud of myself for this design - mostly because the only thing I had to purchase was the zipper and, unable to find anything suitable, I drafted my very own pattern.  Having absolutely no technical knowledge of legitimate pattern drafting, I used Mr. Tiny's tried and true hope-and-pray method.  I was even more proud of myself that, however far from perfect, I only had to make a couple of minor pattern adjustments before cutting into the fabric. 

Breaking out every bit of red fabric and and red trim I could find, I
learned that every value of red matches if one just uses them all.

The majority of the fully-lined, boned, strapless, one-piece garment was made of the velveteen, featuring the brocade at the center panel.  The princess seams were finished by a red gimp studded with red rhinestones.  The bust was adorned with two-layer bow and the seat was finished with a giant detachable bow and tails.  The choker was a remnant piece of velvet ribbon tied at the nape of the neck.    I even got ambitious and made a matching drawstring purse.  After having made them for at least two other "Sew What?!" projects, I still couldn't get past the water wing/arm floaties; I think they finish the costume in a far superior fashion to some corny, store-bought gloves.  With the body of the costume well under way, it was time for me to tackle the headpiece.

Always the dreamer, I had visions of a giant headdress with a towering arrangement of ostrich plumes.
Given my millinery budget of zero dollars and zero cents, I settled instead on the two random pheasant feathers from my stash; already red, if a little dark, I gave them the old rattle can once over.  Built upon a fabric-covered buckram frame, the hat's bottom layer is a gathered length of red, nylon netting.  The next layer is the raspberry brocade trimmed in pom poms, topped by the red velveteen adorned with red rhinestones, and followed by a final spray of red netting.  

Hoping to teach Mary some kind of responsibility (insert laughter - or maybe sad trombone - here), I put her in charge of stockings and shoes.  Let's just say that the day before Halloween I was driving her around town looking for nude fishnet stockings; on the day of Halloween, the Imelda Marcos of the Americas still hadn't figured out her shoe situation.  In what must have been her attempt to elicit an anxiety-induced coronary, she handed me a pair of the most random, lucite-heeled, yellowing, plastic mules I had ever seen.  I immediately reverted to my hope-and-pray method for an extreme shoe makeover.

The silver insole notwithstanding, these turned out better than I thought.
Honestly, I should have taken a before picture.

I covered the heel and the strap in velveteen, having the exact length
 of leftover gimp trim to finish the raw edges (how's that for a Halloween
 miracle?).  Never satisfied to leave well-enough alone, I of course made
bows to match! 

The funniest part about this design is that I'm normally not one to make costumes that might be deemed provocative.  In the best of circumstances, I am wholly confused by the parade of overly-sexualized costumery (as outlined yearly by our pal, Kimmie) that marches forth during the Halloween season.  The fact that this costume is rather bare didn't even occur to me until we were at our friends' unbelievably-awesome and atmospheric Halloween party where I caught a couple of creepers ogling Ol' Stretch.

Rather than "sexiness," the intention of this costume was about invoking the spirit of
Annette at The Golden Horseshoe and other similar cinematic showgirls; I think it worked!

Well, what do you think?  Was the obsessive sketching worth the effort?  What was your costume this year - tell the truth, was it sexy?  More importantly, did you Trick-or-Treat?

"Trick-or-Treat" (1952)

We hope that whatever you wore and whatever you did, your Halloween nightmares dreams all came true!  We're already excitedly planning for next year!  HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! It's Just the Gypsy in My Soul

It has been well established that my Halloween costumes must be little more than glorified pajamas.  I wholeheartedly approve of entirely-over-the-top, full-scale, costume productions...for other people.  Mile-high hair, crazy make-up, props, functioning electronics, and masks that make sight a total impossibility, all melt my Halloween-loving heart.  But as someone who has made quite a habit of sitting comfortably, entering and exiting cars without major incident, walking at a brisk pace (sweating as a result), and seeing where I am going, I require something ridiculously simple, something elasticized, something in which I can hide my lumps, my bumps, AND all of the candy I sneak from the candy bowl.  These are the exact reasons I so love the forgiving Halloween costumes of the Art Deco era.

Not so much a costume as a dunce cap and a crepe-paper smock, one is
rarely able to discern exactly what the wearer intended to be.  But darn
him if he doesn't look festive!

I love that whatever the intention, the costume is usually fabricated in the classic Halloween color story of orange, black, and white.  I also love that from fairy princess to wizard to Juliet, practically everyone gets the Jack-O-Lantern treatment.

Finding inspiration in old patterns and illustrations from The Dennison's 
Bogie Book, and knowing that our Halloween plans include a perennially-
awesome, vintage Halloween party, I decided that this year I would be a gypsy.

Not having gone as a gypsy vagabond since the year my mom declared that the same costume I'd worn for the past two years (first as "pirate" and then as "artist") would work equally well as gypsy, I figured that this was my year to take back ownership of the costume.  This year I will be the Halloween gypsy I've always wanted to be - not the humiliating "pirartsy" that was so cruelly forced on me for three years in a row.

You see?  I'm clearly NOT a pirate.
(That's a gypsy earring)

That's right...no pirates here!

I'm almost positive that the pirate code strictly forbids trimmings
that are even slightly "pom pom" in nature and clearly the vest is
just dripping with those gypsy-esque danglers. 

Sticking with Halloween's tried-and-true colors, I made balloon-legged pants in black and a tassel-trimmed sash and head scarf in an orange-and-black stripe.  I had every intention of making my own gypsy tunic but realized how much easier it would be to customize an underutilized, white, dress shirt by hacking off the lower half of the sleeves and attaching gathered puff sleeves, but not without incident...

Sewing for the better part of two decades without injury, I always wondered
how those "I sewed through my finger" dummies managed to do it.  Well,
this costume taught me how.  Fortunately, my finger and hand remain intact
and the injury necessitated nary a pirate hook. 

As I was removing the shirt from beneath the presser foot, my own foot slipped, hitting the pedal and sending the needle right through my finger.  Reacting to my ouch response more quickly than I could understand what had happened, I immediately yanked my hand away.  In doing so, I broke the needle off into my finger - all in a day's work for a gypsy.

I convalesced by painting a non-pirate, gypsy-inspired pumpkin patch (get it?)
for the back of the vest, paying tribute to the costumes of yore and matching
my Crazy Crafty, Jack-O-Lantern, lantern staff.

What me, pirate?
Now that I'm fully recovered, I'm feeling quite fancy free and have a
desperate urge to wander.  Perhaps, it's just "The Gypsy in My Soul."

"The Gypsy in My Soul" - Perry Como

After much (gypsy) soul searching to the mellow crooning of Mr. Como, I suppose I am willing to concede that pirates are basically just scurvy-ridden water gypsies, so I guess my mom wasn't so far off-base...  

I hope you're ready for Halloween, because it is right around the corner!  What will you be on October 31?

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny