Cosplay Dreams for 2017

The weeks and months immediately following Dragon*Con are the very best for plotting for next year's Dragon*Con, and this year I've been busier than ever. I've doubled down on my commitment to cosplay Dottie next year, as I absolutely owe it to my best friend. And, our mutual friend expressed some interest in joining us as Mac, so, winning.

And we've agreed together to try for Arwen and Elrond, which is the cosplay we never knew we wanted to do until we so did. I've had the pattern for one of Arwen's dresses for more than 10 years, and thank goodness multiple sizes are included because, ahem, I am a bit more than the woman I used to be.

The minute I doffed the red hat I was ready to be Peggy Carter again, and to expand my wardrobe. I purchased an Eisenhower jacket on eBay so that I could put together her ensemble during the scenes where Steve Rogers commits to Project Rebirth. The bonus of this get-up, of course, being that I get to sport some victory rolls.

Finally (for now), my nerd-excitement over a Duckie sightingat this last con is shared by many, and a whole crew of folks are now planning to cosplay characters from a variety of John Hughes movies. After about a seven second deliberation, I decided I couldn't cosplay a teenager, not even a 20-something pretending to be a teenager, so I settled on Iona from Pretty in Pink. Let the wild but intentional thrifting begin.

While there's still a part of me that's desperate to try my hand at Sabriel or Aeryn Sun, I think this is enough to be getting on with?

Cosplay is my Jam

It's no secret that I love cosplay. Having and nursing babies has really cramped my style in attending my favorite convention for it, Dragon*Con, but not this year. And while it's likely far too ambitious on my part - especially since it's already July and I've barely gotten started - I'm planning at least two new costumes, possibly three. I'm positively slavish when it comes to accuracy, too, so my ambition is further compromised by the fact that two of the three really require some serious replication. Oh, well. Who am I if not stressing over fictions?

I fell for Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries pretty hard after my best friend recommended it to me, as would anyone with an interest in noir, beautiful period clothing, and/or boss ladies of many stripes. Coincidentally, my best friend practically is Miss Fisher in looks and (some) deeds, and as we're going to the con together, I thought, how much fun would it be to cosplay the lady detective and her modest but no-less-badass companion?

Dorothy, or Dot, or Dottie, Williams is a pretty fabulous character who gives me an excuse to wear a cloche. How could I say no? Nevertheless, I fear that her costume, needing the most from me in terms of sewing (read: making time to sew), may not happen. But she's so cute how can I not hope?

Because I'll be a panelist at Imaginarium this year and they have an annual literary costume ball, I figured I ought to finally live the dream of cosplaying Ms. Frizzle from one of my childhood favorites, The Magic School Bus. I found a dress that should be easy to work with in terms of making it look genuinely Frizz, and I have a crinoline from my brief stint as a female 10th Doctor that should give the skirt enough sass. I'll also have the opportunity to add to my already extensive collection of red wigs. Which is to say, I'll now have two.

Miss E also loves The Magic School Bus, so I should earn some pretty killer mama points come Halloween.

But the costume where my heart really lies is also the one I'm most likely to fret over perfection, which is Agent Peggy Carter, and specifically, her blue suit. I acquired something that may work on eBay, but the cut of the skirt is all wrong, and my brain is railing against wearing a pencil skirt when hers is obviously a-line.

Yes, these are the things that actually keep me from sleeping some nights. In addition to, you know, real problems.

But the color is perfect and I question my capacity to sew something so structured from scratch, so, we'll see how rusty my alteration skills are. I've avoided getting a hair cut to make her lovely tresses happen, so you know I'm committed.

Possibly institutionalized.

Stitches are Bitches

I feel like  someone took a file to my thumbs, which is I guess what it feels like to have jammed twenty grommets into holes in fabric that are necessarily smaller than they are. After my third sewing marathon this week - it's like a 5K, only you don't actually go anywhere, you just totally kill on a presser foot - I still haven't finished the costume whose pieces I cut out months ago. I don't actually enjoy sewing, I just like to say that I've sewn things and to wear them, and if I haven't shed tears or blood or both it's possible I've been kidnapped by body snatchers and am actually a shear-toting, zipper-setting pod-person. Friends take projects away from me when I start to look murderous, and pin boxes are carefully and discreetly closed. They help me to finish the things I start, though, which is undeserved but nice. I learned how to sew and forgot and learned how again in a years-long fit of recovering lost domestic arts, and outfitting on a budget the fictional characters I sometimes like to play on weekends. When I was in junior high we had to take home economics and shop - which I'm sure had a real name, but I can't remember now what it was. I hated both classes, though my partner and I in home economics were lauded for our clean, dry sinks after making pizza crackers and biscuits and whatever the hell else only took forty minutes to prep, cook, and clean up. The half of the term that we didn't spend cooking we spent sewing, making gym bags and pillows. I'm sure there's still a lumpy square, emblazoned with a glittery silver cat and my name in puffy paint, shoved in a box in my basement. I suppose I felt the same way about that pillow that I do now about the skirts and bodices and dresses I've wrestled from my Singer: they sure are bitchin', but they sure were a bitch.