"Mr DePinna Makes Things"

I'm not sure if that quote entirely accurate, but it has stayed with me ever since I first saw Capra's version of Hart and Kaufman's You Can't Take It With You. For those who haven't seen it, Mr. DePinna is a shy little eccentric who enjoys making thoroughly useless, yet charming objects. He is introduced via my title line, and somehow I've always felt it an apt introduction for myself as well.

I've always made things, ever since my tiny fingers could hold a needle, hammer, or paintbrush. Most of what I make is fairly useless - only of sentimental value to myself or a family member. People occasionally assume that I make my own clothes, which is a ridiculous notion. I frequently alter garments, but to completely fabricate something and then wear proudly it is an achievement that has always eluded me (except where costuming is concerned, but that's another ball game). I find it nearly impossible to tailor clothes to my own shape, and the few things I have made ended up looking so homemade that they were quietly resigned to the back of the closet before eventually being thrown out.

I don't even make clothes for other people. The closest I've ever come is costuming, and that can hardly be considered "clothing," as it is comprised of cheap, flashy trims and fabrics, usually unlined, all designed to be seen from at least twenty feet away. I wish I could make decent clothes, then I could perhaps take a bit more pride in my craft. As it is, I don't sew much any more beyond the odd nip or tuck.

All that being said, here is one rare exception that I am proud to share:

I decided that our old Christmas tree skirt was just to hideous to survive another year, so I rummaged through my collections of velvets and emerged with this little gem. I am proud on several counts - the first being the hand-finished edge, which represents an unusual amount of patience for a "quick project." The second is the use of recycled fabrics. The purple was skirt panels from a ridiculously tiny dress a friend had passed on, and the black and gold was from a gaudy jacket found at a thrift store. The flocked green was purchased for a Regency-era coat that never left the concept stage, and the black ribbon edging was from a time when I thought adding velvet ribbon to my jeans was the epitome of elegance. (Thank goodness I'm terrible at following through on my projects!) The final count on which I am proud is that the piece turned out more or less as I had intended, geometrically speaking. The skirt was not intended to be a full circle, since our tree is usually pushed up against the dining room wall: