Gripped primarily by insanity and a bit by remembrances of Halloweens long past, when my mom took my sister and me to Minnesota Fabrics to look through the pattern books, I decided to make Buzzy and Rosie's costumes this year. Buzzy considered a puppy, a butterfly, an princess, a ballerina, a kitty, and a teddy bear before settling on a lady bug. What do those things have in common? Tutus, of course. When you are a freshly-minted three year old girl, even a Storm Trooper costume would require a tutu. As for baby Rosie, we decided to work with her ears and turn her into an elf.
Thank God that Google enables the easy mooching of others' creativity. A quick search assured me that tutus don't require sewing, which was fabulous. Despite coming from a long line of excellent sewers, my forrays into that domestic art always ended in lots of swearing and threatened violence. Google also told me that the ladybug wings could be constructed with wire hangers and white pantyhose dyed red. I wasn't too concerned about outfitting my baby elf. She had the ears and the grin. A cute hat and little pointy shoes, and I could call it done.
Off to the fabric store, where I bought the tulle and some silvery material that looked like they could be elf shoes. I dashed into the craft store and found a set of angel wings--wouldn't recovering them be much easier than trying to form old wire hangers? And Target had red tights - much easier than dying white pantyhose, right? And maybe Rosie needed a little, simple elf dress after all. I went to a fourth store and procured the felt.
"It's for my baby elf," I said to the clerk, excited by how crafty my purchases were making me feel.
The clerk appeared to be already in costume, sporting a Renaissance dress. She said something, but I didn't understand her.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
She replied, again, indistinguishably, then sighed. "I was speaking Elvish," she said. "Well, trying anyway. I asked what kind of elf she was going to be."
"Oh! Oh. Um. I don't know. Just an elf!" I wondered if I'd heard her correctly, and thought that maybe it wasn’t a costume after all.
"A Christmas elf?" she persisted.
"No. Um. Not Christmas. Just a general sort of elf." I said, aware that the line behind me was growing longer and less patient.
She looked disappointed in me. "You know, there's folklore about different kinds of elves. You should take a look."
"Okay! Will do! Thank you!" I grabbed my bags from the Elvish-speaking lady and left before she could put a pox on me.
It seems I didn’t move quickly enough. . . .
[To be continued.]