I’ve discovered the danger of sewing for my children – word gets around.  Back in early March, I got a call from a teacher at the kids’ school.  My first thought was, “uh-oh, what has the Boy done now?”  It quickly dawned on me that this was not his teacher.  Nor was it one of Big Girl’s teachers.  The teacher then asked if I might be interested in helping with costumes for the school play.  With a small sigh of relief, I replied, “Sure, I’d be happy to help!

Immediately following my answer of yes, it occurred to me that I would inevitably be sewing with materials I would normally avoid like the plague.  Call me a fiber snob, but I would rather poke my eye out with a stick than sew with most synthetic fabric.

Let’s be clear, ours is not the kind of school that puts on a production of Our Town or anything established like that.  A new play is written each year with the kids’ (grades 5-8) input.  Parts are crafted with particular kids in mind.  The themes of the play reflect current events, with overarching themes of justice, hope and “kid power”.  It is really exciting and uplifting, but agreeing to sew costumes was a bit of a leap into the great unknown.

In mid-March, I attended the brainstorming session for costumes.  The teacher who writes the play gave an overview of the characters and the rest of the teachers, staff and volunteers, started tossing around ideas for suitable costumes.  Some of the costumes are already on hand.  Some are alterations of existing costumes.  Others get made from scratch.

My assignment?  Glamorous starfish.  Red and sparkly.

A few different ideas were tossed around at the meeting.  I went looking for a pattern that would approximate what I had in mind.  It took me several weeks to work up the courage to buy the fabric.   Ten yards of red sparkly fabric is a big commitment.

With less profanity than I expected, I whipped up 4 of these babies:

Admittedly, you have to use your imagination to get to starfish, but they’ve got glamor in spades.

Last night was opening night and I have to say, the girls looked pretty fabulous on stage.  (I didn’t get any pictures.)  Based on the heaping helpings of praise I’ve received for these retina-burning babies, I have a feeling that I am in this for the long haul.  Only 11 or 12 years until Baby Girl graduates 8th grade.