May 12th, 2006

happy

In which I acquire a sewing machine and rant at length about the print media

Know how the universe always provides? And, know how I mentioned I was thinking of buying a sewing machine? Well, I got home last night ready for my first evening at home in forever, and in the mailbox there was a cheque for the wool I sold at the end of April. I'd been expecting between $60 and $100 for it. Instead, it was $150. Whee! So I jumped on Trademe and started Plan B - the Great Sewing Machine Search.

5 minutes into this, grist came past and said "Ooh, what are you buying?" "A sewing machine." I replied. "Oh, I've got one of those," he said, "Would you like me to go dig it out?" So he did. And Lo! There will be sewing (when I figure out what all the knobs and levers do, that is).

The next part of the plan involved finding pictures (on the advice of my seamstress friend) of things I'd like to make. She's one of those people who can look at a picture and make a pattern in her head, so she said "Bring me a picture and start with something simple." Out came the women's magazines, ostensibly for a quick skim through the pictures. And that's where it got interesting.

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So I have developed a new appreciation of the magazine industry. I mean, I knew all that stuff existed, but this is the first time I've realised just how insidiously the writers and editors sneak the barbs and manipulation into everything they publish. I was utterly gobsmacked. I'm not even going to go into what it must do to a person to sit there dreaming this stuff up for a living. Are they aware of it, or are they so wrapped up in the whole lifestyle portrayed that they just don't see it?

Yes, I'll probably keep buying the occasional women's magazine, when I need a good laugh or some complete escapism - or when I just Have To Know what SJP's wearing so I can copy it. Oh Yeah..

So did I find any pictures to take to my friend? Well, no. Pretty much everything in there was Teh Trendeeezz. And following trends despite the fact that they don't actually look any good is just, well.. silly.

Luckily I have a backup plan. It's called my imagination. Stick that in your women's magazines..
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