![]() I spent very little time thinking about whether or not the pattern would work for me and my body and even my personal style preferences (example: I had sworn up and down for years that I didn’t like the high-low hems of so many of the skirts and dresses that seemed to have suddenly come into fashion, but guess who immediately bought a Cascade skirt pattern by Megan Nielsen when it showed up on her Bloglovin’ feed?), and this led to an abundance of patterns piling up under my cutting table in my craft room. Instead of looking at the stack and feeling inspired, I usually ended up feeling overwhelmed- where does one even start with dozens and dozens of patterns to choose from? I had been successful in my effort to not buy fabric unless I knew exactly what project it was going to be sewn into, and I wanted to include my pattern purchases in this endeavor, too. I don’t want to be a pattern/fabric hoarder because it seems so antithetical to why I sew so much of my clothing in the first place. I want to maintain thoughtfulness about all aspects of my clothing, not only it’s construction, but it’s inception, too. This all comes into play because Deer and Doe released a pattern for a long maxi-skirt called Fumeterre a while back. ![]() Not sure if you have gleaned this from past posts, but I LOVE a good maxi. ![]() The pattern was right up my alley, with lovely design features like belt loops, options for a button or fly-front, a partially elasticized waist (holla praise!) and a slim fit in the hips. I was obviously all for buying this pattern because it screamed Jasiiiiiikkkkkaaaaaa but then I remembered that I had bought another printed Deer and Doe pattern many many months before and had yet to make it up. The pattern is for a simple collared blouse designed for stretch knit fabric, and it’s super cute and probably a quick/easy project, too….but still it sat on my shelf collecting dust. I didn’t even know what I wanted it to look like when I did decide to make it. THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING SERIES.Fully being all her truths in that long, extended, exquisite moment. And she is completely there for it just as she is when she turns to use her voice to be so completely inside the pain of the woman who owns this song. They saturate her with the sounds of their horns, and you, listening, are penetrated as well by the beauty and the power and the love of their playing.īut Billie is the centerpiece of the performance, the focus of their male loving. Her abandonment is as understated as the voicing of the pain she knows so well. She is as all there in her body and her pleasure just as she is in her voice when letting that pain of unfulfilled wanting come forth with overpowering understatement but not with any kind of begging or “woe is me” suffering:Īnd then back again to the male horn solos, where she lets his music love her so “fine and mellow.” She sways and rocks smiles and nods glistens and rolls with utter sensuality. She is in a “fine and mellow” ecstasy, simply letting the incredibly beautiful and sensual music of the sax, trombone and trumpet solos penetrate her body and allowing her body to do its thing in response. While listening, Billie is not in any pain. It’s as if she’s showing us what the “lowest man that she’s ever seen” is missing out on. Still, this song and her growing sense of loss is very human specific:īut then, over and over, just after a pause between beats you begin seeing her in sheer pleasure as she listens to the various male solos that are played in between her singing each of the song’s verses. ![]() We have witnessed bonobos suffering great grief. It is a universal yearning by all kinds of beings. And it is a pain with only hints of suffering:Īs Billie sings with an effortless purity of voice you cannot help but feel intensely that kind of pain of a woman wanting “her man” who just can’t/won’t be there for her. If that is so, then what Billie Holiday and a gang of awesome male horn players do with “Fine and Mellow” in the 1957 CBS live performance of “The Sounds of Jazz” may just be one of the finest expressions of this power. What the blues seems to be able to do like no other musical form is to wrap the joy of loving around the pain of loving. Also, pay close attention to a voice over she does that tells you exactly what is coming.) (You won’t make much sense of this valentine blog unless you watch Billie Holiday’s 8-minute performance with a group of the best of jazzmen from the 1950s.
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