Polka Dot Moneta Dress

This dress ain't nothin new in the blogosphere, it's another Colette Moneta and I made it a few months ago as part of the sewalong. But oh hey, yesterday was the first time I actually wore it in real life.

I was originally a teensy bit turned off by the fabric - I ordered it online and it's a little stiff and unstretchy, and also printed off grain. It's the same fabric as my Moneta Peplum Top detailed in this post. But after wearing it for a day it's really not so bad.

No real pattern notes here, except things I've said before - I really think the Moneta is both super cute and very comfortable. Also I love the lower neckline in the back.

I cut according to the grain for this one, and as a result the polka dots are all kind of slanty and falling off to one side. Which really doesn't matter because no one will notice, but if I were to do it again I would cut according to the polka dot rows. After all, appearances are more important than integrity. [Ok, maybe not in EVERY circumstance, but definitely when making polka dot dresses.]

So to help me feel better about my polkas askew, I wore a belt. And this red belt is not just any old belt, let me tell you.

Bear with me while I launch into a tale - when I was a kid, I showed Quarter Horses. Horses are not in my life any more, so when I have the opportunity to experience something horsey, I take full advantage.

Several years ago, there was a big convention called The Equine Affaire in Pomona, CA, which is just outside LA. I dragged my then-boyfriend to a full day of seminars, demonstrations and vendor shopping all geared towards the horse person. As we were in a giant building browsing through the many booths of the vendors, I came upon one filled with show clothes from a company I remembered  from my youth in Ohio. They had a rack of second hand clothes so I absently started flipping through.

One of the first things was a bright red ultrasuede belt. I flipped it over.

IT HAD MY NAME ON IT.

I do not exaggerate when I say that there was a rush of blood to my head and everything around me went dim. It was a belt that I had shown in when I was twelve years old, over two thousand miles away and more than a decade past. And it was just randomly right there in front of me, in my hand.

I took the belt up to the vendor and told her I was going to buy it, because, um, it used to be mine? When I was a little kid? And I explained.

And she said, you don't have to buy it, you should just have it. Take it with you.

So I took the belt home, and it's mine again. Whoever wore it in between, I'll never know. But I'm sure it witnessed as much of their blood, sweat and tears as it did mine.

And just for some photographic evidence, here I am in 1998, age 12, wearing said belt [with a different buckle]. I'm sitting on Gilligan, a handsome bay gelding whose many talents including knowing how to take a bow [but only if you had a carrot]. His registered name was Island Fever. Get it?