Lacy Crochet Jumpsuits

(And there's a ruffly, bell-bottomed two-piece set, as well!  BONUS!)

You can tell these things are fun fun fun by the way the model is holding her twin ponytails out and bending in odd ways.  (See?) 

Meanwhile, I have got to get a pair of those lacy pants with the slits up the fronts of the legs. 

Doily Muumuu

Yes, there are times when a loose-fitting gown is ideal (mostly when you're lounging around the house on a lazy day-- or sick day), but does anyone really need to crochet one? 

Imagine how much work must've gone into this thing!  You could be well on your way to completing an heirloom-quality crochet bedspread or tablecloth in a similar amount of time! 

Yee-Haw, Y'all

The image quality is a little lacking, but still... crocheted boots!

 Ok, confess:  How many of you are already planning out how to make yourself a pair of these?

What's a Girl to Do?

All knitted (or crocheted) up and nowhere to go!

Zut Alors!

Is this an attempt at a sexy French maid costume in crochet?

Must be, 'cause I can't think of any other reason someone in the modern world would "need" a lacy apron...

(By the way, what do you think is up with the globe and huge book in the background?  I wonder if someone got sexy French maid confused with sexy schoolgirl... Two totally different things, guys.)

Little Miss Doily-Pants

Lacy, crocheted "doily pants"...

 Nothin' like 'em for groovin' on your tip-toes...

Air-Conditioned Dress

Psst! 
...Um, miss...
We can kind of see your undies through your dress...

...Or maybe you already knew that.

(What a waste of mad crochet skillz!)

The Crochet Tramp-Bride

Oh, I know what you're thinking:  "Tramp-Bride?  Tramp?  Come on, Yarn-Yucker.  Isn't that a little bit harsh?"

Well, take a look for yourself:

It's a little trampy for a wedding dress. 

(Ok, so I personally wouldn't wear that thing in public on any occasion, but I can try to understand that some people might.  However.  At a wedding?  Your very own wedding?  Yep, trampy.)

Still not convinced?  Take a closer look at the inset photo. 

I rest my case. 

Naughty or Nice?

Today's outfit feels like a bizarre mixture of vintage innocence and, well, modern sleaze. 

The lacy fabric-- the collar-- the mesh cap with the flowers on one side-- even the model's pose and hairstyle.  All seem to epitomize that certain dainty femininity of an era long past.  And yet.  You can see the woman's bra. 

It's almost as though they simply forgot a critical part of her wardrobe-- left out the silk camisole that she was supposed to have worn underneath the mesh top. 

"Oopsie!  Why, I'm wearing nothing underneath this see-through top!  Dear me, how embarrassing!"

Get Thee to a Nunnery!

When my husband first saw this one, he didn't think it was that bad.  Maybe he thought I liked it and was trying to be supportive.  After all, it does look like an oversized doily, and I am in the process of learning doily-making.  (Hush.  We all have our weaknesses.  One of mine happens to be crochet lace.) 

Anyway, I don't know what he was thinking, but here are my problems with this one:

1. It is so very, very PINK.  Pink is fine in moderation, but this is too much (possibly because of the background detail photo).
2. (As mentioned earlier...) It looks like a gigantic (pink) doily has engulfed the model in crochet lace. 
3. It's hard to tell for sure because of the posing, but it looks like the sleeves are way too long.  A little extra length in the sleeves, ok.  This much, no.  
4. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me, but it looks like the model isn't wearing anything under the crocheted top.  (This would explain the odd pose, would it not?  Cleverly (?) using the arms/elbows to cover the naughty bits?)  You should never (no, never) wear holey crocheted or knitted lace without first putting on something underneath.  (For goodness sake, girl, at least wear a bra!)  It's indecent, and it's almost single-handedly leading to the moral breakdown of modern civilization. 

But aside from that, I love it.

ETA:  Apologies for the lack of a photo with this post, earlier.  Also, upon looking at this photo again (and another, in which the model is posing in a different position), I see that she is wearing something (a bra) under the crocheted top.  (As well she should.)  However, I am still shocked to my very core-- and plan to remain so for the foreseeable future.

Shawl We or Shawl We Not?

Shawls seem to be difficult to pose in photos.  Maybe it's because the shawl itself is an awkward accessory for modern times.

Don't get me wrong-- I like shawls, in theory.  I have a folder full of patterns that struck my fancy, and I fully intend to crochet at least one shawl for myself, one of these days.  However, even I have to wonder whether I'll ever get a chance to wear my shawl.  (You know, in public.  Where people will see the shawl.  And preferably not stare, point, or stifle giggles at my expense.)  I'm not a dress-up kinda gal.  Like so many other women, I tend to dress casually, and I question the usefulness of those gauzy confections of laceweight. 

Perhaps some of my reservations regarding shawls stem from the aforesaid awkwardly posed photos.  I mean, if a model-- someone who is paid to make clothes look good-- can't pull it off, what chance do I have? 

There are certain poses that photographers appear to rely on rather heavily, when photographing shawls.

There's the "grasp the shawl in your hand and extend your arm at shoulder-height, even though you probably hardly ever hold this position this in real life (outside of maybe a gym), because this is the best way to show off the detailed pattern":

Then there's the "(almost) raise the roof dance" pose, again with the shawl's corners carefully grasped in the hands. 

I have never seen anyone do this "in real life".  (Of course, I don't know if I've ever seen anyone wearing a lacy shawl, period, in my real life. . .)

This pose is almost always done with the model's back to the camera, as shown above, but occasionally you get someone really daring who shows you the other side:

(This is generally best avoided, especially when your model insists on wearing a smileless, dead-eyed expression likely to inspire fear and dread in the hearts of her audience.)

Some photographers try somewhat more realistic posing. 

For example, here we have the be-shawled young woman in a street setting, straddling some type of railing (???) and looking a bit miffed.  (Whether this is because she's straddling some railing on the side of a road or due to some other circumstances, I cannot say.) 

I should point out that, despite the increased realism, the poor model is still forced to put her hand on her hip, jutting her elbow out to put the exquisite crochet detailing on display.

(When I get around to making my crochet lace shawl, will I be expected to keep one elbow bent at all times, the better to show off my handiwork?  Will I look [even more] ridiculous if I walk around in non-bent-elbow comfort?  These are the kinds of things that keep one up at all hours of the night. . .)

On the other side of the spectrum (way, way, way across from the "attempt at realism" side), we have this pose, which I like to call "the Count Dracula":

(Please note:  The Count Dracula should not be attempted by amateurs.)

So, I'm left with yet another dilemma:  Assuming I ever do crochet myself a shawl, how am I going to pose it for the "big reveal" photos?