Threadbared

Never Before Have We Seen Such A Shameless, Desperate Plea For Attention.

Especially one rendered in mohair.

Meeeeemory...All Alone In The Moooooonlight.....

Even after she left the stage to pursue a career in modeling Karen was never really able to let go of having played Grizabella in the original Broadway production of Cats.

As For Getting A Few Giggles Over Besjana's Headband...Well, No One Felt Too Badly Over That.

Everyone in gym class tried not to laugh as the Albanian exchange student attempted to take her new American-style knitted swimsuit off over her head.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia (for a Makeover)

In keeping with this, the Golden Age of Makeovers, and in honor of the return of the greatest makeover show ever (Beauty and the Geek), we present to you the much heralded, greatly anticipated:

Threadbared Prince of Darkness Makeover

                                BEFORE

Old Lucifer (seen here in The Passion of the Christ) has a number of aesthetic problems. Pale, sallow skin. Bloodshot eyes. Undereye circles. Missing eyebrows. Scary ass Grim Reaper hoodie.  The nails from the Saw movie poster.  Clearly he…she…it(?)…needs some help. If only there were eight beautiful morons here to help. Oh well, we’ll have to do the best we can with the two morons we have here at Threadbared.

OK…so we gave old Luci a little tinted moisturizer, some Cover Girl blush from 1986, and a couple of prosthetic eyebrows that we made from those fake fiesta mustaches that we got at Party City. Plus, we swapped the Dark Avenger’s hoodie of death for a kicky crochet number. Oh, and we gave it(?) one of those cool purses that really isn’t a purse at all but just a wallet shaped like a purse and at first you think it’s cool but then you realize that there’s nowhere to put your lip gloss.

Anyway, Voila! Here’s the new and improved Sassy Satan!!

                                 AFTER

OK, so maybe the pink was a little much, but the skirt was a great choice. You can’t see it here, but the Evil One has some slammin’ gams.

Get Your Minds Out Of The Gutters, It Is Most Certainly NOT A Sexually-Transmitted Pompom.

Sherri wasn't sure if it was pompomitis, pompompulmonary dysplasia, connective pompom disease or merely pre-pompom syndrome but something was definitely not right.

Lock The Doors. Hide The Children. And For God's Sake, Take That Olivia Newton-John Album Off The Stereo. That Only Encourages Them.

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE...

WHEN YOU HAD FINALLY BEGUN TO RELAX...

YOU CLOSED YOUR EYES FOR ONE MINUTE AND NOW...

It's the ATTACK OF THE BODYTHINGS!!!!!

They were born during that tragic moment when science made its great mistake. A bizarre hybrid formed with lycra, hair gel and buns of steel. The Bodythings are strong. They are determined. Now from behind the shroud of night they come, a squatting, thrusting, aerobicizing horde of creatures destroying all that gets in their path.

NO ONE WILL BE SAFE....

A Dingo Ate My Baby! Wait...Or Maybe That Was My Burrito He Ate.

Roy knew when he married Jenny that she wasn’t the smartest woman in the world.  She couldn’t do “hard math like subtraction”, open a bottle of Tylenol, or follow the plot of an Everybody Loves Raymond episode.  And she was always putting her head into the arm holes of her sweaters – even though he drew that diagram for her.  But she had plenty of other good qualities.  She made great untoasted toast.  She had incredible concentration.  She could stare at something shiny for hours.  Plus, she had a pretty decent rack. 

And when their first child was born, she loved him like crazy. There was only one problem.  She had the habit of confusing him with other things.  Once she gave a warm gentle bath to their VCR (which is not covered under warranty, by the way).  Then there was the afternoon that she took that dead possum to the park and pushed it on the swing  (park mommies can be so judgmental).  Ron didn’t think she was careless, just…well…a moron.  But his moron.  The moron mother of his child with the nice boobs. 

Still, when their second child was born he decided not to take any chances.  The day that Jenny figured out she was pregnant, Ron went out and bought an embroidery machine.  That gave him the remaining 3 months of her pregnancy to label everything in the house.

Rumor Has It That Snape Bought Five Copies

Desperate to support their growing Butterbeer habits, the boys of Slytherin resort to posing for the infamous Nerds in Kneesocks Calendar.

Threadbared: Raising 'Em Up Rainbow!

And now for something completely different...

More fun from the Threadbared Mailbag!

Dear Mary & Kimberly,

I am expecting my first child - a son.  My husband and I are very excited.  But we disagree on how to decorate our son's room.  My husband is what you might call a man's man.  Truth be told, he's a bit of a mouth breather.  He likes to crush things on his head and every Saturday he wanders around the house in his boxers wearing a toolbelt filled with nothing but beer and beef jerky.  Needless to say, he'd like to decorate the room in Packers Green and Gold.  I am less than thrilled.  I'm terrified that our son will grow up to be a chest-beating macho nightmare.  I'd prefer to raise a sensitive, loving child - a son who's open minded and caring, who always remembers to call me on my birthday and who's there for me when I need a shoulder to cry on.  Any suggestions for how to decorate his room to encourage such behavior?

Thanks!

Seeking a Sensitive Son in Sante Fe

Dear Seeking,

This should do the trick:

But you might want to invest in a locked cabinet for your heels and eyeshadow.

Good luck!

Mary & Kimberly

Raise Your Hand if You've Had Your Fill of Pirate's Booty Jokes!

All this talk of pirates and booties has got me thinking.  How is it that Johnny Depp can be so hot with dread locks, a dirty face and rotten teeth?  Translating pirates from fantasy land to real life while maintaining their shiver me timbers sex appeal isn't exactly easy.  Take these two fellas for example.  These come from the same pattern for the same pirate costume.  The illustrated rogue on the right can hunt for my treasure anytime.  But when they tried to recreate the same costume on an actual person...well...let's just say it lost something...

                                            (Click on the pic for a better view)

**Note - I'm pretty sure that this pattern is much more recent than the 80s, but I couldn't resist using it.

After School You Can Find Them Loitering By The Back Fence, Hacking Away On Candy Cigarettes And Swigging Root Beer Concealed In Brown Paper Bags.

This was taken from a typical early 80s "home needlework" book. The embroidered sweater is fine, nothing too offensive there. But who are these drips loitering by the purple backdrop?

You know, the rebels with the tic-tac-toe graffiti?

That's right. Tic-tac-toe graffiti.

They're never gonna impress the ladies with such a pathetic display of insubordination. One can only assume that if they move to the side you'd find another spray-painted missive, no doubt proclaiming that the school principal is a "doody-head" or similar.

Effervescent With Embarrassment.

Sometimes modeling shoots can go....awry.

Maybe the photographer looks familiar.

And then you realize that you slept with him when you first came to town, way back in 1978. But that his name was "Bill" back then instead of "Alfonso."

And really, you were just fresh from Kansas City and you didn't know anything. You were practically a child back then. You had no real life experience.

But Bill/Alfonso still didn't have to be so mean that time he asked about having a menage a trois and you told him that the idea of eating a goose's liver made you want to hurl.

Again, you didn't know anything.

The jerk.

And now he clearly doesn't remember you but you're getting embarrassed just the same.

And there's a bottle of champagne on the props table.

And you like champagne.

A lot.

And before you know it you're having a hard time standing upright for the remainder of the shoot.

And then you stumble backwards into the backdrop, taking several Boston ferns down with you. And the whole crew laughs and "Alfonso" yells for the stylist to find a model who can at least hold a vertical position for more than thirty seconds. And suddenly you have a terrible feeling that your agency going to give you an earful about this one....

Luscious Larry's Lovely Ladies

As disappointed as he was to be forty-three and have only four wives, Larry was pleased that they had all decided to sit for a portrait.  It was amazing how effective the withholding of food could be.   He was disappointed that they had neglected to show up in their Larry’s Old Woman, Larry’s Hot Woman, Larry’s Tall Woman and Larry’s Foreign Woman blouses.  Oh well, a night without Luscious Larry’s Lustful Lovin would teach them.

The Battle Of The Bulge

Once again, Vogue has provided the perfect wardbrobe solution for every...person.  Look how the drape of the caftan hides one's hips...or any other um...things on one's body one might want to conceal.  And see how it makes a person look glamorous even if maybe one is not usually so...how do I say this...feminine?  A caftan also accomodates broad shoulders.  You know, in case you're big boned or whatever.  And it's long enough to cover feet that are maybe like larger than usual lady feet or something.  And if say you liked to go dance in clubs in Midtown it would give you plenty of room to move about and stuff.

OK.  I GIVE UP.  I TRIED TO DANCE AROUND IT.  I TRIED TO ACT LIKE EVERYTHING WAS NORMAL OVER AT VOGUE, BUT I CAN'T.  I CAN'T KEEP LIVING THIS LIE.  THOSE ARE MEN, BABY.  MEN, I TELL YOU.    THEY ARE BIG TALL FANCY MEN IN CAFTANS.

With fabulous accessories, by the way.

My Jodi. My Jodi. My Jodi and Me.

For her 5th birthday, Jodi received a handmade "Just Like Me" doll and a warning:

Look, kid, we can stitch up a big boned replacement for you anytime we like.  Do you want this doll to sleep in your Holly Hobby bed and eat your pudding pops while you waste away in a smelly orphanage run by some bargain Mrs. Hannigan knockoff?  Yeah, we didn't think so. Then we all agree.  The poopie pants problem and the booger eating stop NOW.  And no more licking the cat either.

It Was Years Before Sally Could Even Look At A Sweater Without Bursting Into Tears.

"Little girl, you know why they call this yarn "Red Heart", don't you"? It's named that because factory workers rip out the heart of a tiny baby bunny rabbit and squeeze a drop of baby bunny rabbit blood into each and every batch of yarn. That's what give "Red Heart" it's special sheen.

Now, you tell anyone that I shared this information with you and I swear to God I'll bite that cute little button nose right off your face?  You got it, kid?"

* Special thanks to Threadbared reader Deborah for providing today's utterly disturbing image.

Somebody Get That Kid a Carabiner!

I can't wait to have my own baby someday.  And I want to do all of the normal mother-daughter things...all the small pleasures you dream about.  You know, like coating my baby in head-to-toe crochet and taking her rock climbing with our fake German shepherd.

No! Robin. No!

Robin's crafty friend Mary Ann knew just how to keep Robin from gnawing on the itchy stitches from her lady surgery.

The Butt That Binds

Oh sure, sometimes they got tired of each other and, WooooWhee, could they tell you some crazy dating stories.  I mean craaaaaazy.  But ever since they'd stitched themselves together, the Siamese twin pattern modeling market had been theirs for the taking.

Viva La Chunky!

The Webster’s Dictionary defines “chunky” as 1) short and thick or broad and 2) filled with chunks.

But! 

Apparently in the early 1980s, “Chunky” was so much more! It was a whole philosophy, a state of being, a way to live. Everybody! Embrace the CHUNKY!

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Exhibit A:  “CHUNKY SPIRIT!” 

Yay! CHUNKY SPIRIT!  Whooo-hooo!

Ready for more?  Of course you are!

But wait!  CHUNKY is not restricted to the antics of silly Americans. Not at all!  CHUNKY can be all worldly and sophisticated too!  Oh yes! 

Please allow me to introduce the CHUNKY Getaways series:

Okay, so she looks a little confused. And maybe a wee bit scared. And yeah, the hat is completely retarded.  But who cares!  She still has that certain spark of.....CHUNKY! 

Like this happy traveler:

And this guy too:

They are Citizens of the World, no?   

C'est CHUNKY!   

Why is Mommy Wearing Blue Lipstick?

Oh sure, locking their parents outside in the snow seemed like a good idea at first.  After all, they did get to eat all the goldfish they wanted and there was no one to stop them from banging the pots and pans in their kitchen rock band.  Plus, they hadn't had to brush their teeth or wash their hands all day.  But now Mommy and Daddy were all cold and still.  Neither Suzy nor Callie could work the VCR.  How were they going to watch their Barney tapes?  Not to mention the vast quantities of bloomer pudding accumulating in their pampers.  Maybe Operation Get Rid of the 'Rents wasn't such a great idea after all.

Shameless Self Promotion

Look at this abomination.  These people are taking advantage of our love for patterns in an attempt to sell us self-promoting merchandise.  How horrible.  How shameful.  They are using patterns to satisfy their own greedy desires.  Frankly, I am outraged.

Oh...I almost forgot.  Check out our new threadbared.com t-shirts. 

Who’s That Little Chatterbox? The One With the Blank Soulless Eyes?

First appearing in newspapers on August 5, 1924, Harold Gray's Little Orphan Annie featured overt social messages that continued to appeal to Americans through world wars and a depression.

The comic strip boasted a rich history and is indelibly tied to American pop culture. Highlights include the radio program of the same name, sponsored by Ovaltine, with a famous theme song that began: "Who's that little chatterbox?/The one with pretty auburn locks?/Cute little she/It's Little Orphan Annie."

The strip was revitalized by the smash hit Broadway musical, Annie, in 1977and a major motion picture in 1982.

“Hey kids, It’s Little Orphan Annie Time!  Come on, let’s….Hey!  HEY, where are yall going?”

Yes, yes, okay….there’s your history lesson for the day. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Come on with it, where are the damn PATTERNS already?”

Okay, fine.

FINE. 

Forget the backstory and how I was going to share the tale of the Annie Mania that swept the nation. Forget my weak jokes about home perms and wannabe orphans and how I had a huge crush on Tim Curry as “Rooster” in the movie version.

Instead, we’ll just show you what lucky little girls (those with crafty mothers at least) received back in 1982.

LEAPING LIZZARDS!

“Moooooom!  Annie and Sandy keep staring at me!”

Not so fond of the Annie & Sandy dolls? No? What’s that? You’d rather have a set of Little Orphan Annie playclothes?  Okay sweetheart, you asked for it.

I’m not sure what exactly makes these “Annie” clothes, other than the fact that they’re vaguely apron-esq. More disturbing to me are the girls' faces.

Did Annie wear this much make-up? NO!  Annie was a plucky but innocent little girl not some WHORE with tube of mascara. Daddy Warbucks would have wiped that paint off in about two seconds flat and Annie would have gone to bed WITHOUT a serving of Baked Alaska that night. Hard Knock Life, my ass….

Oh, yeah.  And Don’t Forget To Drink Your Ovaltine, Kids!

Gag Me with a Spoon

It's funny how every decade has it's own linguistic nuances.  For example, things were "far out" in the 70s, "bitchin" in the 80s, "cool" in the 90s, and are "amazing" nowadays (or so the rampant overuse of this word by contestants on the bachelor would lead you to believe).

Words can also change meaning across decades.  In the 70s, "pimping" meant: "procuring customers for a prostitute."  Now it means: "doing an extreme car makeover on MTV."

Take the word "individualist."

Today's dictionary defines it as: "one that asserts individuality by independence of thought and action."

However, in the 80s, apparently the word meant: "one who sews own drab unflattering clothes designed to make one look as butch as possible."  Also, it seems that it meant "one who cuts own hair with pinking shears."  And just a hunch, "one who tight-rolls her Guess jeans just like everyone else does."

P.S.  I'm pretty sure Melanie Griffith owns the jacket in the top photo.

"Oh, and can we also make the beak look more beaky?"

Has anyone else ever worked at an advertising agency?  It's a special kind of hell.

The guy on the right is the cute but stupid client, who has no idea what he wants his ad campaign to look like but knows that by God, he had better offer some inane suggestions or else it will seem like he has no idea what he wants his ad campaign to look like. The suggestions must be vague and not really change the end product at all. Last time he offered his opinion that the bird should "look more like it's flying. And friendlier too." He can tell that the designers really respected his opinion on this.

The guy on the left is the agency Creative Director. He's so far removed from the work these days that his idea of creative is pairing green trousers with a yellow t-shirt. One of the copywriters secretly spit into his cup of chai tea this morning after he told her they need to "conceptualize ideas" for the Mauve Bird copy.

"It needs to be fresh. Fresh and bold. But not so bold that we seem too bold. Or too fresh. It should be boldish, you know?"

Sweaters Of The Damned.

Awwww…look at the happy couple in the matching sweaters. So cute, so sweet, so carefree…and, wait, are they also wearing matching corduroy pants? Yes! Yes, they are!  Are they not the perfect picture of adorableness?

But wait…what….what IN THE HELL is going on in the background?  Is it the apocalypse? The Second Coming? Is there a cold wind blowing and the terrified screams of lost souls swirling all around them?

I have the feeling that any minute now they’re going to turn around and realize what’s happening…..

”Wha…..huh...what the? AAAAGGGGHHH!  Forget the chunky thermal sweaters....it’s the RAPTURE! For fuck’s sake everyone, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

You Go Guy!

I have to admit to being a tad ignorant and socially insensitive.  I had no idea that Vogue made patterns for men who want to wear women's clothing.  Now that I have been elightened, I think it's lovely.  I can only imagine how difficult it must be to find a flouncy blazer that will both accomodate your broad shoulders and disguise your beer belly.  Not to mention, dress gloves to fit your man hands.  Kudos to Vogue for helping out the transvestites.

Speaking Hypothetically...

Check out this party dress pattern from the late 80s.  Ok...maybe at first glance it's not so funny.  Sure, it's dated and unflattering, but not exactly loaded with laughs.  However, let's imagine for a moment that an actual girl asked her highly skilled mom to make her this actual dress using this actual pattern (with an added see-through part to make it sassier).  Let's say that this happened in the winter of 1989 when the girl was 15 years old.  Let's also imagine that she had short, triangular, frizzy hair, braces, and a home hi-light job the bulk of which she did with a toothbrush while her mom wasn't looking.  Pretend that she went to the Christmas dance in this dress and her dyed-to-match shoes with her boyfriend who was really her best friend, but whom she briefly decided to date.  Oh, also let's imagine that she is very thin and pasty and the dress is black and that this combination makes her appear as if she is mourning the death of a loved one.  I'm guessing it might look something like this....

But it's just a hunch.

Mary: That's a hell of a corsage your date gave you. Quite impressive!

"So His Head's a Little Small....Did You Get a Good Look At Those Shoulders?"

I always enjoy a man with that classic American "sqaure build", don't you?

Magic Aprons

                    BEFORE                                          AFTER

Kimberly: Proof that given the right handmade apron, even malicious dogkillers can bake a delightful coconut cake.

Mary: Sure, she looks domesticated. But notice the careful cropping of the photo? What you can't see is that from the knees down she's actually drop-kicking a puppy.

Juice Box? I Think Not.

Stephanie and Amy were all set to hit the playground and have a good time at recess. Little Wendy, on the other hand, pulled out her pack of Kools, fired one up and skulked off to the dark corner beside the dumpsters.