Other than clearly it’s a bit of an interest. OK, crush. Passion. Whatever: it’s a thing.
There’s a story here. Are you sitting comfortably? (If not, pull up a cushion, grab a drink… Good. Pour me one too.). FF(Mrs) has always loved fashions from the 1950’s: the fitted bodices and full skirts, the gloves, the hats, the whole look. In her 30s, she started wearing vintage frocks which raised career-limiting eyebrows in the world of big corporate, but she didn’t care. She wore them anyway. And when she met HFF (Mr), it was a joy to know he wholeheartedly approved. So far, so normal.
Maybe a year or so later, out of the blue, things got a little quirkier. HFF(Mr) is an engineer: fixing things (the cars), making things (her desk) – all big manly stuff. So his announcement one day “I’d like to make you a dress.” was something of a shock.
“Have you done it before?” she asked, rather taken aback.
“No,” he confessed. “But I’ve always wanted to do upholstery” (See me, the sofa. It’s OK, he’ll be forgiven. One day.)
FF(Mrs) took a moment. Lovely offer, but whatever he made, she was going to have to wear. Regardless. This wasn’t a drawing to be put up on the fridge. This was a frock. To be worn. In public.
10 years and a wardrobe later, he branched out into jewellery, but by then there was no question of shock, just a natural progression: clearly he would make it, clearly it would be beautiful. They’ve tried their hands at millinery (yes, of course he was good at it, of course she was exuberant) but the frockage and jewellery have their hearts. (Besides: have you tried storing hats? Even small ones? Beanies and berets don’t count.) The corporate disapproval became interest, then “do you sell them?” and the label she had made for the clothes became a website with a range of sterling silver pieces that people love to wear.