So here it is, in all it's glory. And before you all start chiming in with cries of "C'mon - it's not that bad" then let me tell you that it looks waaaaay better on Sabrina the dummy. On me it looked like a giant reddish sack.
Have you ever seens those pictures of Marilyn Monroe posing in an Idaho Potatoes sack? Well, it looked NOTHING LIKE THAT.
And it really is nobody's fault but my own. I knew the pattern was too big, but did I grade it? Nope. I knew that the high waist wouldn't suit my figure, what with being the owner of a particuarly long torso, but did I entend the bodice? Nup. I had a definite hunch that it would need to be brought in near the armhole, but did I tweak it? No siree bob. Did I even think about making up a muslin? Reader, I laughed at the very thought and continued on my merry way.
I was just in such a damn hurry to get the dress made and enter the competition that all sense appeared to have left my noggin before the first piece was cut out. I had been labouring under the misunderstanding that those days were behind me, that I was a responsible seamstress who contemplated and did a bit darn thinking before making up a garment, but it seems I can be as impetuous as ever.
Lesson, this time though, has definitely been learnt. I'm too old to spend the best part of a couple of days on something that will never work, but could if only I'd taken the time to organise my project properly. From now on all vintage patterns will get a toile made up first, and if I even send one tiny little fleeting thought towards a competition again it had better be a thought with more than three days up it's sleeve.