1930s

I don't know why a bias cut still surprises me every time, fabric moving like it has its own idea of where to go, cut so it clings only where a body actually is. These are silk and rayon slips that have held someone's shape long after they stopped being worn, and there's something about that I can't quite get past. I mend what needs mending, chase down whatever provenance survives, then send it out from Melbourne once it's properly ready.