Dear Graziella (Dress 178)

Dear Graziella,

Your support of your son is heart warming. For all that you don't understand a lot of what he does, you try, in your way, to encourage him in his love of theatre and film. I assume it is you that bought him the clapperboard.
All my love,
IP

Dear Catherine (Dress 175)

Dearest Cathi,

I miss you so much, I hope you're having a simply wonderful time in Italy, I'm sure you're learning stacks, and seeing all manner of amazing gorgeous things. From the things you said just before you left, I understand it'll almost be like you're the proverbial blank slate, your artistic understanding rewritten by a connection to the heart of all that you've ever learnt. That's how you say things- this intense love of the history of art. It's been wonderful to have seen you grow and mature and find love in this work. I'm insanely proud of you, furball.

(Starched cotton covered in a synthetic coat- white-board style.)

All my love,

Sister,
IP

Dear Safta Shula (Dress 163)

Dear Safta,

You're getting bck into knitting, which is good because it means that even though tit's winter your arthritis is not being too harsh. Rather a surprise 'since you had to quit the knittety knit several years ago beause of the aforementioned joint pain.

Anyway, I've seen knitting needles made into necklaces, bracelets, brooches and rings, but never into clothes. There's always a way!\

All my love,
IP

Dearest Eve (Dress 143)

Dearest Eve Yamouni,

You're inexpressibly amazing. Talented Artist, Lawyer, Cook and Playwright. You're part of the tight-knit community of artists who were in and out of my childhood home(s). Every time we moved, you moved with us- apparently you were doing a lot of moving around yourself, I can't remember the other houses- only the one in South Yarra, the apartment with the balcony view above the Botanical Gardens and the abundance of ferns and indoor plants. I remember hours spent drawing in oil pastels (the kind whose quality assured you should never let a child near them) whilst drinking lemonade and listening to Vivaldi. Everything about you is class and sophistication. Today's dress is a combination painted/preforated number in black and white. Complex structurally, but aesthetically simple and straightforward.

All my love,
IP

Dear Phil and Susan (Dress 135)

Dear Phil and Susan,

You are a lovely couple: kind and interesting and gentle, with two gorgeous sons. In my first memory of you I’m being asked to be your flower girl- although I wasn’t sure who you were at the time, you’d met on the internet, countries apart, spoken often, met, and married. Phil became more than our web designer, he was our friend. Susan became my mothers design co-conspiritor, and their sons my miniature companions. One particularly intense memory is the younger son, Casey, at no more than eight months showing great promise of continuing the familial lineage- impressive English stock where six foot is nothing unusual- so solid that, bouncing on my knee for an hour or so he left an impressive mark- the ghost-weight, as if he was still there, even twenty minutes later. In their first Melbournian house they had the unenviable task of stripping a sedimentary history of wallpaper- from subdued Victorian patterns to the garish and gently furred monstrosities of the eighties. So great a task, in fact, that they wanted to leave it, but peeling strips of wallpaper proved otherwise.

All my love,

IP

Dear Dad (Dress 127)

Dear Dad,
'though I'd never tell you- you're probably the coolest dad I know, you brought me up on a diet of Radiohead, Coldplay and Red Hot Chili Peppers, a strange understanding of mechanics, and a love of backgammon. When you went to Japan last year you brought back a whole lot of interesting things to hang off your rear-view mirror, amongs them; a plastic sushi, a metal koi, and a plastic space invader.
Your support of this project, and your faith in my abilities makes me prouder than you'd know.
All my love,
IP
P.S. in this dress the space invader would be less insane looking... fyi.

Dear Alice (Dress 124)

Dearest Alice,

They've finally given you a name, and now i'm well on my way to making your mobile, three felt bunnies (half size) from the pattern at Hazlenut's Blog and lots of felt carrots coming out of a felt lettuce... it's a challenge.

So no wonder I have carrots on the mind:

not my fault.

xox

IP.

Dear Safta Haya, (Dress 118)

Dearest Safta (Grandmother in Hebrew),

It's strange, I only see you every ten years- and yet I feel I know you. We're remarkably similar, you and I- Our love of making things, of textures, and most particularly, of scent. A personal obsession of mine, the art of perfume and the chemistry of scent. Since reading The Emporor of Scent, by Chandler Burr i've been entranced by the collective power of the aesthetic and aromatic that is a flacon of perfume, and it's contents. You have a collection of old perfume bottles, mainly empty- for practicing your glass painting on.

When I was in Israel you gave me a half-full bottle of J'Adore, you said my grandfather (who passed away ten years ago) gave it to you. For all that you love it you said it is too subtle for you, too gentle- strange, for a woman of such delicacy, you look like Jackie Kennedy in the photos I have from my mother's childhood.

You handed me this beautiful little golden bottle, the gold colouring on the wire of the neck faded with age, and, wrapped in silk scarves i'd bought in Israel, it came all the way across the sea with me. And now, when I need to be reminded, soft clouds of pearly scent surround me.

Today's dress is corset-topped, wrapped in an even layer of bronze wire, the ends of which are bent over tiny silver beads, the back of the corset laced with silver ribbon. The skirts are navy silk, three layers, edged with the same silver ribbon used for lacing.

All my love,
IP.
P.S. Today is DAY 100! We've made it! Happiness and Delight! Rar.

Dear Ma (Dress 115)

Dear Mum,
I've always taken your art for granted. Growing up amongst beautiful things and amazing creative people. How lucky was I? Thanks.
A couple of years back you did an exhibition in Queensland where you made engraved ice columns (three) at intervals of two or so hours, so that there was always a highly detailed column, a column that had melted a fair bit and had little or no detail, and a column that had melted down until it was beginning to fall off the pole that held each doughnut-shaped 'brick' together. The columns melted into a giant glass boat, which in turn filled until two holes near the top of the boat, from whence water spilled into two bowls on the floor, each filled with various spices.
The spices just looked so stunning, and since my great-aunt sent us spices from Israel our kitchen smells heavenly, no wonder I can't get it off my mind!
Jersey T-shirt with soft printed spices.
All my love,
IP

Dear Kishkoosh (Dress 113)

Dearest Kishkoosh,
You were my mum's pet really, she absolutely adored you- clever and beautiful, and a lovely creature. I was so young that I was frightened of you- you were this big bird with a powerful beak and you didn't like me because I moved so quickly that I frightened you. Silliness. I realised how much a part of our family you were when the next-door-neighbours' dog killed you. I remember when my dad came to school to tell me- still shaking- he held you while you passed and buried you himself.
When Annie (my ex-drama teacher, and family friend) brought Charlie to us I felt like it was a chance to start fresh- but that didn't work out, because he hated men and kept trying to bite my Father.

I still think maybe one day I'll get my mum another Cockatoo- I know she misses you.

(Inked linen with a satin lining to structure it.)
All my love,
IP

Dear Kate, Stevie & ? (Dress 101)

Dearest Kate, Stevie and ?
You were that hospital for a good three days... Wow. Congrats to a new little family.
So to Alice, or Olive, or the surprise out-of-left-field name they might pick for you.
Welcome little bean sprout!
(White silk stretched on solid thick white crepe, (switching to white elastic material on the neckpiece) with painted ink, and a leather tongue holding in the neckpiece.)
All my love,
Cousin IP
(Yeah. I'm evil. Sorry.)

Dearest Irit (Dress 97)

Dearest Irit,
You are adorably frightened of ferris wheels.
You are also my aunt. There may or may not be pictures of six-year-old-ip holding your hand and smiling as you scream your lungs out at Luna Park....
I ought to toddle off to bed, but just a quick update:
Onto book 4 of the 365series.

It looks like there will be 12, maybe 13? depends on how many 10dress penalties I have to do. So exciting to line them up like this! It really looks possible.
All my love,
IP

Dear Maya (Dress 70)

Dearest Maya,
Even 'though you're close to twelve now, and almost taller than me,I will always remember you as the four year old girl who, when accompanying you to one of your friend's birthday parties, and the pass-the-parcel recipient of something pocahontas-related, you cried out 'wow! Pocahontas! Are you going to be sharing that?' with the innocence and 'out-of-the-mouths-of-babes' honesty of a child. You're growing up rather faster than i'd like, remarkably mature- but with the same sweet face I remember coaxing giggles out of when you were a baby. You're a scarily intelligent young girl (I can't say young woman. not just yet.) and above all, I'm just curious to see what you come up with.

(Also: DRESS 70! *happy dance*)
All my love,