Not Florence and a Little from Column B

Pastiche is a lovely word which has always sounded like something delicious to me. (Pastiche for dessert? It must be my birthday!) Since it's a celebration, or say a collaboration with the past, nobody's the wiser and we have fun. I finally took my thrifted linen duster out for a ramble in not Florence and not 1905.
With a nod to Eleanor Lavish without her baedeker.

Green, green, green Fernandez Ranch in Martinez Ca. part of the John Muir Land Trust

The cows had churned up the paths so thoroughly, that I couldn't get very far. But the rain is sorely needed and I had boots on. Not pretty American Duchess lace-up oxfords, boots.
Since I had brought all this up with me, and I don't pack light, I was undeterred.

Craftily blurred out hiking boots

"O mio babbino caro"

If the cows stop giving milk, it's none of my doing.....

Column B
The return of the Swiss Waist, or Corselete's revenge.
My brother always asks rhetorically, "Is it a sin to like your own cooking?" No, nor is it to be pleased with an object sewn and labored over.  Since I have only worn the Swiss waist once and it needed another outing, I'm giving it the fancy treatment as a ball gown.

Overskirt of turn-of -the-century satin Ikat, liberated from another ball gown

Corselete's Revenge

OG (original gown) with the unsuspecting Lynne B.

The lace overlay is a silk chantilly so old and fine, I fear it may be a one off. I'm trying not to get too attached and enjoy the impermanence, a few waltzes and it may shatter. I can live with that, it was worth the round and round on the dance floor.
See how we all grow.

Ever Your Thimble Servant,
Miss Brilliantine