How to make custom lace appliques – the “Frankenlace” method
A lot of people asked for more info on how I made the appliques that decorate the bottom of Zelda’s gown. Here’s my tutorial for the whole process! This method can be used to make all kinds of applique shapes and designs if you get creative with it.
These lace appliques are made out of other lace – hence the nickname. To get started, you’ll need to collect a few lace trims to use as raw material. Look for styles that are similar or complement each other, because you’ll be combining them. This is some, but not all, of the trims I used. I bought these in the LA fabric district, but most are available at trimexpoonline.com.
Cut your lace down into smaller pieces that are more modular. Don’t cut up ALL your lace – this is just an experimentation stage, to practice rearranging the design.
Using a template of your desired shape (I made mine digitally, but you can hand draw one too) practice arranging your pieces until you find a design that suits your needs. This is not my final design in the picture – I went through several versions before I was totally happy with how it looked. You might discover that you need more lace, which is why planning and experimentation are so important. When you’re satisfied with how it looks, it’s time to start putting it all together.
You’ll need an embroidery hoop large enough to cover your whole template, plus some netting that is as close to transparent as you can find. Most generic tulle is NOT fine enough to do well with this technique – the holes are too large and the tulle stretches too much when handled. Look for netting that does not stretch or fray, if possible. Put some netting in your embroidery hoop, tightening the surface like a drum. I taped my template to a small sheet of masonite to give myself a portable work surface. I also ended up using clamps to hold the embroidery hoop to the masonite, but forgot to get a picture. This is optional, but really helps the design from shifting too much as you work.
Tools for the next step: fabric glue (other brands work too), a small paintbrush, and a water cup. I watered my glue down a little to make it easier to spread with the paintbrush. Be careful not to add TOO much water, or your glue will be too thin, not grip well, and take a long time to dry.
Working in small sections, begin gluing your lace pieces onto the netting. Start at the center and work outward, if possible. Continue until all your lace pieces are glued onto the netting.
Here’s what mine looked like with all the lace attached! At this point, I flipped the embroidery hoop over and applied a second coat of glue over the entire back of the work. The netting is so thin that you can continue to apply more glue from the backside to get a more secure grip.
Optional: add rhinestones to taste. I used E6000 for this step. Not every applique requires rhinestones, but in this case I wanted Zelda to sparkle as much as possible.
Repeat to create as many appliques as you need! Zelda has 8 along the bottom of her dress. Here’s part of my assembly line.
When you’re ready to attach the applique to your fashion fabric, trim away some of the netting along the outside, but leave any “interior” portions that help stabilize the design. I simply glued my appliques onto the silk, but I later went back and hand-stitched them down for a more secure hold. After they are properly attached to your fabric, you can VERY CAREFULLY trim away the “interior” pockets of plain netting using small scissors.
The final look of my gown, after all the appliques and trim were attached.
This method is very time consuming and requires a lot of patience and concentration – but I just love the results! I wanted to achieve the look of professionally-made applique, but without access to industrial equipment, this was the next best thing I could come up with.
The white-on-white effect is subtle, but matches the look I was going for. Photo by Vontography.
I hope this is helpful to some of you in your own costume projects. Let me know if you have any questions, and good luck!
Also this is happening for London MCM in October. And I am so excited to wear my wedding gown again. Phantom will be @phantomtea-cosplay and @siriussvaart as Raoul! So at some point there will be a final lair photo spam!
Including a blue cousin of the Star Princess (presumably Sea Foam or Ice Princess), a blue/purple Wishing dress with the cloak reused from the rooftop scene, a very flamenco-like Aminta costume, to which each Christine has a different pair of tights and shoes and a gorgeous silvery-white Wedding gown.
I have a love/hate relationship with the wedding dress. Sometimes, I feel like it’s too plain. Most of Christine’s dresses are very extravagant and beautiful, and when it comes to the Final Lair, I’m kind of disappointed with it. However, I learned to love it (cause I love everything about Christine, including all her costumes) but if I have to choose my least favorite costume, it has to be this one.
Well, since your response was so overwhelming, here’s part 2! Many many thanks to @diversemediums for helping me think things through! She and I are both excited to see what happens next. I can’t remember the last time when I had absolutely no idea what was coming on next in a story. Thanks for enjoying part one so much!
Claire didn’t go home with Geillis that night, unsure about what had happened with that strange psychic man.
“Claire please! You have to tell me everything!”
“There’s nothing to tell! He read my tea leaves, read a little from my palms and told me to come back.”
“Then why won’t you come home? Afraid I’ll pester you until you crack?”
Smiling, Claire rolled her eyes.
“Well you’re likely to do that anyway. But no. I’ve got a date with Frank tonight.”
“Oh,” Geillis said flatly. “You’ll be spending the night with him, then?”
“Yes. Unlike you, I prefer my love making to be private.”
Geillis gave her a coy smile.
“I can’t help it if I’m a passionate lover.”
“My only wish is that your ‘passion’ would be a little more quiet. I’m just going to change and then meet up with him for lunch between his classes.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll get the details out of you later.”
As they headed back toward their apartment, Claire realized she hadn’t gotten the number for the place or made an official appointment to return. No matter. She’d just come back when she had time.
Her lunch with Frank was normal, same as always. He talked about his classes, his problem students, how many he thought would pass his exams. She told him about the film she and Geillis had watched the night before. For some odd reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her strange experience with the mysterious Jamie Fraser.
She made dinner for them both in his apartment, ready and on the table when he arrived. They ate and made plans to go see a new museum exhibit the next week. A life with him would be comfortable, uneventful, and she would want for nothing. He would provide a good home and be a good father.
The palm of her hand tingled where Jamie had touched her and she thought about his words.
As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.
Looking up from her own hand, she saw Frank waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Are you ready for bed?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I completely zoned out for a moment.”
She followed him back to his bedroom where they made love the same way they always did. It wasn’t bad, but neither was it as amazing as Geillis always made it sound.
When she finally drifted asleep, she had the strangest dreams. The air around her smelled different, everything seemed younger, fresher.
She was walking, barefoot, through the wet grass. It was raining, but that wasn’t surprising for her. She was searching for something. No, for someone. He promised he’d meet her here, that he wouldn’t make her wait a moment longer.
“Christ, ye look like a wee Faerie, running about through the grass like that. Come here to me, Sassenach.”
“You’re late,” she said, turning to the familiar voice.
Turning around, she searched for his eyes, but her gaze couldn’t move from his lips.
“I was here on time, as I promised. But I didna want to interrupt ye.”
“Please, it’s been long enough!”
Large hands moved over her body in a way that only a lover would do. She felt him untie the laces at the back of her gown.
“It’s been two whole days, a nighean. Surely ye canna be that desperate.”
Her fingers found the sturdy folds of his kilt and began to tug them up. Finally, her gown loostened and she wriggled out of it, standing before him in only her thin shift.
“Closer to three, and yes I can. You’ve rather a voracious appetite, my lad, and I’ve gotten used to it.”
“It’s that good then, is it?”
“You know it is, you Scottish bastard.”
He had several days of stubble on his chin as he bent and kissed her. But oh! How she’d missed this mouth! Rough hands ran over her back and down to her buttocks, where he squeezed and let out a sigh.
“Roundest arse I’ve ever had the pleasure to see. And fondle.”
“I’m really not concerned with the fondling of my arse at the moment, good sir.”
“Fair point, my lady.”
While he worked on the ties of his shirt, she pulled his belt free and shook his kilt out on the ground. While this wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love out of doors, she wasn’t fond of the debris that got stuck on her everywhere.
God the smell of him, the feel of his toned body beneath her hands, the taste of his tongue probing inside her mouth. It was all too much. She shrugged out of her shift and lay down on his kilt, watching as he admired her naked body.
“Have I told ye lately, mo chridhe,” he whispered, speckling her skin with kisses as he made his way up to her lips. “How much I love ye?”
“Not in the last hour, no.”
“I love you,” he kissed beneath her left breast. “I love you.” A kiss beneath her right. “I love you.” A kiss right between them.
Taking fistfuls of his bright red hair in both her hands, she pulled his mouth up to her own.
“Come show me how much, my beloved husband.”
Then two blue eyes locked with her own. Eyes she’d seen before. The color seemed to be shifting through every shade of blue in existence.
“MINE,” growled his voice, thick with lust. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!”
“Yes!” she screamed back at him, digging her fingers into whatever flesh she could find.
Her body was trembling beneath him, though not from cold. Both of her legs struggled to lock around him, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. God she didn’t want this to ever end.
“Look at me, Claire!”
Forcing her eyes open, she met his gaze.
“Promise me. Promise me that we’ll always find each other. In this life and the next.”
“I swear it. I’m yours, forever and always Jamie. I love you.”
Claire shot up in bed, panting and sweating. Her body shook in a way it had never done before. Her breasts ached and there was a heavy dampness between her legs that hadn’t been there before.
Trying not to wake Frank, she got up and went to splash water on her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she ran hands through her hair.
“What the hell was that, Beauchamp?”
Jamie tossed and turned, restless. In all his reading through his journals, he’d gleaned no further information on Miss Beauchamp.
Then all at once, he knew he’d fallen asleep. This wasn’t a normal dream, but the first vision he’d had in years.
He watched her wander through the field, stalking her as a wolf did a rabbit. But he would have her in his arms soon enough.
And then he had her, in his arms, smelling like the wet earth and that heady scent of her arousal. He couldn’t undress her fast enough, couldn’t feel her bare skin soon enough. Nearly three days, sleeping alone. Far, far too long.
Then he was above her, staring down into those inhumanly golden eyes, her breasts rubbing slightly against his chest as she panted.
“I love you,” he whispered against the skin of her chest.
“Come show me how much, beloved husband.”
Husband. They’d been married a month ago in secret. No one knew they had. He’d given her a silver ring and the key to his estate, along with his heart and virginity. But she kept them hidden.
He’d felt the ring sewen into one of her pockets, always with her. He had no idea what she’d done with the key. It didn’t matter. They belonged to each other and no one else. Soon enough, he’d get her with child and no one could separate them.
White hot pain pricked over his body where she clawed and drew blood.
“MINE,” he growled into her ear, resisting the urge to bite ite. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!”
Hearing her say that, while her hips lifted to meet his, gave him a primal pleasure he didn’t understand. Her body jerked as he felt himself prepare for release. His howl started low and guttural, growing in volume until-
Throwing the sheets off, he swung his legs over one side of his bed and put his hands on his knees. It took him several minutes to catch his breath and keep his hands from shaking. Christ he’d forgotten how intensely real these visions could be.
Visions of things he’d never experienced were the worst. Having never lain with a woman, he could only assume it would feel like that.
“Holy God,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his head. “What just happened, Fraser? Get yourself together, man.”
Missing his longer hair, he took another breath and reached for the empty dream journal he kept beside his bed. For now he would jot down the notes and quick sketches quickly. Later, after he’d had time to study the vision, he’d write it down properly in the big book, sketch things out and take his time about it.
Wondering when he would see Miss Beauchamp again, he decided to take a shower and not dwell on his vision; or how he could still taste her in his mouth, or feel her breasts beneath his hands. Christ he could still feel her nipples between his teeth, feel her trembling, smell the intensity of her want for him. Perhaps it would be a cold shower.
Game of Thrones has never exactly been SUBTLE in terms of costume design (or writing, but that’s a post for another day). Michelle Clapton does like to add small embellishments to characters’ clothing, however (the direwolves on Sansa’s gown after finally returning to Winterfell, or the thorned roses on Margaery’s wedding dress). These represent a character’s allegiance, but more importantly, their headspace.
This is most immediately evident in Daenery’s fashion evolution throughout the course of the show. She went from pale, floating silks to traditional Dothraki garb to colorful, intricate gowns. And in these past two seasons, Daenerys has slowly but surely stopped wearing colored clothing altogether. Notice that, in the beginning of season 7, she wore the reds and blacks of House Targaryen. Now, she dons herself in all-black. Do you know who else has abandoned reds representative of their house colors? Cersei Lannister. What’s more: Daenery’s most recent outfit draws more than a passing resemblance to Cersei’s coronation gown. I don’t think this is a coincidence.
I think this is a deliberate decision to draw a visual parallel between these two power-hungry, self-proclaimed queens who use fire to destroy and conquer. While both may try to convince their allies that the other is more dangerous, more immoral, it is obvious that they are of equal threat to the people of Westeros.
It seems that Daenerys has taken Olenna’s final words to heart: “be a dragon”. She is embracing the awful destruction her “children” bring. She is embracing the madness that no doubt pulses through her Targaryen blood.
From the Paolo Sebastian X exhibit at the adelaide art gallery
I didn’t think that I would have the reaction to the final gown that I did. It’s a ballgown in pink with these beautiful delicate rose branch and flowers. (I’m not really a pink person. Or a ball gown person) But my reaction was hard to describe. I found the way it stood within the circle of flowers so ethereal and beautiful and then I contrasted it with the two boxed dioramas which you can see in one of the room shots. Those dioramas are of war and death and are both dark and confronting and the way that they contrasted with this beautiful gown. Idk it just got to me. If I go to heaven then I want a dress like this one please XD Flowers are reminders of life and death given as a gesture of love whether to a friend, or left on a grave.
If he could see you in this dress (Poe Dameron x Female Reader)
Title: If only he could see you in this dress Length: 1400 words Genre: Fluff Rating: T Summary: As an intelligence officer in The Resistance, you get some pretty fun outfits, and one dress you feel like may just finally get Poe to make a move. (Female reader) A/N: So this is my first fic ever. Go easy on me. :) I’m trying to be more vulnerable in the world, and this was one of those things on my list. Much thanks to @warqueenfuriosa@mell-bell@fandom-writes and @charliexowrite for all the encouragement to get it started.
You and Poe. Poe and you. It’s been…complicated.
You weren’t in an established relationship or anything, but there had to be something more than just friendly colleagues. The glances to each other that lasted just a little bit too long. The not-so-casual brush of your arm against his. The small laughs you shared after meetings with General Organa.
But you were committed to the cause. You’re an intelligence officer. He’s the best pilot in The Resistance. This would have to be the most you ever became romantically involved with Poe. You were always so disciplined, so strict. Putting your emotions or personal relationships aside was usually so easy. It killed you to not have that kind of relationship with another human, but that wasn’t the priority in your life.
Why couldn’t you seem to get away from your feelings for Poe? Sometimes you took the long way back to your quarters just to see if he was working on his X-Wing. He wouldn’t even see you. You just wanted to see him. Keep an eye on him.
You also noticed he had started to come around more often when you’d be eating. Was he following you? Surely not. He probably was just on a new schedule, or found that Rey or Finn were available at that time.
Then the voice in the back of your mind whispered, “Then why does he keep looking at you? Staring at you even?”
Ugh, those eyes. You could get lost in them all day. Deep, rich chocolate eyes.
Today you had to focus. Poe had been away for a couple of weeks, which meant your mind would wander to him more frequently as the time went on. You wondered where he was. Was he safe? Your heart pounded faster. What if he’s in danger.
Being an intelligence officer had its perks. For example, you had a higher clearance, which meant you could access more information on your datapad. Like where Poe is. And whether he’s okay. You tried not to check too frequently, but now that it had been over 3 weeks, you started checking nearly every hour. The report said the mission should only take a week.
Snapping back into reality from a knock at the door, and your team was there to help you get ready for your mission. One woman, a seamstress, pulled out a long, form fitting dress, and another had a bag with jewelry and shoes. Both are enthusiastic at how absolutely stunning you’re going to look. “Even the First Order will be impressed with this fashion,” the seamstress emphasizes. You both hated and loved these missions, you felt like you were playing out a fantasy sometimes, as though there was no danger. You were the spy getting the intel at a fancy party held by the First Order. It was much sexier than other intel missions, but it also meant any slip up and you could face being kidnapped in a heartbeat.
The women helped get the gown on you, a long black dress, which revealed nothing in the front but your shoulders, but in the back, revealed the long curve of your spine through glittering transparent fabric. Quickly, your mind went elsewhere.
I haven’t checked where he is for a few hours. Maybe Poe will be back by the time this mission is over in a few days.
What if Poe saw me in this dress? What if I was wearing this for him, not for The Resistance?
You blushed at your own inner conversation thinking about what Poe may think when he saw you. You closed your eyes as the women made the final adjustments to the gown and jewelry. One woman handed you a small clutch, and you left your quarters to leave.
Walking quickly and ignoring the stares from others, you made your way through the halls going over the details General Organa told you–who would be there, what to ask, what not to say. You needed to hear one detail: any mention of what was coming next and without suspicion gather any detail on what was being planned after Starkiller Base was destroyed.
General Organa met you at the landing pad, ensuring everything was ready for you, triple checking that you were ready. Without your knowledge, someone else was watching the two of you talk.
Poe had just come back from his mission drained, exhausted, and ready to debrief as quickly as possible so he could get a moment of peace. “Beebee, let’s go see the General.” He turned his head seeing the General, but something else took over his mind. Your back was turned to him, but he could still see the profile of your face. His breath caught in his throat as he saw you across the landing pad. “Dameron, cut it out,” he said to himself.
He couldn’t stop staring. And General Organa noticed. He quickly turned his gaze away and quickly climbed down the ladder, BB-8 joining him.
“I’m so sorry General, I left something in my quarters, I’ll only be two minutes,” you explained hastily, embarrassed you had forgotten your clothes to change out of after the mission. You walked through the halls, not realizing Poe was following you.
“Good luck, F/N.” His voice was low and tired, which meant it was deeper than normal. Sexier than usual. Your stomach did a somersault.
Startled, you quickly turned around to find that he had entered into your quarters and was between you and the door, resting against the door frame. Even after a long mission exhausted and injured, Poe was still Poe. That confident, cocky Poe. One foot crossed over the other at the ankle with a grin on his face. He looked banged up, but not too bad–a bruise was beginning to form on the edge of his eyebrow and there was a cut on his lip. You let yourself look at his lips, those full and smug lips, for just a little too long.
“Oh, thanks,” you replied as casually as possible. Nothing was different. Right? I’m just wearing an incredibly revealing dress. That’s all. It’s normal.
He didn’t move. He drank in the sight of you as your cheeks began to burn, hoping that you weren’t blushing too much. He watched as you grabbed the remaining items from your quarters, putting them into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder. He licked his lips.
“Um, I need to head out, did you need anything? I’m glad to see you made it back. I was a little worried after all. You said your mission wasn’t going to take but a week.” You rushed your speech, trying to give him an opportunity to leave. You didn’t know where to stand. Near the door? Near him? You had to leave soon.
He didn’t answer. Looking away, you weren’t sure what to do. No, you know what to do, Y/N. Let go. Pretend you’re wearing that dress for him.
Walking over to him, you let your bag fall from your shoulder. You placed your hands on his face, thumbing over his broken lip to see if he the injury would impact your move. He didn’t wince. Good. He smirked and began to say something when you pressed your lips against his. At first, it was a chaste kiss, but you melted as he quickly and intensely began kissing you back. You felt his hands softly on your waist pulling you closer to him.
The warmth of his body was overwhelming in combination with the movement of his lips. His lips soft, yet the kiss urgent. As he began to kiss you harder, you parted your lips letting his tongue quickly dart across your lips and into your mouth. You heard him moan softly.
Despite everything you were thinking, you pulled away from him, grabbed your bag and opened the door. He looked confused, even hurt. He looked down at the floor and moved aside to let you through.
“I have to go. I’m already late.” You continued, “but if you’re patient, maybe you can see me again in this dress before I have to return it.”
He looked up and smirked knowingly. “That sounds like a deal.” And with that, you left Poe behind, walking down the hall and smiling, knowing he was appreciating the view.