Oodles of Noodles

One of my most challenging dresses was a formal I was asked to make for an un-named religious group that has a compound/movie studio in the area.
I was not allowed to ever meet the wearer of the garment. Never.
I was given her measurements and a magazine page of the dress I was to create for her. No fittings, no adjustments, no questions.
They were having a Hollywood Gala during the Christmas season a few years ago.
I was told what to do and not by a person of any authority.
Every time I had a question about a particular point, whether fabric, cut, or drape, she left, went back to her superiors, got the answer, and returned.
We disagreed on any number of things. Mostly that I couldn't meet the girl. I ended up doing what she asked. I put the money in the bank. The questionable source of the money bothered me for quite a while until I put it in the perspective of a legitimate business transaction; funds for services rendered.
The agent had some wild ideas, I had other ideas. Finally we decided on a noodle-type of fringe. Cutting fringe from pre-sewn flaps wasn't working. Not enough volume. Not enough dimension. I fought against the path of making individual fingers, dreading the sheer volume of the job. She assured me that I would be fairly compensated. Still...
The two of us discussed the approach in several ways.
Her idea, which I finally and very reluctantly agreed to do, was to cut lots of eight" x six" squares of very sheer tricot fabric,

Stretch the block out as far as it goes, to arms length if you can, so that the sides curl in and it makes a tube-y thingy.




Do it again about 4000 times.
And I mean FOUR THOUSAND times.
Pile a bunch in your lap.
Take out one at a time.
Fold each link in half lengthwise, sew them together across the fold, one after the other, like hot dogs in a package.
Take each row (of about 100) to the cutting table and trim the edges like you would trim bangs, to make them even.

Put it on a flat piece to make a skirt with a modest train and attach it eventually to a bodice of bias cut satin. A long waisted bodice that is halter style and only a single spaghetti strap to hold it up. Or on. Or nothing. Oh dear. I stitched that poor strap good. That dress was HEAVY! Poor girl. I never knew if it fit or if she could even get into it.
I had Jailgy come over to give me moral support, commiserate on the injustices of life, take pictures.
Not only was the experience demanding and frustrating to my professional integrity, (I couldn't allow for alterations, fit, or anything! )
I learned alot about the hierarchy of the people, the protective nature of those in leadership positions toward those of lesser status, the condescension and disrespect of those 'outside'. Including me.