New Cap

I am trying out a new cap, the Matron, from Plain-n-Simple Headcoverings, which is made from Kannik's Korner Mob Cap pattern. It is made of cotton organdy, and I wore it for several weeks before I sat down the other night and removed the top stitching and rolled and hand-stitched down the edges all around. Now it doesn't catch in my hair and the edge around the face is taken in just a bit and fits better. I have reached that advanced age when having a covering over my ears is comforting, much as that kerchief or shawl I often wear around my shoulders.

Even though I sew myself quite well, I was more than happy to pay Bayley for making the cap. Her workmanship is excellent, as there is a long strip of fiddly organdy around the edge of the cap. I highly recommend Bayley's skills with a needle and am very thankful that she offers so many styles from which to choose. I intend to purchase two more Matrons and one of the Maidens; I already have one of the Madres. Both the Madre and the Maiden can be held in place with a coif, an 18thC style, that adds warmth,as well as saving one's bonnet from the wind! Here I am demonatrating knitting wearing a coif over s Sophie cap and a Lappets cap for warmth at Fort Massac, IL.

Sarah Brightman - Symphony

I wish that I had been in another room to only hear the concert last night on my local PBS station, but I was watching--and I couldn't believe my eyes. Sarah Brightman's voice, the highest selling soprano of all time, was filling Stephansdom (St. Stephen's Cathedral), Vienna--with ethereal sound, usually drawing pictures in my mind of an angel singing--but I was appalled at what I was seeing. As I watched the remainder of the concert, I realized that in the back of my mind was a picture from my childhood, an Adventist painting of the whore of Babylon, scantily clad in purple with flowing black locks, but the whore was more tastefully clad than was Brightman--who appeared in diaphanous, nude-colored chiffon topped by a corset in white satin with what appeared to be garters holding up outer layers above her knees.
As she walked up and down the cathedral's aisle, her clothing suggested nakedness. Sitting along the aisles were many people of all ages, men and women, among whom I saw two women with hats of sorts. No one--in the audience and, especially Miss Brightman--appeared to be dressed appropriately for appearing in a cathedral, normally a place of worship, normally a place of decorum and respect, not only for oneself, but for the "sacred" place.

As a teenager I sang in the Motet Choir in St. Michael's Episcopal Cathdral, in Boise, Idaho; I've sung an aria from Handel's Messiah in Jewett Auditorium, College of Idaho--I know what singing sounds like echoing among the vaults of cathdrals, sounds heightened by wonderful acoustics--I can understand the appeal of singing into the vaults of Stephansdom. But I cannot understand the complete lack of propriety in Miss Brightman's appearance. The voice of an angel should not proceed from the lips of a woman dressed like a whore in a sacred space.