Well, this wasn’t a complete disaster because I learned a few things. However, the dress as it turned out is nearly unwearable. I will explain.
First, this is the artist’s conception of how it should look (yes, I know to ignore the idealized Barbie waist):
You can see that it’s meant to be fitted.
This is how mine turned out, after deconstructing it somewhat and taking in what excess fabric I could:
I was planning to have Father take photos but he wasn’t available and this dress didn’t merit anything better than rough selfies anyway. Sigh.
So, the fit. I followed the size chart to see what size I needed. I know that vintage sizes are different from modern sizes and run smaller so I wasn’t surprised to see my measurements best fit a size 18. I knew it would be a little too big in the bust but I had to make sure I wasn’t cut in half at the waist.
Nowhere on the envelope is found any measurement of the finished garment other than the back length (fairly unimportant). It never occurred to me that the designers would feel it necessary to build in over three inches of positive ease into the dress. This, frankly, is insane. This means that I did not need a size 18, but a size 10.
Talk about a massive waste of time, energy, and money. I’m very frustrated. If anyone from Vogue reads this (doubtful) you should either drastically revise your size chart or print clearly on the package “garment designed to have X inches positive ease”. Of course no one wants that much ease in a fitted dress so it’s ridiculous. I had to go get another envelope because the size difference meant I was in an entirely different pattern, an additional cost of $19.
Hopefully I will have a much better outcome for Take 2.