Bitter Chocolate Fountain
I am in Love. Should my husband be jealous? Well, yes and no. It is not another man (good). It is a length of fabric (mystified silence).
It started with sneaking back to the page, gazing at the images and reading the blurb, which was enticing enough. Then there was the imagining of how good it would be, but oh boy, the blurb underestimated the sheer seductiveness of the material. I am talking about Bitter Chocolate Fountain, a fabric so dangerously seductive it ought to come with a moral warning.
I succumbed, telling myself it was just the thing for the reverse of a throw (I love making double sided throws) and I was quite right. It goes superbly with Hello Herringbone, of which I snaffled the last two metres. However, once the parcel arrived the rather gorgeous herringbone became almost incidental.
Here, in my hands, was this fabric so silky, so sensuous - if it could talk it would sound like the late and much-lamented Alan Rickman, though not in Die Hard. I could almost have mimicked the cafe scene from When Harry Met Sally! I owned two metres of this delight and suddenly it was not enough. The thought that there was more out there, needing to be adored, had me ordering another three metres. After all, seducing me in the bedroom was one thing, as a throw, but me being seen in public treating a throw like some oversized Charlie Brown comfort blanket would be plain weird.
It is not fabric for skirts - think of the wear on that gorgeous cashmere-ness. But you could make a poncho, one with the scarf attached (as in McCall's M6209) and have it snuggled beneath your chin, because it is almost liquid in its drape; line a hooded cape and have it whispering Rickman-like in your ears; make a waterfall fronted jacket, but be warned - you may stroke it more than Blofeld and his white Persian cat.
Actually, a fitted waistcoat would look good because of the silky, glossy sheen, but never think to remove it in a warm office and hang it over the back of your chair, because hands will just have to touch it; lots of hands touching Your Precious.I have discovered one huge problem, however, with Bitter Chocolate Fountain, or as I will now always think of it, Alan Rickman - the thought of actually cutting it, hearing the shears slice it mellifluous fibres, feels like a crime. I may just have to sit with it for a few more days, weeks, a month or two.