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There are so many sketches I have lurking in the depths of my iPad. Some of them are for clients, some of them are experimental, some of them are just because I think they're pretty. I'll be adding more here as I go through my archives.

Sketch Gallery

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I work in silk, mostly. But also in velvet, and satin, and lace, and tapestry, and vinyl, and leather, and pretty much anything else that feels good. We're a tactile bunch hereabouts. And there are always scraps. Pretty, indulgent scraps. You can do whatever you want with them-- quilting, collaging, or just sitting around petting them. We don't judge. Pledge this amount monthly, and we'll send you a grab bag every month with whatever we happen to have used on the latest projects. I don't promise bits of Alençon lace every month, but I can pretty much guarantee stuff you'll look at and think, "What on earth...?"

Skype is a godsend, I swear. I can measure clients from all over the world and reassure them that I'm not a skeevy PO box just looking to take their money. I can also discuss with them exactly what they're looking for, and narrow down ideas. Do you do your own cosplay? Would it help to have someone to talk to about it? Bounce ideas against? Commiserate with? Ask for research help? My Google-fu is strong, and I can think my way out of almost any costuming dead end. A once-a-month half-hour Skype chat may be just what you need. Bonus: random cat sightings are almost guaranteed.

Behind-the-scenes content

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A few years ago, at my beloved Fairie Fest, a woman comes into my shop and starts telling me oh, she's a costumer herself, but ohhh, she never has tiiiime to make corsets. I mean, she totally couuuuld, but they just take so much tiiiiime. I know when someone's telling me they could make a corset but prefer not to, and when someone's telling me they don't have a clue how to make one, and they just don't want to admit it. I'll let you figure out which one this was. But it was a very slow show, so when she bought one of mine, I smiled, took her cash, and handed her her receipt. And then came the fun part. "Mommy!" said her adorable little girl, "I want one! Can I have one?" I asked her how old Small One was, and when she said, "Ten!" I said, "You're a bit young now, love, but when you're done growing, come on back, and we'll see!" The little girl pouted a bit, but nodded. And then her mother said-- no lie-- "It's okay, honey. When we get home, I'll just backwards engineer this one and make you one." And out she goes, oblivious to a booth full of dropped jaws. She wrote me over the winter. Told me she'd gotten makeup on it, and worn a hole in the panel trying to get it off and did I have any more of that silk? I knew exactly what had happened: she'd taken it apart to see how I'd done it, and couldn't put it back together again. I didn't even answer. Which, considering what I wanted to say, was definitely the wiser course. I thought I was done with the matter. I should have been so lucky. Because of course, the next year comes around, and the booth is crowded on a nice, sunny day, but through a space in the throng, I look across my tent and see...what? I swear to you, I thought I was having a mental breakdown. Because it absolutely LOOKED like one of my corsets, but in the ugliest, Barbie-Dreamhouse-Goes-Faux-Colonial, floral-and-stripes, 70s-horror-movie-wallpaper fabric I had ever seen. I got closer, and saw the loops were made of some bulky, out-of-scale poly cording. There was no top-stitching. The boning channels were all too wide. And the whole thing was laced with single, thin, short, cheap ribbons.  But it was absolutely, unmistakably, my design. "Did I black out for a day?" I thought. I even stammered aloud, "Did I...did I make that?" You know precisely who it was, of course. And she turned to me and very proudly said, "No, I made it myself! And it only took me thirty hours!" And as she launched into a self-congratulatory brag about her skills, I turned with a snap and walked away. I refused to lose my temper in front of my staff or customers. I refused to tell her exactly what I thought.  But I'll tell you. Don't ever, for a second-- for a millisecond-- confuse ripping off an artisan's design with somehow paying them a compliment. Ever. Because you're not. You're saying, "Yeah, thanks for your years of learning, studying, trial and error, R&amp;D, business-building, advertising, traveling, and not sleeping, and for pouring copious amounts of blood, money, sweat, money, tears, money, and money into creating this amazing thing. I'm just gonna come in at the end and steal the fruits of your intellectual labour. Kthxbai." It's not flattering. It's enraging. It makes me so angry I want to cry. Sometimes, I actually do cry. I mean, at the least, if someone sees my incredibly specific, distinctive design badly executed, it reflects on me-- and not in a good way. But worse, it's erasing not only everything I put into what I do, but erasing ME.  I become completely disparate from the central drive of my own life. I become a footnote. I become the unimportant peon who handed you the spark for this great thing you did that you're going to show all your friends, and for which you're going to take all the credit.  Ugh. Last two shows I did, women came into my booth, and started poking and prodding my corsets with That Look. I asked the first one if I could help her, and she said, "No, I'm just trying to figure out how you did this so I can try it." This past weekend, two women, right in front of me, turned one of my corsets over in their hands and nodded sagely at one another, "Yes, this is easy. Okay. We could do this."  There was no murder, and I deserve a cookie. Hell, I deserve a whole pie. I don’t mind doing cosplay commissions. I don’t even mind attempting screen-accurate cosplay once in a while. And while that might seem hypocritical, it’s not, for one very specific reason: with cosplay, we have the luxury of knowing no one who sees those costumes thinks for a single minute the wearer is actually Alexandra Byrne or Ann Foley. People involved in cosplay are not stupid: they know how it’s done. They know their source material intimately. And my geeky pieces are derivative, transformative work, and everyone knows it. Unless you saw some deleted scene I didn’t, with Tony Stark chatting up Ultron in a ribbony, 5-lace corset— cos that’s not on the Blu-Ray. But work from non-mass-media designers is vastly different. I have had people send me pictures of gowns they’ve seen online and ask me to do something similar countless times. While I don't mind trying my hand at copying commercial costumes from movies or TV, if someone's sent me an image taken from one of my peers, the answer is always the same: "I won't copy another artist's work. I can give you something with a similar feel, but it will be, undeniably, a MayFaire Moon gown." I won't put another artist through the blind rage and agony of seeing someone rip them off without a care in the world. I won't ever waste my hard-won skills or my soul on copying the work of people in my own sphere. I had a friend-- someone I'd known for over a decade, whose hand I'd held when she went through a terrible divorce, whose burgeoning sewing skills I'd complimented, and for whom I made several corsets-- suddenly decide one day to copy an incredible artist by the name of Katrina Davies, of Oil and Lace. Katrina makes astonishingly beautiful, intricate, interactive clockwork animals. This other chick posted a photo one day of an animal that looked exactly like an Oil and Lace design, and asked all her friends, "Would you buy this?" I asked her if she was going to start selling for Katrina, and to my horror, she airily said, "Oh, no-- we made this. We're putting our own spin on it." In other words, "No, we're just ripping her off." And she knew it. I tried gently to point this out. She took down the post and blocked me. She knew precisely what she was doing. She knew it was wrong. You know it's wrong.  We all know it's wrong. So if someone comes to you with a picture of an artist's work and says, "I saw this awesome design-- now I just need someone to make it for me!", or posts a photo of a beautiful gown with no attribution, or points at a gorgeously-crafted object and says, "That's too expensive; I'm just gonna make one exactly like it myself," call them on it. Be gentle if you need to, but call them on it. If something's too expensive, ask the artist if they do payments. Or save up. Artists like food. We like electricity and running water. We want to sell to you. If you love someone's work, do them the honour of paying them for it. Make it possible for them to stay in business so they can make more pretty things. Credit them. Show them some respect. Acknowledge their work, and their effort. Be part of the solution. Because being part of the problem gets you ugly wallpaper corsets and angry artists. And no one wants that.  (Photo is the fabulous Angela in her Strawberry Fairy corset. Yes, I made it. No, she does not rip people off. Angela-- who also owns the Tea Time corset-- is one of my most awesome customers, and a wonderful friend.) ETA: I edited a bit to make my stance on cosplay a little clearer, since that seems to be causing some confusion in some quarters. And to everyone sharing their misery both here and on FB: if nothing else, take some comfort in knowing you're not alone. We get it.  Don't give up. And if I see you at a show, I will absolutely share my pie with you.

How To Anger an Artist in 5 Seconds.

MayFaire Moon

The link to this was sent to me by a fellow jewelry designer - we totally feel your pain, and will gladly buy and share a  murder pie if we should ever have the good fortune to meet. :-) 
 I made my first corset over 30 years ago as a seamstress/actress in a costume shop run by my mother  - who actually designed and drafted the pattern using her close studies over many years in countless museums and libraries. I was taught early what true original design entailed.
Could I make a close copy of your pieces? Maybe, after an inspection and study. Would I? ABSOLUTELY NOT.  

Why in the world would I want to behave like a Chinese knock off factory owner????? In my experience, people who behave like the woman you describe are usually the first hypocrites to wave the flag and shout 'Buy American!!!" with an upraised fist when discussing knock-off Etsy resellers. 
I have more integrity and respect for both you and myself than that. In my opinion, it would be theft - plain, and simple. 

Why? Because of the relatively simple concept of transformation, which very few people have mentioned here - other than yourself, of course. 
**Transformation** meaning a significant amount of change in form so that something completely new is made. 
Transformation, who is married to *Inspiration,* who has nothing whatsoever to do with *Imitation*, which is the purposeful intent to profit from the original  work by another - and the reason copyright laws exist at all. 
The central concept of copyright and patent law is that original maker deserves the chance to profit from their work and financial risk before others capitalize on it.  And make no mistake - regardless of whether the intent is for personal use, it is still capitalizing - because the person didn't pay for the work of designing, and  likely garners social credibility when claiming it as original.  Just ask Mark Zuckerberg or any other biz on FB if social credibility doesn't translate to $$.
I don't get using the phrase 'inspired by' when I  see an exact or close copy - my first thought is 'What were they 'inspired' to do? Copy someone else's work? Who do they think they are fooling?'
Those of us with any integrity recognize that  making direct or even close copies of a design is acceptable only as learning tool  to develop skill.  Which in turn is necessary to develop  our own creative voice - that is how the old masters at any atelier or craft guild used it.  These days, people seem to confuse high technical skill with design ability. Both are necessary for successful original design, but the latter does not automatically exist when the former is present.
If we do copy to learn, we don't 'advertise', (look what I reverse engineered!!!!) we make darned sure to mention it is a copy if someone who happens to see it asks,  and we shout far and wide about the original maker.  And let's not forget - we stand fast and firm with a refusal for any who ask us to remake it for them, then point them to the original maker. It isn't easy sometimes, but it IS ethical.
Just so I am crystal clear, and before anybody pulls out that old out-of-context chestnut attributed to Picasso about 'Great artists steal' - remember that Picasso never in his life  closely copied the work of anyone else with only a color change here or there or even a slight change in arm placement of his model and signed it as original. 
He of course used context, general subject matter, or even shape - but he ultimately ***transformed*** those  into a piece which was utterly unrecognizable from the original used as inspiration.  
How shameful for anyone use his brilliance to rationalize imitation and IP theft.  
OK, done with my 2 pence and rant. 
You keep on keeping on with your bad self, Miss Nikki. Please. :-)

And in the end, legal or not legal, etc aside, it's just freaking RUDE. 

On the rare occasion I do get a yen for something I can't afford, and decided to try my hand at making one for myself, I sure as hell don't stand in front of someone and say "I'll just make this myself." And ya just don't sell someone else's stuff. That's trashy.