New Look 6070 – The Last Dress of Summer

Two dresses finished and blogged in one week! What’s going on? Have I opened up an illegal sweatshop in my spare room? Have I reduced my sleeping requirements to 4 hours a night?

dress 1

Well, no. I have cheated. I finished this ages ago, 3 whole weeks before the wedding it was intended for. This advance planning is unprecedented in the history of this blog, or indeed in my entire sewing career.

This was the first wedding I have EVER attended in London, despite living in the city for 5 years and going to about 25 weddings in that time period. I highly approve and wish more people would get married here (slightly hypocritical given that we dragged everyone up to Scotland). There’s nothing better than getting a taxi home to your own bed.

It was a really beautiful, emotional wedding. The bride’s dress was beyond gorgeous, the vows made me weep, and it was sunny! This only downside was realising that I really can’t dance in these shoes for more than 10 minutes. Should have brought flats.

But anyway, the dress. The pattern is New Look Workroom 6070, which I bought in America more than 2 years ago. Sometimes it takes a while to find the right match, you know?

6070line (1)

I like the use of pleats in this pattern, I think it looks quite RTW, and it’s very forgiving to fit. The only issue was my fabric, which was so drapey and badly behaved! I had to treat it with a firm hand – I interfaced the midriff band, the facing, and a 2cm ring around the whole neckline to stop it stretching out of shape, as well as stay-stitching everything in sight.

I also basted down all the pleats rather than just pinning them as usual. You can see I also added piping, which helps to add some structure, although I’m not sure now if it detracts from the fabric.


Now the fabric is a vintage piece from The Shop on Cheshire Street, and I just barely managed to squeeze this dress out of it. I did lengthen the bodice piece by 1 inch and the skirt 2 inches.

My only issue with this print? I’m not sure if  it looks like I’m wearing this dress, or that I’ve been upholstered in it. There is more than a hint of the chaise longue.

It might just be my discomfort with florals – I don’t really wear or sew them. But the fit of the dress makes up for that. I’m really keen to make this again with long sleeves for the winter, in a plain crepe fabric (maybe an aubergine-y purple?)

I need a bragging moment now. Check out how well I managed to match up the piping on the back! It’s not perfect but it’s probably my best midriff matching ever. High-five to myself.

back zip

Also, I hand-sewed the hems on the skirt and the sleeves. I KNOW. This is probably the first time I have hand sewn a hem since I made my friend’s wedding dress (pre-blog) but this fabric really needed it.

I think this is probably my Last Summer Sewing of 2013 – it’s time to think about autumn now. Unfortunately.

Sewing your own wedding dress: mad or marvellous?

So there was one other thing I brought back from my Norwegian holiday that I didn’t tell you about.


OMG – me and my boyfriend Alex are getting married! (this card was drawn by my awesome friend Jenny).

I’m so excited and happy about it. He got me a beautiful ring from the lovely Sarah of Rockcakes, who we met at one of Zoe’s Brighton Craftaganza events, so there’s a nice sewing connection there.

So when you tell people that you’re engaged they ask two things. Firstly: ‘Have you got a date?’ and secondly ‘What are you going to wear?’ Well we have a date, and even a venue – next July in Edinburgh – but I have no idea about the second part of the equation.

I’m not keen on the classic strapless a-line behemoth costing the same as a second-hand car. I look terrible in strapless because of my weird bony shoulder blades, and white doesn’t really suit me either. But I’m not sure what I do want. I’m keen on the three S’s: sleeves, sparkle, and swishability (yes that is a word). And I’m thinking either home-made or vintage.

My favourite celebrity wedding dresses are all ridiculous ones from the 60s and 70s, when people seemed a bit less uptight about the whole thing. Check out Cilla Black’s mod-tastic wedding dress:

Surprise surprise!
Surprise surprise!

I’ve seen lots of seamstresses make amazing wedding dresses – Zoe’s emerald extravaganza, this gorgeous layered creation from Moonbeam, and Elisalex’s beautiful Jenny Packham-esque number for a friend.  And I’d love to make my own. But I don’t know if my sewing skills are up to it.

Let’s face it, unless you’re a celebrity or commit some kind of hideous crime, your wedding day is going to be the most-photographed, most stared-at occasion of your entire life. So you want to look at least half-decent.

I do have two possible styles in mind. Check out my Pinterest board for lots of little 60s lace numbers, which I love and think would be easy-ish to sew, but I’m not sure if they actually suit the taller pear-shaped lady (that’s me, if you hadn’t guessed).

This photo is from Rock and Roll Bride, by James Melia Photography
This photo is from Rock and Roll Bride, by James Melia Photography

The other dresses I like are the opposite end of the decade – drapey, silk crepe, 70s style. I think this would be deceptively tricky to fit and sew though. I’m no Ossie Clark, that’s for sure.

This photo is from Get Some Vintage-a-Peel (click to view), who is an expert on 70s fashion
This photo is from Get Some Vintage-a-Peel (click to view), who is an expert on 70s fashion

Neither of these would be much good for dancing, which is an important consideration for a Scottish wedding that includes a ceilidh. So the third option would be something with a huge, ballerina style layered skirt.

But where do I start? I’m feeling a bit stuck right now. Have you ever made a wedding dress, or any other important dress with a capital D? How did you do it? And do you fancy playing either Trinny or Susannah and suggesting what might actually suit me?

Giraffe print blouse – Burda 10/2011 #118

What kind of print do you call this then?

I think it looks like a blue and white giraffe, or a super-magnified lizard skin, or some seriously wonky tiling.

It’s made from this pattern. Just a very simple blouse with just two bust darts. The instructions were short and cryptic (of course, it is Burda after all) and I totally ignored the construction order. Much easier to sew in the armholes flat, then do the sides and the sleeve seams all in one so you can take it in if needed.

This fabric is lush, a very drapey but sturdy vintage crepe, from The Shop on Cheshire Street, AKA my favourite shop on Brick Lane. I can spend ages in there rummaging. All the fabric is folded up on shelves but they don’t seem to mind me pulling it all out and making a huge mess. There are wooden drawers full of lace and trimmings, and everything’s pretty reasonable too. Think this was less than a tenner for 2 metres.

I do think covered buttons look look very polished on a blouse like this, but is there anything worse than making them? So I was lucky to find these at the Peter Jensen sale.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m all about the finished result when it comes to sewing. I love day-dreaming about what I’m going to make – it all looks so perfect in my head. I’m not that interested in construction for it’s own sake. In fact I tend to skip reading sew-alongs and detailed technical instructions on other people’s blogs.

Ironically this always leads me to rush the actual sewing part to get to the wearing, which naturally leads to things I make looking a bit crap. For example, the buttonholes on this are rubbish. Too short and skimpily threaded. (tho luckily I only need to undo the top one to get the blouse on and off).

There’s some kind of life lesson in there somewhere, but it’s probably too late to change my slapdash ways.

I think this is why I hate most things I make immediately after I’ve finished them. They just don’t match up to the vision I had at the start. I usually come round to them in the end (I also made the skirt I’m wearing, I never blogged it because I didn’t like it but meh, actually it’s okay. Apart from the zip at the back.)

Overall I’m pretty pleased with this blouse. It looks great tucked into things, but don’t think I’ll be wearing it loose. There’s a distinct early 90s vibe, I can just see Elaine from Seinfeld rocking it with a massive boxy jacket on top.

(I know the 90s are supposed to be in fashion, or at least a version of them, but it’s not for me. All I can think of is ‘The Rachel’ and oversized Nirvana t-shirts. I seem to remember wearing brown corduroy flares for much of the decade and I don’t want to go back to there.)

Winter warming strategies


The weathermen have been banging on about this cold snap for ages, and now it’s definitely arrived. It’s freezing. In anticipation of the ICY BLAST, as they kept calling it on the BBC , I finally got around to sewing new buttons on my new/old red coat.

My camera does not like this shade of red at all.

They’re from Taylors Buttons in Soho. This place is amazing. It’s more of an office than a shop – you have to ring a bell to get in. A nice lady opens the door, and you go into a small room filled with thousands and thousands of buttons. No computer, no card machine, just old dusty cardboard boxes lining the walls with buttons spilling out everywhere. It’s like visiting a haberdashery shop in the 50s – I loved it.

I did contemplate going for silver buttons but was a bit worried about looking like one of those soldiers who guard Buckingham Palace. These red ones are the perfect colour.

As another arctic-chill coping strategy I’ve made myself a new cowl, or a Simon as we used to call it in my knitting group, for obvious reasons:

Geddit? This pun doesn’t work quite as well if you call them ‘snoods’.

I used to be a champion knitter until I discovered the siren call of sewing. Now my left-over balls of yarn are just gathering dust in the spare room. My friend Lizzy just has to look at some wool and needles to instantly whip up an amazing creation, but I think I’ve lost my knitting mojo. This Simon is my attempt at kick-starting it again.

The problem with these things is how wide to make them. Really loopy ones look good but are completely useless for keeping your neck warm. Small ones are more insulating, but bear an unfortunate resemblance to a surgical neck brace. I’m hoping this one falls somewhere in between.

You barely need a pattern for something like this but you can get one on Ravelry anyway, which is what I did because I’m lazy.

Snoods/cowls/Simons are incredibly comforting to wear – let’s face it, they’re basically adult security blankets. They make you realise how perfect life must be for tortoises. Almost any problem can be solved can withdrawing your head into a woolly shell and refusing to come out until a solution is reached.

I’m not coming out until there are chocolate digestives

p.s. Today I went to the Peter Jensen fabric sample sale, and it was BRILLIANT. There were hardly any prints, sadly, but the quality of the fabrics was amazing. I went slightly overboard, will take some pics of my haul later.

Ship Pendant in the V and A + sewing meet-up musings

I keep meaning to post this photo I took in the V&A a few months ago. It’s a 400 year old ship pendant, which you can find in the British Galleries just up from the Raphael room.

It’s an awful photo (sorry about my giant pink hand which you can see reflected in the glass), but this necklace just blew my mind when I saw it. It’s a tiny ship on a chain, for goodness sake. It’s so exquisitely intricate and detailed. Just imagine some Elizabethan lady rocking this over a massive lacy white ruff.

The rigging and the masts are all made out of twisted gold, the hull is polished wood, and the tiny crazy pirates on board appear to be enamelled. There are pearls dotted all over. Even the anchor is made from a big old pearl (which would probably float, but then I suppose you wouldn’t make a real ship out of gold either. Realism was not a priority here.)

I WANT THIS. Is there anything better than mad, expensive, vintage jewellery? If you share my love, you should be reading the posts about Estate Jewelry on The Hairpin. Looking at this amazing stuff is the only time I wish I were oligarch-level rich.

Speaking of the V&A (smooth segue), I had a great time there a few weeks ago, meeting up with some fellow sewing bloggers to see the Ballgowns exhibition. Thank you so much to Karen for organising! I had to bail a bit early but it was so lovely meeting lots of new people whose blogs I read, and catching up with those I’d hung out with before.

Recently I read about the Spanish concept of a Tertulia, which is a gathering of like-minded friends who convene regularly to discuss a certain artistic or literary topic (often in bars).  It instantly reminded me of the meet-ups I’ve been to. Talk of seam finishes and fabrics still qualifies as ‘artistic’, right? And we’ve got the whole drinking thing covered. Besides, Tertulia is a much fancier sounding term than ‘blogging meet-up’. Maybe I will start dropping it into conversation casually.*

*Or not. Please still invite me to meet-ups! I promise not to use badly pronounced Spanish words.

Vintage buys: 60s style red coat

Winter coats. Shall we discuss them? Is it late enough in the year yet, or does the idea make you want to run away screaming while clutching the last mojito of summer to your heart?

This topic’s on my mind because of my new/old coat, a bright red 60s style number from a vintage shop in Boscombe, which I bought in July for 28 quid.

Red vintage coat
Now, I’ve got a bad history with winter coats. Not only am I incredibly indecisive, I am also massively tight when it comes to buying shop-bought clothes. But last year I reluctantly concluded that my TK Maxx bargain black pea-coat had given up the ghost after 4 years of hard labour, and I started to look around for a replacement.

Boy, was in I for a massive surprise. Because my shopping brain is still stuck in the early 2000s, I thought I’d get something decent for about 80 or 90 quid. Yeah, that was dumb. Here are the actual choices:

  • Get a designer ‘investment piece’ for 1000 quid and up, as fashion mags are always urging us.
  • Go to a high-end high-street place (Whistles etc) and get a fairly nice wool coat for about three hundred pounds.
  • Head a fast-fashion place and get a poorly sewn, thin polyester blend coat for about fifty to a hundred quid.
  • Make your own. I ruled this out last winter as it would cost 90 quid at least for decent fabrics, and I don’t think my skill level is up to it yet. One day.

Now maybe I’m just naive, or maybe I spent too long living in Scotland, but surely the whole point of a winter coat is to keep you warm. Polyester is going to leave you shivering, no matter how nice the design. So what I ended up doing was wearing my skanky old black coat for another winter. This involved much sewing on of buttons as they kept falling off in a strict rota arrangement, similar to the proverbial painting of the Forth Bridge.

Then this year I went for option 5:

  • Buying a vintage coat in the height of summer when they’re super cheap. Feeling v smug as a result.

I’m not saying this coat is perfect. The sleeves are a bit too short, and the armholes have been torn and carefully repaired. Also, it’s an eye-searingly bright red that brings to mind the evil dwarf’s coat in Don’t Look Now. My camera doesn’t cope well with the red spectrum, so imagine it as being slightly less tomato-y than it looks here.

But I love the silhouette, the pocket design, the pointy collar, and the in-your-face colour. And my absolute favourite thing is that it’s obviously hand-made. I can’t resist home sewn vintage clothing. I feel like I’m rescuing these pieces from the harsh world of vintage shops and bringing them home to be loved and admired.

The original buttons were red and gold and a bit 80s, I took them off before drycleaning. But I’m not sure what to replace them with.

I’ve got three vague ideas. Plain wooden buttons, red plastic buttons with a shank, or self-covered buttons in a co-ordinating red fabric, maybe a faux silk or a linen texture. I think the last one would look best, but it’s also my least favourite idea because it involves the most work (did I mention that I’m also extremely lazy?). What do you reckon?

(p.s. The only awkward thing is that I don’t know if this is actually a wool coat. It feels quite felted and thick, but who knows? In which case all my smugness is for naught and I might as well have gone to Topshop…)

New V and A Fashion Galleries

The V&A have been and done a great big old refurbishment of their fashion galleries.

The old galleries were pretty standard for a museum, divided into different areas with plasterboard walls. Now they’ve been transformed to reveal the bones of the space: a huge white hall with a beautiful dome, which is absolutely breathtaking when you walk in.

There’s a special exhibition space in the middle to replace the older one, which was always a bit too cramped and circular. To be honest, it doesn’t feel that much bigger but they’ve got a mezzanine level now to display more clothes (although that could just be a temporary thing for the ballgowns exhibition).

The big arches around the hall have huge photos projected on to them:

They’ve re-shuffled the permanent collection too. I only recognised a few things, like this black suit which I think is Charles Worth:

And this Christian Dior ‘Zemire’ dress which was painstakingly restored for the Golden Age of Haute Couture exhibition a few years ago:

I fell in love with this 1930s green Lanvin number.

I don’t remember if this floral Balenciaga dress was here before, but I would like to take it home please. There must be some insane structure going on underneath to make that shape.

And talking of structure, how about this humongous Victorian puff sleeve.

I liked this Victorian bodice as well, which is displayed with a matching length of fabric.

I could be wrong, but it seems like there’s a lot less on display than previously. I know the prevailing trend is towards enormous architectural spaces with just a few objects (like Tate Modern, which is probably one of the most overrated museums in London), but personally I prefer the ‘pile em high’ method of curation. On the other hand, the Textiles space at the V&A is along those lines, and it’s extremely old-fashioned and dingy and could do with a massive overhaul. And there’s no denying that the fashion galleries look a lot more impressive now.

I also had a quick look round the new Ballgowns exhibition. It’s okay. Not sure if it’s worth 8 quid to get in (I’m a member so it was free, hooray). There’s some beauties on the lower floor, but the upstairs showcases modern gowns, which are as strangely dull to look at in person as they are in those Oscar red carpet round-ups. It would be nice to have more background on the dresses.

Hopefully they’re just gearing up for the Hollywood Costume exhibition this autumn, which I can’t wait for.

McCalls 6503: 1950s style dress

Summer’s here guys! I made a new dress to celebrate. Here I am enjoying the sunshine on my balcony.

McCalls 6503 1950s dress

Oh alright. This is me pretending there isn’t a biblical downpour going on around me. The constant, miserable rain in London is really getting me down. Personally I blame Thames Water. As soon as they launched their huge media campaign telling us all to conserve water due to a massive drought in the South of England,  the weather gods decided to take the piss by ordering 40 days and nights of constant drizzle. It’s very ironic, or something.

McCalls 6503 back

The pattern is McCalls 6503. I went a bit mad when Jaycotts had a half-price pattern sale and bought loads. McCalls are the only one of the big 4 that I haven’t sewn from before, and I was really impressed with this pattern. The styling on all their envelopes is uniformly terrible though. Exhibit A below:

The garish fabric totally obscures the lines of the dress, not to mention the truly nasty 80s shoes and whatever’s going on with the hair styling. See how much better the midriff and bust gathers actually are in real life:

I think this dress has a very 1950s look, with the midriff band, the cross-over bodice, and the gathered skirt. It even closes up the side, so you could go really authentic and do a lapped zipper, although I couldn’t be bothered on this version.

The fabric I used is not vintage, but it’s along those lines. It’s from Fabrics Galore and I’ve hoarded it for about 3 years. The print is so crazy I needed to do it justice. Here’s a close-up:

Yes, it’s a black and white line-drawing of some scarily intense ballet dancers. My boyfriend described it as looking like ‘a scene from hell’, and there is a slight hint of Dante about it. These are not pink tulle wearing ballet dancers. They are ripped and will probably cut you if you get in the way of their jetés.

At first I wasn’t sure about this dress. I love the print on the fabric so much I should probably have made an everyday item with it,  not something so costume-y. .But after wearing this dress all day today, I’ve come to appreciate it more. It’s super comfortable, and looks okay with a cardigan and tights, which is no doubt how it will be worn for 51 weeks of the year.

I added lace trim to the collar, and black piping to the midriff seams (the piping was another score from the Brighton meet-up! Thanks Clare!). I also added some big old pockets which are always necessary.

The only fit changes I made were to lengthen the bodice an inch, the skirt two inches, and the sleeves one inch. I also took out a bit of the fullness in the bust gathers, as recommended here, but I think they could be left in if you’re working with a lighter fabric. I didn’t need to do a FBA on this as the style is very forgiving.

Prior warning: this dress needs a lot of hand-tacking to hold down the cross-over bodice, otherwise it will never sit right.

Now all I need is for it to stop raining…

Fortnum and Mason Follies windows

More window display news! These Fortnum & Mason ‘Follies’ themed displays are left over from Christmas, but I’m glad they haven’t taken them down yet. They’re perfect for cheering up January, when all you see in shop windows are huge and tatty SALE SALE SALE banners.

There’s nothing like some good, old-fashioned, high camp glamour. You know, just riding a sparkly deer, chatting backstage in a foot-high wig, sharing some champagne and a joke with a mustachioed man in tights. No big deal.

Dressing up as a giant peacock.

The visual merchandisers must have had so much fun researching and decorating these windows. There are lots of cute vintage details.

If these photos don’t make you want to wear something pink with feathers, you haven’t looked at them long enough yet.

Trend prediction for 2012: Unnecessary skirts

I’ve been slowing down my vintage pattern buying lately. When I do buy it’s exclusively online – old patterns in London vintage shops are usually hideously marked up, and when you’re used to Etsy prices, forking out a tenner for an 70s dungarees pattern stings a bit.

(reminds me of a late 60s/early 70s shift dress I saw at a fair in East London.Extremely ‘distressed’, unlined, and made from polyester. The price? £75, because, as the woman solemnly said to me “This is a very, very rare piece. It’s actually from the 1960s. It’s old!”. Er, thanks love. I’ll stick to online vintage shopping then)

Anyway, I had to break both of my self-imposed rules to buy Blackmore So-Easy 9422, because I’ve never seen a British-made sewing pattern for sale before.

Blackmore 9422 vintage sewing pattern

It’s a very simple shift dress, but I love the slim overskirt which buckles up at the front, or can be held casually over the arm if you… I don’t know, get too hot? Where would you wear an overskirt, anyway? I guess it would be handy for the Railway Children/runaway train situation recently discussed on this blog.

Some super chic accessorising going on as well. A flicky bouffant, long white gloves, pointy stilettoes, AND chunky jewellery? Nice.

I did a bit of online sleuthing on Blackmore, which was set up in 1845 by 8 siblings, who sound extremely interesting to say the least. 4 of them were deaf, one was a chemist, one managed a dress-shop, one was a ‘Professor of Shorthand’, and one was a mannequin for a fashion house (anticipating the work of Tom Cruise by over 100 years)

Anyway, it looks like my pattern is from the late 50s, as that’s when Blackmore were bought by the Associated British Paper Patterns Limited, the name written on the back of the envelope.

The tissue is marked with holes rather than printed on, and the instruction sheet is rather short and sweet. I assume that the phrase ‘Turnings are allowed on this pattern’ means that the hem allowance is included?

It’s a shame that there isn’t a home-grown British pattern industry operating at the moment. Even all the awesome new start-ups seem to be across the pond (Colette patterns, Sewaholic, etc).

I did find a few more Blackmore patterns on Etsy – click on the picture to see the listing.

Demonic Pippi Longstocking in a tweed cape, anyone? No?

Vintage Blackmore Cape Pattern from vintageblondedesign on Etsy
Vintage Blackmore Cape Pattern from vintageblondedesign on Etsy

This voluminous nightgown is actually rather sweet (and suitable for newspaper reading, apparently)

Vintage Nightdress Pattern from TheBrightonEmporium on Etsy

Shirtdress patterns are two a penny, but I really like the inverted pleat on this one (more redheads as well – are they related to the evil cape-wearing child, perhaps?)

Shirtwaister dress from kt3 on Etsy
Shirtwaister dress from kt3 on Etsy

That’s about it really, there’s doesn’t seem to be that many of these patterns out there.

Have you heard of Blackmore before? Do you know of any British sewing companies? And most importantly, would you wear a buckled-on overskirt, and if so, in what situation would you remove it?

Vintage finds – Inn Sign Cocktail Sticks

Genuine Inn Sign cocktail sticks

My mum found these ‘Genuine Inn Sign cocktail sticks’ at the very back of a cupboard in my Gran’s kitchen. I fell in love with them immediately and took them home to admire.

The packaging is perfect – the 50s chartreuse green, the mix of typefaces, the copy and the illustrations on the back:

Back of cocktail sticks
They’re such an incongruous mix of swinging 50s modernism and Ye Olde England mythology. Each cocktail stick is a miniature pub sign from a ‘Coaching Inn of England’. I wonder how many are still open today.

Inn signs

‘Coaching Inn’ reminds me of Georgette Heyer novels, heroines eloping with Regency cads on uncomfortable horse-driven trips to Gretna Green.

Inn signs back

My mum thinks my Grandad must have bought these – I wonder when, and where? They’ve been in the back of a cupboard for 50 odd years, obviously too nice for everyday.

Martini olive

 I’m don’t think my grandparents were the type to need tiny novelty sticks for their cocktail olives on a regular basis. They were from Shropshire, not the natural home of the martini.

Stay put swinging sign

I haven’t taken them out of the packaging, I don’t think I ever will. They look nice propped up on the bookshelf in our living room though.

Tupperware Party!


“The Space Saver is slim, and fits comfortably and ergonomically in the hand. At a party, I sometimes make a saucy remark about that, depending on the mood of the crowd.” (from this post)

This quote is taken from my new favourite blog, which contains the finest writing about Tupperware anywhere on the internet, or possibly in the world. We had some of the Space Savers growing up. I specifically remember a tall round one with frosted sides and a burgundy lid, ancient broken spaghetti rattling around inside.

The Tupperware Man has given Tupperware parties with performance artists and drag queens, and will be at Vintage at Southbank this weekend with a lovely 60s kitchen set-up. Surely Tupperware parties will be the next big craze amongst the vintage-wearing, retro-haired, swing-dancing set?

(image from the Tupper Diva site, which you must visit immediately)

Tupperware is a beautiful thing. Do you ever get that urge to categorise everything in your house and put it into a specially labelled container? It tends to pass quickly, but I confess that I do enjoy doing a bit of window shopping on the Lakeland website, or decanting everything from the kitchen cupboards into individual IKEA storage jars. That must be a sign of aging, when you can’t bear to look at stuff in the factory packaging. Put it in this tasteful plastic container, immediately!

(Also, it’s very satisfying to keep saying ‘Tupperware’ over and over again until it sounds like a train going over tracks. Check if anyone is in earshot first though.)

You can check out the pun-tastic (the Happy Chopper! The Bake 2 Basics range!) Tupperware catalogue here.  There are also several amazing tupperware groups on Flickr.