Thursday, July 11, 2013

The Pintester Movement-The Pin That Shall Not Be Named



For many months now, I have harbored a not-so-secret love for the Pintester and her unfailing ability to bring forth snorts of laughter powerful enough to rouse sleeping babies and cause my dog to look upon me with spite. When the second Pintester Movement was announced, I decided that it was time to get up off my lazy ass and update my blog for the first time since, like, February.

Disclaimer for hungry people: this pin has nothing to do with food.

Since this is kind of a food blog (if making gruel counts as food) and I am a baker by trade, I figured that doing a food pin would be the very worst form of cheating, and no one likes a cheater. So I am stepping waaaay out of my comfort zone here and going straight for the jugular with a pin so wretched...a pin so foul...that the Pintester herself wouldn't even touch it.

(I know, I know, the rules specifically state that it has to be a pin that was tested--however this pin was featured with its own post dedicated to how daunting it appeared, so I'm going to go out on a limb and call this a creative liberty. Everyone loves liberties--this is America, we have a whole statue about it. Plus, spoiler alert, I do a really shitty job of recreating this thing.)

Here is the pin as featured:



I can't sew, which was made painfully clear to me this past Halloween, so the no-sewing aspect was attractive, as was the idea of creating a sassy vest out of an old shirt--a shvest, if you will. 

I was going to buy myself a crisp white shirt like the one pictured, but a.) I'm calling shenanigans on the $3.00 t-shirt claim and b.) I decided that there was a better than 50% chance that I was going to ruin it anyway. So, in true Pintester spirit, I went with Items Found Around the House. Specifically this shirt, which I bought for about two bucks at Kohls and have hated ever since.



             I don't have a fancy-ass dummy, but I do have a proven record of being a dumbass so I figured I'd split the difference and model the damn shirt myself.

I chose this shirt because it is easily one of the most unflattering items I have ever purchased, in addition to the fact that it produces enough static electricity to power a small town for a month. When it's fresh from the dryer visible sparks fly from the hem, frightening dogs and children.

I tried to stick with the original pin as much as possible but, as aforementioned, my chosen shirt was self-destructive, so I probably wasn't as neat as I could have been.

The raw materials:


Ancient shitty scissors and good ol' Firestarter

The first step was to fold the shirt in half to find the middle and then either draw a chalk line or iron a hard crease in preparation for your first cut. I couldn't find any chalk and the shirt was already so wrinkled that a new crease would hardly be helpful, so I did what all creative geniuses do and guessed.

Pictured: the middle

I just noticed that I've put up three pictures of this shirt and it's a different color every time. Pressing on...

The next step was more complicated and it involved the severing of sleeves, necklines and a large section of the back. It also involved spatial reasoning (of which I have none) so I asked my husband to give me a hand in cutting. Also, and I can't stress this enough, those scissors were awful. I needed at least four hands to pull the fabric taut enough to cut, so his presence was essential.



Eventually we found better scissors

After all that cutting it was time to create six one-inch strips of material. Fuck that noise. The table was littered with debris, so I just picked the longest ones and went to tying. I tied one at the top of each shoulder and three along the back to create that cool, racerback effect that ultimately requires an uncomfortable bra.

Then it was time to head to the bathroom studio for some very professional results shots:


I am not in the bathroom. I also make towels in my spare time.

Alright, so from the front I'm not that mad. The right boob sags a bit lower than the left, but on the whole the effect isn't awful. You can tell I used a raggedy piece of crap shirt as opposed to a crisp white tee, but the color pops and it only makes my hips look maybe twice their normal size.


You love my jorts, don't you? You don't have to say it, they're magnificent.

*Before I show you the back I'd just like to quickly mention that I was rained on shortly before performing this photo shoot (i.e. yeah, I know my hair looks like ten shades of shit).

Also, the back? Well, I'll just show you...




I tried to find an angle that didn't make it look like I was smuggling oven stuffer roasters in my ass or sporting a bustle, but such an angle does not exist. This is impressive for a very important reason: I don't even have an ass. My butt is so flat that it has been known to appear concave--a negative ass, really. This is a cruel joke of genetics and one that I have learned to live with, but on the plus side it revealed the true majesty of the shvest. It will give you an ass--a big one--if that's what you're into.

Will I ever venture outside in this garment? Well, that's anyone's guess, except for the fact that it isn't and I won't. A flattering still shot was not possible, even in the comfort of my own bathroom studio, so I can't begin to imagine the havoc I would wreak should I take this to the streets.

But Tony seems to like it.