Airplane culture fascinates me. It is so deeply imbedded in the community where I live in that I find myself forgetting it’s even there. All day, every day I can listen to the buzz of the planes above me. On airshow weekends, we sit in our driveway and watch them pull tricks and dance in the air. The thrill of soaring through the sky in the open cockpit of a restored biplane is incomparable.

Recently, the city hosted a speakeasy event called Scudrunner. It had a 1950’s-70’s theme and was held in the local hangar that doubles as a museum. You arrived through the back door and were greeted by a slew of gangster impersonators. A delightful man with the moniker “Guido” stopped you as you made your way through the workshop to make sure you didn’t have any brass knuckles stowed in your purse. I assured him that I needed no weapon to take someone out. We laughed gleefully at the role-play.

Once in the main arena of the hangar you found yourself surrounded by airplane engines and booths of wine and bourbon. A blues band played and a great array of charcuterie spread through the middle of the room. The whole experience was kitschy and perfect.

In preparation for the event, I studied 1960’s fashion and created two dresses inspired by the fashion of the time. I used wool fabrics (which are so misunderstood!) and my 1915 treadle machine. Personally, I don’t think they could have come out better.

It’s so much fun to participate in these silly city sponsored events. Once upon a time, I might have turned my nose up at the prospect. But now I just can’t seem to get enough.