The first time I dyed my hair was in 10th grade. I was hitting a goth phase, complete with crucifix chokers tied with black cord (think Madonna's "Like a Prayer" and then subtract all coolness). It was Halloween and I bought this giant bottle of squirt in/wash out black hair dye. I coated my hair (as well as the bathroom rug, sink and any innocent bystanders -- sorry, Kris) and although it was more steel gray than black, I thought it totally rocked. Until I started to sweat. And then the black sludge started oozing down my forehead and the nape of my neck. Did I mention that day also happened to be picture day? Mom still has not forgiven nor forgotten.
This all came back to me the other night when I decided to dye some dresses. They are both thrift store finds with stain issues. I thought dying them would resolve that and make them wearable. I'm really happy with how the pink dress turned out. The blue one, not so much. The dye job is very splotchy. Lesson learned: use a big ole pot. Or even a bucket. This way fabric and dye have more room to mingle. Or something.
Oh and in my effort to avoid calling stores about my belts, I made this bag. I know, I'm a procrastinator. But at least I try to look busy while avoiding work!