Out of Deepest Stashistan

There are things in my stash that may be older than my children, both of whom are old enough to vote.

 This vaguely Asian floral silk is from Mr. Hunting Creek's mother's stash, so who knows how old that is; Mr. Hunting Creek says he can't remember her sewing for twenty years or more. He brought it home to me after he and his sisters closed her apartment.

This pink silk rayon is from my mother's stash, bought at the Fabric Warehouse in Anaheim or Costa Mesa, California, which may or may  not still be in business. Mom and I used to go and load up on all sorts of beautiful things because it was such a good deal. I used to make dresses for her; she'd encourage this by bribing me with fabric.When you consider that I have not lived in California since 1990, then you know that this fabric has been waiting patiently to be a blouse for a long time.
I don't know exactly why I saved these two fabrics, never sewing them. I was waiting for the "perfect" pattern, I think. Of course, like Mr. Right or Godot,  unicorns, and sensible, moderate Republicans, this pattern never quite materialized. It was December when I realized that the Perfect Pattern for my Precious Fabrics was never going to appear. Like the chapter  in a Jane Austin novel when our heroine has the epiphany that she has loved the hero all along but just wasn't self aware enough to know it, I too labored under the delusion that Perfect Patterns existed.
Now I know that the right patterns were there all along; I just needed to see their potential. It's funny how just spending 20 minutes a day communing with the fabric and patterns helps me see the possibilities. It's clear that I need to work less, and spend more time goofing off in the studio.I think that would be a fun Mission Statement for my Company:"We work less, so we can spend more time with our fabric."

Take a deep breath - cutting the silks today. Just do it.

Had any epiphanies lately?


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