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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Time to Sew the Good Stuff

Is everyone else as tired of the recession as I am? It has taken the fun out of everything. My favorite Sunday morning activity is reading the New York Times, but lately the paper has shown a certain lack of ambition. All of the bad financial news must have broken their spirit. Today they suggested vacations in the United States. Whatever happened to trekking in Bhutan? To staying at the ever popular Tuscan villas? It was fun to imagine that we might do those things. It was aspirational, for Pete's sake! Don't take that away from us and start getting all practical!
In the book section there was discussion of making your own bacon (!). What's next, articles on Urban Deer Hunting? (Make Your Own Venison Bacon, shot right in your own backyard!) Will articles on weaving our own cloth be far behind? (I read that vegetable gardening and canning are hot now. Who could have predicted THAT a year ago? Although I am all in favor of growing vegetables and making jam. I do these things myself.) But I am worn out with being worried. I've had enough of that. It's been long enough and I've decided that it's time now to cheer up now. No more panic. No more gloom and doom.
Radical steps are necessary. I decide that it's time to break in to stash. It's time to sew the Good Stuff. After all, don't I deserve it? After making three shirts in a row for Mr. Hunting Creek, all with the dreaded buttonholes -which all came out perfectly after all the procrastinating - what was I afraid of? I decide to make a silk blouse. It's not practical, it's not frugal, it's not recycled or any current thifty-chic trend. And it's not for anyone but ME.
Isn't this pretty? So sweet and girly, so old fashioned, so not like anything else in my entire closet.
This silk chiffon is as impractical as it gets. I bought it from Gorgeous Fabrics a year ago and it's been waiting for its close up ever since. I think it wants to be something floaty and feminine. I'll have to search through the patterns and Burdas to find a worthy pattern.
So go ahead. Break into your stash. If you're a sewista, I know you probably have one. If you don't, then you have my encouragement to get yourself something pretty to sew for summer. It will help the economy and make you happy, which will in return make others happy and then - like magic! the recession will disappear. That's right - it's your patriotic duty!
What lovely thing will you sew for summer?

Manage Expectations

I was on a conference call earlier this morning, and the project leader said, (in a firm, no nonsense tone that I really should learn how to imitate, it would be so useful!) "We need to manage the customer expectations on this one." and while I was waiting for my cue I sat thinking, hmm, isn't that true of every project in life? That we need to manage expectations? For instance, sewing. I buy a pattern for many reasons. I think it looks cute, I don't want to spend ten years of work drafting my own pattern, I might actually make it. In the olden days (before I had any kind of pattern-sense) I would buy patterns that I thought were awesome but that I would never make in real life because I am truly not a ball gown wearing kind of girl. Which explains why I have one whole entire drawer of gorgeous dress patterns yet wear a dress about three times a year. Shouldn't I have managed my expectations? How many times will I wear ball gowns? How many balls do the rest of you go to? That many? I thought so.
Same with cookbooks. A couple years ago I realized that I had almost five hundred cookbooks. FIVE HUNDRED! That was crazy - there aren't even that many recipes in the world! So I went through each and every one and thought, "Will I ever use this? Will I ever really make this?" and reduced the collection by half. I gave the books to BSE and BBE and they kept what they wanted and sold the rest on half.com or ebay, I forget which. And you know what? It made me happy to have the space, and not have all those books lurking around eyeing me resentfully. In my heart of hearts, I know that I will never make croissants from scratch or learn how to make German food. It just is NOT going to happen.
Which leads me to the fabric collection. I stopped buying fabric over a year ago because I just had too much and needed to sew down the collection a little. And in that year I have realized that my fabric stash and I don't get along any more. I think I have out grown some of it or it, me...anyway I've changed or it has and we just don't even know each other any more. Now I want suddenly cool old retro prints for quilting purposes and clothing, and I have crazy modern hand dyes and batiks instead. Silks and velvet and brocades. But I want floral lawns, and polka dots and stripes. I've got wild and crazy knit prints instead. Has this ever happened to you? Has anyone else grown apart from their stash? Will the stash insist on custody of the patterns that they were bought for? And now that we don't love each other any more, how do we move on to new partners?

Fabric Rehab

My children told me that I had a problem, but I denied it. "I'm not an addict!", I claimed. "I collect fabric and patterns, that's all. I like to sew. It's my hobby."
"Then why is it called a STASH?" they wanted to know. Good question. Like all addicts, I live in denial. Even though I have over a thousand patterns, (my personal patterns, not even counting the ones I sell on my website) I am always looking for the new ones. I check out my favorite fabric websites every day. Because you just never know. That next pattern, that new fabric might be THE ONE.
I inherited my fabriholic tendencies from my mother.(She was quite a collector of more than just fabric. I think this behavior is genetic.) We used to visit the Fabric Warehouse in Anaheim and Newport Beach just to see what they had. No projects in mind. Just looking. We'd come home with huge bags of treasures. For many years my fabric acquisition was under control because after we moved to Virginia, there was no local source for the designer fabrics I craved. I took up quilting... until one day I found the Pattern Review website. It was as if an alcoholic got a job at a brewery. It was like finding the source of the Nile, fabric-wise! I could buy fabric ONLINE! Things got so bad that once Linda at Emmaonesock called to ask if I wanted the goods shipped in a plain brown wrapper, so my husband wouldn't notice. (I THINK she was kidding.) Yeah, I'm on a first name basis with my pushers...er...textile purveyors. While we were talking she said that her customers sometimes ask her to ship to next door neighbors, hold fabric for later shipping, ship to offices...so that no one at home knows! What kind of behavior does THAT sound like, class? True confession: I have even accidentally bought pieces of the same fabric twice because I had forgotten I had already bought some. This is NOT sane behavior. I've tried to reform, really I have. I donated some fabric that I would never use to charity. I donated supplies to our neighborhood silent auction, to raise money for a new playground. It's July, and I haven't bought any fabric or patterns for FOUR months! I told my son that I was cured, and he said, "No Mom, you can never be cured. Once an addict, always an addict." Isn't it awful what they teach our kids in school these days?