A few days ago, I took inventory of my closet and realized that probably a good third of what I own has been considerably handcrafted by me. From mending to subtle resizing to restoration of pills and fading to removal of stains to converting to something entirely new, I've done it all. But what I do the most, is sewing.
It's kind of ironic how much I sew, considering that I don't actually like to sew. I like to have clothes that fit well. I like to not let good garments go to waste because of a small flaw. I like being able to buy clothing online with confidence, knowing that even if what I buy isn't quite right, I have the skills to fix it. But no, I don't actually like the process of sewing.
Tangling blobs of thread, fabric refusing to advance in the machine, breaking needles, and snapping thread are regular occurrences. And, how many times have I sewn an entire seam before realizing it's inside-out! And then there's the pain! My boyfriend knows me well enough to know that when I bust out with an "OW!" while crafting, the next thing he should say is, "Did you stab yourself with a pin?" because 9 times out of 10, the answer is yes. The other 1 time is when it's with a needle. I love creating new things, but I sure hate putting them together.
But for all that it distresses me, making new things to wear is kind of my raison d'être. And sewing is kind of a lost art—one that I'm proud to practice. Being able to sew is what gives me the confidence to embark on these massive tailoring projects and enables me to create works of art (if I may indulge my self-important side) from my old clothes and those of others. But at the same time, it's given me a huge amount of work that I'll never quite be done with!
Obviously I vacillate a lot between opinions on my hobby. Sometimes I think my life would be so much easier if I just gave up my refashion habit and stuck to buying new clothes. But then I look over at the tantalizing bit of floral chiffon hanging out the top of my Projects Box, and I'm like naaaaahhh. I'll never be able to resist a pretty fabric.
1 comments:
Is this a metaphor for the toll that football takes on a person even though they love the game? Their mind has to understand complex formations and plays while their body is beat to pulp and they risk long term damage. Very deep.