Why I Sew

I've very much enjoyed our recent discussions looking at the recent popularity of sewing and vintage patterns, but I realize that some of my proposals may be a stretch in some ways. I suppose I'm always one to analyze things to death. (That's what being a PhD program dropout will get you! Actually, that's all it will get you.) I'm not content to just wear a certain style, I want to know the history of it, and the social implications of wearing it. Exhausting, isn't it? But if I really examine my motivations for sewing (and sewing vintage patterns in particular), the answer is quite easy. I want my clothes to be unique. Or, more accurately, I want to make my clothes exactly as I envision them, not as a mass retailer envisions them.

Someone at the office (who doesn't know that I sew) remarked to me yesterday (with admiration, I swear) that I have the most interesting clothes. And I realized that that is about the greatest compliment someone can give me - well, about clothes, anyway.

I've always been entranced by the magic of clothes (not fashion, clothes). Certain styles and colors appeal to me in a way I can't explain. For instance, the thing that got me into garment sewing a year and a half ago was that I wanted a pencil skirt. But I didn't want just any pencil skirt. I wanted one in bright Barbie pink with a high, curved waistband. The image of this imaginary skirt had burned itself into my brain. So, I made it. And I had such fun making it. The way the pieces matched together like a puzzle and eventually turned into my dream pencil skirt was just enthralling.

And that's what keeps me going today. I have a very personal, creative connection to each garment I make. Each one started out as a fantasy that, amazingly, I'm able to make a reality. And that's what makes my clothes interesting, I think.

I think this is probably true for a lot of us, right? The idea of being the absolute creative director of your own wardrobe is an enticing one. And not having to rely on what J. Crew is offering any particular season is incredibly freeing.

But still (here's the half a PhD talking), it is valid to look at the broader reasons that we might want this freedom. Whether that is a desire not to participate in fast fashion or to protest the ways in which women are expected to dress today, all of these reasons can be at play simultaneously. In other words, still look for lots more over-analyzing to come!

P.S. Speaking of J. Crew, they have a fantastic pencil skirt this season that would be my taste entirely if it just had a more interesting waistband:


It's almost perfect, isn't it? Isn't it wonderful that I can make my dream version of it - without paying $118 for it?

Emerald City Skirt

That's what I would call this little number if I were a copywriter for Anthropologie.

Don't you think that must be the most high-pressure job ever? How do they come up with those whimsical names all the time? For example: Flight-of-the-bee dress. Angles Awry Cardigan. Fruit Compote Skirt. Aren't they wonderful? I think I would get burnt out very quickly. It's just a green skirt, damn it!

Anyway, this is a skirt I made last week from my all-time favorite skirt pattern, Burda 8155. I had some of this fabulous wool crepe leftover from my first Joan Holloway dress, just enough with which to make a pencil skirt. I loved the idea of this vivid color in a basic slim silhouette, even though sewing with wool in 96 degree weather is . . . itchy. And sweaty.

I didn't line it because I have so many of these little slips now. I hate lining things, so this is a big plus for me! I've also become very well acquainted with my machine's blind hem function. It's so professional looking and easy.

Sometimes it's fun to make a basic pattern that you know well, don't you think? It refreshes me for the big challenges. Onward!