I recently lost a viscose pashmina style wrap in faux Burberry colors and I miss having a scarf with camel color, so I freaked out and bid on this. I ended up having no competition and won it for less than 10 dollars, at which point I realized it is not vintage, but new. That price was not realistic for new Scottish cashmere, so I took a look in the feedback and saw someone mention that their scarf didn't pass the burn test. Others said it was so soft and they loved it, though... so I hope it's at least a nice soft acrylic.
Live and learn. I feel pretty dumb about this one, but it's not the end of the world. Lessons learned? Remember to always apply your standard filter (Item Condition: Used) before bidding and don't get overly excited at the first hint of camel cashmere.
The last purchase I'll share is my favorite thing of the 4 items. It arrived yesterday and I'm extremely pleased with it. It's a Charter Club cashmere camel mock turtleneck. It was another item I watched and then received a really nice offer back on it, $23 with free shipping. I waffled at first because I purchased a 90s acrylic version of the exact same style/color of sweater on eBay for $20.54 (shipping included) in December. I really wanted this color and shape in my life and thought the 90s Sag Harbor realness would be an enjoyable piece of nostalgia for me, but it's got that vaguely squeaky quality that some acrylic has and I felt cheap in it. Not something I wanted to wear to work. That was a big lesson - I generally avoid acrylic, but sometimes I get sucked in. I just hate it though. So this last eBay waltz with acrylic is my last.
Lesson learned: be patient until you find a wool or cashmere version of what you want. I leveled up my camel mock turtle sweater to cashmere for a mere $3 more. Wish I hadn't dropped $20 on that first one, but I'll still wear the acrylic version under my Key Imperials when I'm stacking wood and doing yard work in the winter.
Second lesson learned: Don't fall for cute listing photos over fiber content! Left one is the acrylic, right one is the cashmere.
That's my emotional shopping extravaganza in a nutshell. I like what I bought, but I don't want to be buying more stuff just because I'm lonely or tired. That's no way to live. I decided to just go for it and buy the Big Bud Press trousers I should have bought instead of these 4 things and then go back into No Buy mode. I'm going to do a No Buy for online shopping through the end of March and just shop my closet, love what I have, and sew a few pieces in the next couple months. If I do want something in that time period, I'll wishlist it and revisit if I still want/need it in April.
I have three nearly complete blogs in Drafts, but each time I think of writing, the world has changed again and all the words are wrong.
I haven't had the perseverance nor inspiration to maintain a sewing & knitting blog in the last year, but I've put a lot of energy into Instagram. I've become weary of the marketing factor, the algorithm. Everything is selling and influencing now. It's hard for makers and hobby accounts to find each other and connect.
I recently decided to make my IG account private for a while. For the last few years, as I participated more in the IG craft communities, I also had a small stream of random guys follow me and send a generic "hi beautiful" type message to me from across the void. I usually just ignored until they disappeared from my DM requests... but recently a random guy liked a ton of my outfit photos and started to get a bit demanding of my attention in comments and DM requests. It felt intrusive. I felt vulnerable and exposed to something unwelcome, however innocuously G-rated or generic the overtures were. It's one thing to send a clueless ping out into sea of fish and see what pings back, but to keep at it consistently for several days, that was too much for me. I had to take some time away from having a public account. Which also means I haven't been able to connect very well with style folks who I mostly interacted with by doing the same style challenges together and following a lot of the same hashtags. (Check out #listen2urlizard for the best outfit pictures from across IG, not all cookie-cutter influencer outfits!) And that's made me feel a little more lonelier than usual.
So I figured I would come to a place where I am simultaneously more exposed than Instagram and much less likely to be seen at all. Only 6 people looked at by blog last week and I think they were all robots! Hi robots! :)
Right now I'm doing a lovely challenge called #cheerycloset and it's just about wearing things from your closet that make you happy. It's a 5 day challenge and there are gentle prompts but also the option to just wear/post what you like from your closet too. At the new year I'd proclaimed I'd participate in a new year's 10x10, a little shop-your-closet challenge, and a #nobuyjanuary On 6th January, fashion challenges lost meaning and I abandoned the daily outfit pictures, but stuck with the no buy.
I actually loved the no buy month and plan to do more. I organized, stored some things I wasn't using, and fell more in love with what I have. I felt so energized going into February... but by the end of the day on 1st February... I had bid on two things in eBay & today I got an offer on one thing I favorited last night and snapped it up. What the hell? I couldn't even last a day of no shopping without the vow of the no-buy.
But that's not why I need or like the no-buy experience. It's not an austerity measure or a punishment. I really liked it because it gave me quality time with what I already have... and that felt surprisingly great. I honestly think the answer to a lot of the fast fashion overconsumption might not to be less attached to stuff, but rather more attached to our things. To love and appreciate what we have and want to keep it and wear it until it falls apart. And then mend it and wear it some more.
I get a funny feeling when shop eBay or buy something fast fashion - it's a mixture of curiosity and anxiety, combined with the fact that, as a library person, I find searching for things to be weirdly comforting. After searching exhaustively and maybe accidentally buying a couple iterations of a thing (like that time i bid on and actually won 4 rose quartz chip necklaces when I only needed one, which proved to be too cold and heavy for my taste, so actually i don't use any of them!) - the item arrives in the mail! If it's something good, FOMO may arise - I need to find more of this marvelous thing! Search skills mobilize! If it's not good, I might need to go back to the drawing board and start the search process all over again... yikes! When is the time to actually stop searching and start enjoying the treasures I've already found?
That's the beauty of the no-buy! The no-buy is the time to stop and smell the roses in your own closet. If you notice anything that isn't smelling like a rose, remove it from the closet to donate, resell, or simple squirrel away in a basement, garage, or spare closet for later consideration. By working through this process gradually over a whole month, I found ample time to play dress up with my collection of garments and curate them to keep the ones I'm most of fond of front and center. Having only things you love, well-organized and not overcrowded is the utmost luxury. I feel like I finally unlocked the secret within the capsule wardrobe concept during the no-buy.
I also ruminated a lot about what to do with things I don't like as much, don't fit correctly, or are wearing out and aren't really candidates for mending. (I'm looking at you undies and threadbare tee shirts). Where I live, thrift stores are currently prohibited from receiving donations due to the pandemic, so even good stuff I might want to pass on is stuck with me at the moment.
When I used to have a critical mass of good clothes that I wanted to rehome, I'd organize a clothes swap - inviting all the cool women I knew and telling them to extend the invite to their friends. We'd get together, bringing snacks & wine, along with our piles of clothes, jewelry, makeup/toiletries etc and play dress up, nibble & drink, talk, and bring home new treasures. Any unclaimed things could be left in a big pile for the host to donate, or taken back home to resell or keep.
I miss the possibility of such an even so much right now. I miss having friends near me to hang out with casually. And I miss the joy on someone's face as they fall in love with a garment that no longer suits me and the happy feeling I have, knowing that I can release it back into the world and know it will live a good next chapter of life instead of ending up in a rag bag or landfill or washed up on the coast of Ghana. I miss connection. I miss seeing and being seen - not for the spectacle of it all, but for the unspoken connections that form in unstructured moments of spending time in the proximity of other humans.
At first, when the pandemic hit, things didn't really feel too different because I was living in a little rural forest bubble already. But as time wore on without periodic weekends back in my home town to see family and friends... it got a bit lonely, even for my reclusive taste. That's when the fashion community on IG started to feel more special to me and I started participating in more style challenges. I go in waves, where IG feels really cozy and connected, and then where it feels hopeless and pathetic... just watching strangers' lives & outfits pass by my little virtual window to world, half-pretending they're my friends, when in reality a lot of them don't even follow me back. Sometimes I have start connecting and then feel nervous or super-shy and unworthy or weird. It feels like the deep loneliness I grew up with as a nerdy only child. When I played alone, I used to have pretend conversations in my head with kids that I wanted to be friends with when I felt lonely - I had a good imagination and lots of hobbies. I usually didn't feel lonely. But sometimes I did. Right now I do again. And I think that's why I so easily fell back into shopping as soon as my vow was up, even though I loved not shopping during the whole month of January.
I think the searching of shopping online is just something I do when I am lonely or stressed. It's soothing. And I often find quality things for very good prices that I do enjoy. I don't overspend or get into debt to shop. But sometimes I end up with 4 rose quartz necklaces when it turns out I don't want any. Seriously, though, does anyone want a rose quartz necklace? I should have a giveaway!
I walked away from this no-buy month feeling more aware of why/when I shop & what I end up with. Would I rather splurge on one thing a month or spread out the same budget on lots of little things spread across the month? How does my love of the hunt relate to the state of my closet and dresser? When is less more?
I think as long as I love textiles and fibers, I will have to keep asking these questions. But I noticed something last month that I think is a big piece of the puzzle. Fashion requires a certain amount of experimentation to find what you love. And sometimes, what you love changes - either gradually from season to season or suddenly with a complete shift all at once. In periods of flux, people need to change wardrobes to express themselves, be comfortable, be confident, or be prepared. Naturally, that could result in a higher turnover of your closet at different peak points of flux in your life. Eventually, you may find yourself for long periods of time, relatively static in your tastes, your size, your needs... and there are the times to just keep what you have until it wears out and make gradual changes only when you replace worn garments. In those periods, I think it's important to think critically about what you bring in that duplicates what you already like. What things will you always buy if the price is right, and what will you pass on in times of stasis? Does this relative stasis free up resources to be able to make a larger purchase from time to time? Are there choices you can make when replacing items that will make even less replacement necessary?
I've decided to try a low-buy year to learn more about this and continue a path of self-examination in relation to shopping for, making, and wearing clothes. No hard & fast rules, but I definitely want to fit a few more no-buy months into 2021 and to be mindful about what I buy and why for the rest of the year and to make at least one blog post per month about how it's going.
I just finished a new Wiksten Shift dress and I love it a lot. Before I even took photos, I had more things to say about it than would fit on an Instagram post... so I thought I'd capture my thoughts while their hot. I am also going to talk about other versions or hacks I made of this pattern last summer. This was my 6th version, including wearable muslins.
First off - let's talk fit. If you are pear-shaped, as I am, a columnar shift dress may seem like a risky garment. I know it is something I had reservations about - but I took a chance & I'm love the finished results.
Also, let's talk inclusivity. The pattern only goes up to a 52" hip (size 22) so it's not very inclusive, but it works for small fat people like myself. I have a 51" hip. If you love the look but this size range doesn't work for you - I think hacking the Torrens or Artist's Box top into a dress would give a similar look, either just choosing the bust size to match your hips and extending the length, or by a slightly more involved hack to get the back yoke & gathers. (If you want more details on how I would do that, contact me!)
More on fit & choosing a size. Lots of sewists on IG have mentioned that they preferred sizing down on this pattern for less volume. The pattern itself suggests choosing the size by your bicep measurement rather than anything else because it is designed to be very roomy & the only critical fit is making sure you have enough arm room.
If you are pear, as I am - I would caution against this advice. I will tell you what I always do is try to choose by my largest measurement - the hips. Here's why.
According to my bicep, I would wear a size 12. According to my bust I would wear a 16, According to my hip I am between a 20 and a 22. The finished garment hips for the size 12 that matches my biceps is 52.5", leaving a scant 1.5 inches of ease, while the pattern measurements have about 8" of ease between the body hip measurement and finished garment hip measurement.
To get a garment that gives my hips & bum space to be themselves, I went with a straight 22. The result is a beautifully oversized sack dress that skims over every part of my body without catching anywhere. In linen, it's crisp and structural, which makes me feel like an eccentric art teacher in the very best way possible. In seersucker, with the belt, it's a little more of an 80s preppy casual vibe.
However... the neckline is a teensy bit wider than I would like because it's intended for a body with a bust that is 6" bigger than mine. Also, with extra room in the bust, there is a lot of extra fabric. The extra fabric looks fine when the dress is worn alone, but makes it hard to layer over. I can only wear really oversized grandpa sweaters over it, so it's either a summer dress on it's own or a winter dress with a big fluffy sweater over OR a long-sleeve under... *more on that later.
You might not want so much space in your dress, but still want to accommodate for wider hips. I have an idea about this that I am going to try out on my next version of this dress. It consists of choosing a size 16 to match my bust for the front, yoke, and facing pieces. For the back piece, I would move the fold line of the pattern piece a few inches away from the actual fold like of the fabric, until it measures the width of the size 22 pattern piece but keeps the sleeve/side seam curve to match the size 16.
When gathering or pleating (**more on pleating later too) the back into the yoke, I would just make extra gathers or a bigger pleat. In my head, this would work kind of like my usual solution for adapting patterns to wildly different bust/hips measurements on dresses with separate bodice and skirt parts... which is to cut the correct size bodice and the correct size skirt and gather or pleat the extra skirt fabric into the smaller bodice. Works a charm for me most of the time.
Speaking of dresses with separate bodices and skirts, I have tried the size 16 bodice for a hack of the pattern, adding a size 22 Hinterland skirt to the bottom. I've made variations on this 3 times, using either the side seam Hinterland pockets on two versions and the Wiksten Shift patch pockets on another. Both work well. Here's my favorite, in linen dyed with onion skins.
I'm looking forward to trying the adjustment I mentioned to pare a little volume out overall for a better chance of being able to layer.
I'm also curious to try the 3/4 sleeve version of the dress and the top. I haven't made the shirt version yet, but I have some white linen that I think would make a lovely top. Probably a bit more cropped than the pattern, since I'm only 5'1".
*The large volume on the top actually lends itself really well to wearing the dress OVER a button down shirt, for a look I really love.
**Depending on your fabric, personal preferences, and overall desired effect, you might love this alternative to gathering the lower back piece into the yoke by making a big pleat instead. I saw this on Instagram last year, still trying to track down where to give proper credit, but I had to try it and I LOVE the look of the inverted box pleat. Now I also want to try one with a regular box pleat too because the inside of the yoke looks good too! I think that might look really cool with an extra large pleat from the fit hack I am imagining.
Time now is measured in before and after... before the first case of coronavirus was announced in the United States. Before higher education went remote and I started working from home. Before the governor's Executive Order to close businesses and parks, to stop medical procedures, and stay home. Before I knew how to sew a surgical mask. Before toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and bias tape were all precious commodities.
In February, before everything changed, I had started to work on a blog to chronicle a host of new knitting projects I'd started in the new year... but after the pandemic hit - I felt completely dissociated from the beforetimes projects. They didn't comfort me. I made mistakes. I felt frustrated. I second guessed my color and pattern choices. I lost my joy.
A natural break came, as I started to learn about making masks. I thought I should try to learn so I could make some for my family and possibly for local healthcare workers. It was hard - there was a lot of information out there and I got overwhelmed at first. Then I found what seemed to work and offered to make them for anyone on my Instagram who needed them. As I mailed them around the country, I got feedback that they were comfortable and the prints were appreciated. I got photos of friends, family, co-workers, and the co-workers of friends/family wearing the masks. I found a purpose for making that helped me feel less dissociated from craft... yet, mask making is draining too. It's worrisome - will these masks I am sending really protect the people I care about? What does the future hold?
I try to fight off the fear and anxiety when I am making them. I believe that the state of mind you are in when you create affects the creative process as well as the end result. Love in = love out... a better, more beautiful, more comforting, more effective thing being made. So it takes a lot of energy to hold a clear heart during the process.
Afterwards, when the sewing room is a mess, but the masks are sent.. I needed to find a comfort to myself... so I packed up all the beforetimes projects and picked what was calling to me... very simple knits in beautiful yarn that could be picked up for a row here and there, while watching TV or holding a conversation with my husband, without forgetting the pattern or the stitch count... nothing to write down or track... just the soothing rhythm of needles and yarn passing through my hands.
All this time, I wanted to write because we all have so much on our minds during the pandemic... but the half-done current knitting project post was haunting me. I gave myself permission to let those projects go for now and I am letting myself let the blog post go too...
Actually, I'm publishing it as it was with some extra notes added in italics & adding what I'm actually knitting now too.
Currently on the needles:
1.) a self-designed oversized cardigan with Date Night fingerling yarn from Onyx Fiber Arts... basically a giant rectangle of ribbing at the moment.
2.) A shawl inspired by the Adventurous Wrap with some lovely 100% merino single ply yarns from Star Seed Yarn... Marta is so thoughtful with her packages and always sends lovely treats like stitch markers and mini skeins... I realized I'd collected 4 of her mini-skeins, in addition to the full skein & mini combo I purchased in March... and got inspired to start a new project.
These colors and the luxurious squish of the single ply have been making my heart so happy.
Seriously... this time is bonkers. (I am so sick of work emails, news media, and commercials saying it's "unprecedented", so I'm calling it as it feels - totally crazy, overwhelming, insular, uncertain, anxiety-producing, and weird...)
Some people may find comfort during this time in finishing old WIPs or checking off every square of their Make Nine grid... for me, there has never been a better time to press pause and just make what my heart wants to make in the moment.
1. Nightshift Shawl with thrifted Alchemy Yarns and gifted Spincycle Yarns
(packed up on the needles for later - still want to finish this one)
2. ADVENTurous Wrap from A Knitter's Homestead 2019 Advent Calendar
(packed up, off the needles - may frog and use the yarn in a different project)
3. Drifter Shawl with Oink variagated MCN and Onyx Fiber Arts Leonore orange wool
(packed up, off the needles - may frog and use the yarn in a different project & make this pattern in a black and cream, instead)
4. Grotine Shawl with Onyx Fiber Arts MCN Sprinkle City
(frogged - I messed up the pattern something terrible and just decided to frog and try again later. I really like the pattern & the yarn, but my brain can't handle it right now.)
5. Kia Socks (free & awesome pattern!)
(just waiting just for kitchner stitching the toes together - but something is holding me back from this... like I'm saving them for when I need a quick win of a finished object. also it's too warm for wool socks now, anyway.)
"Using things is not dependent on producing and consuming more, and yet it fulfils many of the needs we try to meet when we buy new goods. It takes its bearings from the practices and ideas of tending and wearing, in the context of real lives. It is a diversified view of fashion beyond the market and the market's purpose, trading in the economies of time, creativity, and community." (p. 17)
"To choose what we are and what we do with our clothes daily is to have the power to alter the fashion system." (p. 23)
Craft of Use: Post-Growth Fashion by Kate Fletcher
I'm reading a really fascinating book right now complied by fashion and sustainability professor, Kate Fletcher.
She writes an introduction about "the craft of use" or what happens to clothing beyond being purchased in a traditional retail environment. The rest of the books is photos and short accounts of individuals' relationships with special garments that function in this zone of use, rather than consumption.
The bite-sized stories make for perfect bedtime reading, while Fletcher's denser ideas have my head spinning with critical theory throughout most of my waking hours these days and the ideas give deeper enjoyment of sewing projects that tend to the clothes I already have and use.
Today's mending basket tale is about a garment that is, I think, my favorite thing I've ever made. It was becoming dangerously frayed and fragile, but I am happy to report that it is back in my wardrobe and better than ever. it's my cognac/blush linen Metamorphic Dress. The blush side cut from a vintage jacquard linen table cloth that I dyed with onion skin.
This vintage table linen had some weak spots of use, including some mends, already when I cut the pattern out. I tried to cut the strongest parts for the bodice and skirt and use the mended pieces for the pockets, but the yardage was scant, so some pieces of the garment are more fragile than others.
After 1.5 years of constant wear, the side seams and one portion of the skirt were becoming threadbare, with little holes starting to grow.
I stopped wearing the blush side, but as it became more fragile, even wearing it on the inside was stressing the fabric. This fall, I put it in the mending basket to preserve it until I could figure out how to best fix it.
I had some scraps of the original fabric, as well as other fabrics from the same dyepot, which I could use as patches. I also found some very special sashiko thread in a soft color that was created to look like a natural dye. It was created by sashiko artist Keiko Futatsuya, "to mass produce the 'Color similar to Natural Dye'."
I used my sewing machine to finish the edges of the patches and sewed a collage of patches over all the holes, threabare seams, and weaker spots of fabric. I reinforced each side seam and one portion of the skirt that was wearing thin.
On the front panel, I opted for a patch pocket next to a small patch in the very center that was covering a hole - this gave the whole thing a more balanced feel. Even though it already has in-seam pockets, it felt like the right choice. I do love the intuitive artistry involved in mending. The places a garment wears out tend to naturally create a certain aesthetic balance to the mends, but sometimes an extra creative touch helps make the mends feel more like intentional design choices.
In the end, I am in more in love with the garment that ever before, feel confident to wear both sides again, and trust that I can keep mending and reinforcing any places that wear out over time.
An oft-quoted adage in sustainable fashion is that the most sustainable thing you can do is wear the clothing you already own. This concept is further bolstered by the #30wears campaign.
To truly get the most out of clothing, whether it is RTW or handmade, I think it is essential to cultivate a relationship with each garment, taking time to check in and see how they're doing on a regular basis. I like to do this after each wash. As I am folding or ironing each piece, I look at the seams and hems, checking for any spots that need care. On knits or fragile woven pieces, I often hold them up to light to better spot small holes or thin spots in the fabric - the sooner things are caught, the easier they are to fix & the more quality wears I can get out of each beloved garment through simple mends.
As such, I have a continually overflowing mending basket. Some things merely need a quick fix, such as a button sewn back on or a seam restitched. Others require significant reinforcement, alteration or refashioning. Those are the items that tend to percolate for longer in the basket until inspiration strikes and a vision becomes clear for how to breathe new life back into them.
Recently, I've been thrilled to bring a few things I really missed out of the mending basket and back into my wardrobe. Both fixes I'll share today are variations of my favorite dress pattern the Metamorphic Dress by Sew Liberated Patterns. I now have 6 versions in my wardrobe. I've come to depend on the jumper style in winter as one of my favorite layering pieces. My linen and cotton versions also transition smoothly into spring or fall layering and work beautifully as sundresses in the hottest of summer days. Not many garments have such versatility - but, operating as wardrobe staples all year round is hard on these treasures. They are washed and worn hard, so they need more upkeep. I have three Metamorphic mending stories to share & I'll start with two today in my first chapter of "Tales from The Mending Basket".
First is a simple fix, but it had me stumped for a long time. Here are both sides of the my 5th Metamorphic in their original state, made in early 2019.
Welcome to Make Do Magick.
Hello. I'm Kate. I'm so excited to share this new endeavor to chronicle and reflect on my creative output and sustainable/ethical fashion journey.
Back in 2014, I discovered the world of sewing bloggers. A decade before that, I'd found the world of knitting bloggers and knitty.com message boards. I've been in search of an online makers' community for years. I have found wonderful content and learned a great deal, but never quite fit in or fully connected. I didn't see many bodies like mine, I didn't see a focus on mindful or resourceful making, I didn't see awareness of diversity in class, race, gender, or queerness. I felt a tinge of FOMO, consumerism, perfectionism, and exclusivity gnawing at the edges of something I wanted to hold near and dear to me.
I love quality fibers and textiles, but with limited resources and time; an awareness of the environmental and ethical impact of constantly producing content by way of the latest patterns, fabrics, and styles; and the fact that my body shape isn't always suited to off-the-rack or out-of-the-pattern-envelope sizing... I've been doing my own thing for a long time. In the past, I've drawn inspiration from the online making world, but I've also needed to unplug because it felt too perfect to have a place for me in it. Being on the edges can be liberating, but it can also be lonely.
Over the last couple of years, especially on Instagram, things are changing. I've seen increasing momentum toward self-awareness, authenticity, and community connection amongst makers and between makers and the greater world. Many makers on the margins of the online creator community are drawing toward a new, more inclusive, central heart. 2019 was hard and transformative at an exponential pace. It was a game changer - but mostly for the fact that brave, amazing people brought to light things that have been the same for a long time - some good and beautiful, others terrible and urgently in need of change.
I feel a profound gratitude and respect for makers of color who have put their hearts, their safety, and their livelihoods on the line to share their voices and art. I am humbled by all that I learned and saw in 2019. I am grateful to fellow curvy makers, fat makers, and everyone who has taken risks and participated in raising momentum around inclusive sizing for sewing and knitting patterns. I am grateful to the Sewcialists for being ahead of the curve in highlighting many unique groups of makers, including diversity of body shapes, older makers, disabled makers, queer makers, and more. Their Who We Are series has meant so much to me & taught me so much in the last few years. I am grateful to Rochelle of Home Row Fiber Co. for sharing her journey from Lucky Lucille to Make Nine and more. Seeing her beautiful authenticity and vulnerability gradually come through more and more in photographs and words was something I really needed & a huge gift to this community. I am grateful to Meg of Sew Liberated Patterns for her amazing patterns that are not fueling us to consume more and more, but rather teaching us how to make what we need into heirlooms that honor our bodies and our earth.
What a time to be alive and creative. It feels more important than ever to make what I need to protect and adore myself and those I love with useful, beautiful, sustainable garments and objects. Microcosmic actions can affect the macrocosm and this making is a tangible thing I can do in a bigger world where I often feel at a loss for words and actions.
This new year, this new decade - I want to think more, reflect more, share more, and make more mindfully. I want to connect more deeply. To learn. To ask for help. To be a resource or a source of support and comfort where I am able. To find friends. To find and foster community - a making community in which we honor and support each other and nourish our hearts. I truly feel that 2020 is the seed of something fruitful to come for many years in the future.
That felt so big that I wanted to create a new space, a new mission, a new focus... and thus: Make Do Magick was born.
Thank you for being here.
A bit about me:
My grandmothers grew up in the Great Depression and their stories, skills, and resourcefulness made a beautiful mark on my heart. I am always making something, usually with fiber or textiles. I love scraps and reusing things and rescuing overlooked treasures. I think about a lot of things while I am making. Here is a record and, hopefully, a connection to the thread of my story.