Stitch

Growing up with a mother who knew her way around a Janome, I was introduced to the craft of sewing early on. (If I had fifty cents for every time she uttered the phrase, 'I could make it for less than that' I'd be living in palatial luxury with my own posse of personal seamstresses, and a pack of Labradors trained to fetch my etsy purchases from the letterbox.) I would choose the fabric and the pattern, carefully cutting out and assembling the pieces, and she would help me with the tricky parts like buttonholing. Buried somewhere in her sewing pile, she probably still has a dress I began in my teenage years, still in need of hemming!

Over the years, it's been the craft I've most consistently returned to. Skirts, dresses, tops, bags and even curtains have been attempted, with some triumphant victories and some lost battles. Wrap skirts are taking my fancy at the moment. They're dead easy to make (a buttonhole is the most complicated part) and it doesn't matter if you're having a skinny or large day – the fit is always perfect.

To make your own clothes you'll need a sewing machine, some inspiration, fabric, and a pattern. If you're reluctant to spend $200–$2000 on a new machine, they can often be picked up cheaply from garage sales (anywhere between $5-$30). It's worthwhile getting the machine serviced, which will set you back about $60. Finding inspiration and fabric are the easy bits, it's patterns which have far too often been my downfall. (I'm unsure whether I, or the pattern manufacturer, should wear the blame for this.) To avoid losing your beautiful fabric to the scrap bag, consider testing out your new pattern on some cheap calico first, before cutting up your purpose-bought fabric. (If your purpose-bought fabric is cheap and plentiful, you may wish to forego this step.) Some of my most successful pattern outcomes have been the result of pulling apart existing items, determining how the piece is constructed and creating a corresponding pattern. (I'm not advocating pulling apart your wardrobe here, but if you own a well-fitting, but somewhat worn, piece you may wish to consider making a pattern from it before consigning it to the op-shop bag.) BurdaStyle is a good source of open source, copyright-free downloadable patterns for all skill levels (and plenty of helpful tutorials).

The other item you'll need is patience. As with most things in life, trial and error are all part of the process. The time I've spent unpicking and restitching seams: pulling seams in, pulling hems up, letting seams out. As I sew more and my techniques improve, less time is devoted to these activities. Stepping out in something you've sewn yourself is very satisfying!

Opportunity

As an adolescent, being dragged to op-shops was one of my least favourite activites. There was never anything in the clothing racks that I liked (all I wanted was new clothes, like my friends wore) and my thrifty mother always spent far too long perusing the shelves.

As an adult, however, I’ve embraced the joy of op-shopping. Oh, the treasures waiting to be reclaimed. Racks and racks of clothing sorted by colour, and that familiar, indeterminable smell. Ironically, the reason I hated op-shopping as a teenager is the same reason I find myself frequenting them today; when it comes to clothes, I’m fussy. The latest thing in fashion may not suit my body shape, or I’m looking for something specific that isn’t currently available in stores (like a particular cut of jeans). They can also be a great place for cheap fabric remnants, if you’re getting crafty and need a little piece of something.

The pricing policies of Goodwill and Vinnies are sensible, with all items either whole dollar amounts or multiples of 50c. The Salvos, on the other hand, persist in tacking 99 cents on to the end of every price tag, even though when you pay for said item, the price is rounded up to the whole dollar figure. It’s not as though they’re selling big ticket items!

Sadly, not all op-shops are created equal. Some stores are frequent winners with quality goods and coveted brands, while others struggle with misshapen jumpers and a sea of polyester. I’ve long wondered whether donations are taken to a central collection point, sorted and redistributed across the state, or whether goods donated to a particular store end up back on the racks of that store. (It would explain why the Vinnies in Norwood has Sass & Bide and Bettina Liano jeans.)

I do feel a little sorry for the op-shopping men-folk out there. They usually don’t have the range to choose from that we women have. Perhaps women buy more clothes in general, and are better at parting with those rejected items which inhabit the dark corners of our wardrobes. Sometimes it takes a bit of imagination to see the potential in a pre-loved garment. Adjust the hems, add or remove embellishments and voilà – a new life awaits.

Ultimately the joy in op-shopping (besides finding a bargain) is discovering those items – good and bad – you wouldn't find anywhere else and can’t help but take home. I give you exhibit A: brand-new handmade mittens. Price: $1. High five!

Melva

Please excuse the quality of the photograph, but I’d like to introduce you to Melva West. She was known as Toots by many, but to me she was Nanna.

Many things I fondly remember. Her kitchen with all kinds of baked deliciousness. Tea and biscuits in cups and saucers. Helping with her sturdy volumes of word puzzles. Tending to the chickens. Staying up late to watch the tennis. Train trips to the city to feed the ducks. Outings to the golf club and observing the well-oiled machine that was the kitchen! Above all, I remember her warmth, generosity and good humour. (Her concern that the neighbours might believe the oversized knickers (laundry she did for another family member) on the clothesline were hers!)

Many lessons were learnt. The importance of a good breakfast. The finer points of poker and the consequences of trying to cheat! She was certainly not afraid to pull my brother and I into line when we were causing her grief. As a child dealing with changing circumstances, my grandparents’ house was a place of calmness and certainty – a shelter from the storm. A feeling that everything was going to be okay.

It’s been twenty years since she passed and this is my eulogy. (I underestimated how emotional writing this post would be.) I never got to tell her how loved she was and how much I appreciated all she did for us. Maybe I was too young to articulate such feelings, or didn’t know how. Over the years I have longed to share a cup of tea and share the dramas of my adult life with her, wondering what she would make of it all!

Dearly loved, warmly remembered and sadly missed. xx

Beauty

Enamoured with this beauty at the moment. Yes, I think it might be love. Feijoa was Klim Type Foundry's first commercial release back in 2007, and has only recently popped up on my font radar (I'm ashamed to say!). Started by Kris Sowersby in 2005, the craftsmanship and attention to detail in his foundry's typefaces makes choosing a favourite very difficult. Feijoa's elegant, warm and curvaceous letterforms, coupled with its extended ligature set (inspired by another charmer, Mrs Eaves) makes it a standout. Am I alone in thinking more fonts should have extended ligature sets? Now, all I need is an occasion for this lovely!

Needling

On a wintry afternoon some months ago, I traded a batch of freshly-baked jelly cakes for the secrets of the sticks. Well ... needles. Like so many other things, learning to knit's been on the to-do list for a long time. There was an early foray into knitting many years ago which resulted in 20 centimetres of misshapen stitchwork, no doubt abandoned for some other short-lived craft dalliance.

The offer (from the lovely Sam) of afternoon tea and stitching was too good an opportunity to let slip. In between cups of tea, ginger slices and jelly cakes, I managed to master the art of casting on (even if my stitching was somewhat inconsistent to begin with).

My first piece of advice to beginner knitters: choose chunky wool, preferably with variegated thicknesses. For learners figuring out how tight their wool tension should be, it can be quite forgiving.

My second piece of advice to newbies: just because you've mastered casting on, think about how wide your knitting should be and stop accordingly! My scarf ended up much wider than I was anticipating, as a result of my overenthusiastic casting on. Which leads me to my third piece of advice...

Point three: make sure you buy enough wool for your project before you begin. My three balls of wool may have been plenty at first, but because I made the scarf too wide I ran out of wool before I reached my desired length. Irritatingly, the wool was a discontinued line and after eight phone calls and hours of trawling the web, I managed to find some of the same batch from a craft shop interstate. Lesson learnt.

I'm impressed with myself for actually finishing this ... in time for summer. Knitting's proven to be an effective way to turn off my brain at the end of the day, although progress on my second item has been considerably slower than the first. Good thing winter is nine months away, given the next item's been promised to Ol...

Excitable

The Pointer Sisters. They were so excited, and they just couldn't hide it. Okay, so maybe they don't appear to be living the dream on this particular album sleeve. But they weren't afraid to shout about it, accompanied by a disco beat.

I've been dealing with a client over the past couple of weeks who has not been afraid to express her excitement over the project we've been working on. One thing I've rediscovered about excitement: it's contagious.

As adults, we seem to lose our capacity for getting excited about things, in the same way we get excited about things as children. We grow up; we get serious. Where did it go? Will I ever be excited about anything ever again? Seeing a client expressing genuine excitement over something you've created is so rewarding, personally and professionally. It's a fantastic day at the office.

Elizabeth

Confession

This is only going to work if we’re honest with each other. I have a confession: a fondness for crocheted nanna rugs. It doesn’t stem from some long-held nostalgic childhood memory, sadly. (Although that would be a great excuse.)

Perhaps it’s respect for the hours of labour involved in their construction. Considering the low prices these blankets sell for in op-shops (the natural habitat for the nanna rug), this works out to be a terrible hourly rate. Maybe it’s admiration for their courageous use of colour – using hues any self-respecting designer would never ordinarily pair together.

Having never crocheted myself, I do have great respect for the craft. As time passes, it makes me sad to think of these kaleidoscopic pixel rugs disappearing (much like their creators). Perhaps there is a new hope though … go Cate!

Beginnings

Starting a blog is an ambition that’s been on my 'to-do' list for some time. This ambition has not been lonely, for it has plenty of other friends on my 'to-do' list equally wanting a minute of my time.

So why blog? Here my interests in design, creativity and writing can converge. This is a place to share my crafty successes (and failures), to tell the stories of those who inspire me and explore the beautiful and the whimsical in this world.

Welcome.