I exist as a sewist thanks to the online sewing community.

About three years ago, on a lovely Spring Friday afternoon, I was on a news website, intending to check out what was happening in this big, beautiful, terrifying world of ours. Instead, I was distracted by a lifestyle piece in the bottom left-hand corner (am I the only one?)

It was an article about Me Made May.

I started to click.

The article talked about blogger SewZo. From her blog, I ended up on Tilly and the Buttons. Inspired by Tilly’s clear, bright and simple photos, I had a lightening moment:

“I could do that”.

The next day I walked into a sewing machine store and said “give me the cheapest machine you’ve got”. If this was going to end up like that bread-maker that I just had to have, I at least needed to kept costs to a minimum.

One day later, I’d sewn my first ever item – a red and white polka dot Miette skirt.

I haven’t stopped sewing since.

It has been life-changing. Well, sort of. I mean, really, life is still the same: family, fun, home, work, books, travel, that’s all still there. But sewing has become a life-nourishing and soul-sustaining force. It fills a sewing machine shaped hole in my life that I never knew existed. For the first time in my adult life, I have a creative pursuit.

Lurking, lurking, lurking

Now, for a confession.

I voraciously lurk the online sewing community.

Ever since that day three years ago when I first discovered you, I have not left you alone. Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ve been watching you.

Everything I have learned about sewing comes from the generosity of the online sewing community and from the life-force that is independent pattern companies. I live in a country where I don’t speak the language, so taking lessons to learn to sew was not possible. But I haven’t learned to sew all on my own. Rather than being a self-taught sewist, I am a crowd-taught sewist.

And in addition to teaching me to sew, the online sewing community has inspired every item I’ve ever made. I can’t remember the last time I sewed a pattern without seeking inspiration and motivation from the work of all the lovely, talented sewists out there.

In three years, I have come a long way. I no longer worry about whether a pattern is beginner or intermediate or advanced. I peruse instructions for ideas, not because I need to follow them with religious fervour, as though their meticulous execution might unlock the key to the fountain of youth.

After years of learning from you, copying you, I thought that maybe it was time to, once again, learn from your example and try to be more generous with my sewing. As an entirely selfish sewer, this would be one way I could bring some generosity of my own to this community which has given me so much.

And so, this blog was born (and the sewing circle of life continues…).

Until now, I have never tried to participate in this online world because, well, you are all so cool and talented and I’m an introverted, shy, corner-cutting, ‘fraidy cat.

For example, just above, when I said that I walked into a store and said “give me the cheapest machine you’ve got”, what really happened was that I quietly skulked into the store, didn’t make eye contact with anyone, quickly scoped out the prices and whispered to the sales assistant, “I’ll take this one, please”, before rapidly making my way out of there before she realised that I did not deserve to become a sewing machine owner.

So, it’s time to be brave.

An imperfect stitch

In life, they say that we should dance like no-one’s watching. The blogging equivalent must be that we should blog like someone’s reading.

So, dear fellow sewist reader, I am going to pretend that you, like I, exist.

And I want to warn you at the outset that I am a highly imperfect stitcher. I am not very patient. I am not technically minded. I am not an expert. I’m more likely to share with you what goes wrong in my projects, than proudly share a perfectly executed detail. I have never made a muslin.

Sorry, I’m just not that kind of sewist. But I think that’s ok.

When I was a child, I was surrounded by sewing. My Nana had run an atelier of dressmakers before she got married and my Mum was an avid seamstress (me, in my wisdom, thought that sewing was a stupid, ridiculous waste of time and refused to learn anything about it – complaining only that I didn’t get to wear the same brand name clothing as all the other kids at school).

Whenever Mum finished sewing anything, my Nana turned it inside out to point out its flaws, directing that this or that needed to be unpicked. I saw that the pursuit of perfection sucked the joy out of the process. I remember Mum telling me to stay away from Nana while wearing my new shorts, lest Nana try to examine them too closely.

So I try to embrace imperfections. The insides of my projects often look like a dog’s breakfast. In fact, I will probably be far too embarrassed to ever show you my insides!

But again, I think that’s ok.

There is a concept in Persian carpet-making about the introduction of a deliberately imperfect stitch to enhance the beauty and uniqueness of an item. This is how I like to think about all my imperfect stitches. The crooked collar, the crazy mismatched lining, that wobbly, turned-up hem.

My beautiful imperfections.

Like a child in a candy store

The truth is that I am still at that stage of my sewing journey where I am filled with giddy excitement at the very fact that I am actually able to turn something one-dimensional into clothes that can be worn. Does that stage ever go away? I hope not.

So I have to say that I start this blog with a strong inferiority complex, compared to the amazingly accomplished sewists out there. But, nonetheless, I thought that maybe sharing my makes and simpleton mistakes might someday be useful to – or motivating for – someone, somewhere.

And besides, I don’t really feel all that inferior, because, like all of us sewists, I still feel vastly superior to anyone who doesn’t sew their own clothes.

Sew, about my sewing blog …

So the aim of this blog is that I will just be sharing what I make and reflecting on the process of making it, with a few random musings about the importance of sewing in my life. Pretty basic, right?

Since I’ll be blogging what I sew, I’m hoping to be able to post a new make once a month or so, because, well, you know, real life and all that.

I am not a sewer

If a person who stitches is a stitcher, then a person who sews is a sew-er?

For about three years now, in my head, I have been thinking of myself as a sew-er. I had always wondered why everyone online used the term sewist.

Sitting down today to write this post was the first time that I had ever tried to write down the “word” which had been bouncing around my head for the last three years. “Sew-er”. Sewer. As in, drainage system filled with human excrement and waste by-products. And, suddenly, for the first time, it dawned on me why we are sewists and not sewers.

Whoops. Well, I already knew that I am not the sharpest tool in the shed. And right now, I feel about as dull as that rotary cutter in the bottom of your sewing kit that you haven’t used for years.

You live, you learn, right? And that is what my sewing journey is all about.