De-stash Follow-up

Readers,

Last Saturday I joined fifteen other sewers in Sew to Speak’s first annual De-Stash on the Lawn yard sale of fabrics and notions.

Apron pockets stuffed with dollar bills and quarters and ready for business!

The weather was gorgeous, and the nearby bustling farmers’ market brought inquisitive browsers and buyers.

As I suspected, my buttons attracted the most attention, and at 25 cents a bag they were priced to go.  They went.

The banana buttons I’d had for 30 years (!) went to a woman who has a banana-themed running joke with a friend and who was thrilled to find them. I think I made her day.

Ribbons, elastics, and fusible web came back home.

My best customers, however, were the other sellers, who browsed tables between sales.  One of them joked, “De-stash and re-stash!”

Nobody wanted the grommets, cording, window shade cleats, gathering tape, weights for shade pulls, or buttons to cover.

I left my post briefly, too. to look at the other sewers’ wares, but since most of those were quilting fabrics and books I wasn’t tempted.  Besides, my purpose in clearing out the sewing room was to make space for new activities, not new supplies.

What sold?

  • Most of my buttons
  • A bolt of fusible hair canvas
  • A thread rack
  • An upholstery stapler that was almost impossible for me to use with my smaller hands
  • Some cheery yellow and blue quilted placemats I bought in France 20 years ago.
  • A tube turner
  • A neon-orange measuring tape
  • A yard of felt used in tailored jacket undercollars
  • A gadget for evenly marking the placement of buttonholes or pleats
  • A darling table runner dating from the 1940s or ’50s
  • Some upholstery tacks
  • A book on making fabric flowers
  • A remnant of perky blue and white checked cotton for tablecloths

Also coming home again were the point turner, gadgets for bound buttonholes, a hanger for oaktag pattern pieces, a needle point tracing wheel, a magnetic wrist pin cushion, and scissors.

I made $28.50 from the sale, but subtract the $12 for the table rental and I actually cleared $16.50.

And then there were the things that came back home.

What will I do with them?

Do you remember where you were when you bought each of your fabrics? I almost always do. These purchases date from 1986 to 2015.

The buttons, gadgets, notions, and yardage would be perfect to donate to The World’s Largest Textile Garage Sale, an annual fundraising event of the Textile Center of Minnesota, in Minneapolis next April. The donation would need to be personally delivered two days before the sale, and I can’t think of anyone better qualified to do the job (–or to attend the sale, of course!).

The shirt I sewed for Jack from this plaid reminds me of our visit to Paron’s fabric store in New York’s Garment District last year. Sadly, Paron’s has since closed.

Then there is every sewer’s dilemma: fabric scraps too small to donate but too good to toss.  They deserve to be used somehow.  I checked my library system for books on using fabric scraps, and requested Wise Craft by blogger and Craftsy designer Blair Stocker for inspiration.

But inspiration can come from anywhere. At lunch I was browsing the Annie Selke catalogue that came in the day’s mail and saw a footstool upholstered with a rug remnant for…$1300! Really?

We have a footstool begging for a new cover, and one of my remnants fits both the footstool and the decor. Put on the shopping list: a better upholstery stapler.

Our sad little footstool…

…could get a nifty (and thrifty) little makeover.

I’ll keep an eye open to dispersing my sewing leftovers wisely, but I’m also going to be more careful about what I let in, in the first place.

Now, a great big tailor’s ham did get past the velvet rope. Tailors’ hams must be my weakness because when my sister pulled this beauty from her stash I whined for it.  She has visiting privileges, however.

Weighing in at an impressive 3 pounds, 10 ounces.

Papa Ham, Mama Ham, and Hamlet.

Also, when she unearthed these woolens from our mom’s stash from who knows how long ago I decided to keep them for wearable test-sewing if not for actual garments.

The De-Stash on the Lawn may be over, but Sewing Room 2.0 continues.

What I gained was much more than a little pocket money.  What else?

  • Shelf space. The sewing and home dec book collections are slimmer and better.
  • Floor space. Worktables can be moved around more easily for big drapery, shade, or lined coat projects
  • Better access to my beautiful vintage buttons.  They were in bags, in boxes, on sheet pans on the baker’s rack.  That was one step too many. Eliminating the boxes and spreading the buttons on easy-to-pull sheet pans–basically shallow drawers–vastly improved accessibility.

    Still waiting for their new work assignment: living room draperies I sewed for our cute little Minneapolis Cape Cod did not transition to our mid-century Columbus house. Yardage could be harvested for new home dec projects.

What did I lose?

  • Some supplies I wasn’t using and had no ambitions to use.
  • Dust bunnies.
  • A lot of visual clutter.

Admittedly, some of that clutter was moved, temporarily, to the guest room, to be dealt with later. Over the next few days I’ll bring back the stacks of pattern folders, unsold fabrics and notions, and a box of clippings to triage.

Sewing Room 2.0 is about creating a space to support the whole range of activities required to create clothing and furnishings that serve Jack and me. When I evaluate those fabrics, patterns, notions, and clippings piled in the guest room they’ll have to make it worth my while to manage them.

And if they can’t serve my purposes, there probably is somebody else, like the lady who bought the banana buttons, who would be delighted to give them a good home.

Bye bye, bananas!

Blinding Glimpses of the Obvious: De-stash Edition

Readers,

This past weekend I started slimming down my bloated collections of sewing supplies, taking advantage of a “De-Stash on the Lawn” event at Sew to Speak, a local fabric store, this Saturday.

Not only did I discover buttons I’d bought several presidential administrations ago–

Bought about 1991.

Wow.

–I also had some “aha” moments–of such glaring brightness I had to put on those cheap sunglass things I get from the ophthalmologist when I have my pupils dilated–such as:

Out of sight, out of mind. I need visual reminders!

I can get all excited about buying online classes when there’s a sale, and then forget about those resources when I tackle an actual project months later.

A folder labeled “Fun with Fitting Pants” is now parked with my fitting books in my sewing library. It reminds me that I have Sarah Veblen’s online class (PatternReview.com) as a resource.  When the need arises, I’ll print out her downloads to accompany her videos and pop them into the folder.

Folders ready to receive printouts from online classes act as placeholders in my sewing library.

Sewing is an activity that generates leftovers. Unfortunately, they can’t be turned into a pot of soup for dinner or compost for the garden.

No matter how economical and clever we sewers try to be, we always end up with remnants, scraps, and extras. I’m hoping this de-stash event will help redistribute our resources and become a regular occurrence.

Ghosts of shirts past, and ghosts of shirts to come. These loose buttons are now sorted and bagged for easy access. Some are headed for the sale.

Editing my sewing collections is a cinch if I have criteria. Uh–what are those criteria?

I don’t mean “I’ve had that for so long, I have to get rid of it!”

And I don’t mean “I’ve had that for so long, I can‘t get rid of it!”

I do mean criteria based on a solid foundation of current information about my

  • figure type
  • coloring
  • degree of contrast
  • lifestyle
  • tastes and preferences

I realized that my biggest obstacle to getting things sewn was being unclear about all of the above.

As long as I was agonizing over–

“Should I sew this print into a top, or a skirt? Which would be better?

“Is this a flattering color?”

Is this palette from a color analysis 15 years ago still good for me?

“If I sew that, what should I wear with it?”

–my fabrics, patterns, and buttons would languish, unused, which was equal parts horrible and ridiculous.

So I took the plunge to seriously, completely, answer all my fashion and wardrobe questions, which would greatly help me get things sewn.  A couple of weeks ago I registered for a program called 7 Steps to Style, created by Australian image consultant Imogen Lamport, and I’m liking it a lot.

If retrieving an object is difficult, it discourages use.

Loose duplicate swatches and swatch cards were in such disarray I didn’t use them much.

Rings hold swatches of shirts I’ve made for Jack, garments I’ve made for myself, and my stash. See which is biggest?

Several years ago I had puzzled over how to store my vast button collection.  I moved all the loose buttons into cellophane bags. That was a good idea.

Storing the bags vertically in plastic shoeboxes? Terrible!

I could hardly see my beautiful buttons, and I despise filing.

And the rustling of all that cellophane when I pulled or put back any bags was like the sound of dozens of people noisily opening candy wrappers in a theater.  I hated that!

I dreamed of having big, shallow drawers as in a map library or archive where my buttons could be all easily visible.

Then I realized I could achieve my goal almost as well–in minutes, using what I already had.

I roughly sorted my buttons into colors–multi-colored ones got their own category–and spread them out on sheet pans of my baker’s rack.

I’m converting the baker’s rack to mostly supply storage. UFOs are going to be phased out!

Voilà:

Reds, oranges, and yellows.

Greens, blues, and purples.

Browns, blacks, grays, whites

Multi-colored

In two seconds I can pull a pan from the rack. In two more seconds I can be scanning for buttons to scatter on a fabric unfurled on a work table.  And returning items to their homes is just as easy.    Problem solved.

I had started my de-stash project as a way to open up my physical space, but I’m ending by opening up mental space.

I can vouch for the truth of the statement I read recently in that little book, 101 Things to Learn in Art School: “Your studio is more than a place to work. It is a state of mind.”

It’s not just my sewing room that’s getting more spacious–it’s my mind.  And they’re both getting ready to welcome some fresh, new thinking.

De-stashing on a Deadline

Readers,

I got back from our New York trip to find an e-mail from my local little independent fabric store. Sew to Speak, in Worthington, Ohio, was announcing an event it was calling “De-stash on the Lawn”–a yard sale especially for sewers September 9.  What a brilliant idea.

For a small fee sewers could rent space on the tables on the lawn in front of the store to sell stash fabrics and notions not only to Sew to Speak customers but also to passersby on their way to pick up some basil and tomatoes at the nearby farmers’ market.  Presumably, with our yard-sale earnings we vendors would then be primed to browse Sew to Speak’s beautiful fabric selections for fall to restock our sewing room shelves.

I read Sew to Speak’s announcement first as a customer, and since I’d hadn’t even unpacked my purchases from the Garment District I thought, no, I’ll pass up this event.

Then I thought, hey–I need to be part of this–as a seller.

I slept on the idea but the next morning I was so concerned that table space would sell out fast that I registered to secure my place.

Of course, I saw the De-stash on the Lawn as a convenient solution to the pesky problem of disposing fabrics and scraps, buttons, and sewing gadgets that no charity or consignment store would accept. If all I did was lightly edit my fabrics and notions, spend a pleasant Saturday morning in some good-natured haggling with other sewers, and earn back the $12 I’d spent on table space, I wouldn’t consider the time ill-spent.

But then I wondered how I might leverage the opportunity further, to yield a bigger benefit.  After all, I’ve been mulling over Sewing Room 2.0 for months.

Yes, the sewing room is due for an overhaul.  In the first round, three years ago when we moved into this mid-century fixer-upper, I was happy just to have a biggish room with natural light and good heating (unlike my Minneapolis basement sewing domain).

Now I want more.

No, not more space–more function.  A 17-foot by 13-foot room should work fine, but I’ve got to get a lot smarter about supporting the whole getting-things-sewn process, start to finish.

I sewed for years in a space that just–existed. It performed moderately well and I got moderately good results.  I never even thought about designing my sewing space until I began blogging.

The big lesson I learned from designing my Minneapolis basement sewing domain was:

Space not otherwise assigned a function tends to get filled with stuff.

I’ve found this becomes a serious problem when stuff interferes with doing activities.

Obviously, fabrics (and patterns, books, equipment, etc.) are physical objects and need cubic feet of storage space. That’s a fact.

But designing garments–outfits–even a seasonal collection for a wardrobe–what space does that activity require? Isn’t that important, too?

I had never considered that question until recently. In Sewing Room 2.0 I want to shift the default.

In Sewing Room 2.0, supporting activities will take precedence over storing stuff.

Readers, I am stating this without completely knowing what a Sewing Room 2.0 will look like. But now, I’m eager to find out.

Takeaways from New York

Readers,

Jack and I returned last Thursday from our week in New York.  It was an all-you-can-eat buffet of museum-visiting, Garment District-shopping, and long-distance walking. Here’s a day-by-day sampling of my souvenirs from my trip:

Friday, August 11

  • I bought a lovely scarf at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden shop.

Saturday, August 12

  • I was taken by this sleeveless jacket in the window of Mariana Antinori on Madison Avenue.

    Once in a long while I’ll see a jacket without sleeves and think such a garment might give me the balance of style and practicality I’m looking for.

I like jackets a lot but for my daily life, which includes fixing meals and washing dishes, wearing a regular jacket certainly isn’t practical. Now, if I could have the practicality of a vest but the wider range of styles of a jacket, that would be a sleeveless jacket.  One of these days I’m going to make one.

  • I caught up with attendees of sewing blogger Peter Lappin’s Male Pattern Boldness Day at the Fashion Institute of Technology Museum’s exhibit, Force of Nature. The show illustrated clothes and accessories using nature–sometimes uncomfortably literally–as inspiration.  This alligator handbag–

    From the Fashion Institute of Technology’s Force of Nature exhibit, a handbag from around 1938 using a very real alligator.

    –reminded me of the alligator handbag I saw on my field trip to The Alley Vintage and Costume a couple of years ago:

    Looking for the ultimate alligator purse? Meet Percival, mascot of The Alley Vintage and Costume in Columbus, Ohio.

  • I joined fellow fans of Male Pattern Boldness at nearby Panera for lunch and the much anticipated annual pattern swap.  I put half a dozen choice vintage patterns into the growing pile, but didn’t take any out.  Bonus: couturier and master sewing teacher/author Kenneth King crashed the party, and you can’t get better than that at a sewing get-together. He was mobbed, of course.
  • I spent the afternoon in one of the roving bands of Male Pattern Boldness readers ranging all over the Garment District in search of fabrics and trims.  Kyle Dana Burkhardt of the blog Vacuuming the Lawn led our group.  I wanted the chance to see stores I’d never been in before, and I did.  They were amazing
  • Our first stop was Metro Textile Corp. at 265 West 37th St., Suite 908.  The owner, Kashi, had opened his store on a Saturday just for us Male Pattern Boldness Day participants, and I think he was rewarded for his efforts.

    Customers kept Kashi busy unfurling yardage to cut in a frenzy of buying. (Thanks to attendee Venka for taking this photo.)

    My mission was not necessarily to buy anything that afternoon but to take a good look at fabrics to go with the unusual reds and browns in my cactus-print skirt or with the subtle yellows of my Pendleton jacket.

    A photocopy I brought of part of my skirt print helped me identify fabrics to coordinate with these colors from a 1940s-’50s palette.

    I brought the jacket with me, and a decent color photocopy of the skirt’s print, not to mention swatches on index cards of my fabric stash and a small knapsack for wallet, camera, and water bottle. The threat of showers (that never materialized) made me carry a windbreaker, which I tied around my waist.

    All of this impedimenta required managing, as I shifted my bags from hand to hand or shoulder to shoulder while navigating my way around my fellow attendees toward a particular bolt that caught my eye.  Everybody was friendly and helpful, though, and we all did our best to make space for each other. I pulled out my ring of card blanks and Kashi’s law-student son, drafted to be a helper that afternoon, swatched two beautiful linen shirtings for me. I promised to return Monday to have yardage cut.

  • Next was French Couture Fabrics, at 222 West 37th Street, 2nd floor, which proclaims on its website that “our buyers work to get the best fabrics from French Couture Houses like Celine, Sonia Rykiel, Chloe, Givenchy, Louis Vuitton.”  Others in my group might have been eyeing the leathers or the silks, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the gorgeous $12/yard cottons, wondering how many hundreds (thousands?) of dollars customers were willing to fork over for the readymade garments. I had a couple of swatches cut, but actually wanted many more.

    Swatches from Metro Textiles, French Couture Fabrics, Gray Line Linens, and Mood Fabrics gathered Saturday and Monday of my visit.

  • Our next stops were Daytona Trimmings, 251 West 39th Street; and Pacific Trimming, 220 West 38th Street.  In all my past visits to the Garment District I’d never stopped in these stores, thinking they sold mostly ribbons, tassels, and cords, which I almost never have occasion to use–but was I ever wrong. Trim stores sell every kind of hardware , zippers, buttons galore, and other findings and embellishments for clothes and accessories.

    Only a part of Pacific Trimming’s vast selection of buttons.

    Blouse and shirt buttons at Pacific Trimming. I already want to go back!

    Pacific Trimming: hooks and eyes of such variety as I had never imagined. I’m hooked!

I had remembered to bring the slider for my vintage Harris tweed hat to look for a replacement, and at both stores there was a wide selection, although nothing exactly right.

My hot iron damaged the original slider, and my Bakelite substitute was a little too eye-catching. Could I find a replacement in the Garment District?

I liked these sliders but thought they weren’t quite right to replace my damaged one. Having a knowledgeable salesperson help me look was wonderful.

  • Around 4:00 our group wended our way to Bryant Park to rejoin our fellow Male Pattern Boldness Day attendees to brag about our discoveries and envy admire other people’s purchases.  Although I had only swatches to show, my afternoon had been a success, too.  I had the luxury of returning Monday to look at fabrics again at my leisure.

The best part of Male Pattern Boldness Day is meeting members of a special community brought together by the humor, wit, and skill of Peter Lappin.

In Bryant Park with Peter Lappin, creator of the incomparable Male Pattern Boldness.

Sunday, August 13

  • Jack and I met our friend Rosa at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we took in the Rei Kawakubo show.  The museum literature says “Her fashions…resist definition and confound interpretation,” and I couldn’t have said it better.  We roamed from one astounding–artwork? garment?–to the next just taking it all in.  I think I was smiling the whole time.  Although I’m sure Rei Kawakubo takes her work seriously, that’s not to say there isn’t a great deal of humor in it.

    With our friend Rosa at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Rei Kawakubo show. We imagined students’ reactions if Jack showed up for his first day of teaching this semester in this suit.

  • In another part of the museum, while Jack and Rosa looked at posters from World War I, I browsed a book called 101 Things to Learn in Art School by Pratt Institute professor Kit White. Number 85 was “Your studio is more than a place to work: it is a state of mind.”  That got me thinking: What state of mind would I like my sewing room to foster?
  • In Central Park after our museum visit I looked at my new swatches and swatches from my stash in the natural light.

    In Central Park, comparing swatches from my stash back home with what I’d just swatched in the Garment District. For evaluating colors, natural light sure beats store lighting.

    Monday, August 14

  • Back to the Garment District.

    I’m ready to return to the Garment District, wearing my weskit with big pockets for holding–swatches, of course.

  • At Gray Lines Linen I admired–everything, really.  I love the colors and weights of their linens for shirts and swatched a stripe and a plaid (seen on the swatch card above) for Jack to think about.  For myself, I admired some of Gray Lines’ yarn dye handkerchief linens for blouses and realized that they are all regularly stocked and on the sample card I’d bought last year.
    Back to Metro Textile Corp. to buy the two fabrics I’d had swatched on Saturday’s visit.  Kashi looked surprised–and pleased–that I had come back as promised.  After cutting the two linen blouse fabrics for me he scanned his stock for coordinates and pointed to a terra cotta-colored rayon knit that I agreed was beautiful.  I needed no further convincing that it would be a very nice addition, and took two yards, although now, I said, I’d have to buckle down and learn to sew knits.  “You can do it,” Kashi replied, “Just go slower.”  As I left with my new purchases Kashi encouraged me to come back leading a group.  Maybe I will!

    A plaid linen from Metro Textile.

    A kind of brick red-brown and white cross-dye linen from Metro Textile.

    The cross-dye doesn’t match any specific color in my cactus print skirt, but it still coordinates nicely with all the colors.

    Terra cotta-colored rayon knit from Metro Textile.

Onward to try again to replace the damaged slider for my Harris tweed hat.  I stopped in at Lauren Trimming, 247 West 37th Street, and found one that was fine, for a dollar.

The original slider, which I damaged with a hot iron, and its replacement that I found at Lauren Trimming.

My Harris tweed hat with its new slider.

My last visit in the Garment District was to Mood Fabrics. I knew I’d have to surrender my bags at the store entrance, but I was prepared with big pockets to hold a notebook and swatch cards. It was actually very nice to be free of my bags for awhile.

That morning the aisles were full of kids enrolled in Mood U sewing classes choosing fabrics for their projects and then bringing their choices to the cutting tables.  I sidled past them and began to absorb the breadth and depth of Mood’s collections.  On previous visits I’ve always been dazzled and then overwhelmed by the thousands of bolts and left with nothing more than swatches and shirt buttons.  On this visit, sticking to my “decide nothing in haste” experiment, I enjoyed browsing wools, cottons, linens, knits, and notions as if I were strolling through a gorgeous botanical garden. I had a nice conversation with a salesperson in the Cotton Twill section about raincoat fabrics, and had one swatch cut.  Done.

  • After seeing the Neue Galerie’s Austrian Masterworks exhibition we enjoyed Viennese-style hot chocolate and  cake in its Cafe Sabarsky.

    After viewing Austrian masterworks, some Klimt torte mit schlag.

    At the Museum of the City of New York in the exhibition A City Seen: Todd Webb’s Postwar New York, 1945-1960 we were struck by this photo:

  • 123rd Street, Harlem. 1946.

Tuesday, August 15

  • I was wondering what home decorating fabrics I could see without having to have a designer in tow, which brought me to Zarin Fabrics at 69 Orchard Street on the Lower East Side. I’ve made draperies for our living room and dining room and am “planning” (“planning to plan,” at this point, would be more accurate) to sew Roman shades, sheers, valances, and a shower curtain–right after I master pants-sewing and my serger.

    Zarin Fabrics

    Zarin’s selection is certainly big, but I concluded that actually my local home decorating fabric resources at Fabric Farms and Calico are awfully good and only a short drive away.

    An upholstery weight at Zarin Fabrics. Do I have a place for this in our house? Maybe not, but I like it.

  • In nearby Soho I chanced to see Crosby Street, which reminded me that I’d wanted to see the Crosby Street Hotel, one of two hotels in the U.S. designed by Kit Kemp.  She uses color, texture, scale, fabric and soft furnishings are like no other designer I know of. When we walked into the hotel I explained to the concierge that I was very interested in Kit Kemp’s work, and we were immediately invited to look at the lobby, bar, and meeting rooms as we wished.

    Kit Kemp’s typical exuberant combinations of pattern and color on display at the Crosby Street Hotel

    I’m so taken by handmade fabric lampshades–I’m very tempted to try learning to make my own. Have you ever seen the prices for shades like these? Incredible!

    I’m not looking to duplicate Kemp’s hotel style in our own house, but as a sewer I’m fascinated by how much importance she places on textiles. Search her name on Pinterest and see for yourself.

    Wednesday, August 16

  • I visited the Kangol hat store at 196 Columbus Avenue.  I’ve been a fan of Kangol hats for close to 30 years, and on the rare occasions when I can see a wide selection I can’t resist looking.  With help from Kangol salesperson Steve I walked out the door with a new trilby.

    Nothing makes my day quite like a new hat.

    Back at the hotel, I packed my fabrics and scarf and carefully folded my new Kangol to tuck into my suitcase for the next day’s flight home.

Shopping New York’s Garment District: What Shall I Bring?

Readers,

Thursday Jack and I are flying to New York for a week’s visit.  I’m no stranger to the Garment District–over the years I’m sure I’ve visited it a dozen times, and easily spent five dozen hours petting woolens and sizing up shirtings in happy reveries.

My 3 in 1 Color Tool is great for helping me discover color relationships as  well as interesting neutrals. Plus, card blanks and a mini-stapler for collecting swatches.

I’ve spent hours similarly occupied at Britex in San Francisco; Vogue Fabrics in Evanston, Illinois; and at every fabric and notion store I could find in London for the article I wrote for Threads magazine a few years back.

I was thinking this morning, “I wish I could bring more clothes to swatch fabrics for.” Then I tried photocopying my skirt on our printer. It’s a decent enough color reproduction.

You’d think by now I’d have the drill down–what I should pack as memory prompts for what’s in my stash and wardrobe, what colors I want to coordinate and what yardages I need before being bedazzled by thousands of choices and millions of permutations.   And yes, I’ve gotten better–I haven’t hauled my unwieldy pattern catalogue with me for years.

Now that I live in a city (no–a state!) with very limited fashion fabric choices, I want to make the most of my opportunity to see and touch fabrics for myself.

I bought this snappy black and white checked wool on a Chicago trip back in October 1999. It’s been waiting for the right moment ever since. Oh dear.

In the past I’ve made the mistakes of buying too much fabric on trips, thinking “I’ll never see this again!” or buying nothing, thinking “I don’t know where to start! This is overwhelming!”

The upper photocopy is of the scarf in layers. The lower photocopy is of a single layer of scarf with a blank sheet of paper laid on top.

This time, I think unless I’m absolutely certain a fabric is perfect, and that I have a plan for it, I’ll just ask for a swatch to bring home.  I need time to see the swatch next to items in my wardrobe or fabrics or buttons in my stashes.

The coloring is so subtle that I’ll bring this vintage Pendleton jacket with me to the fabric stores.

If it’s a home decorating fabric, it’s essential to see it under the lighting conditions in our home with other fabrics, paint colors, and furniture.

The fabric I used for our living room curtains, with paprika-colored linen trim and covered buttons to jazz it up, and samples of the paint colors for the walls and fireplace.

I used to think buying the fabric right then and there was saving money on shipping and swatch requests.  True enough.

Swatches of fabrics I’ve sewn into garments.

But when I edited my stash three years ago, I saw that the majority of my bad decisions were made on my travels.  The money spent on fabric I never ended up using could have paid for a multitude of swatch requests. Now I know.

When I buy a ready-to-wear jacket I usually have to shorten the sleeves–and then I get a swatch. I’ll be looking for coordinates.

It’s entirely possible that I won’t buy a thing on my latest foray into the Garment District.  I’ll come home with fistfuls of cuttings to consider at my leisure and a myriad of ideas for fall sewing.

A chance to find out-of-the-ordinary notions: these Vintage Vogue blouses call for 18- or 20-inch separating zippers.

One thing I can guarantee: I’ll see a color—-a color combination–a print–a weave–a plaid–knits–trims–buttons–home dec fabrics–that I’d never imagined before but like instantly, that gets me thinking in an exciting new way.

So although I do my best to plan, and to leverage my precious opportunity to find fabrics to build a wardrobe purposefully, it’s those electrifying surprises that really put a smile on my face.

Stash fabrics waiting to be sewn up.

What will give me that sensation of “I’ve never seen that before!” and “Hello, old friend!” at the same time?  I can’t wait to find out.

Pendleton jacket photo by Cynthia DeGrand