Which is Worse: Self-Doubt or Narrow Hems?

At this point it's difficult to tell... I finally motivated myself to start working on my first pattern (McCall's 2351), but I am running into the usual frustrations.


In order to get myself to start working, I made a number of decisions for this particular project:

1. No serging - I will do this project only using the sewing machine. I have serger thread that matches perfectly, but the thought of translating where I would serge seams and where I would finish edges has me running for the hills right now


2. No pockets - this I remembered after dutifully studying the instructions on pockets for at least an hour. I didn't have enough material for the pockets, so I didn't even cut any out


3. No perfectionism - this whole idea is about learning how to sew well and I can't do that without actually sewing. So when I make mistakes I need to remind myself that mistakes are the point

So those few rules got me actually to put my foot on the pedal and start sewing. A number of my worries came true: the knit material is tricky for me to work with. I wonder at how it was Mom's favorite material use - it is comfortable to wear, but how did she avoid the problems that I am experiencing? Or did she? Did she just get better with practice or was she more patient that I am? Who knows. The material seems to feed unevenly under the sewing foot - the bottom moves faster than the top, so at the end of the seam I have extra material on the top. And don't get me started about these horrible narrow hems! The are at the sides of the tunic-tank and as you can see from the picture, it's not good. Not good at all. The second one looked a little better, but not that much better.

After the narrow hem disaster, I just looked turned out the light and went to bed.

Fear and Loathing in the Sewing Room

I am literally petrified to start this project. I got out the instructions 2 nights ago to browse before I started in on it... and am now paralyzed with self-doubt. A million "can'ts" are running through my head (which is throbbing by the way). You can't work with knits - they get all stretched out, you can't have cut the interfacing out right - it's going to be backwards, you can't figure this hand-stitching out - and you'll never find that article about hand stitches to read up on how to do it right.

So here I sit, in my workroom, trying to persuade myself to just thread my macine. That's it. One little step. One little job. And I know right now that I won't do it. I'll sit and write a while, move stuff around on my desk and call it a night - I'll go to sleep absolutely loathing myself for my fear, weakness, cowardice, laziness. I'll hate myself deep into the wee hours of the morning and wake up just a little more worn out than the day before. Just a little more hesitant, a little more unsure. I'll need to do more planning, more organizing. And then it will be summer and all my plans will move to a year out, then 2 years... all because I can't bring myself to thread a sewing machine. Why? What am I afraid of? If you read my journals as far back as they can take you there is always fear and me not understanding what exactly I fear. Fear of action? Forward motion? Fear of putting my mark on something for all to see? Fear that I won't do it or anything right? I don't know what I fear that stops me from doing and creating. But lately the fear of never doing anything looms a bit larger on the horizon.

The "Why"

My mother was a sewer. She created beautiful things out of raw materials - out of thread, fabric, zippers, buttons, pins and patterns. She was a creator of shirts, skirts, pants, pajamas, prom dresses, stuffed animals, Halloween costumes, coats; of a warm, safe home; of a loving family; of a circle of true friends. Mom died on May 29, 1997 from ovarian cancer. I was 20, my sister 22, my father was 50. We were too young to lose her and she was too young to go.

Among the broken hearts that she left was a massive stash of fabric, patterns, books, magazines and notions. I took these things with me - after an initial weeding - when I got married and moved away. I took her Pfaff and her Babylock. I had a lot of plans to sew - I would pour over the material again and again... but would always dream and not do. I moved all this... baggage from apartment to apartment, from state to state, a total of 9 times. And that's what it had become - sacred baggage, but baggage none the less.

Well, enough is enough. I am no longer dreaming, but doing. I am forceably and publicly unlocking my creativity here - I have fabric, patterns and plans for 2 years - 7 seasons - of clothes. This is a crash course in sewing. Self-taught, self-motivated, and utterly selfish.

So here is where I will document what I learn, what I make... and how many times I try to throw my sewing machine out the window.