by Ardeana Hamlin
of The Weekly Staff
Anyone who has spent even a few years sewing, knitting, crocheting, embroidering and other kinds of needlework, and related crafts — in my case, more than 50 years — knows that materials tend to accumulate. Bins fill up with yarn. Shelves groan under the weight of fabric, totebags bulge with unfinished projects — sometimes so old you decline to say how many years have gone by. Plastic partitioned containers fill up with floss in every imaginable hue in cotton, rayon, linen and wool. Clothing patterns take up an entire section of a closet.
But not one of us would willingly part with one iota of the threads, fabric and assorted stitching stuff we have accumulated.
In some ways, all that sewing and needlework paraphernalia is a historical record of where we have been and how far we have come as stitchers.
Recently, I found a spool of lime green polyester thread leftover from the 1970s when I was experimenting with sewing for the first time with polyester fabrics. Just looking at that thread made me shudder when I recalled how easily I was persuaded to abandon natural materials such as cotton and wool in favor of a fabric made of synthetic fibers guaranteed to never need ironing — which is strange because I like to iron.
But that spool of thread also reminds me that my flirtation with polyester did not last long, my reverence for cotton and wool endured, and I added linen and silk, and blends of those, to my sewing repertoire.
As for clothing patterns, I love to unearth the ones I paid less than $1 for and be amazed that I was once youthful enough to wear skirts with hems above the knee. It also is of interest that my taste in clothing styles has run true all these years. I lean toward classic lines that transcend mere “fashion,” skirts with a “twirl” factor and tops with uncluttered lines. Yet, I at one point in my life, I made and wore ankle length “Granny” dresses fashioned from a patchwork of fabrics left over from other sewing projects. (What WAS I thinking!) But I have to admit I have a tendency to be attracted to bits of bling as embellishment. It’s very difficult for me to say no to sequins and beads.
While I have vintage yarn in my stash, most of the yarn I squirreled away these past 10 years as knitting and crocheting gained popularity with a new, younger generation, is of wool and other natural fibers. But I also like some of the “novelty” yarns — eyelash, tape and ribbon yarns that make for whimsical embellishment around the edge of a cap or entwined in the length of a scarf.
Knowing all this makes me understand something more about my stitching self. I like the products of the past and what has gone before, but I am equally interested in the present and what is new on the horizon.
But the thing I love most about yarn and fabric is that they inviting “making,” invite experimentation, beckon the mind and hands to work together to create something I had no idea I could do.