February 10th, 2010 — 7:49am
From Lost at Sea's Flickr stream
I’ve always been a thrift store shopper. I think I mentioned before (although I can’t find the post right now) that my mother used to take me and my sister to the local Thrift World and give a cash prize to whichever of us found the “best” deal of the day. I distinctly remember winning a dollar in high school for scoring an English wool kilt complete with kilt pin for 68 cents. Best dollar I ever got (and I got to keep the skirt, too).
Part of my mom’s philosophy was always that shopping second-hand was part and parcel with sewing our own clothing. I think to some folks that sounds odd: there is a contingent who feel that if one sews, one must ALWAYS sew, and that somehow buying used clothing is a betrayal of one’s sewing prowess or creativity or resourcefulness.
I’m with the other contingent, the group who believe that by shopping second-hand, we find great deals, great ideas, and great fodder for our craft projects. My list of reasons:
- Fabric can be expensive, especially the good stuff. I have couture tastes, so I almost always save money by sewing my own clothing. I also have simpler needs–not every outfit needs to be vintage couture, after all. Many garments can be purchased at the thrift shop for far less than it would cost me to make them–and I get the benefit of the “hourly wage” that goes along with having purchased it ready-made.
- Quality in new clothing has fallen rapidly in recent years. Brands I used to be able to depend on aren’t what they used to be–but I often find past seasons, when quality was higher, on sale at the thrift shop. If I can get top-quality goods for pennies, I’d prefer to do that than fight to make something of similar quality in my limited time.
- Children need multiple changes of clothing a day, and as much as I love making clothing for my children, I’m simply not enough woman to make ALL their clothing. If I can get an outfit, head to toe, for $3 and then make the balance of their wardrobes, I have the time and freedom to really add the details and embellishments to their garments that set them apart (and they can wear the second-hand stuff to roll around in the mud).
- I love getting inspired by what’s out there–by the fashions on the runway, and by the stuff that didn’t make the cut. A lot of thrift stores these days are pretty picked-over; what’s left is, in some locations, the stuff that didn’t make ANYBODY’S cut. So, what was wrong with it? And how could it have been fixed? What detail/fabric choice/simple design fix could have saved it? My mom and sister and close girl friends and I often have these conversations: “I’d love it if only…” Those “if only”s help me direct my own ideas and designs.
- I’m a recovering pack-ratter, and picking through the thrift store and occasionally seeing my own things that I’ve donated keeps me honest. You know what I’ve never seen there? Something I made. I often find fabric to harvest and make into something new; that infrequent, just-right garment that goes home and remains as-is; ideas and inspiration; and garments to restructure. Knowing there is so much out there and so many ideas helps me limit what I purchase–which in turn reminds me that shopping second-hand, like sewing at home, is one of many ways to reduce our consumption and recycle what’s still useful rather than throwing it away.
Looking for tips on shopping the thrift store? Whipstitch has a Harvesting Vintage Fabric workshop that I’m quite proud of that goes over these ideas for Atlanta locals. I’m also super impressed by these lists compiled by SimpleMom and This Mama Makes Stuff.
What about you? Where do you see the relationship between your sewing and shopping second-hand? Is it in recycling and greening your life? In getting inspired and fueling your original designs? In spending money wisely as you clothe yourself and your family? In looking for the best quality and workmanship at the best price? Or something else altogether?
5 comments » | Anthropology of Sewing
December 15th, 2009 — 7:58am
I’m reading a seriously geeky-cool book right now:
It’s written by an archaeologist from BU and focuses on the archaeological remains of sewing found in historical sites around the world. I’m fascinated by all of it, in the most nerdy way–right now, I’m on the chapter about pins: how they’re made, when and how they were created and how they changed over time, and what they look like when found in an archaeological site. I had no idea there were so many varieties of pin heads throughout history, or that until the 1800s, pinning for sewing was the least of their uses! Apparently, clothing was all but pinned in place for most of human history, and pinning for sewing was somewhat second place.
So this morning, while eating breakfast (I only ever get to read recreationally before bed and over cereal–and yes, I am such a dweeb that learning about archaeological pin facts counts as “recreation” for me), I was learning about pin cushions and their amazing variety.
Like this puppy:
This is commonly referred to as a “needle case” by archaeologists, but the author of this book points out that since the case would likely have been stuffed with a sawdust-filled cushion and used to store pins, as well, that the carved bone tube attached to a long cord would have been carried on an individual–usually a woman–for emergency pinning during the day. Say, if her veil slipped or her corset busted a string. I love that idea: that something so small is a reflection of real life, and that when we consider the Middle Ages (from which this needle case dates), I think of them as being sort of staid and dry and uninteresting, but they were filled with people who had concerns both large and small, ranging from “Will Father return from the Crusades?” all the way down to “I sure hope the wind doesn’t knock my veil down!”
Considering that every pin until 1834 was MADE BY HAND, they were quite expensive, and represent a primary investment in a household, making their storage and even display a big part of daily life.
So imagine my delight this morning when I browse my reader and find this gem, from Gertie’s New Blog for Better Sewing:
She’s taken the time to write a post about the tomato pin cushion–my all-time recommendation for pin cushions, and a classic–with some lovely factoids and great comments from readers. Thought you’d all like to check it out! (Her blog, by the way, is smart and witty and a joy to read, every day–you really might want to consider adding her to your feeder.)
Happy stitching, everyone!
4 comments » | Anthropology of Sewing
July 21st, 2009 — 5:30am
During my interview with Fox-5′s Good Day Atlanta, I mentioned The Craft Gap. It’s my theory of why crafting–and sewing specifically–seems to suddenly be everywhere all the time: blogs, the news, street fairs, online shops, all over.
Sewing has always been around. In my former life as an archaeologist, I spent plenty of time looking at the physical evidence–material culture, we called it–of the lives women lived in the the past. This has always included sewing implements: needles, awls, hooks, pins. So the perception that sewing is new is false. But it feels so new, so NOW–why is that? And what has caused sewing and craft to suddenly become the hip thing to do?
My hypothesis is that we’re witness to the crest of a generation who didn’t have crafting and sewing as a central part of their experience. I call it the Craft Gap. Born anywhere from, say, 1965 to 1990 or so, we didn’t have sewing presented to us as a viable, valuable outlet for creativity. Now, I’m not saying NO ONE born in those years ever learned to sew–obviously that’s not the case, or I wouldn’t be sewing today. I am saying, though, that there was a distinctly different attitude toward sewing after 1965ish than there had been in the past. 4-H programs were fewer in number, Home Ec classes were disappearing all over, and fewer moms and grandmothers were passing on their skills, either because they were less involved in sewing themselves, or because we were less interested in picking up a craft that was increasingly viewed as dowdy and out-of-touch.
What this has left us with is a whole generation–mostly of women, but certainly of men, too–who don’t have the background and the years of experience that our predecessors did. And there seems to be some part of us that misses it.
These days, as I teach sewing classes, I see student after student come through and repeat these same ideas to me: I always wanted to learn but never knew where to go; my mom/grandmother/aunt wanted to teach me and I wasn’t interested; I took home ec, but haven’t done it in so long that I feel like I don’t remember anything. And all of us–me included–have this sense that there is a richness lacking from our day-to-day lives as a result, that having this creative outlet and challenge and inspiration and accomplishment would make us feel more satisfied and connected and a part of something lasting and bigger.
I’m looking to explore in this series of blog posts some of the really big questions, the answers to which I hope will support my Craft Gap hypothesis:
- who?
- why now?
- can it really be a resurgence if it never went anywhere??
- how is modern sewing a reflection of a change in design aesthetics over the past 40 years? and where does “crafting” fit into the current interest in “design”?
- where to next??
I’d love, love, love to hear your input as I go along, and answers to the inevitable questions that come about from asking these kinds of questions in the first place.
To start with, what made YOU want to learn to sew? Leave your answer in the comments, and a randomly selected comment will receive a coupon code for free shipping in the Whipstitch Etsy shop!
27 comments » | Anthropology of Sewing, Sewing Series
