I’ve been thinking about how we use language to shape our experience. This can be as simple as how you talk about ten minutes of unpicking – is that a disaster that spirals into a terrible day, or is that re-done seam a temporary inconvenience that makes the dress better anyway?
But I’m going to take it a little further. When Jessie commented on one of my videos recently she used the phrase “…with my anxiety…”, and I suggested that one very small change to that phrase could change her relationship with her mental and emotional health.
I tackle this subject with some trepidation – I’m not a mental health professional, and I’m perhaps veering out of my lane here – but I know this one little shift has been helpful for me, and so I share it in the hope that it can help make your days easier too. Is it “my anxiety” or “the anxiety”?
An article entitled “The Modern Trap of Turning Hobbies into Hustles” has soothed many creative people this week. Writer Molly Conway gives you permission NOT to make your creative passion into your career, and I support that sentiment wholeheartedly. Yes, you may create stuff solely for the sake of creating. Of course you do not have to “monetise your joy”. If you’re among the relieved majority, and the article gave you peace, then I support that. Go forth and enjoy your hobby with my enthusiastic blessings.
But if she sounded like a concerned parent advising you to manage your expectations and get a real job, then come with me, down the rabbit hole… because this post is for you.
58 brave souls. 58 extraordinary corsets and costumes. I’m blown away all over again.
This year’s Foundations Revealed Competition is going to be our biggest ever. Makers at all skill levels, from beginners right up to highly advanced craftspeople, have submitted their work. From March 1st they will be JUDGED ON THE INTERNET FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE by both our voting members and the general public (who will be able to comment.)
What does it take to find that kind of bravery?
1. Select inspiration image. Spend 8 years looking for just the right lace.
2. Meanwhile, peer at low resolution image for 8 years, plotting.
3. Make tracing paper template for lace pattern. Cut lace pieces to fit.
4. Spray starch lace pieces so that they resemble cardboard (insert criminal mastermind laugh of doom… now this diaphanous lace will be much easier to manipulate, inviting the envy of Instagram)….
It’s hard for us nowadays to imagine just how grand the House of Worth really was.
So extravagantly rich were some of its patrons that they only wore their impossibly lavish Worth gowns once or twice…
So what happened to these clothes after they were cast off by the hoi polloi? Sure, a few ended up in museums, but you gotta wonder – what happened to the rest?
By chance, I tracked some of the Vanderbilts’ clothes down this week… and in the most appropriate, yet unlikely place. It seems that some of Worth’s work made it all the way back to the county of his birth – Lincolnshire, in the UK – under the most delightfully ridiculous circumstances!
A 1977 book on a dusty shelf in a Cotswolds hotel gives us the full story….
I think we (myself included) often give up on the old year too easily. In our haste to get done with the imperfect past, we tell this year not to let the door smack it in the behind on the way out, and launch into the hope of a fresh start… maybe too quickly. I wonder whether we’d be more effective if we took time to rest and reflect more consciously, celebrating what went well AND learning from what didn’t go so well this year? I tried this on for size in the nearest journal today…
That time of the year is coming… when a more prolific soul than you or I will post a list of the sixty-five fabulous projects she completed this year. And lo, most people will look at her edited highlights, and compare them to their backstage mess, and feel inadequate.
Ugh. Doesn’t sound like fun.
So let’s release some of our stuck creative energy right now, and release ourselves from 2018 like an arrow departs from the bow.
To begin, let’s release procrastination.
A year or two ago, I opened my closet full of fabulous historical evening gowns and felt… tired.
Inside were all those impossible confections I’ve made for countless Costume College Galas. Days, weeks, months of blood, sweat and tears are represented in that stuffed wardrobe, along with many happy memories of friends and fears overcome. Every single time, I’d figured it out and finished the dress in time.
And I had to ask… why am I doing this, anyway?
You may be concentrating on the imagined sight of those folds of taffeta and satin in front of me, but I was looking down at my jeans. What the hell is this all for, anyway? Why is all this expertise shut in a closet for 99% of its life, and why am I wearing synthetic rubbish, mass produced in sweatshops I’d rather not think about?
From time to time it’s worth remembering why we got into this, anyway. It’s so easy to get caught up in the rush to have something new to wear for this event, or that event, that we forget why we learned to sew in the first place.