Slow Stitching…

Hand-beading, neckline of double-gauze bell sleeve top.

When I first became enraptured by sewing — the process of making a 2-dimensional length of cloth into a 3-dimensional, properly fitting garment — I didn’t know I had fallen in love with Slow Stitching. The term hadn’t been coined yet, but the philosophy rang true and clear for me; as it had, no doubt, for countless women and men, contemporaneous to me or long in the past. Those who appreciated the art and process of garment construction, and fashion as an Art and Craft - and not drudgery and a necessity - were engaged in Slow Stitching and Slow Fashion.

I use the terms here interchangeably, because for me, they both spring from the same place in my soul. The thoughtful execution of an idea in my mind, to a bit of fabric, to something I wear on my body or make for someone else’s joy and pleasure. It is not really about how long it takes to complete a project; it is rather, entirely about the intent, care in execution, attention to details, and precise techniques used, that make something, not ‘just a dress’ or ‘simply a skirt’, but something that the wearer cannot be parted from. I like to think of it as the passing of Love from my studio to your closet.

A lot has been written and talked about lately regarding the harmful effects of “Fast Fashion” – the throw-away, ephemeral styles (if you can even call them styles), that feed the fashion industry and manufactures – and the costs to our society, culture and the planet. (A topic for anther blog post…!)

Thankfully, I have never been one to care one bit about trends or being “in style.” In fact, I got back into sewing in my 20s because I was desperate — I hated everything in the stores, and I could’t afford what I did like. I’m a maker by nature, so I acknowledged that I would just have to start sewing my own clothes.

As I got better (and more obsessed!), I would keep challenging myself to learn and apply more-and-more advanced techniques, and use high-end (or just ordinary) embellishments to further enhance garments. I realized that, for me at least, it wasn’t enough to be wearing handmade clothing, but that I wanted (needed!) them to not … blend. For me, what was the point of making and wearing a skirt that ultimately looks like you bought it from a store? (Since, as you can tell, my view of store-bought clothing was not very positive.) So, I started putting in hand-detailing that made my clothing really stand apart, but also added to the overall quality and life of the garment.

A win-win.