Grand Plans – Poor Execution
Lately, I’ve found I have lost confidence in what I can
make. Not in terms of the technical
(sewing) side of things, but in terms of transposing my ideas into
reality. As a result, I have lovely
fabrics sat on shelves or lying across hangers all forlorn and feeling
forgotten. They are not forgotten
though, rather I’m too scared to cut into them and attempt my ideas in case
they don’t work out.
- Knowing that I spent good money (not necessarily a lot) on these fabrics should spur me on to use them, but it doesn’t. (Counter argument - the money is really wasted if I make something gross).
- Looking in my wardrobe and feeling uninspired should spur me on to make lovely things, but it doesn’t. (Counter argument – I’ll have even more yucky things to choose between if I fail).
- Recent past successes should spur me on to make lovely things, but they don’t. (Counter argument – I’ve had some failures too).
And then I read two blogposts that made me feel a little
less nervous and ponder things in a different light:
Karen’s post about a seriously interesting and inspiring
woman. That post taught me that even
“failures” serve a purpose – to improve us.
This is not a foreign concept to me.
When I was learning to ski as a child (a child that hated getting things
even slightly wrong), my lovely (and patient!) older sister told me: if you
haven’t fallen over today, you haven’t learnt anything. I know this to be true. My big sis said so. Then there is this great quote:
The second is Sunni’s post about improving your wardrobe one
piece at a time. Looking at all the
items you love, but don’t wear, working out why and fixing it. Seems unrelated, but the message (ha ha Keith
Lemon has ruined that for me: Yes, but what’s the message of your new book/record/trash
mag sponsorship deal...”), anyway, the message I took away from that post was
in relation to refashioning things. If
an item isn’t being worn anyway, what is the harm in trying to refashion it? If it all goes pear shaped it can be recycled/donated/thrown
out (without guilt) because now there is a good reason not to wear it.
In truth, having a stash makes me feel guilty. To me, it represents money that has been
wasted because the fabric isn’t being used.
(Side note, I’m really happy for any readers who view their stash like
the fabric equivalent of saving for a rainy day – that’s lovely, and
valid. Enjoy your stash for me!). I need to bite the bullet and put my ideas
into action. So what if they are
duds? I’ll learn something along the way.
Here’s to facing our fears.
Hmmm, interesting, and I definitely relate! We all go through down times of less confidence and less productivity, and I'm sure you'll get the urge to create again soon :) When my Mum voices guilt over her stash my dad just says, if she enjoyed herself buying it then there's that pleasure that was had, and no harm done (within reason, of course). People collect stamps and all sorts of things and no guilt involved, why should we feel guilty about a collection of fabric? Of course, making it up into something brings even more happiness down the track, which you can enjoy then :)
ReplyDeleteWell that is a very good way of looking at it, thanks Carolyn (and your Dad!). Got to love good old Dad advice :-)
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