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sewing the self

Our truest responsibility to the irrationality of the world is to paint or sing or write, for only in such response do we find the truth.
– Madeleine L’Engle

As my World of Blog sits on hold, waiting for boxes to unpack and for me to again feel whole, these words sent through from Scoutie Girl ring true. And this image from Sally Smart sits on my desk, offering inspiration.

sally smart skirting (nature)

I’ve been missing just playing on my machine these past couple of months. Missing using my mannequins to sculpt and drape, missing the unpicking and missing the joy of my own newly sculpted frock. I’m still doing all of these things for work – which I totally love and enjoy, but it’s a very different thing from just doing it for the fun.

Or the love.
Or the sanity.
Or the truth.

Every language has an expression to describe the artisan who makes beautiful goods for others whilst still looking threadbare En Francais, there’s  le cordonnier avec les mauvais chaussons..

As I headed off to the city the other day, layered in a favourite, black, vintage 1940’s frock with inbuilt bolero (and about four other pieces), I looked down as I was about to walk out the door only to realise there was a gaping hole along the side seam.

Unwilling to change ensembles – the clock was ticking, it was too complicated with how I’d layered my wears, my partner liked how I looked and I was feeling great, I simply plugged in the sewing machine, pushed the frock under the sewing foot and my partner helped as we stitched me back in.

Satisfying frock surgery complete!

I just wish I captured it on film.

With more self-sewing to soon kick in.

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