I have a confession to make. I have a thing for fabric. I love finding super cool fabric remnants. I have to reel myself in all the time from going insane with the purchasing of fabrics. When I left Guru.com, I went a little nuts and bought a bunch of fleece. I thought I was going to sell a bunch of hats. It was very silly of me. Now I have a huge bundle of fleece in my closet taking up space.
When I lived in Santa Cruz in 1993-94, I had 5 or 6 boxes stuffed full of fabric. This is incredibly silly since I had very little space. One corner of my room was taken over by a tower of boxes. One year for christmas I made 5 quilts for presents. That’s a lot of quilts. We’re talking Queen sized, fluffy, warm quilts. When I moved to Ireland, I had to get rid of the rest of the fabric. It was very sad. I miss having all that fabric to choose from.
The more I sew, the more I want to sew. This is also a bad trait of mine. Same goes with baking. I can’t just bake one batch of biscotti. No, I have to bake 4 or 6 batches. Who needs all those cookies? The pajamas I made the other day are so comfortable and perfect, I have the sewing bug really bad right now.
I went to Scrap today knowing full well that I was going in looking for cool fabric to make skirts out of. And oh yes, I found some. Very, very cool fabric, perfect for skirts. Now I feel dirty, very dirty. All that fabric only cost me about $3 (Thank you Scrap). But we have no room for all this fabric. I am a very bad person. A bad person with really cool fabric. When am I going to find the time to make all these cool skirts? Yes, now you see how very silly all this buying of fabric is. I got hounds-tooth check brown and white thick polyester fabric, groovy mauve fabric, light and summy green plaid fabric, and glittery pink stretchy thick fabric. I have good taste in fabric. I have a bad impulse problem.
I blame my recent splurge on the television. Last night we were watching a show about San Francisco in the 1950s. Women used to make a lot of their own clothes. It wasn’t until the 1950s that women became shopping maniacs. I wish we all had time to make a few items of our own. When I wear clothes that I’ve made myself, I feel magical.
I’m embarassed and I don’t want to tell Tom. Please don’t tell him. It’ll be our little secret, ok? I’ll hide the fabric in the back of the closet and he won’t know a thing until the skirts are made. And then he’ll be happy because his girlfriend will be wearing lots of cool skirts all the time.