I’ve definitely had the sewing bug this past year. While I’ve been sewing for many years now, COVID has absolutely reignited something in me that has me cranking out more and more challenging projects. While I might have been a bit intimidated to tackle something before, there is definitely a “what have I got to lose?” mentality when I start to research a new piece.
With all of this sewing (and subsequent sharing on social media) has come many, many (very flattering and lovely) requests, asking me to sell my pieces or to start to make them for others. Over the years, friends and strangers alike have also asked about whether I would make something for them, or tailor a garment, or even maybe make just one teensy appliqué?? Truthfully, these requests never bother me – but I always politely decline.
My life is full of schedules and deadlines. I have trouble identifying any aspect of my work life that isn’t full of people and programs who need something from me. Be it a lecture I need to give to my students, feedback I need to get for my grad students, data I need to get to my collaborators. Every aspect of every day is about fulfilling demands. And truthfully, lest this comes across as a complaint, that’s the job I signed up for. That’s the job I love. I twirl in the frenetic pace and the tasks that change from day to day. I love feeling as if I’m able to help the next generation of scientists and I count myself lucky to have worked with some of the most brilliant people in my field.
And yet, when your entire day is about different groups of people who need different things from you, it should come as no surprise that I needed to seek out a place where no one has expectations of me. Where there are no demands. There is only creative space and freedom. It’s my time to fly sew-lo….
Something I have thought a lot about lately, is the world of fast fashion we live in. And inevitably, this creates a culture of what things “should” cost, without really considering the time and care that goes into a custom made piece. While sharing on social media always makes it seem as if pieces are spit out at lightning speed, the truth is that each of my appliqué skirts have taken me between 65-75 hours to create. These are hours stolen after dinner, as I sew on sequins. They are sometimes found at 1am, when I can’t sleep and decided to work on designing an appliqué. They are my weekend me time, where I can find solace and rhythm in the steady up and down of a needle, giving my hands a break from the laptop keyboard they want so badly to step away from.
But, let’s imagine paying an hourly wage for creation of a piece of the magnitude that tends to spark the opening of the DM floodgates. The hourly wage for a designer (not top tier, actually in the lowest quartile) would be about $25/hour. As I am not a professional, why don’t we knock me down to $20/hour. Then the base cost (just for my time), would be $1500. If we also take into consideration my training, the equipment I’ve had to purchase, the materials I need to buy to construct the garment, and overhead (power, a portion of the mortgage for my sewing room, wifi, gas to get to the fabric store), at a minimum a skirt would start at around $1800. I can imagine the heart attack on the other side of my DMs, and I simply don’t have the stamina for customer service and the inevitable tirade of complaints over the price.
Because I know amazing designers who create stunning bespoke garments who charge far less. Who still get the haggling, the would-be customers who balk at the price and say they could “totally get that at Walmart for 50 bucks.” There is something so wrong in the world when we have devalued our artists and our creators, demanding they meet our budget, rather than valuing their time and skill and meeting a garment’s worth.
Now, let’s say for fun I had an offer of $1800 for one of my skirts, you’d better believe I would seriously consider it. Cause doesn’t that sound tempting? But then I have to step back…because perhaps the most precious commodity in my life is time. My free time, captured between deadlines and rare windows on a Saturday, isn’t something I take lightly. And because there is so little of it, I need to doll it out with care.
I will be very honest: imagining surrendering 75 hours of that precious free time willingly is something I’m just not sure I could do when it carries the weight of someone else’s expectations. Because it’s my time to recenter, to destress. Where I don’t have to feel guilty. Where there’s not a possibility of letting someone down or missing a deadline. It’s my time for me. And over the year, this people pleaser has slowly comes to terms with the fact that it’s okay to have something that’s just mine.
Even on days when I mostly feel as if I’m treading water, just scraping by and meeting the needs of everyone around me, I always have the welcome arms of my sketchbook. The respite that comes from the feel of fabric, knowing I can make it into anything I want when I choose. A space driven by my creativity, and no one else’s needs. I can think of no better life raft. Because even someone saying, “take as long as you need!” adds an invisible weight to my To Do list. The one place that I fear if any weight is added, I’ll sink beneath the surface.
Truthfully – I’ve made things for other people before that has brought me a lot of joy. I can’t even tell you how much love goes into every stitch of the dresses I have made for my niece – starting from when she was 3 months old until now. I’ve made pieces as a surprise Christmas gift, and am happy to do a quick blind hem on my husband’s 1960’s suit. But a huge difference there is expectations – these were gifts, surprises. They weren’t something someone was waiting on and therefore could be driven purely by my inspiration. And if I wasn’t feeling it for some reason, I could step away and no one is the wiser.
In a world where none of us have control anymore…isn’t is kind of nice to find somewhere where there’s just a tiny bit left?
I‘ve realized lately that it’s wise to be protective of a place where I feel safe. Where I can make 16 skirts in a year if I so choose…but where I can also step back and focus on other things if my energy is needed elsewhere. I’ve gone through periods where I’m working on 6 pieces at once. And others where months go by where I don’t even cross the threshold into my sewing room. But none of those choices were based on an obligation to anyone else. And I like it that way. I choose to keep it that way.
So I suppose the point of this long missive is just to say: it’s okay to hold things close. To keep something for you. To protect your space and set boundaries where you decide you will not allow others entry. Simply because you are good at something does not mean you are under any obligation to share it with others.
Maybe one day I’ll change my mind. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and feel differently (if those $1800 checks come a callin’…). But for today, I shall once again politely pass.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a grant to finish and some sewing to do for me…
xoxo
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