Making a Handmade Wardrobe
My Personal History with Making Clothes:
This is probably something I have been wanting to do for as long as I can remember. The first time I held knitting needles in my hands I was twelve years old and a junior intern at Old Sturbridge Village. I had seen the farmers and historical interpreters in the households wearing cozy knit hats, shawls and hand warmers. The idea that I could use my hands to make a garment felt inspiring. It meant that I could create something that could reflect my own interest and style without having it dictated for me by what was being sold at the mall in Yonkers or on Fordham Road back home in the Bronx.
As a visual person who liked to already craft with her hands, knitting came natural to me. I became proficient fairly quickly and am still known as a fast knitter and seamstress. I think it’s really down to hand-eye coordination. It’s something that comes natural to me already, so it just means with more practice I became better, quicker, more able to figure out the construction. By the time I was 16 I was making all sorts of knitted objects. Then, one day, while at the Union Square Farmer’s Market, my favorite place to go (even though it took 45 minutes on the subway from The Bronx), I saw a booth selling yarn spun from the farm’s own sheep and dyed by the woman who owned the farm. Now THAT, I thought, was cool. To know where it came from. To know the sheep, to know the land, to meet the person - it all felt so intimate and beautiful. A true relationship - something I couldn’t experience in the fluorescent fitting room of The Gap. I bought two skeins and hoarded them like buried treasure waiting for the right striped scarf to come along. And it did, and I wore it every winter all through college until I gave it to a college boyfriend to never be seen again after our breakup. I can only hope he still has it, not for any real sentiment, but because it was handmade and meant something to someone. It was never intended to be disposable. But who knows - perhaps I’m more sentimental than most about things made with our hands. I can’t even part with a felt toy mouse an old boyfriend gave me, not because I miss the old boyfriend, but because I can’t imagine throwing something away that someone spent a lot of time to make for someone else. How can I not honor what feels like a convenient of craft?
However, I digress from this origin story. The point is, making clothing and how it is sourced has always been an interest of mine and it still remains an interest. Clothing is an agricultural production. It is grown from animals and from plants. It is something we put on everyday that connects us materially to the earth and to each other. People made our clothes. People grew our cotton. People sewed our garments. Honoring that convenient requires is important. Bing reverent to their time and to the earth’s resources means we need to understand whether the practices going into clothing production are ethical and compassionate. And it’s not just the sustainability and resilient aspects of this practice that make it so meaningful to understand, but it’s the aesthetics of it as well. Clothing and its construction is both a creative and resilient act. When you make a garment, you take into your own two hands (literally) fabric that will be fitted to your body, as you like it, without anyone else dictating how it (and you) should look. Making your clothes gives you the authority to determine what you wear without a corporation telling you how you should look or a trend deciding what looks good and what doesn’t. Fashion is cyclical anyway. Trust me. Big puffy sleeves from the 1980’s were all the rage in the 1890’s. Point is, from an early age I loved the idea that I could use the creative impulse within me to make and actually produce something functional and expressive of my artistic desires AND that could bring me a little closer to understand the people, places, animals and culture that produced the items I used to make it. I was hooked.
20 Years Later…
So it’s well over twenty years later and slow fashion, craft, and making have become more mainstream than ever. The resources are endless! I have been knitting for about 26 years, I learned to use a sewing machine 9 years ago, and after much practice and trial and error, I’ve decided 2024 is the year I make my own clothes. Most of them anyway. I’m focusing on main garments and excluding undergarments ( I think that might be next year’s focus…).
My rules are simple:
No buying new clothes for a year (main garments. undergarments are allowed).
Sew or knit all of my own main clothing items.
Thrift outerwear.
Natural fibers only.
Inspired by an Instagram profile I follow, I decided to create a collage of colors and textures I love to help me curate how I approach my handmade wardrobe. Having a color schematic feels useful because I can easily decide on colors and patterns for fabrics and yarns without feeling overwhelmed and it ensures everything will go together. Here is my collage:
The Task
OK, so you (whoever you are) know the rules. I’m making my own clothes. This is nothing new. A lot of people do this. A LOT. But I haven’t, and I have always wanted to. So here I am, one month in, and I’m loving it! I’ll post periodically about it here - maybe each month and with some images of what I have made. This challenge has even inspired me to design my own knitwear items! Anyway, I’ll post later this week a review of January, but for now, enjoy this picture of me wearing an outfit that has become in full rotation.
Skirt: 18th century style skirt (no pattern) with modifications such as a wider waist band. Cotton/linen
Blouse: Stitchmaiden Kalina Blouse in Cotton/Linen blend.
Cowl: Handknit 10 years ago in Quince & Co Puffin
