PRECIOUS FABRICS - What Makes a Fabric Precious? Sewing with Special Fabrics from Your Stash

Me with some of the fabrics I’ve hesitated with sewing.

This morning I sat down in my sewing room to do some project planning. I tend to sit facing my shelf, and I pull out any fabrics I’d like to use. I open them up and drape them on myself, I rifle through my pattern boxes looking for designs that are appropriate for the weight and drape of the fabric.

I pulled out a fabric that I’d had on my mind lately, a pinky-purple silk that I’ve had a specific idea for since the moment I laid eye on it. Why hadn’t I made that yet? And when I pulled it off the shelf, the fabric stacked above it came off too: a perfectly purple silk/lurex brocade, light as a feather and with a liquid drape. As I opened it up, I noticed with horror that it had lingered on my shelf for so long that there was a sun bleached section where it had faced the bright window in our Brooklyn apartment.

The purple silk/lurex fabric in question.

I couldn’t - can’t - believe I let that happen! It made me think: What makes a fabric “precious”? Is it the price? The print? The origin? Was it purchased on a special day, or in a special place? Does it evoke a feeling? And why would I allow it to languish on a shelf, or tuck it away in a bin, instead of cutting into it, sewing it back together, and wearing it into the world?

I don’t think of myself as precious. I generate a lot of stuff - I used to make hundreds of pieces of jewelry for my Etsy shop, as a professional designer I have always impressed employers by creating more options than required. I love to make things, lots of things. And with all that making, comes letting go of it - selling the jewelry, discarding designs that the team decides won’t be best sellers.

So why am I precious about some fabric?

An obvious answer is that I have a lot of fabric. And some fabrics are just more “useful” than others. Cotton lawn, denim, wool coating. These fabrics have obvious uses and can usually be sewn up into highly functional garments like blouses, jeans, and coats. But even these can get sidelined as Precious, along with silks and fabrics purchased as souvenirs on international trips. So I have gone through all my fabrics today, and I’m trying to reframe some of my most coveted cuts.

Moving internationally forced me to let go of a lot of things - emotionally, conceptually, and yes, literally. I donated and sold a chunk of my fabrics (as well as furniture, clothes, housewares) when we moved. It changed my outlook on possessions; I feel less attached to material things. As I am getting older I also ask myself, what am I saving this for? What part of my life? I should enjoy it NOW.

And as for skill level, sure, I am “good” at sewing, but you know what? I don’t think there is any point in waiting until you feel “good enough”, which is an unmeasurable goal. Life is short. Cut the fabric.

In 2014 I went to Mood with a strict budget and a clear idea of what kind of fabric I needed. I spent more than the budget on this 2 yard cut of silk/lurex, because I found it absolutely irresistible. I got home and felt sick with guilt - it cost too much, and it was too fancy for my project. I bought fabric from a local shop for $3.99/yard, and I never really liked the finished dress. I bet I would have loved it in this fabric.

Well, I’ve waited so long it has that sun spot on it! I am challenging myself to sew this in the year 2021. Please hold me to it.

I have a fat stack of fabrics I wove by hand circa 2003, that I have kept in a cupboard ever since. Why? I’ve been waiting for some imagined life, where I own a house and a fancy couch. Will that day come? I don’t know! But you know what I do know? Waiting for shit like that to happen in order to enjoy yourself is bullshit. Anything could happen. Enjoy it now.

I have already sewn one of them into a throw pillow, and this pink, blue and silver lurex fabric is next. It’s your time to shine, buddy.

Let’s talk sentimental value, because I know that can be a huge factor. In 1989 my family went to China for a couple weeks, to visit my Aunt Liz, who lived there. I was five, and my memories are vivid. Liz took me to a market stall where she purchased the gift of pink ruffled pillowcases, with embroidery and sequins. So many things seemed magical.

My mom, who doesn’t sew, bought a few cuts of silk. I have two of them. This one evokes the most memories for me - she wouldn’t let me sew it as a kid, and then even in college I would see it in her cedar chest of fabrics, and sense it was Precious. It is only one meter of fabric. She gave it to me a few years ago, with enthusiasm, telling me “sew it”!

I don’t know what I’d make with this. I think it could be a luxury lining, maybe a camisole. I think this will be the most difficult one for me to cut into.

My grandmother’s favorite French chintz - note the printing error in the yellow flower at the top, a blob of black ink.

As long as we are being sentimental: My grandmother Porter was a huge influence on me aesthetically. She loved fabric. I mean LOVED it. She decorated in that style where you have floral wallpaper, different floral bedspread, matching drapes & upholstery, a patterned Persian rug, and an overabundance of decorative items. She had a room in her home with curtains made in this fabric.

She knew how much I loved this print. We talked about it many times over the years. It is a French chintz, with a sort of waxy finish. When I was in college at RISD, studying textiles, she gave me this cut of the fabric, which was unusable when making her drapes due to a printing error. You can see the smudge of black ink.

This fabric gives me a FEELING. Wow, a really big feeling. Love, nostalgia, warmth, joy. I want to wear it, I want to look at it all the time. I’m thinking a jacket. Definitely gonna happen.

In my career as a textile designer, the focus has always been print. Talk to any sales manager or merchandiser, or even apparel designer, and they will tell you: print is an emotional purchase. It’s not black pants, it’s not filling a wardrobe “need”. You buy a print because you must have it. You want the customer to be browsing in a shop, and when their fingers touch that printed fabric they think “this is it”. The feeling my Grandmother’s chintz gives me.

I bought this fabric off….I don’t know, either eBay or Etsy, around 2018. It was not expensive. I planned to make pajamas out of it. Well, it arrived, and it knocked my socks off. The seller had posted dull photos, I couldn’t tell the pigments were neon. And the variety of animals! And then, my muslin of the pajamas came out all whack. This fabric deserved better, and I knew it. It’s been in a holding pattern ever since.

I’m thinking, dress? We’ll see. I’d like to disrupt the print as minimally as possible. Maybe some black piping to break it up.

For my final offering, I’d like to go on the record stating that a fabric need not be expensive, old, sentimental, dazzlingly unique, or handmade, in order to be Precious. No, sometimes it can be sort of plain. But it’s just Perfect. And therefore never gets its turn.

I bought this sheer silk/cotton at It’s A Material World in Manhattan. It was not expensive, I think $8/yard after a little bargaining (I bought 4 yards, and it is about 60” wide"). But it evoked a feeling in me, and the woman who cut it literally pulled a magazine clipping out of her apron pocket to show me a designer dress it reminder her of - sheer, ethereal, blowing dramatically as a model stood in a field of tall grass. I could make that happen. LOL. I could also make myself something less dramatic. I could dye it any color. I just haven’t been able to make myself do that yet.

I don’t have a vision for this one yet. I am so happy it is in my stash because I know I will want it, need it, one day. I’m marinating on it for now. I have a lot of planning to do. Best get to it! XO, Martha