Progress

I learned how to use the edging machine today. I found that it was relatively easier to use than the sewing machine, but I still made a lot of mistakes before I got the semi-hang of it.

 Edges

It does help that I had light, comfortable flats on. I think the reason why I had such a big problem with controlling the pedal on the sewing machine during my first day was that I was wearing my Converse sneakers which were kind of heavy. So, I'll keep that in mind from now on.

Love these flats from Forever21

This was my third lesson and I hope my instructor isn't too disappointed with me because of my lack of progress. In my defense, I don't get to practice my sewing skills besides the once-a-week class. That's why I decided to finally take the plunge and buy myself that sewing machine this week. I'm already in the pot, so why not go all in, right?

We're going to do the first project next week - an unlined pencil cut skirt. So excited! I already have an image of it and will probably go crazy at the fabric store later on picking out materials. Sewing it will be a different story, though, cause I still haven't mastered the locks and zippers and all that stuff. Hopefully when I get my sewing machine later I'll be able to practice and improve my skills.

 Meg

Happy to fail

Failure. It's a scary thought, right?

When I told my friends that I was thinking of learning about making clothes, they were supportive, of course, but I remember telling them a throwaway comment about "what if I sucked at it?". Here I am, almost thirty, and most people my age already got careers and family and their lives sorted out. Me? I'm embarking on something totally different from what I envisioned myself being or doing years ago.

And, yeah - what if this wasn't my thing? What if I learn that I have absolutely no talent or skill for sewing? 

That hesitant first press of my foot on that sewing machine pedal was exactly like pressing my foot on the gas pedal of a racing car with no brakes and you didn't know whether you would crash or survive the drive. Like a drunk, I couldn't sew a straight line, broke a needle, and lost my thread at least five times. I even accidentally sewed part of my measuring tape to the fabric I was working on. 

I know it's ugly, but somehow I feel like they are the prettiest stitches I've ever seen in my life.

Thoughts of leaving the class flitted through my mind. The air-conditioning in the room was arctic and I'll work better next time when I bring my cardigan. I've already tried my best today - let's go home now.

But there was also a part of me - the better part of me - that reminded me that nobody expects me to be perfect the first day. I was there to learn and not to prove that I was a genius at sewing. I wasn't.

It made me happy, in a way. Being perfect means that there's nothing else to do. Perfect is easy and boring. Failing and working hard afterwards to succeed is more interesting. Knowing that I have some goal to look forward to is better than whiling away all of your time with fruitless pursuits and empty distractions.

So I might not get it right this moment, but I still have six months to go. And, as I learned today - both in sewing and in life - slow and steady wins the race.

Meg