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

Sewing Kit Roundup

I'm thinking of buying a portable sewing kit or bag for when I start my classes. It's not as if I will be bringing much at the start - just some big fabric shears - but someday (if I get to that point) I will be lugging around fabrics and such to the Institute.

(Okay, maybe this is just another excuse to buy a new bag.)

Here are some cute ideas for sewing kits:

Sewing kit made from a small cardboard suitcase by disdressed

Sewing kit in a jar by Martha Stewart

Sewing kit made from a vintage tin box from craftsy

DIY travel sewing kit by lots of pink here!

Vintage Doily Deluxe Sewing Kit from thehomeBARN.ie

Meg

Enrolled

I went back to the Institute today to pay my tuition fee. It feels like that saying, "put your money where your mouth is" but in this case, it's "put your money where your dream is."

I guess there is no turning back now. I already plopped that much money so I better make the most of it.

Meg

The Start

Every journey begins with the first step. This particular one of mine begins when I finally decided to go a nearby fashion school and inquire about their sewing lessons.

Maybe this journey has started way before - when I was a kid paging through fashion illustrations of women's business suits that my mother brought home from a tailor. Maybe it was when I myself started drawing girls with no faces with pretty dresses when I was in grade school. Maybe it was when I started doodling on the sides of my textbook instead of listening to my college professors.

Well, college ended a long, long time ago and I'm still doodling.

I don't know where this journey is going to take me. For all I know, sewing and fashion isn't really for me. But at this point in my life, I decided that I don't want to wonder anymore. It's better that I find out once and for all. Stop all that wishing and start doing. And who knows - maybe this will really end up being something that I would consider my life's work or passion.

So this here is a sort of diary chronicling this journey. And if you're reading this, I hope you'll stay with me one stitch at a time.

Meg

On old photographs and memories

I recently read my deceased mother's speech which she gave years ago at a woman's club. I know I must have read it before and I know parts about it, but somehow it seemed all new again and brought fresh tears and heartache as I read it. She was a hell of woman, my mom was. She is one of the true rags to riches stories you read or watch all the time in those television specials. It makes me proud to be her daughter and makes me appreciate more what I have today.

I also keep a green plaid box (since green was her favorite color) where I keep hundreds of her photos. No exaggeration. Whenever there was a camera, she was always ready with a pose and a smile.

Due to the number of photos, I now have a dilemma. I am a sentimental person, but I am also a practical one (cognitive dissonance - thanks, Midnight in Paris). I've been holding on to these photos for so long, and I've also scanned them so I have them in digital form, but I still haven't let go of them. Should I even let go of them? But what if one day my hard drives are wiped? What if there was a sudden Revolution-type event when I don't have a handy photo of my loved ones besides the one on my smartphone or any electronic device? But do I have to keep all of these photos? Am I being too paranoid? 

If I was still living in my old house where there are rooms to spare for storage, this wouldn't even be up for discussion. Now that I am living in barely a 50 sqm condo, it presents a problem. But how can a person bear to part with old photographs and the memories that come with them?

I've been researching this topic, hoping to find someone somewhere to tell me what to keep and what to throw away.

The thing I have semi-decided on was making a scrapbook of some sort. I don't want to call it a scrapbook, but more of a book-book. A memorial book? Or maybe that is all the same thing. But whatever. I am making a book. I plan on filling it with my favorite pictures of her, little snippets from her speech, and maybe some of her handwritten notes. Maybe I'll have it professionally printed in one of those glossy photo books that it'll look like a coffee table book that anyone can browse through without going through boxes of her stuff. Then most of the stuff, I'll probably throw away.

Big project. Huge. At least for me. It's going to be tough physically, mentally, and emotionally to do it. But I do feel that it's the best thing to do. I have to move on, but not without respecting who my mother was. I feel that this book will be a perfect tribute to her and her life and to the wonderful woman she was.

Midnight in Paris

There are some movies that are just so damn charming, so damn delightful that you want to tell your friends all about it. Well, my friends (or whoever you are who is reading this), I want to tell you about Midnight in Paris.

Look, now here's the trailer:

Now, as charming as that was, it isn't as charming as the whole film. In fact, I would have to say that it's even a little misleading. There's a lot going on in and for this movie than this little two-minute trailer.

But I guess that's part of the magic that comes with the film. When I watched it, I had no expectations about the film or about Woody Allen like some film critics do. I didn't expect at all to be entertained. But like the protagonist, Gil Pender (played by Owen Wilson), when that clock struck midnight and that old car stops by - I knew I was in for a wonderful ride.

I don't want to spoil what happens next, but just believe me that it's an adventure that I myself would want to go on. One word for it: Magical.

There's so much more that I want to say about this film, but instead of boring you with it all - just go and watch the film already. It's only 94 minutes of your life. Do it.

You're welcome.