The Embarrassment of Honesty and the Gratification of Acceptance

Last night I had a friend over that is also a seamstress. She needed a favor and while I performed said sewing task, she began to look into my mess. It was horrible. There was stuff everywhere.

Now usually, I tell myself that my crafting, jewelry-making and sewing stuff everywhere is a sure sign that I am busy and a consummate professional. Whether or not the clients believe this bunk or are just too polite to call me the slob that I really am, no one knows.


With this guest, I had no excuse. Being a person who sewed full time and in addition a person who made a living from her craft, she (in my mind) could see through my excuses right into the compulsive packrat-ish center of my soul.

“Wow,” she exclaimed. “Neat!” she crooned, and “Oh, how fun,” she sang as she poked and plodded through the horrible pile of toys and goodies (otherwise known as sewing crap) that was heaped several feet high on my sewing table.


As time went by, and I began to talk to her over my shoulder, I felt better. I’d accustomed my self to the fact that she’d already seen my biggest faults and that there was nothing I could do about it now. Somehow, I felt like she knew; like she understood the need for a pile of fabric or the compulsion towards ribbon and bows. I really didn’t mind her exclaiming about my stash and discovering long lost treasures in my drawers.

In fact, I felt like a kindred spirit had entered my own little world. I’ve never had that feeling before. It was so strange. It was like I’d stepped out of the mirror, into my opposite world and I was talking to myself about all of my things that I loved so dear.


She then began to tidy up and organize. Normally, I would have been mortified. Anyone touching my baubles and treasures would have sent me over the edge. On top of that, anyone moving my lovely trinkets would have been verbally decapitated. But she, being my mirror self, didn’t phase me at all. I just knew that I’d be able to find whatever I needed when she was through...and I was right. So, she cleaned and I sewed, and the world was centered and good.

Funny, I’ve only ever met this person once before in my entire life...but I like her...maybe there is a fairygod mother.

Ever had that feeling before?

Inventory & The Studio Mess

We made a small dent in the inventory. My husband took pictures of each fabric while I described it and measured it out. Then he made a fantastic spread sheet with all the information. I'm currently looking for a way to link it to this blog so that people can look at what I have and custom order items that are specially made for them.

Now I have to organize this mess. My wonderful husband allowed me to sell the living room furniture to make room for my studio and to make an office. He's very generous. And THIS is how I repay him. Ugh! I need to be way more productive and clean up after myself.

It just seems to be against my grain to be a neat person. Maybe it's the artist in me...maybe not. I know how to clean...I just don't. I'd rather be sewing! Maybe I didn't have enough messy art parties as a kid, or maybe I had too many.

Check this out! http://www.cookiemag.com/food/party/2006/09/finemess

Maybe it just shows that I think outside of the box, like artist Larissa Meek. http://www.larissameek.com/new-messy-art/

I think it's proof that I'm busy and creative and ... well a terror on cleanliness