The first cut

There is no sound better than the first cut into the crispest of cottons, the softest of satins or the smoothest of silks. Into vibrant velvets or lustrous lace.

The solid weight of the tangerine handled scissors, gliding over the chalk lines of the pattern, creating curves and notches and contours where there were none before. The soft click of the jaws that is almost meditative and musical.

Shapes begin to emerge – the building blocks of the dress to come. They will be brought together, fixed and nipped and tucked to create a perfect fit. This piece will join to that to create the neck, here the skirt will be pulled in to merge with the bodice.

With one sweep of the hand, they flutter from the table, drifting leisurely into a heap of rich ruby red. I thread the sewing machine using a coil of crimson thread, guiding it along in the sequence that has become like second nature to me. Left, down, up, down and through the eye of the needle.

With the slightest pressure on the pedal, the machine rumbles to life and purrs as the foot skips across the fabric. The needle dips in and out, in and out, leaving perfectly uniform stitches in its wake.

When I first started sewing this wasn’t always the case. At the beginning there was frustration, skewed lines and snagged threads. I used to recoil from the noise and the energetic thrust of the machine, nervously edging forward bit by bit to bring a garment together. Now the foot races and dances – there are times when the top speed is simply not enough.

But not today. Today is for measured, relaxed, lazy sewing. For sewing that helps you to unwind, that loosens stiff muscles you didn’t realise were strained as you become more and more absorbed in the task at hand. For endless cups of tea and playlists booming out on a loop. For taking the time to make those small adjustments that will lead to a perfect finish.

Neck joins to bodice, bodice joins to sleeve. Soon the dress begins to take shape. Darts to the top and gathers to the skirt. Seams neatly trimmed and finished, and hemlines taken up. Loose threads snipped away. A final press and steam with a burning hot iron to smooth out the creases and ridges that have formed.

Time to try it on.

There is anticipation as I pull the dress over my hair, carefully drawing it down over my chest and slipping buttons through their holes – is that one slightly off? No matter. The quirks of something homemade.

I run my hands over the skirt, revelling in the softness of the fabric. I tug lightly at the sleeves to make sure the shoulders sit neatly and assess the hem for its straightness.

And then I look in the mirror.

It is perfect. The capped sleeves that will be ideal for lazy summer days; the bodice that fits in at the waist before flaring out at the skirt to dance around my calves. The line of buttons that march like soldiers down the front – with just one rushing a little ahead.

I find such joy in moments like this. In times where it has all gone right and you can look forward to that special moment when you wear something you have made out into the world. Unique items, marked and imprinted with a little something from you.

All of the magic that comes with creating something for yourself or for someone you love.

And it all starts with that first cut.