Snapping at Threads in Time

I believe each of us expresses our soul through our art. Human beings are meant to create and to admire beauty in this world. It is what brightens the mundane. I want to admire the clothing I wish to see. I feel at my very best when I wear it, not minding the gripes of "this is too costumey" from other people. Life is too short to worry about things like that. I visualize the dress in my mind, and see the colors flowing through the fabric, making its texture come alive. I feel the crushing of velvet fibers under my fabric scissors as I push the blades together. My blades glide like a swan through rich shot silk, and sever ribbons of many colors I hope to use for lacing. With every snip of my embroidery scissors snapping threads, I come this much closer to completing my dress. My left hand cramps at the extensive hours spent cutting up pattern paper and fabric, but such is the life of a thrifting seamstress. I feel most lost in my sewing endeavors when I am unable to find my scissors. They are an extension of my body, a valuable tool. If they go missing, my whole creative aura dampens. Thankfully, it rarely happens. My scissors are kept safe and lovingly wrapped in my cotton sewing belt, ready to be utilized at a moment's notice.

Once I commence a project, I am determined to finish it as soon as possible, spending hours at the sewing machine, stitch by stitch. I get butterflies when a bodice fits my torso in just the right ways, and the seams present themselves smartly and cleanly. My mother falls asleep to the humming of my sewing machine through the floorboards of our home. Whenever I sew, I am reminded of Beatrix Potter's children's story The Tailor of Gloucester, and how immersed in his work the tailor can be, that he laments when he falls ill and cannot work on the mayor's wedding coat. The singing rhymes of the mice diligently sewing up this artfully-made coat in the tailor's stead brings joy to my heart.

With every project, I choose a mood and atmosphere. What do I want this dress to be imbued by as I walk the streets? What will this seam remind me of as I gaze at it? What kind of energy do I want this dress to carry for its wearer? I remember sewing my friend's wedding dress out of ivory rich silk, crepe and champagne taffeta, and stitching along as I listened to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. I wanted that dress to be dramatic, romantic, and encompass the depth of emotion I knew my friend experienced as an artist. With every loop of the track renewing, I feel more entranced by the creative process. I shed a tear or two as my dress made its way down the aisle, worn by a beautiful bride with golden locks of hair shining among the silk. My artist's heart gave away a beautiful dress to a beautiful friend that day.

When I created my 1860s dress for a Victorian tea party at the local arboretum, I immersed myself in the glamorous and dramatic soundtrack of Gone with the Wind. I remember that final touch I made, tying my rich green sash around the dress's waist, because the epilogue suite ended in a chorus of voices and wind instruments, signaling the completion of yet another beautiful garment. On a warm day in June, the skirt billowed and undulated in the wind, the white ruffles tussling. The hoop skirt underneath held afloat a cotton cream petticoat bordered with eyelet lace, skimming the ground in its dainty patterns of white flowers and dots. It was interspersed with green ribbon and white roses, bringing an essence of joy as I twirled. The heavy black cotton hem of the dress floated ahead of me as I walked to the arboretum clearing. I rested on a lawn chair, my skirts enveloping the entire side of the table, and people came up to me to admire my dress. They asked me questions about how I made it. It brings me joy to see the light in their eyes as they compliment my creation, and how it reminds them of their favorite dresses from their favorite movies. The pea green hue of this dress blended lovingly with the surrounding willows and oaks. The dappled light was shining between the leaves, hinting at the threads of gold hidden within the weave of the cloth. My black bodice buttons shimmered in the sun, showing the relief of a golden sunflower hidden under its coat of resin. As I wandered through the clearing, taking in the atmosphere of earl grey tea and the ragtime live band, the costume contest was underway. That dress earned me first place, and my heart swelled.

I have been my own seamstress since I was 16, and it has not slowed down since. I am about to fulfill one of my dreams soon. I am going to attend the Costume Studies program at Dalhousie University this year, where they will teach me how to sew historically and we will study how people dressed in ages gone by. I am very excited to learn new sewing techniques, to tailor clothing properly, and to meet like-minded creative people. I am yearning to sew with materials I've only dreamed of sewing with but could not afford to, and to own quality sewing equipment and tools for once in my life. Perhaps one day I will sew an 18th century mayor's wedding coat alike to the one in Beatrix Potter's story, or design an elegant dress that would make Scarlett O'Hara pea-green with envy. Maybe I will travel the world with my sewing scissors and be the apprentice of a historical dressmaker, creating exquisite and rich ball gowns for re-enactors. I will sew clothing that resonates with those that have that historical twinge in their soul for elegant and well-made garments, and create happiness as they admire my work. I aim to bring beauty into this world, and I create life with my art.