Project Project Runway

Years ago, a friend of mine asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. The bridesmaid dress was strapless, and she sent fabric and a pattern for a simple shrug. I was living in Virginia at the time, far away from a mother or grandmother with a sewing machine and the know-how to construct the shrug, but I was an intelligent, educated woman with a tiny bit of sewing knowledge from a class I'd taken as a teenager. I figured that with a little determination, I could do it myself.

And boy, did I make a mess of things. I'm pretty sure I sewed it inside-out and upside-down and backwards, and the finished product was so baffling to me that I couldn't even figure out how to put it on. I never showed the shrug to anyone (nor did I wear it). And I didn't touch a sewing machine again for years.

Recently, though, I've had some positive experiences with sewing machines. A friend helped me make curtains, and my sister helped me sew pillows for my couch, I hemmed a shirt that was coming unraveled (with close supervision). And as I have watched other friends pick up sewing and produce handbags and sock monkeys and t-shirt quilts to show off on blogs and Facebook and Etsy, I've started to think: Maybe I could do that.

But you know what really motivated me? Project Runway. I'm not joking. I might never have bought my new sewing machine if it weren't for that show. There are lots of TV shows that I like, but that's the only show I've ever dreamed myself into. Literally.* At least three times. The drama is fun, but I also absolutely love watching the designers' ideas come together, from drawings on paper, to scraps of fabric on dressmaker mannequins, to the fittings on the models, to the final product on the runway. I like seeing the combination of craftsmanship and creativity. And after watching seasons 6 and 7 and 8 I've started to think: Maybe I could do that.

Okay, not really really. But sort of. I mean, quilts look fun, Handbags look fun. Sock monkeys look like a lot of fun. But none of them is enough to get me to invest in my own sewing machine. The idea of constructing and even (to a small degree) designing wearable clothes, however, is something I find really appealing. Of course, given my experience with the shrug, it's also really scary. I don't know if I have the long-term motivation and discipline and patience to do it and to do it well. But I bought that sewing machine and I am going to find out.

My goal was to sew a wearable skirt by the end of the year, after working through mini-projects that would teach me the skills I'd need. But I got impatient, and decided that the only way to learn is to do. I chose a really simple skirt from a book of skirt designs and started cutting and stitching, and messed it up twice. But messing it up turned out to be a good thing because it forced me to problem-solve. What do I do if I cut the fabric too short? If I make the waistline too big? With a little creativity I solved both of those problems, and ended up with something I was comfortable enough to wear in public. I wore it to church today, and I was thrilled to get compliments!

There's this thing called the 10,000 hour rule. You've probably heard of it if you've read Malcolm Gladwell recently, but I first heard about it in a cross-discipline graduate course on expertise at the University of Michigan. The gist of it (and it's a little more complex than this, but that's the nature of gists) is that there's really no research-based evidence that people are born innately talented. Rather, people who are really, really good at things (whether it be chess or music performance or sports or surgery or, I'm guessing, clothing design) are really, really good because they have put in more time than anyone else. Specifically, they're the ones who have put in at least 10,000 hours of deliberate practice.

I did the calculations and, alas, it is physically impossible for me to become an expert clothing designer this year. I'd have to put in approximately 27.397 hours per day. I just don't have that much time. In fact, I can probably only reasonably hope to become about 1/30 of an expert by the time the year is out, and that's assuming I can keep up my momentum. But 1/30 is still better than 1/infinity, which is where I was two weeks ago. That's a lot of progress in two weeks!** Give me 30 years, maybe 40. Then I'll really be going places.

Drawstring waist. Fitted waists, zippers, and buttons scare me to death. 

This was my solution to cutting the fabric too short. I actually think the hem makes this skirt. Fortuitous mistake.

* I mean, I had the dreams literally. The dreams did not literally put me on Project Runway.
** I know my experience wasn't exactly zero two weeks ago. I'm stretching things for the sake of mathematical interest.