Minimal Monday: Consumption and Community

When I de-stashed my stash last weekend, this made the cut:

A one-of-a-kind skein, purchased from an independent dyer who offers a monthly yarn "club" and has a big Ravelry fandom. Her shop updates always result in a flurry of oohs and aahs as people post their purchases and project plans. Listening to this ball of yarn got me thinking about my experiences with consumption-as-community.

Online, I've visited (and participated in) groups where members "show-and-tell" purchases, whether artisanal yarn or luxury accessories. For me these groups were a breeding ground for FOMO so I stopped logging on. But I at least respect the directness of their premise: We're here because we like the same stuff, not to solve the healthcare crisis.

I tend to be a solo shopper, so in the real world I've mostly experienced consumption-as-community at direct sales "parties." Visiting "consultants" hawk cookware, baskets, scrapbooking supplies, clothing, or makeup at the home of a "hostess." I'd usually go to these out of a sense of duty.

CAbi

Pampered Chef

I last went to a sales party in 2014. As the consultant gave the spiel about empowering women and preserving service and quality, what previously seemed disingenuous but harmless felt creepy. (And not in a fun, quilt-guild-marital-aids-party kind of way. Connecticut, circa 2003.)

When the consultant asks if anyone has questions, it's generally understood that no one will say: "Are you ever resentful of assuming disproportionate risk?" Or, "Do you think this business model exploits people's need for belonging?" It's also understood that guests will buy something.

 But hey, I attended of my own free will, and to be fair, I do love my Measure All. I love my yarn, too, even if my monitor's color settings betrayed me. The commercial contexts in which I purchased them could not be more different--but my motives were eerily similar.

Minimal Monday: Stashing and Hoarding

Back when I was a quilter, a fellow guild member advised against buying fabric unless you were ready to start the intended project right away. Her reasoning was that "by the time you get around to sewing it's old hat."

(Aside: she appliqued an amazing block depicting her and her husband sitting in their 1957 Chevy.)

I implemented a self-styled version of her advice: I stashed particularly luscious fat quarters for applique but never free-ranged with yardage. A pile of fat quarters radiated new-crayon optimism, but an unused yard of anything felt like pressure. The gestalt is real, man.

My fear of yardage means I've mostly abstained from stashing garment fabrics. When I do it's a slippery slope towards hoarding. That rich eggplant doubleknit with unforeseen hair-shirt properties? Stashed underneath five-year-old jersey scraps that would make great neckbands or underwear or sleeves. And as for yarn...I have leftovers from itchy scarves and sweaters that have all found new homes.

Mindfully decluttering my stash would mean coming to terms with wasted money--I would add time to that. Jennifer of Simply + Fiercely suggests "writing it off" as an investment in well-being. That lessened the blow of these donations:

Take-away: no more wool. A good lesson, although next time I want to invest in my well being I'll read a book or get a facial.

Do you have a stash?

Minimal Monday: It's Just Stuff

Over the past 6 weeks I've culled my wardrobe via eBay and Goodwill. I sold three small, lightweight items on eBay and donated the rest. Partly for convenience and partly because I've nabbed amazing finds over my decades of second-hand shopping and I wanted to put some good vibes out there.

Two of the eBay'd items would retail for $180 each; the third item would cost $160. They brought in $150 total. They were in great condition with original boxes, but the designs weren't rare enough to incite a bidding war.

The lesson? After you fork over your life energy in the form of hard-earned $$, stuff is just...stuff. Taylor-Burton diamond aside, the value of most objects lies solely in the enjoyment that you get from owning and using them. Choose wisely, future self.

Minimal Monday: Stuff I Didn't Buy

Or, small exercises in restraint.

Clare Vivier Messenger Bag

Photo: eBay

This was the hardest to pass up. For sale at 1/4 of the retail cost on eBay and in oxblood, no less. I own a tiny CV cosmetic pouch--after 5 years it has a soft patina that rivals my daughter's beloved blanky. This bag comes pre-patina'd. So. tempting. 

I reminded myself that a) I recently switched to a smaller bag for comfort's sake and b) my Alabama Chanin class and trip to Denver was not free. Which brings me to....

Alabama Chanin Ribbed Dress

Photo: Alabama Chanin

Natalie Chanin's assistant looked so chic and comfortable in her ribbed dress layered under a tunic. A sale announcement arrived in my inbox 8 hours after I got home from Denver, still basking in the afterglow of class. 

Reality check: I have an AC skirt kit from the class I *just* attended, and feeling comfortable in these these garments would require an over layer. I don't have anything over-layer-y right now. I reminded myself that AC has periodic sales and instead decided to experiment with silhouettes using fabric, safety pins, and possible muslins. And now for a 180....

Earrings at Target 

Photo: Target

I love bakelite, lucite, and anything that looks like either of those. And what would be the harm in spending $8?

While clothing wears out, jewelry does not. I'd like whatever jewelry I acquire to stand the test of time regardless of how humble it is. Embarrassingly, the work conditions of the person who made these were only my second thought. Maybe that's why I this caught my eye...

Maria Antoinette Embroidery Kit

Photo: French General

This had a lot of nostalgic appeal for me--francophilia + tall ships. Buuuuttt... it doesn't reflect who I am right now. There are other ways to be whimsical. 

All of these things together would have cost half the price of my recent Alabama Chanin class. Unlike durable goods I've purchased, I have no regrets *at all* about taking this class. I'm incredibly grateful to be able to choose experiences over stuff. 

Minimal Monday: Making and Producing

I've been sewing for 20 years. I started with hand quilting and in 2010 began to sew garments. Since then, I've had existential sewing crises every 18 months or so. Most of them have been fueled by projects gone wrong, but my recent interest in minimalism has introduced a new element of sturm to the drang. Or vice versa. #fancywords.

Am I sewing for the pleasure of making, or to produce ever more clothing? I mean, I realize that sewing inevitably results in stuff: muslin/toile, garment, and scraps scraps scraps. To say nothing of the environmental impact of making and transporting fabric.

Unlike quilt making, garment sewing is very much product-driven for me: a lot of the initial appeal lay in marrying pleasure to necessity: I'll sew my own clothes!  But my style preferences could make it easy to overproduce---I'm more likely to emulate Eileen Fisher than Kate Spade. Simple silhouettes still require attention, but nowhere near the fuss and fiddling of gathers, floppy bows, and ruffles. Hats off to my fellow sewists who enjoy those things--I can barely get myself to do buttonholes.

So how do I temper my love of making things with my wish to live more simply? Perhaps by shifting my focus to making instead of producing:

Technical Practice. AKA extreme muslin-ing. When Peter of Male Pattern Boldness first started his blog, he sewed every day using old bed sheets and thrifted fabric, his creations ranging from cocktail dresses to men's underwear. This approach reminds me of my husband's dedication as a classical musician. He spends hours playing scales and etudes in addition to his concert repertoire, all in preparation for an ephemeral "product." I could practice on scraps in between projects to hone and stretch my skills (maybe including buttonholes).

Meditative Stitching. The Alabama Chanin method of sewing unites the zen of hand quilting with forgiveness of fitting jersey knits. For me, a heavenly combination. I took a class from Natalie Chanin in Denver recently and the high sustained me through the 8-hour drive back to Albuquerque. I feel myself drawn more and more to this kind of sewing and there are times when I'd like to jettison fitting pants, installing zippers, and matching grain lines in favor of hand-sewing bliss, Make Nine be damned. However, this statistic (via Fringe Association) makes me more determined than ever to produce some of what I need when ethical, local, and/or second-hand sourcing isn't feasible.

So it's probably more realistic to balance my focus instead of shifting it entirely. My closet purge and modules are proof that I have the luxury of taking my taking time on projects, from pattern choice to final product. And in between, I can enjoy the making.

Do you ever struggle with making vs. producing?

Modules: Spring & Summer

Last week I reorganized my clothing into four modules: Spring/Summer and Fall/Winter Work, and Home/Errands/Dates. My previous post described my clothing organization as "Six Items or Less/Miss Minimalist  mashup";  that's not the case unless "around six"= 12 or fewer. 

Here are my Spring/Summer versions. I'm using the terms "spring" and "summer" to refer to temperatures above 65 degrees (mid-April through early October in Abq). My original Make Nine plans will likely be modified to fill in the gaps. Unfortunately, there are no cool re-purposed-pipe garment racks in this post. 

Spring/Summer Work 

(10 pieces, not including shoes and bags)

• Eileen Fisher Washable Crepe pants in black, gray, and taupe. Purchased new in 2015-16. I wear these all year. The black pair is almost 3 years old and still looks great. 

• 100 Acts of Sewing Shirt No. 1, both in prints. I could use some solid-colored tops.

• Eileen Fisher silk jersey tank, thrifted 2014. I wear this year-round and it could also have date applications.

• Pendleton Cotton Cardigan, purchased on eBay in 2016. This will likely be its last summer. 

• Not pictured: Boden raglan three-quarter sleeve tee, purchased in December. Like the pants this is worn year-round (so far).

Shoes & Bags: Dress-ual sandals, black ballet flats, gray pumps, fabric loafers (on their last leg) and black crossbody (not pictured).  

To make: Solid-colored tees, likely using Jalie 3245 because the linen tees I love (see below) have curved hems. A steel-gray Rondeur because I have the yarn and the pattern. Looking forward, a black cardigan. 

Spring/Summer Home/Errands/Dates 

(8 pieces, not including shoes and bags)

• Lands End flat-front chinos in beige and orange. Points for flat-fronted-ness. Purchased summer 2017 out of desperation. 

• Ann Taylor Loft linen tees in red and black. Purchased 2016-17. These are surprisingly awesome.

• Maroon gauze tunic. Thrifted 2017.

• 100 Acts of Sewing Pants No. 1 in black eyelet 

• Mama Christa's Feather &  Fan Sweater 

Shoes & Bags: Leopard bag and beige perforated flats. I could use sandals and "trainers." This bag clashes with the prints I own and really doesn't "go" with much that I have, but I can't let it go.

To make: Denim skirt, likely Sew House Seven's Alberta Street pattern instead of the A Frame skirt because body type and flattery. A date-ier top and possibly some denim Eleonores. Also dreaming of an Endless Summer tunic(s) and leggings to replace the chinos. Will likely need some type of cardigan to ward off air conditioning. 

Donated

I never wore the book. 

So that is what largely unintentional shopping/making looks like, and frankly I was surprised to find any coherence at all under the kudzu. The realization that I have enough comfortable and reasonably flattering clothing for the spring and summer months takes a lot of the pressure of off producing. (More on that next week.) 

Minimal Monday: Magic Capsules

A lot (okay, the majority) of my research on reduced consumption/simplification/minimalism has focused on clothing. Behold my platonic ideal:

I get that this wardrobe won’t transform my quasi-suburban house into a warehouse studio. But I do imagine a freer, more actualized self, much like the women in the Title Nine catalog:

Vocation: Nonprofit Communications
Avocation: Knitting and Sewing
Kryptonite: Naps
Fridge: Cold-brewed coffee and string cheese

The pressure (real or imagined) to have a consistent but not redundant "look"  has stopped me from paring down my wardrobe. As a former colleague used to say, these might be “old feelings that are not appropriate for the situation I’m in right now.” I entered the workforce in 1992 in a large but conservative city. Weekend- and work-wear were distinct categories, business casual environments were rare, and dressing for the job you wanted meant owning a week’s worth of different skirt suits.

I'm the one on the left.

It’s 25 years later. I live in a casual city in the laid-back southwest and work part-time for a nonprofit. I’m pretty sure no one thinks about my outfit frequency. With this in mind, I dove into my wardrobe.

The resulting "system" is a 6 Items or Less/Miss Minimalist mash-up. I've designated four "modules" of roughly 6 items each: Fall/Winter work,  Fall/Winter home/errands/dates, Spring/Summer work, and Spring/Summer home/errands/dates. The home/errands/dates capsules definitely skew towards home/errands. Unless you go on a date to the grocery store, which is a very real thing when your kids are little.

I'm going to re-visit my Make Nine list this week, and this whole exercise has caused me to rethink (for the 800th time) my approach to making clothing.

Have you ever experimented with a small-ish wardrobe?

Minimal Monday: Status & Simplicity

One of my goals for 2018 is to reduce my consumption and pay off my smallish-but-nagging unsecured debt by April. I’m on track to be debt-free after selling several scarves on eBay. Vestiges of an old life, I originally bought them as much for their covert display of prestige as for their beauty and craftsmanship. They’re devoid of logos but signified my taste to the Right People.

The relationship between consumption and status-seeking seems obvious. But over the weekend I came across this article in the New York Times by Jacoba Urst. She mentions simplicity as a “form of cultural capital" and cites Joel Stillerman, who coined the term “post-materialist values”:

…But minimalism is also meant to project taste, refinement and aesthetic knowledge. “‘These people,” he said, “are making the statement that ‘I can afford to have less. I appreciate books and travel and good meals.’”

As someone who grew up in a household that could only afford to have less (without the travel or good meals), this resonates with me. Choosing minimalism is a privilege. Something to think about as I move towards “less”: what’s motivating my purchases? Because I don’t want socks-sponges-hand cream to be the new scarves.

 *For all 3-4 of my readers: “Minimal Monday” will now be a thing.