// Boston Public Library //
I spent most of yesterday and today making a cashmere dress out of a big thrifted sweater. The seams were done on the sewing machine, and the embroidery by hand. Last night I assembled the pieces and started anchoring pleats to make the dress hang well. Next step was embellishment, adding green accents to the faun-colored body. I spent hours chugging along happily, streaming Law & Order: SVU in the background.
This afternoon I looked at the product of my accumulated efforts, so close to being finished, and just... didn't like it. The design was inconsistent and clumsy, bodice clashing with skirt. My decorative stitching looked amateurish. Well, that was that. Matter-of-factly, I scissored off scraps of the soft wool to salvage, and tossed the rest of the now-mangled garment into the trash.
Afterward I felt so guilty. Not about rejecting the project, but guilty because I wasted materials, time, and energy. I told myself, "Can't you do anything right? Use a pattern and then you won't run into these problems." The issue is that I'm not interested in executing other people's aesthetic plans. I want to have my own creative discovery process.
The rational part of me knows that there is a learning curve, and I'm still at the beginning of it. The rest of me, the harsh part, always seems to speak louder in these situations... I'm listening to a spunky Dixie Chicks song with the hope that it will drown out my critical inner voice.