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Now you get to see me on YouTube Telly!

Why I finally started a YouTube channel after years of putting it off

I have forever wanted to start a YouTube channel ever since I signed up in 2011. But I held myself back with all the usual excuses… not enough room, not enough quiet, not enough equipment… They might have been valid enough reasons to start with, but the more I’ve learned about workarounds, it turns out all you really need is motivation and a sprinkle of creativity.

Thumbnail of my first youtube video called The Dress that got me out of a sewing funk!

Instead, I focused my creative energy on Instagram and the occasional blog post here and there. (I have been very lapsed of late, but I’m hoping to make myself more accountable!).

Why I’ve Fallen Out of Love with Instagram

My relationship with Instagram has changed. All of a sudden, it seems. I was so immersed in posting and commenting and curating my feed that I hardly came up for air, and I absolutely loved it. But if I’m honest, like a lot of people, I’ve become a bit burned out.

I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve got so much else going on and it’s just one more thing to contend with, but it feels like the pace of it has sped up before my eyes. I feel like I don’t get a chance to savour a project anywhere near enough before it’s time to move on. And I’m finding it stressful.

I’m pretty sure that scrolling was enjoyable in the beginning. But now it seems that every piece of content is a fight for relevance and advertising, of course. Added to that, the trends, both music and presentation, are soooo annoying.

I’ve come to write a blog post this morning because I need a bit of a reset. This is pretty much where I started, after all. This is where the creativity not only involved the project I was talking about, but stories shot from the hip as well. And I miss that.

There’s only so many words you can fit into an Insta caption, and the chances are they might never be read or, if they are, they’ll just glide down the grid within minutes. Right this minute, I am already feeling that cosy cuddle of creativity as I tap away. And in writing, I’ve become aware of just how beneficial it is for my brain.

Thumbnail of one of my YouTube videos called "Im getting paid for Brain Gains!"

The moment I start, either on the keys or, if I’m feeling fancy, with fountain pen to paper, I feel an instantaneous wake-up of creative sparkles. Morning pages should really turn into blog pages, but I don’t really want to declare that just yet, as I am master of rebelling against my own rules!

I’m not about to leave Instagram. I have built up a lovely following, and one I truly enjoy connecting with, but I feel an energy shift back to what has always worked for me, along with something new.

That something new is indeed my new little channel on YouTube.

The Real Reason I Started a YouTube Channel

If I’m honest, the main reason for me wanting to broadcast was to get over myself. I’m notoriously anxious when I speak in front of people. I have an essential tremor which is massively triggered by speaking in public. The obvious thing is, of course, to avoid doing things that set off such extreme reactions, but the never-let-it-lie in me won’t allow me to do that. And the older I get, the more determined I am to conquer all that I’m crap at!

It’s a bit of a cheat, of course, because I’m not actually people-facing – I’m shielded by the screen of my front-facing camera. But I imagine that I’m talking to actual people. It took me forever to record the first video because my words would falter. I would forget what I was going to say every step of the way, just like when I’m talking to groups of people I don’t know.

But I’m on video number six now, and it already feels more comfortable, and I’m really enjoying the process.

For context, since joining an art community, I often have to talk to people I don’t know. One of the terms of my rental contract is that I must host studio talks and present my work at open studios, for instance.

Thumbnail for my YouTube video called : A week of ARt Medicine

I knew it would be hard, and I know it sounds super dramatic, but the prospect of doing things like that makes me feel physically sick, and I start shaking just thinking about it. I am so over my ridiculous reactions that this presented an ideal opportunity to face them and get better at dealing with them.

Learning to Talk on Camera

I feel like things have improved from where I started, but talking on camera and telling my stories is another level of practice. I’m pretty sure that talking about myself layers on another level of anxiety. If I talked about someone else’s life or work, for instance, it would be way easier, I’m sure!

My channel is currently more of the chatty kind. Long-form videos of an indepth tutorial nature might have to be parked for now, but I will be still giving backstory and insights into construction, along with tips and tricks for both art and sewing based subjects, in the meantime.

Thumbnail for my YouTube Video called: Plaid Vs tartan - wait, there's a difference?! And why Chanel would hate my dress!

Much as I love writing, I’ve realised that video is my preferred platform for showcasing behind-the-scenes moments, delivering visual vibes, and allowing space for a much more realistic backstory to a project or point of view compared to a one-minute reel on Insta.

Aside from learning how to relax and present myself, I’ve had to teach myself how to edit – something I forgot to factor in when I first thought to start a channel – and I’ve really embraced building these new skills.

Luckily for me, as a graphic designer, I already have access to the full Adobe Creative Suite, which includes Premiere Pro, the perfect editing software I need to chop out all those ums and ahs and forgetful silent gaps! So, for transparency, don’t be fooled when I flow!

On one hand, it seems crazy to shoehorn something else into my already bonkersly busy week. Turns out shooting a five-to-ten-minute video can actually take up the best part of a day (two for the first video), and I will need at least another one to edit it.

But I’m clearly enjoying it all because no sooner have I posted one than I’m planning another. They will not be coming thick and fast, though, because I want them to be considered. I really do not want to end up down another path of rapid-fire rhetoric.

Thumbnail for my YouTube video called : The 80s called... they want it back!

I started the journey by dipping my big toe in first. I tentatively shared a short, which was a reused reel from my Instagram account. And it went down a treat.

That gave me the confidence to post my first long-form video – a whole 5 minutes and 57 seconds of me talking – and nobody died!

Honestly, it took me so long to create, edit and upload. It was an eye-opener, and I have a renewed respect for all YouTube creators.

I talk about a thrifted dress that I first altered to be more me and then kept adding embroidery, beading and even screen-printed detail. The response was super encouraging. And already I’m feeling like this was a good move.

I already know at this point that this is the place I need to be to not only share the skills that need to be shared, but to revisit projects and give them the airtime they deserve.

I put so much work into the things I sew and paint and draw; I so don’t want them to be destined for a tiny square with a tiny caption. I want close-ups, big-ups and documentation that doesn’t have to tiptoe around an algorithm.

Building a New Creative Community

I am just at the very beginning of building my new community. Interestingly, not many followers came over from Insta. I was at first surprised, since I have a following of nearly 6,000, but then I had to accept that I myself wasn’t really a regular follower of anyone on The Tube until I started posting content myself.

My usage was mostly when I wanted to find out how to do or make something, and I enjoyed being able to tap in and tap out without getting caught in a trap of silly scrolling. But I am slowly finding my tribe there too, and I’m already enjoying some interesting interaction. I’m sure it takes more than a couple of months for the systems to recognise a pattern of interest.

Thumbnail of my YouTube video called "Proper hand-sewn gloves"

I would love to know how you feel about YouTube. And how you feel about social media in general, really. Clearly, you are here reading my blog, and let me tell you just how much I appreciate you doing that. I know some of you have stuck with me for a very long time despite my sporadic show-ups, and I can’t thank you enough. It makes me feel like I’m pressing “publish” with a purpose!

Do you gravitate towards Instagram, or are you a Facebook fan? Are you an avid watcher of YouTube videos, or do you typically “tap in” like I once did?

And if you’re curious about this new chapter, you’re very welcome to pop over and have a look at what I’ve been up to on YouTube. No pressure, of course. I’m still finding my feet over there, but it would be lovely to know your thoughts and to have you along for the journey.

Button for readers to click and subscribe to my YouTube channel

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Let His Name Be Buried Deeper Than His Bones

This dress began the way many of my pieces do – quietly and without great expectation with a pile of discarded, damaged, pre-loved clothing rescued from the 50p rail outside my local charity shop. I’ve always had a soft spot for the reject items. The ones nobody else wants. The frayed hems, the tired seams, the faded fabrics that have already lived a life before landing in my hands. They scream potential!

At one point, I even flirted with the idea of offering my services to mend them up a little so they could command a higher price for the charity. A noble thought, but wildly unsustainable. I’d never financially survive donating that much of my time. So instead, I channelled that urge elsewhere by teaching mending skills so people can fix their own clothes, and rescuing these forgotten garments in a different kind of way. I like to think of it as a quiet collaboration between past and present.

As with my Perfectly Imperfect dress, I could see the potential immediately in the textures, the tears, the subtle stains and faded fabrics. I began cutting and piecing everything together without a fixed plan, guided almost entirely by instinct and curiosity. That’s always been my preferred way of working, especially when I’m creating wearable art rather than a conventional garment.

It’s impossible not to wonder who wore these clothes before me. What their lives looked like. What ordinary and extraordinary moments were absorbed into the fibres. Clothing carries stories whether we acknowledge them or not, and when you work with reclaimed fabrics, you’re never starting from a blank slate.

But somewhere along the way, the mood shifted. It darkened.

At first, I didn’t consciously understand why. I just noticed that scars were beginning to appear in the composition. Shapes that felt wounded. Interruptions rather than embellishments. And then the words arrived, uninvited but undeniable: “Let his name be buried deeper than his bones.”

Once those words surfaced, everything snapped into focus. The entire piece changed direction in an instant. The skull motif and the feathers I had added almost absentmindedly suddenly felt as though they had been waiting for this moment all along. They stopped being decorative elements and became symbols. Heavy ones. Necessary ones.

I work with typography a lot in my day-to-day life – designing book covers and laying out interior pages – so it felt completely natural to let text take centre stage here too. There’s something deeply satisfying about cutting letters by hand, especially when they’re imperfect, uneven, and slightly unsettling. My scissors moved carefully through reclaimed white t-shirt cotton, shaping bone-like letters from something soft, familiar and ordinary. That choice of material felt important. A fabric once worn close to someone’s skin now transformed into a message carved into cloth. There’s intimacy in that. And defiance.

The front offset panel of the dress became the perfect resting place for the words. It sits like a tombstone between two opposing worlds: a glittering, almost celebratory panel on one side, and black lace on the other which I can only really describe as gothic gates of hell. That contrast felt honest. Trauma rarely exists in isolation. It sits alongside normality, sparkle, laughter, productivity. We learn how to carry it while appearing functional, even joyful. This dress needed to hold both truths at once.

When it came to photographing the piece, I knew I didn’t want my face to be part of the narrative. This was about the dress, the materials, the message. And yet, while handling the red mesh fabric during styling, something unexpected happened. It reminded me of how utterly angry I used to be. And how scared. So I let that fabric become part of the story.

Across my face, I draped a red veil of anger. My eyes are crossed out. Not for modesty. Not for mystery. But for severance. A deliberate refusal. Let him see nothing now.

This is an intensely dark and deeply personal piece. There are many things I still find impossible to articulate out loud. Some memories don’t translate well into spoken language. They sit too heavily in the body. But creating this allowed me to process emotions that have lived quietly under the surface for a very long time. Art, for me, is undeniably therapy. Not in a neat or linear way, but in a physical, embodied one. It gives shape to feelings that don’t yet have words. It allows the hands to lead when the voice cannot.

The red crosshatched stitches over the white lettering were made using long stitches and long French tacks which is a technique I absolutely adore once I find my rhythm. There’s something meditative about it, almost trance-like. I repeated the same stitching across the large red “wound” on the front of the dress. Those stitches feel contradictory in the best possible way. Violent and tender. Aggressive and reparative. Much like the process of healing itself.

Most of the dress was constructed on the overlocker, with the exception of the gathered sections and the appliquéd text. I deliberately allowed threads to hang loose, unfinished, unresolved. I didn’t want everything tied up neatly. Some things aren’t.

One of my favourite details are the stripy strips down the length of the sleeves. A little nod to Tim Burton, most likely. I distinctly remember giving myself a small excitable clap when I finished them. And when I paused to question why this detail made me so happy, I realised it was because they resemble a ladder. An escape route. A way up and out. Towards the light.

That symbolism wasn’t planned, but it felt significant. A reminder that even when working through darkness, the act of making with your hands can quietly build a way forward.

Nothing new was purchased to make this dress, and that was entirely intentional. I often find my creativity stiffens in the presence of pristine, untouched fabric. There’s too much expectation. Too much pressure to make something “worthy” of the material. Reclaimed fabrics free me from that.

They lower the stakes. They invite play, experimentation, risk. I live near Goldhawk Road in London, surrounded by an overwhelming number of fabric shops, and there was a time when fabric shopping days filled me with excitement. Recently though, I’ve felt far more at ease working with what already exists, allowing the materials to guide the outcome rather than imposing a rigid plan. New fabric would have made this dress too polished. Too controlled. This needed to remain raw.

That said, I’m not anti-new materials. If I were commissioned tomorrow to make a mother of the bride dress, I’d choose the finest fabrics available and enjoy that process immensely. There’s room for both approaches.

But when it comes to art and the pleasure of making clothes purely for myself, I’ll continue to relish the treasures I uncover in charity shops, at boot fairs, and through organised fabric swaps. 

These striking photographs were captured by the ever-brilliant @danieljames.photographic, who somehow managed to honour both the darkness and the strength woven into this piece. He is so clever!

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The Traitors made me do it (A velour dress story)

I don’t actually watch much telly these days, but my daughter managed to lure me into sitting down for Celebrity Traitors back in October (UK TV) and although I enjoyed it far more than I ever expected, I must confess that the plot very quickly became secondary to something far more pressing: my total and utter obsession with Claudia Winkleman’s wardrobe. The drama was riveting, yes, but oh those outfits! So when the Minerva Maker call-out appeared in my inbox, I didn’t even hesitate. I went straight for the black velour. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to sew at that point, only that I desperately wanted to channel my inner Claudia. Fringe not included. But I wont lie – I did think about it!

This project also marks something of a return for me to Minerva Maker posts. I’m an ambassador for Minerva, which means I receive complimentary fabric in exchange for an honest review and a blog post on their site which is a collaboration I genuinely value and enjoy. Over the past while, though, I’ve been working almost exclusively with reclaimed and second-hand fabrics, and with no urgent need for new clothes myself (the wardrobe is full, the guilt is real), it’s been a wee while since I last took part. This particular fabric felt like the perfect way back in: thoughtful, considered, and something I knew I would wear rather than admire briefly before shoving it to the back of the cupboard.

These days I’m pretty restrained with what I buy. I’ve become much more intentional, especially about fabrics, and natural fibres are climbing rapidly up my priority list. If something new is coming into my space, I want it to really earn its place. The high cotton content in this velour made the choosing much easier. When the parcel arrived, my first step was, of course, a prewash. Anything with 80% cotton is almost certainly going to shrink a touch, and I prefer to let that drama happen before I’ve lovingly cut into it. I didn’t actually measure how much it did (if it did), but I can say – with genuine surprise – that after a 40° wash there was no loss of colour, quality, or softness. That almost never happens with solid black fabrics, which usually seize the first opportunity to fade or streak.

The remaining 20% elastane gives the fabric it’s 55% crosswise stretch, which feels accurate, and the recovery is surprisingly good too. It has that lovely plush feel without being overly heavy or oppressive, and it behaved impeccably under the machine. Velour can sometimes feel like it’s trying to escape in all directions at once, so I used a walking foot and this one stayed put, behaved itself, and didn’t once try to ruin my evening. High praise, honestly.

The obvious choice for velour is a lounge set, and I did briefly imagine myself swanning about the house in coordinated comfort. But with a mission to be more Claudia, it was clear the fabric wanted to be a dress. Something simple but with presence and versatility. Time is of the essence at this time of year, so I needed a speedy sew rather than an epic involving seventeen toiles and an identity crisis. I turned to my reliable self-drafted knit block, flared out the side seams, and created a very simple, very wearable dress. No zip, no buttons, just pull it on and go. Exactly the sort of garment that makes you feel smug about your life choices.

That said, I did get a bit enthusiastic with the jewel neckline and slightly underestimated the size of my own head, which is a recurring theme in my sewing life. There is now a mildly comedic moment as I wrestle it on and a brief pause where commitment is required. Once it’s over my ears it’s absolutely fine, but the neighbours may have questions if they’re watching. But we’ll not dwell on that too much.

Sewing it was genuinely joyful. I could have whizzed the whole thing through the overlocker, but I always get cold feet about sewing and trimming in one go in case something needs adjusting. I would surely weep if I trimmed before trying on and it needed to be a tad bigger. So I stitched it together with a lightning bolt stitch – lengthened slightly so I could unpick easily if necessary – then once I was happy with the fit, I ran the seams through the overlocker for a tidy finish. It’s a slightly cautious approach, but it keeps my stress levels low and my language reigned in.

I considered using a twin needle for the hem but honestly? I couldn’t be bothered threading the second spool. Sometimes we must choose our battles. A zigzag did the job perfectly, with plenty of stretch and a neat enough finish for this fabric. Zero regrets, zero points lost, and no muttering under my breath – always a win.

Oh and I sharpened the shoulders in this one with some padding for a little elevation. The 80s are always calling me about something!

And for those eagle-eyed followers of my Instagram account: yes, this is indeed my upcycled detachable collar from the ‘Imposter Syndrome dress’, fashioned from a disused net curtain. The scalloped edge practically begged to become a ruff, and who am I to deny destiny? I had enough fabric left to create matching cuffs, this time using elastic in a casing instead of ribbon ties. They’re quicker to put on, comfier, and far less likely to trail through your dinner. The plan is to make several interchangeable collar-and-cuff sets to dress up this very simple dress depending on my mood, the occasion, or the level of drama I feel is required that day.

Uninvited Guest who knows

Quite what the occasion is for this particular look, I’m not entirely certain. Somewhere between a Marcel Marceau homage and a Wednesday Addams wannabe party. It’s dramatic, slightly ridiculous, but deeply satisfying. Sorry Claudia. I tried! The beauty of a very plain base dress is that it becomes a blank canvas for this sort of nonsense, and I love garments that can shapeshift like that.

Next on the agenda are a big 70s-style collar and cuffs. Maybe even an old-fashioned dicky or two, because if you’re going to commit, you might as well commit fully. This dress is going to be an absolute joy to style in all sorts of directions, and I have a feeling it’s only the beginning.

Before I wrap up, a huge thank you is due to my Daniel, who took these photographs. I should really do a post about the gorgeous new studio we now share. We did this session in one evening and it was his first full-length person shoot in the space since we moved in. The studio serves his photography, my graphic design work and sewing, and we’re hoping to run some workshops here soon too. There’s loads of space and a massive window that floods the room with beautiful natural light, which always makes everything better.

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Imperfectly Perfect – how I accidentally made an elegant dress

There is something undeniably joyful about creating something new out of what already exists. These days we are surrounded by fast fashion, high-pressure trends, and the relentless expectation that everything we make must be flawless. So when I decided to challenge myself to create a dress using only reclaimed fabrics – no plan, no rules, no perfection – I had no idea how liberating the process would be.

back view of model as she walks over a bridge

This project began with the simplest idea: make my own fabric. Not by weaving, dyeing, or anything complicated. Just by harvesting pieces from existing garments and sewing them together. Sounds too easy? That’s the beauty of it. There’s no mystery to it, no secret technique. You simply take fabrics you already have – old tops, damaged clothing, thrifted finds – cut them up, and stitch them together using an overlocker. Because an overlocker trims while it sews, you automatically neaten up raw edges as you go. The result is a patchwork panel big enough to cut as your pattern piece. Patch, stitch, trim, repeat… and before you know it, you’re creating fabric that is uniquely yours. Cheap as chips and incredibly satisfying.

For this dress I worked entirely with stretch materials so as not to be too caught up in worrying about fit or facings or notions or finishes. I sourced most of them between a 50p charity shop rail and the ever-brilliant Battersea carboot sale. The garments weren’t perfect; some had stains, tears or stretched necklines but that made them all the more freeing to cut into. I didn’t feel protective or cautious. Unlike expensive fabric, these pieces came with a built-in permission slip to experiment.

I used leftover tulle for the sleeves and a flouncy bottom finish. The tulle was already in my stash – another leftover patiently waiting for a perfect purpose. I didn’t worry about grainlines, pattern matching, or straight edges. I allowed the shapes to dictate their own placement, sometimes using the original harvested shapes instead of trying to tidy them. I overlocked everything and deliberately kept all the seams visible from the right side of the dress. Loose threads dangle. Some seams twist slightly. The hem is uneven and the flounce is interrupted with rough-cut patches. And here’s the magic: I love every wonky bit of it.

front view of model as she walks over a bridge

We live with the idea that sewing requires precision. We are told to measure twice, cut once, obey the straight grain, and fear the ripple of a seam that isn’t perfectly flat. But what if we challenge that? What if we occasionally let go of perfection and allow our creativity to take the wheel? While making this dress, I had no plan, no sketch, no brief, and certainly no deadline. The only intention was to play with texture and see what happened. That sense of creative freedom felt cathartic – not just in a sewing sense, but in a very human one. How often are we allowed to do something imperfectly, simply because we want to?

The textures became characters of their own: ribbed knits, soft jerseys, mesh-like fabrics, smooth velvets, and the soft shimmer of tulle. Together they formed something completely unrepeatable. No amount of store-bought yardage could replicate the personality of these mismatched materials, each of which lived a life before entering this dress. That history, however scruffy, becomes a part of the story.

What surprised me most was how glam the finished dress felt when styled. I certainly didn’t start this with “glamour” in mind. But when I paired it with a stunning hat that had been gifted to me by my dear milliner friend Jayne at @hepsibahgallery, suddenly the rough, playful textures transformed into something elevated and theatrical. I’ve always claimed that hats don’t suit me, but perhaps the truth is that hats don’t need to suit a face – they need to suit the outfit. When the two speak the same language, the whole look comes alive. Obvious, really… but apparently I required some patchwork enlightenment to realise it!

The final icing on the cake was having it photographed professionally. The talented @danieljames.photographic captured the textures, the movement, and all the quirky little flaws with such an artistic eye that the dress felt almost couture. It’s amazing what can happen when you follow curiosity instead of perfection.

So here’s my takeaway from this wonderfully scrappy adventure: imperfect doesn’t mean unsuccessful. Sometimes imperfect is exactly what makes something perfect for us. Creativity should be joyful, messy, surprising, and personal. Rules are helpful when they serve you, but when they start suffocating your imagination, it’s time to break them… at least for an afternoon!

If you’ve got a craving to be more free with your sewing, give yourself permission to experiment. Raid the back of your wardrobe, visit a charity shop, or ask friends for old clothes headed for the bin. Don’t overthink it. Start cutting, start stitching, and see where it goes. You might just find that the most beautiful thing you can make is something entirely unexpected.

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Uninvited Guest – a story of imposter sydrome and the great pretender

Uninvited Guest puppet pose

I made this dress to illustrate the the ever present cloud of imposter syndrome and all the things I think ‘they’ are thinking.

I’ve suffered from it for years and it pains me to think of all the opportunities and invitations I’ve turned down because of that infuriating inner critique who rejoices in reminding me that I’m simply not good enough.

Uninvited Guest sitting crying

There’s a lot of talk about this issue among the artists I work alongside and its been so refreshing to discover that even the most confident-projecting people I know, suffer too. They just have better ways of masking it than me!

To be knowingly or seemingly uninvited to anything is such a devastating blow to ones ego, heart and soul. But to be invited and then doubting the authenticity of the gesture, leaves just as sour a response to be fair.

The irationality is real!

Uninvited Guest who knows

I wanted to make a party dress. The kind I would have worn to all the best parties when I was a young girl, should I had been invited. Big puffy party sleeves of course. A full and flirty skirt to dance and twirl round in until peak of dizzy, with enough fabric each side to grasp onto for extreme moments of self-conciousness when I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

It would not have been transparent though. Not like this one. The stuff of nightmares of course to turn up to a party and everyone see right through you. Noticing all your flaws along with your pants!

Uninvited Guest curtsey

But those words would be loud and clear and there, for all to see, in no particular order: unlikeable, ungracious, unsteady, unbefitting, unattractive, unfortunate, ungainly, unpopular, uncool, unfit, undeserving, unfashionable, unexceptional, unsuitable, uninspiring, uneducated, unexciting, underwhelming, unwanted, uninteresting, unequal, unwelcome, unqualified, unstable, unapproachable…

How effortlessly a word can change from one extreme to the polar opposite with the addition of a tiny, two character prefix – un.

Uninvited Guest close up

I managed to scare a few Instagram followers with these images. That wasn’t my intent, I assure you. In fact I didn’t know how I was going to present the final dress in front of the lens but I did know it needed a mask. I didn’t want my face and expression to take anything away from the dress. I can’t fake sad and I didn’t want comedy sad, just rejection. The graphic image of the Pierrot doll featured a lot in my childhood. On my mirror, the cover of my diary. I had a bag, a pencil case and an actual doll. It seemed a perfect time to bring the charming little clown back into play and I couldn’t resist making a little ruffled collar as an additional accessory too..

The materials I used were all reclaimed. The dress itself it made from a voile net curtain, The added ruffles were strips cut from the remains a lace net curtain, the scallopped edge of which was used for the collar. The mask is papier mache, and painted with acrylic paints. I bought these white slingback shoes a while back for a shoot and just made some lacy pompoms (from strips of the net curtain) to clip to the fronts (with hair grips!).

Uninvited Guest pompom shoes

The dress itself was self-drafted and the words embroidered using the free-motion technique on my sewing machine. This was undoubtedly the most challenging part as the fabric insisted on disappearing down with the feed dogs on one too many an occasion!

It wasn’t just the dress that was made with what was available, Dan created the wonderful setting with stuff that was simply just lying around. I was so busy with work alongside the making of the dress and putting it all together I hadn’t thought beyond a plain colour roll as a backdrop for the shots but was blown away when I saw the magically lit set he had created.

uninvited Guest corner rays

And I’m so happy with the result. I’m so grateful that he supports all my crazy sewing and art ideas and basically helps me to decant all the head soup that would otherwise be bubbling away and instead allows space for all the new stuff!

Uninvited Guest resting

If you’d like to see this piece for real, It will be on display in or near my workspace on Saturday 8th June at Kindred Open Studios (Shepherds Bush, West London). Do come along if you are local and you can – it’s FREE! – There are in excess of 65 artists here with so much talent to see, a fabulous exhibition in the main gallery, live music, cafe and bar, free workshops (sign up for my little mending circle here) with DJ and campfire as we keep going till 10.30pm in the evening. I assure you it will be worth a wee trip!

If I get a chance to take some photos, I’ll do a little post about it as it might just be the last one… no pressure!

In the meantime, I’m going to be planning my next piece of wearable art because I realised this is what I absolutely love for all number of reasons. Please leave a comment with any thoughts or questions. I love to hear from you all. Until next time x

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Our first Mending Meet-Up of 2024 – a proud recap

Time flies for sure… the busy build up to an event – the planning, the logo, the promo, gathering of goods and rounding up the masses – to the the ultimate excitement of the day; a sweep up, a take down, a moment of after-buzz . . . and then it’s done – finished in a flash. Then it’s on to the next thing, a bit too quickly. I’m referencing the Mending Meet-Up of course, hosted by Sarah @mhwpatterns and me at Kindred Studios last weekend.

I was feeling a bit sad about moving on from it so fast until I clicked through to Dan’s photos and I was transported right back to last Saturday with an opportunity to soak up the sewing atmosphere for a second time. 

Everyone had bought things to fix — scarves, socks, tops, dresses and bags — and there were some gorgeous examples of previously completed work being shared too. 

Quite a few people had come along on their own and I was quickly reminded of how friendly and welcoming the sewing community truly is. I loved how quickly and effortlessly people introduced themselves, cooed over each other’s projects, and bonded over needle and thread. No one was left out.

Dan was such a wonderful host, making sure everyone had a cuppa and a never ending supply of naughty treats – no sewing meet up is complete without cake! 

Sarah set the scene with a little introductory talk and then handed over to me. I’m sure I didn’t cover the half of what I intended to say, partly through nerves but also because mending is such a small word for all that it encompasses. I was taught to mend invisibly guided by the watchful eye of my mum who is still to this day an incredible seamstress and tailor.

As my skills and confidence have grown over the years I’ve employed a more artistic approach using coloured stitches to create a series of ‘mini artworks’ on my aging and fraying denim jacket. I’ve painted, printed and appliquéd on clothes and I’ve reworked old things to make them new. I was proud to have some of them on display that day, alongside some wonderful contributions from Kindred textile artists.

Alexandra Brinck, textile designer and repair specialist, was one of our special guests who hosted a drop-in clinic for anyone seeking advice on knitwear repairs. She bought along a little pop up shop for any tools and notions needed along with some super inspiring examples of her work. Needles to say this was a very popular corner of the room and everyone was so pleased with their new found skills. 

One of the original draws for this meet up (we thought) was a fabric-shopping opportunity in Goldhawk Road with its stretch of 20 or more shops and stalls. At the beginning of the day we had suggested a little lunchtime tour if anyone was interested. But not so surprisingly there was very little take up. In fact I didn’t see a single person return from their lunch break with a shopping bag. I really do think that the act of mending and the talk of falling back in love with our own clothes by fixing or reworking them, planted some seeds. Planet whispering ‘thanks’ as that little thought sank in!

Nicole Akong, designer, maker and sewing Bee royalty was our celebrity speaker who inspired us on so many levels. My main takeaways were that you really don’t have to create everything from scratch. Nicole’s use of bold and extravagant trims transform the most basic of thrifted garments into stunning works of art.

She encouraged us to dress for our authentic selves. This resonated hard because I’m still working on that but I’m really enjoying the journey so far. She also gave us permission not to have to categorise ourselves – a relief to know because I do so many things I’m always at a loss how to introduce myself! And she told us how important it was to keep learning – skills pay the bills!

More sewing ensued, more tea was poured and the cake kept coming before the day drew to an end. Lots of happy stitchers packed up their work before hugging their old and new sewing friends goodbye, remarking on the good time had and excited for the next already.

Reflecting on how everyone effortlessly connected, generously sharing their skills, offering help to those in need and enthusing about their sewing journeys; watching the expressions of concentration, achievement and smiles of pride as they stitched over the course of the day made us feel so proud. 

Would we do it all again?. You bet yer beautiful darned socks we will! A special thank you to everyone who came and made our mending meet-up a roaring success. And I hope to bring you news of a new sewing sewcial date in due course.

Photography by @danieljames.photographic

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I’m running away – join me on my new adventure!

fugitive
/ˈfjuːdʒɪtɪv/
noun
a person who has escaped from captivity or is in hiding.

I wonder how many words we process in a day. Spoken, heard, read and written – it must amount to thousands or quite possibly tens of thousands if you are a Wordy Rappinghood like me! Sometimes a single solitary word begs to be repeated more than a few times – pronounced with different stresses, in different accents, elongating the syllables – toying with it until it’s meaning is lost.

One such word that presented itself one day was ‘fugitive’. A word I’m sure I’ve only read and heard and unlikely to have ever spoken or written. But I dwelled on it because it seemed very relevant at a time when I was feeling a sense of change in my sewing life.

I’ve been sewing for what seems like forever. The contents of my wardrobe are almost exclusively made by me and I used to say ‘except for undies and jummies’ but that has changed up too! And so my need for sewing basic clothes to wear isn’t half as urgent as my new need for exploring clothes as art.

In the two years since joining Kindred Studios my craving for creativity has just exploded. I mean, how did I not see that coming when I was surrounded by so much talent and such inspiration from all the artists here?

As the beginning of 2024 pulled me into the usual analytic state, assessing all that I do and all that I want to do, the vision was so clear as I set about my first project – a refashioned man’s jacket.

Red pin-stripe suiting has always been a fave fabric but is more difficult to find in fabric shops than one might think. So when I found the jacket in a charity shop, I snapped it up without even checking the fit, which was terrible btw – shoulders too wide, sleeves too long, waist too low, and a horrid bum flap to boot! Refashioning was the only way I was going to get that fabric on my back!

I cropped it to waist length and cinched it in with a wide elastic casing, leaving a single closure at the front waist, swapping out the remaining button for an enamel pirate button. I cut paulettes from the discarded pieces and sewed them to the shoulders to further accentuate and make sense of the wide and padded shoulders.

Rather than simply shorten the sleeves, I thought it would be more interesting to drape and hand-stitch them to a cropped three-quarter length – Miami Vice eat your heart out!

Red thread accents to the cuff buttons were a must. I just love how all the buttons overlap. I didn’t know this was a standard thing.

‘Fugitive’ as chain-stitched on the reverse, represents my escape from safe practices and the beginnings of more adventurous experiments with wearable art.  I’ve also looped a red metallic chain from one of the epaulettes so that some of the party extends to the side and front.

This is the prologue, if you like. A gentle easing in for what’s to come next, because chapter one is shaping up already and there’s lots more words to come.

It’s taken a while to organise the shoot because I had a face full of cold for what seemed like the whole of January, into the beginning of Feb. But it was worth the wait because in the meantime, Dan evolved his photographic set up and has produced what is probably my favourite set of photos yet!

I’d love to know what you think. Do let me know in the comments and I hope to show you my next reveal real soon.

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Curtain couture and some unexpected love for a pink suit!

I don’t think I ever imagined myself wearing or making a pink suit. Yet here I am. Pink tights, scarf, handbag and all. And it totally wasn’t in the name of Barbie, I can assure you!

The back story begins with a gifted pair of freshly laundered and neatly folded vintage M&S curtains from my very good friend Kiki. The jury is still out as to whether they are late 60s or 70s but either way they are something special!

Initially I wasn’t sure as to why she’d ‘thought I could do something with them’. They were so far from my every day vibe. But I did feel a pull to retain the faith she had in me, to create something interesting from them. I had no idea what at the time. So they sat in their neat folded pile on top of my existing tower of interesting fabrics for quite some time before the eureka moment struck!

I’ve been practicing pattern making for a while – starting with basic blocks and having fun with adaptations but up to this point I had never drafted a jacket, for fear of that notched collar. It transpires, like anything else it just required a bit of learning and rehearsing to understand the process. And I’m so glad I did. I really wanted to draft a coat this year so this was my first toe dipped before that happens.

Once I’d drafted the pattern and visualised the final thing I couldn’t get the curtain fabric out of my head and I sketched those big flowers in my Fashionary to see if it would work. And I was pretty sold that it would. 

The fabric was great to work with – great texture and relatively stable. Perhaps a wee bit on the heavy side but I really didn’t mind that because it gave some great structure.

I padded the shoulders and added a sleeve head before lining it. I can’t not do this now I know what a difference it makes. And I spent a lot of time cooing over the rounded shoulder cap before I moved on to the next stage!

The rounded lapels were a conscious decision to reflect the rounded retro flower design, and also because I fell in love with the heart shaped lapels on a Vivienne Westwood jacket years ago, hoping one day I would replicate it. Not yet. But I’m one step closer!

Bound buttonholes were a must. Sometimes a machined button hole just doesn’t cut it. My jacket was a labour of love and was going to get the best kind of button holes. Covered buttons too. No other buttons I looked at came close to being able to use up the fun flower centres from the leftover scraps.

I used facings to finish the hems of the jacket bodice and the sleeves which I love to do and it makes it look all fancy inside too!

The only problem I had was that I didn’t really have anything to wear with it once it was finished! I mean it will totally go with a black dress and all but I weirdly don’t have many of those any more. So I whipped up a high waisted mini skirt on deciding that the fabric was too heavy for a shift dress which was an initial thought.

Now I have the option of wearing this as a suit or as separates. And I’m so happy about it.

The shoot was a great excuse to style it up. Dan was very encouraging of going full on retro although I had all of a couple of hours to pull something together. He’s becoming more and more in demand lately so I just have to make the most of when he’s around!

Photos credit: danieljames.photographic

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A patchwork dress made of sleeves!

Yes you read that right! This is a dress made entirely of sleeves – those that were cut off of Dan’s RTW shirts after he got fed up with how tight and annoying they were when he was working in them!

I intercepted his route to the bin when I spied a couple of them poking out of the bag. And there then ensued a tussle, with Dan persisting that I had quite enough fabric already. What does that even mean – ‘quite enough fabric’?!

He laid the gauntlet, firmly before me – challenged me that unless I could cite good use, they should not be added to the peak of ‘stash mountain’ !

‘A dress!’ Was my comeback ‘A cool patchwork dress!’ It raised an eyebrow of disbelief but I grabbed that bag and literally ran to the studio with it and hid it under the cutting table. 

It remained there for quite a while, mostly because I had other projects going on, but in that safe space of time I was able to hatch a plan in my head. I didn’t want a crafty kind of patchwork dress. I mean they can look cool and boho but that isn’t me. And lumberjack plaid certainly doesn’t lend that vibe! I spent hours dividing up sketched outlines of dresses with small squares, big squares and randomly sized squares. None floated my boat. 

Then I tried random shapes to really over complicate a simple idea and then I realised it was the persistence of the vertical and the horizontal lines that were irritating me.

So I tried with some angular shapes and I was beginning to get somewhere. I already knew a heart was going to feature. It is after all a nod to Westwood. Someone who totally wore her heart on sleeve. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t inspired by her. She taught me it was ok to dress differently, not to care (so much) about what anyone else thinks and to do it boldly. To buy less and choose well and to take care of our planet. 

‘Fashion is very important. It is life-enhancing and, like everything that gives pleasure, it is worth doing well’ – Vivienne Westwood

I don’t always sew as sustainably as I could but I like to reuse and recycle and rewear whenever I can. Read to the end for some more of my sustainable projects.

Once the sketch was finalised, I pondered how I was going to sew them together. These sleeves are made of cotton – a flannel I think – and they are soft and drapey. That was going to work wonderfully for the bias cowl sleeve I had in mind but not so well for the actual body of the dress. So it had to be stabilised somehow. I considered using a double sided fusible interfacing but I really didn’t want the extra weight so I simply sewed the pieces onto some black cotton I had in stash. I used a self-drafted pattern from my baby cord dress and cut the black cotton pieces first, before mounting the cutout shapes. I made sure to overlap them slightly and I zigzagged, first on the absolute edge and then again each side of each piece to make sure it was secured but also to make the black lines of stitching look intentional and a little like stained glass panels.

I managed to glean all the fabric I needed from 9 shirts worth of sleeves. I came a bit unstuck on the actual sleeves because I was so intent on featuring the yellow ones with as much coverage as possible. And that meant including the sleeve plackets! I’ve left the buttons on for context and again to make it intentional.

The collar is made from the cuffs of the yellow sleeves. Two of them, buttoned up, fitted perfectly around the necline. Again I was going to use the original buttons, but the Pigeon Wishes star buttons were cooing me. Loudly!

I considered making this dress sleeveless in the beginning. Oh the irony! But reconsidered at the prospect of not wasting any of those sleeves, to create one with statement sleeves instead. I took a draping class a while back with Mr O and he taught us how to draft a cowl sleeve, I’ve tried a few sleeve-drafting tutorials in the past but his was so much simpler and I’m slowly learning that long-winded old school methods aren’t always the best – controversial, I know!

I winced at the prospect of having to patch in some small pieces at the top of the sleeve but actually it adds to the punky charm and I love it. It feels like I’ve broken a whole heap of rules in the making of this dress, yet at the same time, none!

The good thing about having mounted all those pieces on black fabric is that the insides are clean (ish) and everything hangs as it should. Once I sewed up the side-seams, the shoulders, the skirt to the waist-seam and inserted the sleeves, I pressed open the overlocked seams on the inside so everything laid perfectly flat. (Couldn’t be arsed to change the thread from white to black but hey, who is going to see?!) I really must invest in some rainbow overlock thread. I think that would have looked even better to be fair. 

The collar went on next. I just had to cut off the seam bulk but of course the interfacing and the topstitching along the top and front edges was already in place – bonus!

And then I sewed in an invisible zipper. Also from stash. I made sure to align the waist seam before sewing up the second side of the zip because as punk as this is, I have standards you know, haha!

Having said that, standards went a bit out of the window with machined hemming. I toyed with hand-sewed ones, but… well… hours in the day and all that!

Dan was in the studio with me when it was all sewed up and finished. And suggested we shoot it that same night. So we went back home for tea grabbed some tights, shoes, shades and a skateboard (of course!) and just went for it. No time for a hair wash – just scruffed it up, just as I did in the 80s. And it couldn’t have gone better.

I am so over the moon with the shots that he took. He has forever championed my creations and has been so obliging with photographing them over the years – often more eagerly than me! But he totally knocked it out of the park this time. Do look him up if you are ever thinking of getting some professional shots done at danieljamesphotographic. I know I’m biased and all but he is bloody good!

I posted some of them on Instagram a few days ago and the comments have been both humbling and mindblowing. It feels so good to have created something that is all me. Well, a bit of Dan and a bit of Viv too! And to have it appreciated by so many. I am so very very grateful and the whole process from bin-interception to reception of the photos has been incredible. And It’s just made me want to do more of the same. 

I have some really small scraps left over. I didn’t throw any cut-offs away. (Don’t tell Dan!) And I have another cool little project in mind so watch this space or follow along on Insta to find out more, soon.

Other favourite upcycled makes:
Dressmakers ball gown
Martini dress
Romper suit
Portrait tote bag
Lacroix Roman blinds
Ooobop Original jumper

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The making of a Serpentine shirt for Mr O

On waving this wonderful Serpentine fabric in front of Mr O, and declaring that I wasn’t sure what I should make with it, my foot suffered an instant shot. “A shirt for me” he said, with no hesitation. Doh! I had no quick comeback! It was a perfect suggestion, of course. 

Fabric Godmother were so kind in forwarding on my goody bag, when I was unable to attend one of their events last year and this fabric was one of the treats inside. I thought on first feel that it was a cotton lawn but it turns out it’s a viscose sateen – a new one on me – and it is gorgeous to the touch and super to sew with. Presses beautifully too. 

I reused vintage Butterick 5007, (western shirt pattern) for the 4th time – definitely less daunting this time round. The only things I still fear about it are the buttonholes because I know for a fact that at least one will mess up and I’ll have to deal with the nasty task of unpicking it. And that is exactly what happened. Is there actually anything more annoying?

It takes time to put this shirt together, mostly due to all the neat details: curved yokes, rounded hemline; pleats and darts on the cuffs; diamond darts for slim fitting and every single piece has 2 parallel rows of topstitching. But weirdly, I really like the process. The main section comes together pretty quickly and its a great one for sewing in stages if time is short. Which it is the story of my actual life!

It also has some serious statement collar action going on which Mr O loves. I personally couldn’t carry them off but I think he rocks these aeroplane wings, styled up with his 70s jacket and hat. 

I didn’t make any attempt to pattern match as you can see. I only had 2m to work with – the exact amount required – and there would have been so much waste if I had even tried. That is my excuse and one I am firmly sticking to!

Even though I enjoyed the process, I properly ran out of steam when it came to sewing on the buttons. So I successfully managed to delegate the sourcing and sewing of, to Dan. And he did a fabulous job – giving way more attention to detail than I’d have given – he sewed with alternate orange and yellow threads throughout to complement the colours in the design and it looks simply awesome.

This is definitely not the last time I will use this pattern. I just noticed that Fabric Godmother has a Navy version of the same fabric on sale on their site, and made the mistake of showing Dan!

But he’s going to have to wait a wee while – I’ve got a lovely little commission I need to crack on with and also I want a new coat!

Photos are by me this time. But I think you probably guessed that already, haha! I think I’ll stick to my day job!

Previous versions I made are here and here