Day 277: Stitch Itch

I started making clothes as a teenager.  Using any fabric I could get my hands on.  In the sixth form I wore a skirt made from my grandmother's 1950's kitchen curtains, and one from a piece of mattress ticking. 

Then I stopped.  I don't know why.  I've made the odd costume, and always enjoy the alchemy of bits of cloth, cut and stitched into a thing that until that point did not exist.  But with a free day on my hands, I'm suddenly in the mood to make something.   

The task in hand takes all of my focus.  There is nothing else in my head.  Eight hours melt away effortlessly.  The floor under the dining room table is covered in stray pins, snippets of materials and pieces of thread. 

A new dress.  There is only one like it in the whole world.  Satisfying.