Friday 15 September 2023

Turning Bedsheets Into A Wardrobe and Other Second-Hand Thoughts

The Dilemma

When it comes to my clothes, I'm a remarkably lazy snob.

I want things that fit well. (This isn't an unreasonable thing to want, I feel.) I want comfortable fabrics that breathe, and don't end up smelling like a billy goat slept on them. (I swear, since starting T, I strip my shirts more often than I ever had to strip the cloth nappies.)

I want colours - black and white and grey don't count - that don't make me look dead. (When did all the t-shirts in the men's section become navy and olive?) And I want them to last longer than six months before they start a part-time internship in the mending box.

Clothes that need mending have been tipped into a rough pile on a striped blue picnic rug. There is an olive tank top, a navy t-shirt, a child's ombre blue skirt, a child's mid-blue satin-look skirt, a plaid long-sleeved shirt in red, blue, and white, a black t-shirt, a purple t-shirt, an olive t-shirt, and a child's pink long sleeved t-shirt.
The pile doth wax and the pile doth wane, but there's always a bloody pile.

This short list is surprisingly difficult to achieve, off the rack. Anything that fits my shoulders won't fit my chest, and vice versa. The armscye is usually either comically large, or too small to fit my biceps. And pants? Let's just not go there. (Belts help. Kind of.)

I really dislike how polyester and other synthetics breathe (they don't), so I avoid them whenever I can. It's getting much harder to find clothes made of 100% natural fibres, whether new or second-hand.

Colours I have slightly more luck with - or I would, if the first two things didn't get in the way. Longevity is always an utter crapshoot. (Though I've found that wovens last longer than t-shirts.)

The Solution

Luckily, I know how to sew. I used to do it for a living. (Not clothes, mind - baby carriers. More structural, less technically complex.) My possess all the basic tools, a few of the extras, and a reasonable set of skills.

A photo collage of four different photos. Top left shows two dresses side by side. The left is dark purple with a yellow peter pan collar, puffed short sleeves, and an empire waistband. It buttons up the front with three large, bronze-look, heart-shaped buttons. The dress on the right has a bodice of purple quilting cotton with small circles in darker purple. The sleeves and skirt are made of bright pink fabric with equally spaced, flower-like mandala patterns. The dress has an elasticated peasant blouse neckline, and the short sleeves are puffed. There is a ruffle around the hem made of the purple fabric, and a ruffle made of the pink fabric placed vertically down the front of the bodice.   The bottom left photo shows a child's gathered skirt made of shiny blue material. There are small lengths of ribbon, in several different shades of blue, stitched down randomly over the fabric.  The bottom right photo shows a pair of child's shorts made of light pink fabric covered in cute animal motifs. They have brown stripes down the side.
I've been making clothes for the kids for years - they care a lot less about style and fit. And skirts are easy.


So I'm taking a two-pronged approach to this dilemma. I'm practicing making things I actually like and will wear, and religiously patching my current wardrobe while I make replacements.

Making clothes, naturally, requires material. So instead of going to the op shop for clothes, I'm going for fabric. (I stopped buying new years ago, except for underwear, shoes, and the occasional really high quality item from places that at least pretend to pay their garment workers.) But my favourite deal-hunting section isn't sewing/craft - it's the linens.

Wait, what? Why?

Thrift store fabrics usually can't tell you what they're made from. (The staff get narky when you try to burn test the goods, sadly.) Plus there's just not that much of it. Bedding, tablecloths etc are donated far more frequently, and often still have their tags on them.

Now, you do have check for wear. Some donations look brand new, some have had a long life already. Check for pilling or thinner areas, especially in the middle of bedsheets (fitted ones are worse for this than flats). It's easier if you can hold things up to the light. Usually things in worse condition will be priced lower, but not always.

Why not buy clothes six sizes too large and chop them up to make new stuff?

I mean, you can. It's certainly a common choice, what with all the "thrift upcycle/refashion" videos and blogs and such out there dedicated to it. I personally don't, for the following reasons.

Care for people: I take the permaculture ethics seriously.

Have you ever really looked at the racks in an op shop? Piles of sizes S-L, much less outside of that. The bigger your meatsuit, the harder it is to find things that have a hope of fitting. Too bad if you hate stripes, or the fabric is itchy - if there's only two things in your size, then that's the choice you have. It sucks. (I am in no way body shaming here. Bodies do a lot of hard work for the people who live in them, and no one gets to judge anyone else's.)

I'm both outside the common sizes, and a weird enough shape to have trouble besides. And I've been broke enough that op shop clothes were a necessity, not a choice. I know what it's like to have to take what I could get as long as it fit "enough".

To me it is deeply unethical to take the few decent garments that are available for plus sized people, chop them up, and make something for me to wear out of them, when I can just as easily start with a sheet or a table cloth and achieve a similar result.

Efficient energy planning: I have limited time and brainpower available, and sometimes my executive dysfunction is bad. Like, "I'm eating peanut butter out of the jar for dinner because my brain has stopped" levels of bad.

Cutting up a garment, taking off buttons, and so on, adds several extra steps to a sewing project. Sometimes that's fine - in those situations, I have plenty of old clothes in the stash. More often, though, those extra steps completely derail me.

So I find it easier to start a project with what is essentially yardage. Even when I have to cut around stains, rips, or worn spots, it uses less cognitive capacity.

I also prefer rectangularly cut garments, and zero waste patterns that have you draw directly onto the fabric. These work better on something that started out life as a rectangle.

Use biological resources: Natural fibres are renewable. Mined ones are not. Where I can, I use the former. That's not to say I never use things with synthetic content - it's technically possible, but in practice hard as hell.

Produce no waste: I've still got a sizeable stash of acrylic knitting yarns, plus other bits and bobs, hanging around from before I made this commitment. Throwing them out or donating them (ie making them someone else's problem) won't actually fix things; I simply use them in appropriate projects, and when I replace them, I do so with things that fit my current ethical stance and needs.

But sheets are all plain white and boring!

I can see why you might think that. TV has done a lot of false advertising on that point. It is false. Trust me.

A pile of sheets have each been folded and rolled into a cylinder and stacked on top of each other. They are many different colours, including red, mustard yellow, chocolate brown, duck egg green, bright pink, and deep orange.
Ignore the movies. Real sheets come in just about every colour you can think of.

But, I know not everyone likes plain colours. What if you're madly in love with prints, or shirts with witty slogans on them? Well, besides the growing number of fancy sheets out there, might I interest you in the doona covers?

Five pieces of fabric have been partially unrolled to show off their patterns. The top left has pastel blue, purple, yellow, pink, and white stripes. Top right is dark blue with suns, moons and stars. Bottom left simulates block printing with large squares and rectangles of greens, blue and yellow. Bottom middle is a pink and white gingham with half inch squares. Bottom left has a deep pink background, with equally spaced mandala-like flower patterns worked in yellow, orange, maroon, teal, and sky blue.
The top right and bottom left are ex-doona covers. The rest are sheets.

Or the fine art of embroidery?

A large white rectangle of fabric has been mounted in a slate frame for embroidery. On the fabric are numerous small outlines of stylised squirrels. Half are holding coffee cups and half are holding chocolate chip cookies. Most of them have been embroidered in various colours.
I shall have the most glorious shirt sleeves when I finish embroidering them.

Or fabric painting?

A close up of the front of a black t-shirt that has a very faded decal printed on it. The decal is a stylised picture of a pack of zombies chasing a runner, with the words "Zombies hate fast food" underneath it. The picture and the word "zombies" have been painted over with gold fabric paint.
This is technically a mend, but I totally plan on doing similar to brand new things I make.

Or the many different styles of natural dyeing?

A very large, clear plastic jar sits on top of a dishwasher. It is full of liquid with a deep yellow tint, and there is a layer of yellow flower petals floating at the top of the jar..
Soursobs from the local park, gently turning into dye liquor for some dyeing experiments.

Or, if you've got lots of smaller or oddly shaped pieces of fabric hanging around, maybe some patchwork (all YouTube links)? It's not just coats and dressing gowns, either - you can patchwork jeans, trousers, dresses, shirts and more.

The point here is that fabric (and buttons, zips, thread, etc) doesn't have to be a thing you buy brand new. With time, patience, and a bit of luck, you can find everything you need to create great things second hand.

(Maybe I'll write a future post breaking down the costs of some of the things I've made...)


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