Excerpts

Where it All Started A little over ten years ago, I was hunched over my desk at work with my nose practically pressed against a gigantic computer monitor, my pregnant bod squeezed into what felt like a very small cubicle, as I scrolled through garment-sewing blogs. (I was taking a very long "lunch break" from my mind-numbing corporate job.) After what might have been hours of diving down that particular online rabbit hole, my brain combusted with the thought: Sewing completely changes your relationship with your body. I saw women from all over the world, confidently and generously sharing photos of beautiful clothes they'd made with their own hands to fit their one-of-a-kind bodies. I read how they felt liberated from fashion trends, how sewing connected them to their bodies in a whole new way, and how empowering the act of making clothes can be. The message was clear: sewing is life-changing. At the time, I didn't even own a sewing machine. Yet I knew in the core of my soul that this correlation between sewing and clothes and body image was significant, and I wanted to be a part of it. At that point, I was nearly nine months into pregnancy and had been feeling especially delicate about my morphing physique--which was saying something for someone who had struggled mightily with weight for decades. And was it my imagination, or was that alarm in my husband's eyes as my body grew and grew and grew? Baby-making amped up my appetite, and I had gained sixty pounds. People constantly asked, "Are you expecting twins?" When the time finally came to pop out the bebé, my daughter would turn out to be a wisp of a thing, weighing in at six pounds, eight ounces. I had apparently consumed fifty-three and a half pounds worth of croissants and ice cream throughout the gestation period. Back in my cube, I shifted uncomfortably and adjusted my belly as I continued to read the blog posts about this radical connection between sewing and body acceptance. It wasn't that garment sewing transforms the body to appear gorgeous, but I was getting the feeling that the secret sauce was in learning how to appreciate the body as is, deeply and unequivocally. What I felt for my own body at that moment though was the very opposite of appreciation: disappointment, shame, hostility. Sewing could change that? I was in! However, it took many years and many excuses before I actually began sewing clothes for myself. Sewing seemed hard. I felt lazy. I didn't know where to start exactly, and that uncertainty kept me stuck. But when I finally revved up the sewing machine and started to practice making tops and dresses and pants and so much more for my unique body, I got it. I really got it. Learning how to make clothes that truly fit me --in every sense--was nothing short of revolutionary. I was in my late thirties when I started this adventure, and up to that point, I'd spent the better part of my life loathing my body, trying to sculpt it into a shape that I thought would make me acceptable to myself and others. Sewing fundamentally shifted my attitude toward myself, and I stopped trying to change my appearance to fit into some unattainable ideal mold. I created clothes that felt good to wear and made me feel beautiful--and sewing became an act of kindness and nurturing for myself. I created this book with my former self in mind: a procrastinator, full of excuses, excited by the prospect of sewing up some love for myself, but unsure of how to begin. I don't regret the path I took to get here, since I learned a lot along the way, but it would have been really nice to have had a simple, encouraging book to start with. So many of the sewing books I read provided technical skills and techniques (in perhaps too much detail) but rarely addressed the psychological discomforts of sewing clothes for ourselves, or the overwhelm of navigating the many pattern and fabric options. They seemed to brush over the angst I felt about my body when they'd casually recommend that I "find a friend to measure all the body parts." What?! I could never do that! I don't even want to measure myself! My resistance was immense. And so I kept putting off sewing clothes for myself. Many of the books also made pattern-drafting sound intimidating and exacting, using words like "difficult" and "complicated," citing discouraging examples of people trying to draft the perfect pants pattern for thirty years and still failing. Drafting and fitting don't need to be so complex. A few years ago, my mom (an artist and veteran sewer) watched me carefully trace a pattern from a Japanese craft book, add the seam allowances, and assemble the pieces. She was impressed, but also puzzled. "I've never used a commercial pattern," she informed me. "You just need a few measurements, some paper to sketch out the necessary pieces, adjust a bit as you go, and it ends up fitting just fine, you know?" I wasn't confident enough to try it at the time, but as always, Mama was right. I want to share all that I've learned and save you some time with this book. With that in mind, I did my best to simplify every project. Whether you've never even looked at a sewing machine or you've been sewing for decades, my aim is to include helpful advice and (I hope) inspiring projects for truly customizable wardrobe basics within these pages. You'll find: - the story of my evolution from the self-conscious queen of procrastination to someone who can whip up a custom-tailored top in an afternoon, and the lessons I learned along the way. - a "lookbook" showcasing all of the projects in the book, worn by people with a variety of body types. - a section that covers the foundational knowledge you need to get started, from sewing basics and tools to a step-by-step guide to creating your own slopers, which will be the building blocks for drafting your own patterns to fit your unique shape. Think of the sloper as a 2-D version of a dress form. It's essentially your singular body shape translated onto a flat piece of paper, and you can use it to create any pattern you like. Common fit issues will also be addressed in this section. - project instructions for fifteen versatile garments with detailed illustrations along with options for variations and quick overviews of useful techniques. The slopers you create will enable you to draft any project in this book--and beyond. Your body and your preferences for style and fit may change over time, but once you have the sloper know-how, you'll be able to create the wardrobe of your dreams at any stage in your life. This book, at heart, is about starting exactly where we are. Starting is always the hardest part (followed by the close second and third of continuing and finishing). My call to action is always, "If I can do it, anyone can!" I'm still not an expert at sewing or fitting. I am, however, becoming an expert at understanding myself, at paying attention to what feels right for me, inside and out. For me, sewing has been a creative expedition of discovery that continues to uplift me, but more than anything else, it has been a way to learn how to become friendly with my body. My body had felt like a punishment for so long, and I was bone-tired of it all. Those sewing bloggers that I discovered a decade ago knew what they were talking about. Sewing has completely changed the way I view my body. Not only that, it's changed the way I treat my body for the better. There were a few big hurdles to leap over, for sure, but I worked steadily to accept this human mass of neurons and tissues and muscles and pumping, thriving blood. And then--I started to like it. These days, I unapologetically love my body and revel in the life-giving miracle that it is. My body is beautiful, and so is yours. Truly. My deepest hope is that this book will be the gentle, loving booster that propels you to create clothing that embodies and expresses you . I've endeavored to make the process as simple as possible. So let's do this. Excerpted from Sewing Love: Handmade Clothes for Any Body by Sanae Ishida All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.