I, as always, blame my mother

My Mum is amazing at making things. when I was wee she used to tell me about dresses she would run up and alter for 'the dancing' and she made my clothes. Now she has a lovely big workshop in our garage making soft furnishing and blinds and all sorts of wonderful stuff. So recently I had a visit back home to Scotland and I fatefully decided that I wanted to make something, a dress, and I wanted my mum to teach me. Poor mum, urrrgghh the measuring, remeasuring, tacking, tacking, cutting more tacking, with me doing the equivalent of 'are we nearly there yet' at every stage, we did however make it to the end and I am the proud owner of a home made dress. I was so pleased with it that I completely forgot what a pain in the arse the process was and promptly bought a sewing machine (all be it an argos value one) on my return to London. I am determined now that I will become more self sufficient in my wardrobe needs and I will make clothes that I love. Even if it drives me mad I will learn serenity, (I will god damn it!!!!) I also have this idea about doing really subversive things with traditional methods of making. I.e. I absolutely love these but how amazing would they be spelling out SWEAR WORDS how awesome (or extremely immature I can't decide) Either way so begins my journey in to destroying eh sorry making stuff. If nothing else I'm going to have a good laugh at myself, why not

While I have been writing this I have been listening to this