The Sew?I Knitalong still doesn’t have a May project posted, but I am thinking of doing some sewing on my own today anyway. I have a lot of cleaning and errands to do, I want to get in a good bit of knitting, I have to do some gardening and get #2 daughter’s room ready for her, and I hope to make further progress on the chaise longue (or Chair Made from Garbage, as the boys call it). Nonetheless, I plan to fit some sewing in there.

I have been influenced by the Australian Sewing With A Plan idea.

You may think that Australians spend all their time either at the opera or barbecuing shrimp on the beach, but in fact they are mad keen home sewers.

And they have this idea called SWAP — Sewing With A Plan. The idea is that you follow some simple guidelines to make 11 garments that constitute a wardrobe. There are sewing bloggers all over the web who do this over a period of four months in a SWAPalong.

At first, I merely admired this. But then it struck me that, with the Sew? I Knit sewalong, I have been making one or two garments a month. At that rate, I could make a SWAP in a year. In fact, I have made four things, all of which have been creative impulses, and none of which goes with anything in my wardrobe or with each other. Naturally, I don’t use them much.

Now, you may be thinking that I am not one to talk about wardrobes. “She has only been to the mall three times in the past twenty years,” you are thinking, “She only owns six pieces of clothing apart from her sweaters. She is not sound on the subject of clothing. I will not listen to her.”

I understand this reaction. However, I am a reformed character. Look. I have a wardrobe. There are khakis hanging beyond those shirts, and a jacket. Not a great deal of variety, I grant you, but still. I own twenty pieces of clothing.

I will pause here, because I know you are feeling like the young man in Mark Twain’s “The Esquimaux Maiden’s Romance.”

‘Guess how much he is worth–you never can!’
I pretended to consider the matter deeply, she watching my anxious and labouring countenance with a devouring and delighted interest; and when, at last, I gave it up and begged her to appease my longing by telling me herself how much this polar Vanderbilt was worth, she put her mouth close to my ear and whispered, impressively:
‘Twenty-two fish-hooks–not bone, but foreign–made out of real iron!’
Then she sprang back dramatically, to observe the effect. I did my level best not to disappoint her. I turned pale and murmured:
‘Great Scott!’…
‘Oh, I’m so sorry! If I had only thought–‘
‘Well, it’s all right, and I don’t blame you any more, for you are young and thoughtless, and of course you couldn’t foresee what an effect–‘
‘But oh, dear, I ought certainly to have known better. Why–‘
‘You see, Lasca, if you had said five or six hooks, to start with, and then gradually–‘
‘Oh, I see, I see–then gradually added one, and then two, and then–ah, why couldn’t I have thought of that!’
‘Never mind, child, it’s all right–I am better now–I shall be over it
in a little while. But–to spring the whole twenty-two on a person
unprepared and not very strong anyway–‘

Yes, well, now you will have recovered yourself sufficiently to continue.

So I am thinking that while I am going to the farmer’s market and the pharmacy and the meat market, I will also go to the fabric store and find a nice print fabric with which to begin my SWAP.