I might have made a hexagonal mistake.

I have been weirdly fascinated with quilting lately. Or maybe it’s not so weird at all, given that you can make one big thing from many small things, and that in general is a principle that appeals to me.

Anyhow, a while ago I put the free “Block of the month” class on Craftsy on my list, but other than peeking at one or two month’s lectures, didn’t really do anything with it.

Then I stumbled upon this tutorial for english paper piecing on the Make blog, and well, what can I say, without me consciously making a decision, my printer was spitting out the pdf, and I found myself digging through the scraps bin. Which, I have to say, yielded far less loot than I’d expected – maybe I was ogling the fat quarter packs in the fabric shop earlier out of some sense of foreboding? We’ll never know, but the chances that I’ll be back in the fabric shop soon are good 😉

The Beginning

It turned out that I had only two matching fabrics in sufficiently large pieces in my scrap bin, but undeterred I cut them up. And started sewing them together.

Very little to show

When I realized that I probably can’t very well add to it later easily if I sewed all I had to together today, I stopped. But I have to admit, I’m rather pleased by the tiny bit I did accomplish, and what’s more, I kinda enjoyed the hand sewing. Who would have thought.

The pile

And this post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t show you what I’ve been drooling over after I’d stopped actually sewing the hexis – Pinterest, what else.

Don’t hold your breath for actual sewing.

So, this post was supposed to be published on Wednesday. If only I’d known before Wednesday came and mostly went. I swear, I’d have put it up in time.

Lately I’ve been looking at my stash, which is manageable by all accounts. It’s one huge plastic container half filled. There are some things in there I ogle every morning (I can see it from my bed), and wonder if today is the day I find YOUR pattern – that’s for “you, pretty length of fabric”.


Occasionally, I go on a pattern evaluation road trip (via the internets, of course). Then I try to imaginarily marry a pattern that takes my fancy with something in my stash.

Simplicity 1776 Project Runway
Simplicity 1776 Project Runway (patternreview.com)

This one I actually own, and I own it because I talked a much loved friend into obtaining it in the U.S. and sending it to me. Thanks, <youknowwhoyouare>!!

It is also a sad fact that I own nothing that I could make it out of. I have things that have one of the attributes I imagine for this dress, but not all. I think light wool (which I own in a dark gray.), and ideally checkered (again, I have some, but it’s a light summery (probably poly)cotton fabric.

Now, as an astute readership as mine you will have noticed that I haven’t made a single dress so far. There was the somewhat abortioned Parfait, but that’s it. I did make a couple of skirts – which consequently I’ve never worn. Damn, now I remember that I thought I’d wear my jeans skirt at least once to work for Kim-ing. Sorry, dahlink! I’ll wear it to our next meeting, I promise!

So why do I covet a dress pattern so much that I feel it’s okay to invest not only mine, but somebody else’s energy into getting it when I already know I don’t wear dresses?

It must be the same mechanism that leads to my yarn stash being full of lovely skeins in colours I love, but not a single bunch of skeins/balls that I could use to make the cardigan I desire (which would be either black or gray).

Yarn stash
Yarn stash  – please don’t ask about the yellow. Or the fuzzy green. Please.

What is it that makes me buy stuff that doesn’t fit the bill of what I actually want to wear? Why do I do it? (And oh dear, I think we ARE back to cake vs. icing vs. cucumber sandwich.)

It is hard to resist the calling of a particular pretty bolt of fabric (“Oh, really, end of the bolt? Of course I’ll take all 2.5m of it!”) or the siren calls of a skein of Mal lace. And it takes some training to actually shop for what you want, with more than “some sort of light wool-ish stuff” as clear requirements.

Have I mastered that art? Not by a long shot. Which is why I know what I’d like to make, really now. And still I am scared to go shopping for before I’ve made my muslin (which I so hope will turn out to be wearable, as I’m planning to use wool and flanelette from stash, none of which are shabby) for the jacket.

Right now I’m trying to actually plan even that, and compare the pattern to my beloved winter jacket (which really, really has earned retirement!) so that I know which extra’s and embellishment would make my make even more awesome.


Did I mention that planning is where I get obsessive when I indulge in it?