I walked into an outbuilding, along with a huge crush of others, into what had clearly been used as a sewing studio at one time. Talk about a kid in a candy store. That is exactly how I felt. My vision was filled with dreamy colors: paisleys, plaids, stripes, polka dots, and solids. The studio contained numerous sewing machines, dozens of bolts of fabric, all neatly stacked in shelves along the walls. There were a number of bins filled with sewing notions from pins and needles to scissors and rotary cutters. There were yards of batting, cutting mats, and more. But most of all, there were boxes and boxes of fabric on tables, some sorted, some not. This was a fabric stash that was a quilter’s dream come true.
Normally when I buy fabric, I take my time, studying the colors, and thinking about various projects I might create. I try to visualize what is in my own stash, and what is lacking there. Yet, when I walked into this place, there wasn’t time to consider what I wanted. I just let it speak to me. I picked up what I liked with no thought to what I would do with it. There just wasn’t time for that. And, if I liked something and didn’t grab it, one of the others shopping there would have. So, I wasn’t even really aware of what I bought until I got home and spent some time with it, imagining what part it would play in future quilts. One of the first things I did was wind it onto cardboard in preparation for storage. I love
I spent about $40 for material that would have otherwise cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars. This was a sale of a lifetime.
That said I would be remiss not to mention the downside.
I’m aware that my joy is related to someone else’s agony. I don’t know the story of what became of the person who owned that studio, the person who initially bought each and every yard of fabric contained there. I can’t even speculate. But it always makes me sad to realize that when someone’s household items are ‘liquidated,’ it is usually because someone died or was forced to move away.
I cherish each and every yard of fabric I have, but I respect this even more because of how it was obtained. I hope when the day comes that my children have to dispose of my fabric that it will be go to quilters. Quilters are very caring people, and they understand what our fabric means to us.
I’m anxious to start my next project.