To get through February in Minnesota, the hardest month for me every year, I set some sort of creative goal for late winter. In 2019, that was my sketchbook project for The Sketchbook Project at the Brooklyn Art Library. For 2020, I took inspiration from one of the most delightful shops in Minneapolis: Lakes Makerie, a sewing, fabric, and handcrafting shop which describes itself as “an online and real-life source for beautiful materials to make beautiful things.”
I stumbled upon Lakes Makerie by accident while scouting out the shop’s South Minneapolis neighbor, Show & Tell (also worth a visit). I was immediately delighted, and Sarah, the owner and creative force behind the shop, is part of the delight. I knew immediately I had found a kindred creative soul.
My mom sewed a lot of my clothes for me as a child, and she taught all of us - including my three older brothers - how to sew. She currently works at a fabric store in southern Minnesota, but the fabrics and patterns I’d seen at so many of the shops she took me to growing up never really interested me. However, I did learn from her the appreciation of touching fabric, feeling its softness, heft, quality. I went into Lakes Makerie three times just to touch fabric before I actually purchased any. Sarah has also put together a collection of more contemporary, minimalist patterns and textures that were much more my style than my mother’s.
After our trip to Scandinavia, I had started to take a more critical eye to my wardrobe. Functionality, comfort and neutral tones (with black representing 80% of my day-to-day) have always been my primary drivers. However, a lot of miscellaneous pieces had worked their way in, and I wanted to thin things out and be more mindful of the larger supply chain and footprint of my clothes (yes, a true Millennial, I know). I loved all of the looser-fitting linen smocks I saw the women there wearing, as well as the simple and durable staples layered upon each other, and overall, the lack of fast fashion outlets we noticed.
When I started looking for better quality, ethically made clothes, the pricetag on much of it was beyond what I felt comfortable paying, especially on a nonprofit salary. Luckily, many sustainable American clothing labels were also doing the work of educating the sticker-shocked newbies like myself. This post by Liz Pape, the founder and designer of the beloved (and now, unfortunately, scaled-back) Nashville-based slow fashion line Elizabeth Suzann helped me understand where all the money was going. And, it made sense. If you don’t want under-paid labor or cheap parts, I as the consumer was going to need to make up the gap.
I also wanted to remind myself how difficult sewing was — at least how difficult I found it. I purchased this Wiksten Haori jacket pattern from Lakes Makerie and debated forever among the beautiful fabrics there. I already had a deeper appreciation for all of the design choices that go into each article of clothing: durability, color matching, drape, walkability, ease of working with the fabric. Then it was time to cut the fabric, which was nerve-wracking itself; I didn’t select the most expensive fabric, but it also wasn’t cheap. But, if you’ve never cut into fabric with a sharp pair of fabric sheers, you are missing out. My mom borrowed me a sewing machine and I got to work.
I had to keep my computer at hand as I constantly Googled everything I once knew how to do as an 8-year-old: how to thread the machine, change the pressure foot, thread and wind the bobbin, press the seams. But once I got to the actual sewing, it was fun. It was also satisfying how quickly the fabric puzzle came together to make something I could try on. I’ll admit that attaching the collar at the very end wasn’t easy given that I was working with a heavier fabric. But, it’s not a super visible seam, so I left it as it was.
In the end, I was happy with how the finished jacket turned out. It was also a joy to be able to wear it to work and when a coworker asked where I got it, to answer “I made it!” Once you factor in the cost of materials (just under $100) and my time (calculated at my current nonprofit hourly rate, at least another $500), this was not a cheap project. But, it was worth it to learn the very important lesson that my nonprofit often tried to teach other nonprofits: the difference between price vs. cost. I’m now willing to pay a lot more for better (and fewer) clothes, knowing how much it would cost me to make them myself.
Note: I’d be remiss not to say that Lakes Makerie also offers classes! It’s a great business to support — check them out: https://lakesmakerie.com/
