I went to the big fabric store yesterday all inspired and giddy with anticipation. And I left disappointed and confused. I guess it's been quite a few years since I shopped for new patterns, other than my wedding dress - which was actually in the costume section. The pattern books are about half the size they used to be and I looked through all of them - Simplicity, McCalls, Butterick, Vogue, Burda and New Look. None of the patterns moved me. They all looked flat and uninspired. Is it me? I found the one I posted about, which I do like, and picked it up to purchase. I wanted to get some fabric for it and looked at everything at least twice, touching and feeling as I went... but there was nothin'. Zip. Zero. Except the quilting fabrics. They were beautiful and there were hundreds of them - creating a huge rainbow on the wall. My favorites were the ones they called batiks. They aren't true batiks, but have the look. There was no drape, though, so I just sighed and kept moving. But the colors; I loved the colors. Here are three of them.
I was at the store way over an hour and left empty-handed, feeling discouraged and thinking things had changed too much for my liking. Used to be I'd take my pen and paper and make a list of all the patterns I saw that I wanted. I always knew I couldn't buy them all at once; there were too many! The list was always loooong, instilling visions of creations I wanted to make and the fun I'd have doing it. Yesterday I found five patterns I'd like to have and they included aprons and pj bottoms. But they didn't inspire me very much. I don't feel the need to have them. Where did all the cool patterns go? ... oh yeah, to Goodwill by my own hand about four years ago. Somebody shoot me.
When I got home I went up into our attic to see if I could find any of my old patterns. I seem to remember keeping my favorites, but where-oh-where did I put them? It was so hot up there I felt as though my skin was roasting; it was oppressive. So I didn't stay long enough to look properly. I need to go back up in the morning when it's cool and I can dig around.
But I did uncover an old 3-ring notebook I had in the tenth grade with "ALLEN" written in big block letters with a ballpoint pen down the outside spine. And, on the inside cover was written "French test on Wednesday" in sloppy script. It was overflowing with poems and thoughts I wrote when I was in high school. Oh my... I was so "deep" and serious. Stuffed behind all my words of love and pain and faux anxiety were poems and letters to and from old loves. Such angst as you've never seen. I was almost embarrassed for my young self. And hiding amongst the strained and often silly words was a sweet poem to me from my first love and first husband, and my son's father, Allen. Reading it almost brought tears to my eyes. He is gone now and one day I will write about him. He was the kindest soul I've ever known, and one of the most troubled. Maybe tomorrow I will post his little poem. I think he would like that.
I didn't find any patterns up in the attic, but when I opened that notebook, all kinds of memories flew out and filled my head.