Category Life

Fabric Gatekeeping? Here’s a Tip: Don’t

Catherine Leave a comment

Social media has an interesting way of making you aware of things that, while it seems like common sense to you, appears to be a hair-triggering, spittle-making, absolutely bonkers debate to others. Today’s subject is on the concept of gatekeeping… Fabric.

Yeah, fabric.

Let’s start at the beginning. On Instagram user @alateish (aka Alatheia) shares screenshots from an 18th century sale-buy group on Facebook, shaming someone for selling a pair of silk polyester breeches for an affordable price. They go on to say that shaming someone for making beautiful objects out of poly or rayon blends is not helpful, and not everyone can afford natural fibers. This sentiment is also voiced by other 18th century costumers, which are also voiced by historical costumers, re-creators, cosplayers and hobbyists, and eventually it lands in my feed and it has me going “Who’s got the time and energy to belittle fabric choices?” It turns out, a good amount of people do.

Social media also has an interesting way of magnifying on an issue that, while appears to be short lived and petty, stems from a deeper root of systemic issues and (particularly to historical costuming) a community’s inability to regulate themselves and adapt for growth and change.

Here’s a reason why shaming someone for their fabric choices is not helpful: the availability of fabric is a geo-political hot button. Yes, fabric has ties to politics and we shan’t ignore it in this blog. It is extra disappointing to shame others for fabric choices when it’s a documented case that costs and accessibility to fabric is a tale as old as time.

An example from The Tudor Tailor:

“People strove to wear the best they could afford …. Christmas expenses for the Lestrange Family in 1519 serve to illustrate purchasing power at the beginning of the [16th] century. A day’s wage for a laborer would buy a yard of the cheapest cloth (canvas at 4d a yard), while his wages for six months would barely buy a yard of the dearest (cloth of gold at 58s 8d a yard), and a fine cloak, at £20, would require more than 3 years labor.” (Ninya Mikhaila & Jane Malcolm-Davies, The Tudor Tailor, Chapter 4, pg. 35)

This principal still applies to us in the 21st century. What is affordable to an American is widely different than to those in South America or Eastern Europe. While an American on median wages may be able to afford limited supplies of “100% natural fibers” these gatekeepers covet so, such cannot be said of clothing counterparts in Lithuania or in parts of Brazil. In fact, linen or broadcloths may not be available due to the sheer demand of clothing factories for general production in mainland Asia or consumers in Canada. In fact, the reason why parts of the western world is even able to provide natural fabrics to the retail market is can be attributed to the existence of rayon and polyester in the industrial market.

To create a fictional gate in which to filter tailors, stitchers, cosplayers, and historical interpreters on the arbitrary standard of “natural fibers” continues to reinforce the systemic issues of class, race, and disability status. The other side of this coin is that once all members who do not adhere to this standard, when they are finally gone, the steadfast guardians of such an ostentatious gate will then turn and build a new one; such is the self-fulling prophecy of gatekeeping and it’s ultimate result: the death of a community.

The most interesting facet of watching this play out on social media is the refreshing accountability held by prominent members of their communities. Dr. Christine Millar (aka Sewstine) makes the concise point that in order for fabric companies to continue creating reproductions of historical fabric they must produce them as either rayon blends or polyester blends, and if anything are entirely synthetic.

Even Zack of Pinsent Tailoring discusses his personal use of synthetic material in the early days of his tailoring career, adding the asterisk that while he makes the personal choice to seek and use natural fibers for environmental purposes, Zack has no plans to shame anyone for doing otherwise. Watching respected members of their communities to speak about their experiences with fabric and creating give us a common thread: that gatekeeping as a principal is not acceptable and that we must do better.

These “Fabric Wars”, as it has been coined, being the hydra of community bane, what can we as makers do?

The philosophy is simple, if difficult to execute: be the change you want to see. Reach out to people to share resources such as academic papers, textile providers, sewing techniques to maximize fabric use. Educate others on the specific purposes of each fabric and how to utilize it to the best of their abilities. Discuss the impact the fabric industry has in your area. Write to your retail providers with feedback, or write to your representatives and voice your needs. If you cannot be the change you want to see, all you’ll end up finding are gates and their keepers.

Let’s see how this “Fabric War” plays out on social media.

When Your Don’t (or Won’t) Care for Your Hands

Catherine Leave a comment

It’s 2 AM on a weeknight when my hands finally give out. I stare at them dismayed. I was so close to finishing this project. But when I attempt to pick up the hoop and thread my fingers scream in protest. I am defeated by another self imposed deadline, and so I go to bed.

There’s a common thread in any craft-related community I come into contact with that many (and I mean many) people do not listen to their bodies. This isn’t a purely American-Puritanic phenomenon either. I’ve listened to makers in the UK complain about back problems from bending over their tables for too long. I’ve seen corset makers in France talk about how they got tennis elbow from constantly hand-finishing their corsets. I’m constantly reminded by the way my hands cramp up after hours of knitting, or sewing, or what-have-you that we don’t want to listen to our bodies because we have so much to do, and so little time to do it.

Over the years I’ve come to learn some life lessons that I want to share in the hope that when you listen to your body, hopefully you’ll get to make more stuff down the line.

Listen to The Twinge

The first sign I always get of fatigue is the tell-tale twinge of my tendons. Doesn’t matter if I’m out walking, working on a project, or making a long drive; if I feel the twinge I need to stop what I’m doing. Sometimes I’ll take a break and watch a show while resting my hand. Other times I’ll do some self care like a hand soak or a good rub. Other times I’ll take some over the counter pain killers and wait for them to kick in before continuing. The twinge is the first warning sign that your body needs rest, don’t ignore it!

Break Your Brain, Not Your Back

Crafting can be a surprisingly dexterous adventure. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that you can learn new techniques that will make it easier on your body. I spent some time in many studios working on product development and I have a distinct memory from my early years of a worker finding me stretching my back out after spending a few hours hunched over a table. They said “You can do the same work sitting down. Break your brain, not your back.” and it stuck with me ever since. It’s why when someone is willing to teach me a new way of ironing, or hand sewing, and more, I want to see what they’re doing and how I can incorporate it into my own physicality.

More often then not I see people (and myself) always beating themselves up for their bodies and how they don’t function as intended all the time. Over the years I’ve become zen with the fact that my body will not always cooperate, and when it tells me to stop I will choose to listen. We can decide if our craft will be full of hardship and misery, or we can decide that our craft will be filled with determination and endurance. You can go as quickly as you want, but you can’t go anywhere if your hands give out. When you get the twinge or the ache, take a break. Give your hands a little massage, or put lotion on them; I don’t know about you, but my hands get stupid dry. Sometimes an ice bath or an Icy/Hot patch will do the trick. Your body talks, listen to it.

Waiting for “The Right Pattern”

Catherine Leave a comment

Yarn can be a fickle character sometimes; in the years that I have been knitting I have learned that yarn has a tendency to tell you what it wants to become.

Acrylic, for example, is easy to use but difficult to master. It sucks you in with the allure of its potential. Easy to wash, gentle for blankets, perfect for small children and especially helpful for those with fiber allergies. Every so often I’ll see an amazing granny blanket at a thrift store, or a baby’s throw in a friend’s bag that has the tell tale sheen of spun plastic. The farthest I’ve gotten with acrylic yarn was making a massive blanket to fit my queen size bed. It’s also the wrong gauge, so the stitches open and warp with every wash. I’ve come to terms with this, primarily because while the blanket is not a masterpiece it does get the job done and I have no desire to make it again.

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