Why do I stitch?
“Don’t You Ever Get Bored of All This Stitching?”
It’s not exactly the question I get asked, but it’s often some version of it — “Don’t you ever get bored of all this stitching?”
Of course, we all know the truth. Stitching isn’t something you get bored of — it’s an addiction, a form of meditation, a tactile joy, a way to express ourselves and make heartfelt gifts for people we love. It’s also the perfect excuse to buy new threads, fabrics and shiny things to feed the habit. It’s a never-ending learning curve — and above all, it’s fun, fun, fun! Even when it’s driving us quietly round the bend.
My own journey began with making clothes. “Freestyle embroidery” — anything kit-less and count-less — came to me later in life. I was that kid in my first year of high school who was already way ahead of the “home-ec” lessons (or “domestic science,” as we Brits would say). My mum made many of my clothes growing up, so it felt natural to have a go myself.
Back then, fabric shops were wonderlands. There was one in particular, Lizanne’s, where mirrored columns stood throughout the shop so you could hold up a bolt of fabric and check if the colour suited you. It was glorious.
My auntie gave me some threads, fabric and a small design one day — I think it was hardanger fabric, looking back — and I was instantly hooked. That little stitched sample became the label for the very first quilt I ever made. The quilt itself took a year to piece and another to quilt (I wasn’t in a rush). I’d travel up and down on the Toronto underground with a zip-lock bag in my handbag, just enough piecing to keep me busy for the journey.
My love affair with fabric never stopped. My first quilt show in the UK was at the Malvern Quilt Show in the late 1990s, during what I call my “Colour Rules” phase. I had a glorious time buying fat quarters (still makes me laugh — what a name!) in every bright hue imaginable, and eventually the Jolly Rancher quilt was born. It was named after my favourite sweets back in Canada — and, yes, my whole house ended up in those same colours!
(For the record, a “fat quarter” is a piece of fabric about 50 cm square — a very useful little bundle of joy.)
Stitching became my way to unwind from the world. Most evenings after work, I’d settle in with something stitchy. Eventually, as happens to many of us, I hit a career wall — that point where you’ve gone as far as you can and the joy’s gone missing. Stitching, however, remained constant through all of life’s changes.
And so — after quite a long story I’ll save for another day — I found myself training as an apprentice at the Royal School of Needlework, at the magnificent Hampton Court Palace. Walking up the main drive on my first day, I remember thinking, “I’m Harry Potter, and this is Hogwarts — what house will I be sorted into?”
Those three years were extraordinary. I stitched my fingers off, surrounded by fellow professionals-in-training and passionate enthusiasts alike. Many of the tutors have since become dear friends, and my connection to that incredible place remains strong.
It’s hard to believe that was over two decades ago — and that I’ve now been working as a professional creative for more than twenty years. Yet there’s still so much to learn, so much to design, to stitch, and (yes) to buy — but we won’t mention that last bit!
I remember ringing my lovely mum just before Christmas in my first year at the RSN. We’d just handed in our first term’s assignments and were doing some work in the studio. I told her, “I’ve never been so exhausted and so excited at the same time.” Things haven’t changed much.
I stitch because I have to. I don’t know what I’d do otherwise. The feel of fabric, the rhythm of needle and thread, the joy of seeing a design come to life — and watching students reach that same magical point — that’s what life’s about for me.
(And don’t even get me started on knitting, crochet, art dolls, or corset-making… that’s a whole other story!)
