The allure of old velvet

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(Maybe there’s enough leftover to deck an ottoman?)

(Here’s something I forgot to post, from sometime in January…better late than never. We’re having a yard sale this weekend, and it’s junk week, so maybe posting this will inspire me to dig deeper. At least the velvet in question will now get its literary due.)

***

 

Last night, I lay awake and imagined getting rid of all the extra stuff I truly don’t need, and even made decisions about what to let go, magically simplifying, solving my problems of stuff. But course when I woke up, it wasn’t so simple.

For instance, a vintage black velvet dress: I’ve had it since the late 1980s, since college. I used to wear it frequently. It’s big and slouchy and at some point at least a decade ago, I realized I was done wearing it. But I couldn’t get rid of it. I put it in my version of purgatory: the fabric bin.

A few years ago, I took it to a clothing swap with some friends, and someone asked if they could harvest the buttons, and I said sure. (I survived that regret.) But when it was time to pack things up to donate, I couldn’t let the denuded dress go…and so I lovingly carried it home, in tatters.

I bring it out every so often and touch it. It’s got perfect drape; it’s like fluid fur. They don’t make velvet like this anymore. I want to make something of it. A skirt? A hobo bag?  Why? It’s gorgeous, and it’s been with me so long, and…

Often in dreams I create quilts of my many hoarded scraps, think about them and design them while I’m not sleeping at night. I have yet to make the first sketch while awake, the first cut.

This year, I intend to stop hoarding and follow through with these dreams and ideas, or get rid of the stuff.

But today I have to write, and prepare for tomorrow’s class, and so I continue to dream…

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