A Dress A Day

A dress.
Mostly every day.

November 18, 2008

10,000 Hours. (What Are You Waiting For? Start Now.)


Charles James Butterfly dress


Has everyone heard about Malcolm Gladwell's new book? It's called Outliers: The Story of Success.

There's an excerpt in the Guardian which is fascinating; you should go read the whole thing (and check out his Pop!Tech talk, too) but here is the two-minute takeaway: when we look at people who are at the top of their game, it's not so much that they are fantastically talented -- it's more that they put in the time. How much time? About ten thousand hours of time, if you want to be the best of the best. (If you want to be merely good, shoot for 8,000 hours, and if you're okay with being just north of mediocre, 4,000 hours.)

The dress above is something I would love, someday, to be able to make. (It's the Charles James Butterfly dress, from the Chicago History Museum.) Let's assume, whether it's true or not, that I don't have to be a staggering 10K-hour rocket scientist to make it, but could skate by on merely 8K hours of practice. How far am I from being able to make this dress?

I've probably sewn an average of 15 hours a month for the past twenty-five years, sometimes a little more, and sometimes a lot less. But let's take 15 hours a month as average. 15 x 12 x 25 is 4,500 hours, putting me just above mediocre ... which, to be honest, is right where I would say my own sewing skillset is (and those of you who keep pointing out -- rightly -- that I should match my patterns better will agree!). But if I keep sewing at this rate, or, better yet, crank it up a bit more, I could be at Charles James Dress Level in another decade or so -- which certainly worth trying for, right?

TEN THOUSAND HOURS may sound a bit frightening, but to me (since I'm almost halfway there!) it sounds fantastically encouraging. To hear that I don't have to have some ineffable pixie-dust sprinkle of magic called talent or genius or knack to make the kinds of dresses I dream of -- all I have to do is KEEP AT IT? And that this notion is backed by Science? How great is that?

I'm also going to be more generous from now on in what I call "practice." Reading sewing blogs & magazines and seeing new techniques? Practice. Hanging out in the fabric store? Practice. Idly googling "Callot Soeurs"? Practice. These next 5,500 hours are going to FLY by, I tell you!

So ... what do you want to be great at? How fast can you get to 10,000 hours? I'll wait while you do the math.

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February 05, 2008

The Dress A Day Guide to Learning To Sew: Part One


dottyral pincushion

pincushion from Dottyral on Etsy

I get a lot of email asking me how to learn to sew, and with so many other things in life, the answer is "It Depends."

First of all, you have to know how you learn. Are you someone who likes the "monkey-see, monkey-do" approach? Then you probably want to learn from a person, instead of a book. Do you want to learn in a big group where you can hide in the back, or do you need one-on-one attention? Do you do better with a kindly-grandma type who's never met a zipper she couldn't fix, or do you want a hip young thing wearing a deconstructed t-shirt? If you are going to learn from a family member or friend, will your relationship survive the first buttonhole? (Be honest with yourself. If a family dinner with Aunt Biddy has you gritting your teeth and wishing for death, she is NOT the person to teach you how to sew.)

If your fingers itch at the thought of not being able to just jump in yourself and TRY things, maybe you should learn from a book. I really like the Reader's
Digest Complete Guide to Sewing
, because it has great pictures and is very matter-of-fact; other people swear by the Singer Sewing Essentials book or the Vogue Sewing Book, among other titles. I recommend that, if you go the book route, you buy at least two books (or as many as you can afford the money and space for) so that you can get second opinions if something doesn't work for you. (Remember, sewing is like perl: There's More Than One Way To Do It.)

Then there's the question of What Do You Sew First? Again, how do you work? Will you do better with the challenge of a complicated first project (because you really, really want the result)? Or will you be happy making a basic tote bag or placemat that you wouldn't otherwise want or use, just to learn techniques slowly? Will you not be motivated unless you're sewing beautiful fabric, or will it rip you up inside if you ruin something special?

And another thing: how do you deal with frustration and failure? Because learning to sew, at least at first, will add heaping doses of both into your life, I'm sorry to say. If frustration makes you crazy-angry, with bouts of throwing things and/or screaming, try to sew when your family/roommate/pet parakeets are elsewhere. Take lots of deep breaths. One deep breath for each stitch ripped out is a pretty good ratio.

If "failing" at something makes you want to sleep for a week (and either stop eating altogether or mainline Ben & Jerry's): redefine 'failure'. You didn't fail to make a skirt, you succeeded in learning how NOT to make a skirt! Go into every project, at least for the first few projects, with the goal of learning, and not with the goal of making something couture-level. Define success generously. If you got the machine threaded right, didn't sew through your finger, and the two pieces of fabric join up more or less evenly? You won. Do a victory lap.

More advice: isolate your variables. Don't try everything at once! In other words, don't try to change a pattern's size or design AND do a new technique you've never tried before AND use a difficult fabric: if something goes wrong you will find it hard to figure out just what to blame (except for sunspots: I find it convenient to blame sunspots for everything).

I still think the ideal first project is a full skirt; it gives you only one part of your body to fit (your waist), encourages you to jump right in to zippers (Zippers: not that hard. Take some deep breaths, go slowly, and baste; you'll be fine), and, truly, a full skirt is also forgiving of minor "mistakes". Waistband uneven? Don't tuck in your shirt! Your hem is wobbly? Walk fast, they'll never notice.

Lastly, here are some things I wish I'd known when I first learned to sew ... and that I wish I followed 100% now!

  • Cutting is five times as important as construction. Honestly. Once you've cut the pattern, your track is chosen. It's much harder to recover from a cutting error than a sewing error. If you take your time on the cutting out, you will never regret it. Don't cut out patterns when you're tired, angry, or distracted (or, needless to say, drunk); you'll never wear the dress. And all those markings on the patterns? MARK THEM ALL. You won't be able to 'figure it out later' -- believe me, I KNOW.

  • Have everything in place before you start sewing. And by everything, I mean, wind one more bobbin than you think you'll need, know where your seam ripper, measuring tape, pins, zipper foot for your machine, etc., are. If the project needs seam binding or buttons or a zipper or interfacing: have it before you start. The fabric store is a sad, sad place at ten p.m. (if it's even open). And once you get home with whatever it was you needed, sitting down with a book will look awfully inviting. (Of course, being by nature impatient and NOT having what you need can lead to some "interesting" design decisions ... not that I would know. Ha.)

  • Put your stuff away in the right place when you're done. That way you won't have to spend an hour cleaning up from your LAST project before you can start your NEXT project. Total buzzkill, that is.

  • Eliminate the "shouldas" from your sewing life. Has a project descended into that abyss from which it shall never emerge? Write. It. Off. Don't let it hang around your sewing room like some Dickensian ghost. Give it away, cut it into quilt squares, mash it up for papermaking, hold an unfinished-object-swap with all your sewing friends, heck, throw it out or burn it if you have to -- I don't care what you do with it, but once you get to the point where thinking of it makes you feel guilty and self-flagellating, it is not a "unfinished project" but a curséd albatross. Sewing is no longer something people need to do to survive on the frontier [if you ARE on the frontier, pls ignore this part]; it's a FUN HOBBY. Vigorously expunge the parts that aren't fun. So you screwed up. So what? Bury the evidence, deny, deny, deny, and move ON.


I called this "Part One" as I may (or may not, you never know) add other parts later. But don't wait for them! Start now!

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