After many months of tweaking this, and moving that, I finally have a sewing space to call my own. Even old Helen has left her usual haunt (bidding farewell to all the lovely plants) and now finds herself amongst like-minded inanimate objects. She seems filled with a sense of belonging after floundering in her bedroom exile. She's deep, that one, especially for a headless mannequin, but you know what they say about still waters.Even my beloved flat file has been restocked and organized with all of the fabrics that had been stored in plastic bags and shoved into dark corners for so many months now.
I can't accurately express how motivating having this workspace is. Even if it is in the middle of the playroom, and I usually step on a few sharp cornered Hot Wheels to get to my desk. I hardly scratched the surface of my things-to-do-before-the-baby-arrives list, and am now quite limited in what I can accomplish, but at least I have this. It makes me feel a little optimistic about carving out a few minutes for myself here and there this summer.To celebrate having this space of my own I set out this pile and started sketching. It's funny how much it looks like this pile. I should feel shame for having my spring collection in a similar palette (and even some of the same fabrics) as last fall's, but whatevs. Where I fail at trendsetting, I excel at not giving a rat's.
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