Ce n’est pas un édredon
And I am not a quilter. To prove it, I offer up this little specimen. During college, my bestie decided to take a quilting elective, and silly me, I figured “hey, let’s spend some time in the light, I can sew a bit”. Which found me signed up the following quarter. Here’s proof kids: don’t pick up the quilt pipe just cuz your friends are doing it.
I finished the top of it, enough to pass the course. To be quite frank, I hated cutting up all those little pieces, then stitching them back together again. I was also much sloppier then, and not as interested in exact cuts or seam allowances. Not a trait for a future in quilting. Then it sat unfinished at my parents’ for years while I was off sewing my oats who knows where. When I moved relatively closer, mum decided to move my stored stuff out. So….it went on my bed, safety pins as quilt tacks and all. Until mum, the real quilter, took pity on me. Most likely it was disgust that I was keeping warm with a half-finished, pinned together excuse for a quilt.
She snatched it up and brought it to her friend, whose dozen elves put in new batting, squared up the backing and added to it (oy! poor measuring), and quilted the layers together in no time. Okay, so it was really a fancy quilting machine. And I know I’ve mentioned what a dear my mom is, but she actually hand-stitched the bias on for me. Where would I be?
Now it really keeps me warm at night, and is a hard lesson learned on why I shouldn’t quilt.
My yo-yo addiction has led to a really strong urge to make a throw-back throw of sorts. Or a fully-fledged yo-yo quilt. During wedding planning stages, I came across a gorgeous and delicate yo-yo coverlet at a local vintage shop. The sides of the circles were sewn together, creating a lot of open space. I wouldn’t dream of using it, but really wanted it to be mine. I couldn’t spend the money, even though I know it was a reasonable price for something hand sewn and decades old.
Our wedding was art-deco inspired and completely handmade, and while yo-yos aren’t exactly deco, the time period fit. Women used up every little scrap of fabric during this time, and thus the ingenious and cute yo-yo was born. Followed by, decades later, my addiction to making these little brooches with remnants from my stash, my mom’s stash, and a huge bag full of buttons I found in her sewing room.
A few months after our wedding, this quilt in Anthro was calling me from the page. So, I think it’s a done deal. I need to get my fix this winter, all warm and cozy with a cuppa tea, a film or three, and a stack of circles by my side. Signs point to yes.
This is not a quilt. It is merely an image of a quilt. And I am not a quilter. Or am I? Apologies to Magritte.