I have loved fabric ever since I was little. It just looked so pretty and felt so nice. I come from a long line of pack rats. As long as I can remember, my Mom has always had a huge stash of what she calls "raw materials." My Dad, too - only he called his stuff "good stuff." Everything was fair game to become "raw materials" or "good stuff."
My first introduction to recycling beautiful fabric was when I was in junior high school - okay, now I'm telling my age. In the 60's (the LATE 60s, thank you very much). Yep - before recycling was all the rage. My Dad had a GORGEOUS brown wool nubby tweed two-piece suit he didn't want to wear anymore. Well, I just couldn't let that great wool go to wool-tweed-suit heaven, so I cut it up and remade myself a pair of slacks to wear with my favorite dark brown sweater.
So, what is the moral of the story? Things made of fabric are not what they seem. A silk shirt is really a purse lining. A shrunk wool sweater is really a little bitty girl's coat. A linen dress is really a tote..... Get my drift?
