When Fabric Hits the Fan

Why Do My Best Ideas Start in a Mess?

Let’s get one thing out of the way: my sewing room is not aesthetic- not even close. There’s thread on the floor, pins in the rug, and towers of 'stuff'  that occasionally threaten to collapse and take me with them. And recently, a few people online decided to tell me all about it. They declared their shock and made some wild assumptions about my life and the quality of my work based on my messy sewing room. Their knickers were in a twist !

Apparently, I’m meant to sew in a minimalist beige studio with a vase of sticks in the corner and not a scrap out of place. Well… 

So just let me step onto my soapbox. 

What Does a Mess Actually Say About You and Me?

Mess doesn’t mean lazy. It means involved. Psychologist Kathleen Vohs found that people in messy environments come up with 28% more creative ideas than those in tidy ones (University of Minnesota, 2013). So yes, the chaos is scientifically justified. (It did not take very long for me to find something scientific to back up my mess justification).

Next time someone criticises your workspace, you can just smile and say: 'I’m not messy – I’m statistically more creative than you.' (ooooh, the internets' would have a meltdown)

Can Chaos and Creativity Really Coexist Peacefully?

Yes. In fact, they’re best friends. Saying that I love my mess and find that it works for me does not mean that I am taking away anything from the neat crafters with their labels and organisations - in theory I want to be like that too. I'm just not. I create in mess, I think in mess and work best in mess. I like to have all my 'thoughts' on display, so every half-arsed project, unstuffed toy and pile of potential fabric is fighting for space in the sewing room and in my brain. Once it goes into a tub , it is gone forever.

Is there Joy in the Mess?

Yes, for me at least. The joy is in the 'doing'. It is in the crooked seams, the leg experiments that become very suggestive and the misguided attempts at working with fur. Mess means I am making and creating. My sewing room is only tidy when I have no projects on the go. 

What I have learnt From the Mess?

·         It humbles you. You can’t be precious when you’ve just sewed something to leg of       your pants again.

·         It gives you stories. Nobody remembers the day they organised their bobbins, but everyone remembers when they broke their toe in the sewing room. (Yes I did). 

What If Someone Walks In and Sees the Disaster Zone?

Let them. Smile. Offer them a biscuit. Tell them not to step on the scissors or the cat. If someone doesn’t get your chaos, that’s their problem, not yours. Because – and I say this with love – you don’t owe anyone a tidy studio. You owe yourself joy, curiosity, and a bit of mayhem.

Final Thoughts: Why I’m Not Apologising for My Mess

So, to those online critics who thought my sewing room was too messy… Thank you. You reminded me that my kind of creativity won't ever be a display cabinet – it’s a living, breathing,  swear-filled process. You made me go and find scientific people to agree with my thoughts and reminded me that my mess is not laziness or some other ungodly dreamt-up sin,  it is just the way I work.

So here’s my official stance: Long live the mess. and long live the makers who make it.