The Story in the Stitches
Something profoundly meaningful happens when wisdom is intentionally passed from one set of hands to another. It’s an intimate experience—both in how I seek my own education and how I choose to pass it along in my studio.
Recently, I felt the immense weight and beauty of this connection during a mentorship session with a woman who is leaning quietly into retirement. We were in her studio, surrounded by the familiar hum of our machines while we worked, when she pulled out an old, worn box.
Inside rested a wedding dress from the 1940s. It was her mother's.
As she gently lifted it, she explained that her mother had crafted the gown on a treadle sewing machine - a detail that immediately struck a chord in my heart, as I sew on my own great-great-grandmother's treadle. And that her mother's mother - with limited hand functionality performed the most perfect blind stitching on the hem. But the true awe came when she told me the origin of the fabric.
The dress was made from her fiancé's parachute.
I reached out to touch the material, and I was struck by a dizzying contrast. This silk was impossibly light - soft beyond words, slipping through my fingers like water. Yet, eighty years ago, it was the only thing between a soldier and the sky. It was built for survival in the harsh reality of war, then re-stitched with hope to celebrate a new life in marriage. A symbol of resourcefulness, love, and resilience.
I teared up looking at these things, overwhelmed by the power and deep meaning held in the hands of the women who crafted their own gowns from materials carrying such complex history.
In that moment, looking at the delicate stitches made on a machine powered by a woman's own rhythm, I was overcome with immense gratitude. I felt so fortunate to be the one to receive this experience - to be entrusted with this history, this wisdom, and this teaching.
This woman cares enough to pass her experience to me so I may keep it alive, nurture it, and eventually pass it to others. That is the soul of this craft.
There is something sacred in this intentional exchange in a learner-driven environment. It requires us - whether as a student, an apprentice, or a client - to show up with an open mind, willing and ready to receive.
Yes, there is validity in the knowledge we have already acquired. But when we soften, when we are willing to hear things from a different perspective or try a new technique, that is where we grow.
When we know multiple ways to do things, we gain the immense privilege of choice. When we experience different methods, we can find the path that resonates most with our own strengths and unique perspectives.
This is true for an apprentice showing up to deeply understand the mechanics of a difficult stitch. And it is equally true for a client showing up for a fitting, opening their mind to understand their own body best, allowing us to alter a garment to fit them, rather than trying to fit themselves into the garment.
My goal in this space, and in my studio, is to honor the legacy of the parachute dress. To treat every stitch as an intentional act, holding space for the history of the craft while tailoring it beautifully for the present moment.