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Fabric-store fix to ease the winter pain

So, you can all hate me now, but I’ve never seen the movie “Groundhog Day.”

I did start watching it once many years ago but, everyone knows movie-watching is nowhere near my favorite pastime and when he dropped the toaster in the bathtub I was like, “Yeah, I’m not into this” so I shut the film off and haven’t had the time/ interest/ drive to every watch it all through.

But, I do have the internet and since the film is kind of a part of popular culture (in an outdated sort of way), I do know what it’s about: a man who lives the same day (Groundhog Day) over and over again and he lives and learns and grows.


So. I woke up today and I was well-rested and stuff because I tried to go to bed at a reasonable time and this morning I was like, “What is today? Wednesday? Thursday? I don’t know.” I think that’s because even though I’m dressing differently everyday, this winter is kind of like the same day happening again and again and again: grey skies and cold-cold-cold.

Last Sunday I was like, “Such winter. Much cold.” and I considered spending my day in bed (post-church!), staring at my dresser, but then I was like, “NO! If there is no color I will FIND THE COLOR!”

So I went to the fabric store.

I went with 3 vintage skirt patterns in hand, looking for a bright color on a winter-friendly material…preferably wool, secondarily corduroy. I was ready to buy, man. Ready to buy and create!

And while I didn’t find anything I loved, I did touch plenty of rich fabrics and that was a good thing. There was a pile of heavy cottons printed with faux-vintage images: school buses and rotary phones and Warhol-like faces. There was a little boy playing with the kitchen-set they had set up. His mother spoke to him softly with a British accent, and his little voice had a touch of accent, too, “Look, mom, I just put cookies in the oven!” (“Cool,” she responded).

Bolts o' goodness.
Bolts o’ goodness.
The pile of remnant was a hot mess–practically unsearchable. So, I took it upon myself to re-fold half of the pile, redistributing on the shelves, while looking for something I could use.

I found three fabrics I liked, the first a thick cotton-blend in blue. I debated a vest, but discarded because (yes, yes, yes vanity of vanities all things are vanities) it didn’t really match my eyes. And that’s really the only reason I wear blue. Otherwise, it’s not my favorite.

I also found a weird white material, with images of jewels (I mistyped that “Jews” at first. Which is a whole new level of weird) printed all across it. And, while the pattern was rather different, the drape was positively lovely–soft and full of flow. Lastly, material whose pattern that was reminiscent of blue feathers, all across what I assume was a silk blend.

I held the fabrics, I fingered them, I draped them over my arm.

But, I couldn’t do it.

I reasoned that I came to the store looking for winter fabric because it’s going to be winter for (let’s be real, OK?) another two months, I’d reckon. And May usually ain’t no walk in the park, either. Winter material, brain, winter material. Because of this, I returned the fabrics to the remnant pile, took one last walk around the woolens, and left into the sunny (albiet frosty) afternoon.

And things were brighter.

Flowers on a shelf. And more flowers.
Flowers on a shelf. And more flowers.

(As a happy ending, I meandered into another store last night and think I found the one I need, yo.)

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