Tissue pattern on my chosen fabric

Clothing has been an important part of my life since I was able to choose how I wanted to look, before the age of hair dying. I could be whoever I wanted to be. Until recently I had never thought about how clothes were made, or even who made them. However, having spent time exploring the fashion world I’ve become more aware of how garments are made, the amount of waste that the industry produces and just how difficult it is for the average person to find something that they want/like and fits.

Cuff detail

Earlier this year I took a course with London College of Fashionas an introduction to garment making. It was a birthday and Christmas present combined, because I thought it was time to learn how to sew properly. We were asked to bring an easy pattern to eventually turn into a garment of our choice, something we would happily wear out of class. Well, me being me, I decided on a shirt. Not the easiest garment to choose from and when my teacher gave me that look, I explained that I wanted a challenge and that I could do it, I just needed her to guide me through the trickier parts.

Having chosen a pattern, we started by making everything in calico — minus any decorations. Calico’s a stiff white fabric which gives off a smell, not too unpleasant but you wouldn’t think it would when you press it, which we did almost every time we used the sewing machine. My tutor stressed the importance of making a draft, so you could test how the garment sat on the person, and see whether adjustments were called for.

Those five weeks flew by, even though they were perhaps more intense for me than anyone else, since I’d started a new job at the same time. It was difficult to gauge how well I was doing in either. On reflection, if I could have slowed it down I would. I wanted to take photographs of my garment in all of its drafted glory, draped on a body form and surrounded by sewing machines. I wanted to be both the subject and the photographer as I measured out my pattern pieces and cut and sewed each piece myself, and captured the look of delight when I saw it finally come together at the end of this new process.

The little details

Since the beginning of my journey, I’ve stabbed myself multiple times with scissors, pins and seam rippers, I’ve dropped pins everywhere and left a trail of discarded thread wherever I’ve been, always from the most recent project. I now walk into shops and turn clothes inside out just to look at how they’re put together and think ‘I could make that.’ Now that I’ve completed a shirt with one too many buttons, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the course and the creative process it came with. Allowing me to take time away from a computer screen and allowing me to have more time experimenting and making new things.

My biggest challenge from the whole experience was: how do I now photograph this assortment of sewn up pieces of cloth? How was I going to photograph it if I was the one wearing it? I’m not a fan of selfies and anyway my arms aren’t long or strong enough to balance a DSLR in one hand and push the trigger. Yes yes yes I know I love making life difficult for myself and probably could’ve gotten a tripod, set it all up with an extended trigger and hey presto had a photo. Eventually, I laid out my shirt on my white marble floor and photographed it, whilst my mother looked on with interest. I’m not sure how to photograph clothes not being worn and even though the pictures came out ok I’m just not sure that is what I wanted.

My only other experience to draw from was when I was assisting in the museum, where clothes were laid out and we shot them from a bird’s eye view, turning them over for the reverse shot. Nothing fancy, you get what you see and it was all for reference. I’m not sure how I would get the image that I want with this shirt, but as I’m encouraged to make clothes for myself and others perhaps I will learn how to photograph a medium that has so many textures and colours. Another challenge for another day.