About Me

I’ve been sewing for as long as I can remember. It started when I was six, sitting with my grandma as she cut out simple shapes for me to hand sew a doll’s dress. There was no pattern, no rules — just fabric, a needle, and the satisfaction of turning pieces into something real.

By the time I was nine, I joined a soft toy making club at school. I spent two years sewing small toys for my nephew using fabric scraps, a hand needle, and old tights cut up for stuffing. I still remember one project clearly — a hen made from orange and red scraps. It wasn’t perfect, but I was completely absorbed in the process. That feeling has never really left.

At around eleven, my teacher started entering me into regional sewing competitions. That’s where I used an electric sewing machine for the first time. I made a red heart-shaped pin cushion with ric rac edging — and to my surprise, it drew a lot of attention from the judges. It was a small project, but it felt like a turning point.

At fourteen, we had sewing lessons at school and made an apron. Mine was green, and I finished it at home on my mum’s old manual sewing machine with a foot pedal that had to be moved rhythmically. The stitches didn’t always hold, and I had to redo seams more than once. Looking back, that repetition taught me accuracy and patience far more than getting it right the first time ever could.

At fifteen, I drafted my first pattern — a simple nightgown. The fabric was stiff, the fit was basic, but the idea that I could create something from nothing stayed with me. Around that same time, I started using Burda magazine patterns. We didn’t have much growing up, so I worked with what I had — tracing patterns onto newspaper using graphite paper, trying to follow instructions in a language I didn’t understand, and figuring things out through logic and trial and error.

One project I’ll never forget is my first pair of trousers. They were white, made from leftover fabric — possibly even a bedsheet — with lace curtain panels added below the knee because I didn’t have enough material. They weren’t perfect, but they fit, and I was proud of them.

Clothing, for me, was never just about style — it was necessity. I wore hand-me-downs from family and friends, and my mum sewed clothes for us when we couldn’t afford to buy them. That shaped how I see sewing to this day: practical, resourceful, and deeply personal.

Years later, in 2014, I bought my first pattern drafting book. I was frustrated with wasting time and fabric on garments that didn’t fit properly, and I wanted to understand how to create patterns for my own body. I started with a skirt — and when it fit perfectly, it changed everything. From there, I moved on to dresses, learning how to adjust for things like a hollow back and refining my approach with each project.

The biggest challenge I’ve taken on was designing and sewing my own wedding dress — actually, two of them. The first had a full circle skirt and was covered in hand-embroidered flowers I worked on during lunch breaks over an entire summer. It was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like me. The second was a fishtail dress, shaped to fit my body properly, with hand-sewn lace details and a tie-up train. That was the one.

For that same wedding, I also made the bridesmaids’ dresses, a flower girl dress, a pink silk dress for my mum, and even a matching tie for my dad — all from self-drafted patterns, made to exact measurements. It remains one of the most demanding and rewarding things I’ve ever done.

Since then, sewing has stayed part of everyday life. I’ve made practical pieces for my family — a raincoat, snow trousers, waterproof mittens, endless leggings for my children, as well as clothes for myself and my husband. These days, most of what I make is documented here on the blog: pattern drafting, sewing from scratch, and creating garments that are meant to be worn, not just made.

I’ve never had formal training in sewing or pattern drafting. Everything I know has come from years of practice, mistakes, problem-solving, and persistence.

Sewing has been part of my life for over 30 years. It brings calm, focus, and a sense of satisfaction that’s hard to find elsewhere. This space is where I share that process — practical, imperfect, and rooted in real life.