Hello again, Reader.

I was planning a lovely post about embroidery stitches for today, but something has been weighing on my mind and gnawing at me, so the stitches are going to have to wait. Here’s the deal.

I was out for a walk yesterday with my boyfriend, on our way to dinner. We happened to walk past a group of four men, who seemed to be in their early twenties to me, but I didn’t stop to fact-check, so I’m not certain. As we overtook them, they hurled insults and slurs my way. I was startled and shaken. I have come to expect behaviour like that when I am alone or with other women, but never when I am with a man. That alone is a sad, and frankly abominable, state of affairs.

Even worse, Reader, was my reaction to this street harassment. I immediately glanced down to check what I was wearing.

I’m still deeply ashamed about this. No matter how much I decry it, I have bought into the idea that the clothes I put on my body invite particular responses from men, who are apparently unable to control themselves or their actions. According to this notion, the wretched behaviour I experienced is not men’s fault: it is my fault for wearing clothes that would entice or excite their brutish, animalistic natures.

This is called victim-blaming, and I’ve been seeing it discussed a lot recently. One article that caught my attention recently recounted the details of a case in which a young woman was ejected from her high school classroom, sent to the principal’s office, and then sent home, missing a day’s worth of education, because (wait for it)… her collarbones were showing. I’ll repeat that. Collar. Bones.

So shocking!

What’s worse is that the reason given in her school’s handbook for why collarbones are so inappropriate for the classroom is that they would be a distraction for male students.

There are several problems with this line of thinking. First of all, it puts the responsibility for any kind of aggression or violence towards women, big or small, on women. That logic doesn’t work in other situations: if you get mugged, it’s your fault, because you were carrying something. If your home is broken into, it’s your fault, because you have a house. If someone keys your car, it’s your fault, because you had a car to key in the first place. We don’t say these things to victims of theft or vandalism. We do say these things to women who get harassed, verbally or otherwise.

Secondly, it’s a fallacy that women who dress is an ‘appropriate’ way don’t receive aggression. Women in areas where dress is state-mandated and covers either all or most of their bodies still experience harassment from men.(Read more about it here.) Besides, what is ‘appropriate’, anyway? Some people would define what I was wearing last night as down-right prudish, while others would insist that because my wrists, ankles, hair, and face were exposed, that I was nigh-on inviting obscenities from these men. There is no set definition of ‘appropriate dress’, which is why schools have to make up guidelines. Doesn’t it seem odd that they have to invent rules to support the ‘rules’ they want their students to adhere to? If these rules are real, and should be followed, why don’t they already exist?

Now, some of you might be saying, “We agree that the collar-bone thing is a step too far, and we’re sorry that a bad thing happened to you, because we know you, but what about all those other women, who go around with their low-cut tops and short skirts and see-through fabrics and high heels? Surely those women are asking for whatever they get?”

Well, Reader, that’s a big old NOPE. Let me tell you why. For starters, this kind of dialogue between women is actually a tool to distance ourselves from those women whom society deems deserving of aggression, so that we don’t get mixed up with them and suffer their same fate. We shame and bad-mouth each other as a means of distinguishing ourselves as morally-upright, superior women who are beyond reproach, and to delude ourselves into thinking that we are safe from aggression from men. What we are really doing is throwing each other under the proverbial bus, and perpetuating the myth upon which victim-blaming is based: namely, that victims of harassment crimes are in any way responsible for their suffering.

Furthermore, dressing in a way that is deemed ‘sexy’ seems to have very little effect on whether or not a woman is harassed. All kinds of women get harassed, of all ages. I was harassed for the first time as a child of twelve. Harassment in any form isn’t about sex. It’s about power. The young men I passed on the sidewalk weren’t aiming to get to know me better, or even make a pass in the hopes that they’d get lucky. (We can be certain of this by asking ourselves one simple question: of all the couples you have ever known, how many of them met via street harassment?) They were showing off in front of each other, bigging up their own egos by making someone else (namely me) feel small. Similarly, men who cat-call by themselves aren’t trying to meet women. They are doing it for entertainment, for sport, to pass the time, and to make themselves feel good by asserting dominance over others.

All of this nonsense doesn’t put men in a very good light, does it? It makes them seem beastly, boorish, crass, insecure, immature, vulgar, and just plain rude. HIgh school boys, according to many dress-codes, are half-witted, animalistic brutes, unable to control their hormonal urges, and utterly enslaved by their bodies. There’s a name for this: it’s called toxic masculinity. Patriarchy doesn’t just have an impact on women. It also affects the way in which men experience life, and a lot of the time, not in a good way. From a young age, men are told that they have to be powerful, strong, aggressive, sexually virile, tough, insensitive, and unemotional to ‘count’ as a real man. Their positions as the dominant gender in our society balances on whether or not they can perform this role, and keep up the masquerade of toxic masculinity. We see examples of it all the time, but one of the most prevalent, and most dangerous, is in interactions with women. The young men who shouted at me were displaying dominance over me for the benefit of their friends, to show each other how masculine and powerful they are. This is the technique of the bully: to mask the feeling of insecurity, or to override it, they instill insecurity in others through aggression. But that’s just the problem. The aggression masks or overrides the feeling, but doesn’t deal with it, or make it go away. Toxic masculinity is bad for women and men.

Warning: may contain toxic masculinity.

So, long story short: my clothes, my shoes, my hair, my appearance, DO NOT invite aggression or harassment under any circumstance. As such, I will wear whatever I like, and enjoy wearing clothes that make me happy. I’m wearing them for me.

Also, a note to the distasteful ‘gentlemen’ who hollered unspeakable things at me:

The only kind of acceptable cat-calling is when you are actually calling a cat. Even then, the cat will be unlikely to listen to you, because it is a cat. I am not a cat, but, you will be amazed to learn, I am also not listening to you.

So stop it.

Until next time, Reader.

Yours,

Cotton Jenny

Hello again, Reader.

It’s been a while since I last posted. A major project of mine has just come to a close, and as usual, the last stretch is often the toughest. Suffice to say that I am grateful that it’s finished, and excited for what’s next, but also happy to call my time my own and dedicate a little more attention to the important things in life (like this blog, for instance).

It’s a sleepy Sunday, and in the interest of keeping it that way, and to ease back into the swing of things here at Cotton Jenny Fabrics, I’ve got a great little list coming your way, Reader.

I’ve been packing up for the big move that is coming at the end of this month, and in the process, came across some of my favourite books that deal with all things fabric, all of which I cannot recommend highly or often enough. Check them out!

8. Women in Clothes. Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, Leanne Shapton, et al. This is a fantastic collection of the results of an enormous, and yet remarkably intimate, survey carried out by the authors with over six hundred and thirty women of all ages, backgrounds, and experiences. The authors ask their subjects the same questions we often find ourselves mulling over in the morning as we stand, perplexed, before our own closets: how do these clothes make me feel? What is my favourite thing to wear? How have the opinions and feelings of others influenced how I feel about my wardrobe, and my body? These dialogues are interspersed with photographs and drawings, often of collections of garments (all the striped shirts owned by one woman; another’s collection of medical scrubs; a treasury of rings). It’s a sizable read, but due to the dippable nature of the surveys and interviews, it’s easy to get through, and begs to be re-read. The combination of these nutritious and delicious bite-sized morsels, and the surprising images alongside them, make this book reminiscent of the fascinating, funny, and frank conversations we have with our closest friends into the wee hours, teasing meaning from the tangled webs we weave.

Women in Clothes.

7. 100 Dresses. The Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If you ever find yourself, as I often do, hungry for some substantial but stylish, sumptuous reading, then look no further than 100 Dresses. This book reads like a fashion magazine written by textile and fashion historians, which, come to think of it, is exactly what it is. One hundred full-colour photographs of the Met’s most famous and significant pieces from their costume collection are on display here, with delightful amuse-bouche write-ups, giving you just enough information about the dress and its salient points to whet your appetite, but not to overwhelm. They offer up examples dating back as far as the late seventeenth century, and continue into the present-day with contemporary examples. My personal favourites include Jean Patou’s 1931 hand-painted silk satin cape and dress, as well as stunning evening gown by Madame Grès in ivory pleated jersey from 1954-55. Incidentally, Reader, I spent several minutes poring over the pictures, trying to pick out a few examples to offer you, but it was difficult not to just tell you about each dress: in fact, I defy anyone interested in fashion history not to drool over every single garment equally. That’s the lovely thing about this book: you can lust after the delicious dresses while still feeling mentally nourished, because, after all, it’s historical, and that counts for something, doesn’t it?

100 Dresses

6. Masters: Art Quilts Volume 1 and 2. Edited and curated by Martha Sielman. I am certain, Reader, that you, like me, find yourself nearly daily in defense of quilting as an art form, and wondering to yourself, “wherever will I find documentation of great quilting artists to show people how great quilts are and what a great medium it can be?” Well, I am here for you, Reader, and so is this two-volume series. These books give an extensive list of works by artists from all over the world who work in quilting. Some of my favourite artists on offer here are Elizabeth Brimelow, Caryl Bryer Fallert, and Noriko Endo, Karin Franzen, and Dirkje van der Horst-Beetsma, among others. Each artist has a biography dedicated to them, as well as lots of examples from their oeuvre. It’s lots of fun to flip through, whether for inspiration, or simply to enjoy and admire the wonderful work of some of the quilting world’s best and brightest.

Masters: Art Quilts

5. Heritage Quilt Collection. Agnes Etherington Art Centre.  Is there anything better than an exhibition catalogue? No, I thought not. They are like grown-up picture books, and ones that you can feel smugly proud of what you are reading, and be perfectly happy parading it before your friends and family. “Oh yes”, you say to them archly, “this is an exhibition catalogue.” They are duly impressed and you get to secretly enjoy looking at pictures and doing next to no reading at all, while still appearing deeply intellectual. This is one such book. There is a brief, cheerful introduction at the beginning, and the rest of the book is pretty picture after pretty picture. It’s also very lovely to have lots of Canadian content, and a celebration of Canadian women’s quilts. Perusing this book makes me feel deeply virtuous, and really, we can’t ask much more than that from our books. Unfortunately, this is a difficult book to get your hands on, so if you come across, nab it.

4. Tudor Roses. Alice Starmore. This is a fascinating book. Combining English history with knitting patterns might sound a little off-the-wall, but it’s a sumptuous, imaginative read, and an excellent well-spring of ideas for the avid knitter. The author has designed and executed gorgeous knitwear for the women of the Tudor court (thirteen in total), from Margaret Beauford to Anne Boleyn, and of course Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots are included. Jewellery was also designed specially for the publication. Each historical person is given a brief biography, which is followed by excellent knitting patterns and wonderful full-colour photographs showing the finished products to inspire the reader. This book makes a great work for avid historians and knitters alike. It’s artistic, intellectually stimulating, and quite simple, a very beautifully-executed book.

Tudor Roses

3. Fashion: The Definitive History of Costume and Style. Smithsonian Museum. This book weighs a tonne, so not only do you get a lovely read, but your biceps get a great work out as well. It’s one of those wonderful books that is substantial enough to lay open on its own, without you having to hold it open, which is delightful. But physical qualities aside, this is a wonderful book, and about as comprehensive as you could possibly want. It starts with ancient history and travels through to the present day, with oodles of drawings, photographs, and tasty little tidbits of information, but almost no long stretches of writing to slog through. Instead, there’s a kind of pastiche of wonderful bits of pieces, but it all ends up flowing together so that you see the changes and developments in fashion and dress as time goes on. One of the best things about this book is how chock-full it is of definitions. Don’t know what a peter-pan collar is? Here’s a definition, picture, and historical background for you. Want to know an accordion pleat from your a box pleat? Look no further. I go back to this book again and again to look up definitions and check my facts. So really, it’s not only a fun romp through fashion, it’s a factually accurate and deeply useful reference book.

Fashion: The Definitive History of Costume and Style

2. Beyond the Silhouette: Fashion and the Women of Historic Kingston. M. Elaine MacKay. This is a short but delightful morsel of women’s fashion in Kingston, Ontario. There’s a nice balance here of text and image, but one of the things I love most about this book is that the images provided are two-fold. Each garment is shown in full, but also in detail, so you can see the detail of the surface treatment, say, or the cunning buttons on a blouse, close-up and personal. The writing is cheerful and rollicking, and the garments and gowns are so pretty, you can’t help but go away from reading this book with an improved mood, and a strange desire to wear hoop shirts and ruffled blouses.

Beyond the Silhouette

1. The Lost Art of Dress. Linda Przybyszewski. I think this may be one of my favourite books. Not just favourite textile/fashion books: just one the best ones, period. The author is fierce, fiery, and funny, and deeply knowledgeable about her topic. This is a call to arms/ obituary/ historical narrative detailing the rise and fall of home economics in the United States, and the “Dress Doctors” who led the charge. Here you can find at once cheerful fan-girling, imperious and shrewd advice, and mournful recollections of days past, as well as great, helpful dress and dressing tips, some of which you can find here. This is a great book for travel, and excellent inspiration for those of us frustrated with buying, keeping, and wearing clothes, and certainly would make excellent fodder for righteously angry seamtresses’ flames. Strangely, I found it extremely useful to read this book immediately before clearing out my closet, Przybyszewski’s cheerful but clear-headed voice ringing in my ears. I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Read it. Please.

The Lost Art of Dress

I hope something here has tempted your appetite, Reader. I know it has mine: I’ve purposefully kept these books out of the packing boxes, so I can go through them again a few times before moving day arrives. It cheers me to think that you might be reading them alongside me one of these days.

Until next time, Reader.

Yours,

Cotton Jenny

Hello again, Reader.

I was chatting with friends yesterday about moving. Both buddies are in transit, we were talking about the trials and tribulations of moving. One of my friends was also trying to come up with ways to increase her access to privacy: she’s moving in with several other roommates, and as a dyed-in-the-wool introvert, she’s a little nervous about keeping things happy and happening in the house.

An introvert in her natural habitat.

I totally understood where she was coming from. I live in an apartment, which, most days, is excellent. Every once in a while,though, I want more privacy than my 1970’s, open plan place will afford. And for people like her, and like me, putting in new walls or re-configuring the layout are simply not options. Even if we could afford it (a big old no), most landlords and superintendents don’t much care for their tenants going all DIY.

Besides, permanent walls are so, well, permanent. There has to be a better solution.

Well, Reader, I am here to tell you that there is, and that it comes to us from the wonderful world of modernist interior design. What’s the answer? Fabric!

Seriously though. People have been tackling this problem for a long time, but it’s almost as though we’ve forgotten about their genius solutions. People like Frank Lloyd Wright, Walter Gropius, and Adolf Loos, all of them famous architects, knew that a well-placed curtain worked wonders on a room.

The living and dining room from Walter Gropius’ house in Lincoln, MA. Note the curtains which can be pulled closed or open, depending on which of the two spaces was in use.

But this isn’t going to be a history lesson, Reader. Instead, let’s take a look at how to translate some of the ideas these people came up with, and how we can use them in our own spaces and places.

Most of us have fabrics throughout our homes already. Think about the carpet on your floor, upholstery on your furniture, the mat in your bathroom, the blankets on your bed, the cloth on your table, the curtains at your window. There are, of course, the smaller, more mobile fabrics in our lives, like dishtowels, and place-mats, for example. So really, it’s not all that strange to think about having fabric fulfill just one more job in our homes. And it doesn’t even expect a pay rise.

When it comes to using fabric in this new way, we actually have a couple of options that vary in permanence, which is great news. It means we have choice in how adjustable we want our interior fabrics to be. Curtains of all kinds can be installed along a runner, curtain rod, or in an open doorway without too much difficulty, especially if you use a simple tension rod system, instead of a more traditional bracket and rod or runner bar system. If you’re a handy sort of person, though, installing brackets and rods is pretty straight forward.

Sheer curtains on a runner give this bedroom a dreamy feel while maintaining some privacy.

We also have the option of securing curtains at their other end, making them more permanent and less mobile, if that’s what we are going for. This option lets us get super crafty if we are so inclined: all kinds of fun and fancy materials can be used to achieve a variety of results. Hemp rope threaded through a beam is a more involved project, but looks rustic and striking. Weighting curtains, but leaving them unattached at the bottom, is another great option, which takes a little less know-how, and lets you choose which fabric you want to spruce up that dead space between the living and dining area.

Hemp rope threaded and knotted through a wooden beam, or stretched in a frame, can divide a room while still letting light through.

As with any kind of curtain at a window, we’ve got all kinds of choices when it comes to pattern,transparency, texture, weight, and colour. Light and lacy curtains add delicate sweetness to a bedroom. Heavy, velvet curtains in a dark, solid colour or brocade pattern lend sophistication to a dining room or study, but would certainly overwhelm an airy, cheerful space. Just as with window curtains, taking cues from the fabrics already in your space can help you decide which fabrics will work well. If you’re going for subtlety, panels in a shade similar or identical to that of your walls is a good option. Looking to make a statement? A bold print or eye-catching hue should do the trick. If you are keen, a trip to your local fabric store and a little time at a sewing machine can produce wonderful and unique panels which you can customise to fit your space. If sewing isn’t your thing, buying curtains is an easy alternative. If you are handy, re-purposed fabric stretched and affixed over a frame can be a fun project and results in a mobile screen you can use wherever you please. Basically, the options are numerous and varied, and depend only on how much money, effort, time and skill you want to expend on the process. As a good friend of mine says, you do you.

A bold geometric print, used judiciously, adds weight and an edgy aesthetic to a room.

Speaking of mobile screens, these are another great option for dividing up a room to make it multi-purpose, or to get a little more privacy in your life. Folding screens are available at all kinds of furniture and interior design stores, and range from inexpensive to pricey, depending on your preference. They also range in size, colour, and material: you can find very tall ones that will divide an entire space, or shorter, smaller options which can work like blinders to keep you focused at your desk. If you need to tidy in a pinch, tossing all your flotsam and jetsam behind a folding screen is fast and effective, and makes you look like you have your life together, whether you do or not. They are also great because they are mobile and fold easily, making them a cinch to store if you change your mind about where you want them, or want to open up a space for an evening fête, for example.  They also work wonderfully well as make-shift dressing rooms and wardrobes. You can hang clothes on them, and dress behind them, the way Disney princesses do. Who doesn’t want a little more fancy in their lives? (You have to provide your own bird attendants. Most furniture doesn’t come with singing animal companions. Shame.)

I woke up like this.

The point of all of this, Reader, is two-fold. Firstly, we have a lot more control over our spaces than we sometimes realise. We have choices. And secondly, fabrics are a lot more flexible, both literally and figuratively, than we often give them credit for. They can separate rooms while still allowing for change, for mobility, for alteration and interaction. Your spaces can be whatever you want them to be. You do you.

Till next time, Reader.

Yours,

Cotton Jenny.

Hello again Reader.

A few days ago, I was chatting with a friend about the Disney movie Hercules, and we remembered that the most awful scene of that whole film was when the three Fates (shudder) cut Meg’s life line. Little-girl me wasn’t a fan. But then, to be fair, there was nothing more vindicating than the following scene where there try to cut Hercules’ life thread, and their scissors won’t work, and the thread goes all gold, and the look on Hades’ face…

HERCULES, the three fates, 1997, (c)Buena Vista Pictures

I digress.

But it got me thinking about the thread. And about Disney. Disney is well-known for adapting fairy-tales and myths for the screen, so it wasn’t a huge jump to go from the thread and scissors in Hercules, to the spinning wheel in Sleeping Beauty, for example. I was intrigued. Out came some list paper and a pen, and I started to hunt for other myths and fairy-tales that deal with or use fabric and textile tools to tell a story.

I was surprised at how much there was to find. A collection of fairy stories from the British Isles by Kevin Crossley-Holland, called The Magic Lands (which I highly recommend) brought forth stories like “Tom Tit Tot”, which is the British version of the classic German fairy tale, or Märchen, “Rumpelstiltskin”. In it, an imp or devil (Rumpelstiltskin means “little rattle shaker”) agrees to help a hapless girl in need by using his magical powers to spin for her, but at a cost. In some versions, he spins flax into gold: a handy skill to have. In other variations, he simply spins an enormous quantity of flax: five skeins a day was the amount given in the version I grew up on.

Sleeping Beauty, as I mentioned before, is another example of a widely known fairy tale which uses a textile tool as an important plot device. It struck me as odd, and a little disconcerting, Reader, that the very tool many women have used throughout European history as part of their livelihood would become the weapon that caused the main female character harm. It’s sort of a “live by the sword, die by the sword” situation, except that we recognise swords as purpose-made weapons. Spinning wheels are, I hope, not generally built to magically paralyse young women.

Yes, I’m looking for a spinning wheel with a ghostly green glow that will send me into a deep, nearly permanent, death-like sleep. Do you carry anything like that?

Speaking of women’s tools: as soon as you start searching for textiles in fairy tales, women crop up. And I mean everywhere. Weirdly, though, the same few types of women keep appearing. There’s the young, often pretty, girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing and gets herself into trouble, but rarely suffers terribly as a result of her ignorance (Little Red Riding Hood). There are really, really really old ladies: most are witches, and most witches are villains. There are some old, magical women, however, who are either neutral parties who watch the action but don’t take sides,, or sometimes are kindly and helpful, like the fairies in Sleeping Beauty.  Many stories feature mothers who either help their children (biological mothers) or are perfectly horrible(step-mothers); the kindly and shrewd mother in “Mossy-Coat”, which is a variation of Cinderella, makes her daughter a magical coat of moss, hence the name, and sends her out into the world to find her fortune, which she eventually does.

Have you also noticed, Reader, that many of the women we meet in myths and fairy stories get their names from the clothes they wear, or from their appearance? Little Red Riding Hood, Mossy-Coat, Cinderella, Snow White, Belle, and Sleeping Beauty are all named for what they look like and what they put on their bodies. Does that mean that Little Red Riding Hood, or Röttkappchen as she is known in the German original, doesn’t have a name if she’s not wearing her signature garment? By the way, despite popular depictions of this character, riding hoods are not capes. They are detached hoods, usually with a fastener for under the wearer’s chin. Riding hoods are a bit more like hats or bonnets than capes or cloaks. So while we often think of a little girl in a flowing red cape, what the original story-tellers might have actually imagined is quite different.

This is an example of a Victorian hood: certainly it is much later than the original story of Rottkappchen, but the Victorians were deeply interested in German fairy tales, thanks in part to their moralising qualities, and to the fact that their beloved Queen Victoria and Prince Consort Albert were German.

That’s not to say that men don’t come up in textile-based fairy stories. They do. Their roles are slightly different, though. They tend to work with textiles and fabrics professionally: tailors appear as main characters in many lesser-known fairy tales. A story taken again from Crossley-Holland based on an old tale called “The Wee Tailor” introduces us to the courageous tailor Billy, who takes his friends’ dare and assures them that “he’s not frit” to go and sew in the village graveyard at midnight. Of course, once settled upon a tombstone in the graveyard, Billy’s work is disturbed by malevolent phantoms and corpses, but he uses his wit and his sewing to escape unscathed.

Here we see, I think, an instance in which fairy tales can act as mirrors, showing us who we are even as we tell them. They tell us what we are afraid of: death, violence, pain, loss, and the unknown. They remind us of what we think is funny and important, and what evil looks like and how it acts. They show us how we value men and women differently. And I think, Reader, that they also indicate that our imaginations find the ties between textile metaphors and life too good to pass up. We like to think of life as a thread, measured out and then cut when the time is right. Thinking about the ways in which our life’s thread weaves with the threads of those around us into a tapestry is pleasing to us. And telling the stories that make up our lives, does seem remarkably like spinning a long, twisting, and sometime tangled, yarn.

On that note, Reader, here’s to long and bright life threads.

Yours,

Cotton Jenny

Is there anything more anxiety-inducing to the writer than a blank page? Perhaps only a blank page accompanied by a blinking cursor, which seems to remind me, with every flash, of all the words I haven’t written yet. Spiteful little thing.

Well, I’ll show him.

Hello Reader.

I’m Cotton Jenny. Welcome to my blog.

This is where you can find, should you be looking, all things fabric. It is also a record of my own exploration through the world of textiles. Let me catch you up on my journey so far.

I started knitting with my Grandma Rose as a little girl. I inherited her ancient sewing machine, and used it to make my own (terrible) Hallowe’en costumes. Fast-forward several years, and I was finishing a crazy-quilt my other grandmother, Alice, never got to finish. Jump ahead another year or two, and there am I, hunting madly online for anything and everything textile.

Well, I found sewing blogs, and dress-making websites, and online stores where you could get knitting notions, and seamstress stuff, and pretty patterns, but my search for the kind of exhaustive, detail-focused, cross-referenced, obsessive online encyclopaedia of fabrics, the sort for which the art historian in me longed, was nowhere to be found.

Enter Cotton Jenny. I am an academic at heart (and in real life). So here you find me, in the present moment, starting what I hope will become a comprehensive and useful collection of articles, interviews, lists (squee! I LOVE lists) to help you, dear reader, in your own creative pursuits, or simply to whet your appetite for textiles, in all their glory. I can also promise links to other great and useful sources, both online and otherwise, as well as the odd textile-based joke and frequent poetic waxings. I can only apologise in advance for those.

I hope you’re all as excited, but not half so nervous, as I am to get properly stuck in.

With that, dear Reader, onward!

Yours,

Cotton Jenny