a torn pocket

On one of my recent vintage rummaging days, I came across an apron from the 1940s. It was made from a red and white apple print textile that had clearly been worn a lot in its first life. It was more colorful and whimsical than my usual preference but I ended up buying it because there was something about it that I really liked. As with all old things, it had a story. One of the threads of its story was a torn pocket, and to me this made the tiny cotton apron special. For days after bringing it home, I kept thinking of this torn pocket and the feelings it generated. Peacefulness, curiosity, sentimentality... and a knowing sense that something ‘flawed’ is perfect in its imperfection. As I get older, I’m attracted to people and things that are comfortable and curious with their inner conflicts, transparent in their messiness and sometimes even celebratory of it. When I designed my new line of aprons, I kept this in mind. The hemp textile I used has incredible texture, inconsistencies and character.

I tried to preserve these traits, as best I could, by leaving raw edges that show the distress of the weaving and garment dyeing the aprons to encourage variations of shade on the stitching and folds. I guess this is kind of a long way of expressing how happy I am for small moments in life that influence my creative work.