I have too much fabric. I used to think that this state of affairs was impossible, but in the last few years, I've realized that not only is that not so, but that I'm a prime example of fabric overstock. Okay, maybe not prime—I don't buy entire bolts of fabric which I then store in my bathroom. No, I consider myself to be on a higher plane because my stash is confined to one room. I rarely purchase even border fabric before the center of the quilt is complete and I hardly ever buy enough for a back without having at least some idea of where it's going. Unless it's on sale. And let's just ignore the times that I've ended up with 2 backs because I either forgot about the first one or later found one I liked better. (What are you going to do?—you have to have the best back!)
There are a couple of problems here, and they're really my own fault. First, silly me, although I have mentioned this option to several customers I am unwilling to add another room to my house in order to increase my fabric storage space. (Construction is so messy—there would be dust everywhere, including on the fabric I already have. Plus it's a rule of houses and quilting that the stash will always increase to fill the available space.) Second, unless I'm specifically working with scraps, the larger pieces tend to be used first. Then all that's left are the quarter yards and 4-inch strips that I couldn't bear to chuck. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately depending on the goal, I love scrap quilts and often use these smaller pieces in them. But in the meantime, I am forced, against my will of course, to purchase more fabric for quilts requiring larger quantities of each.
Since I've been making a conscious effort lately to use fabric I already own, my stash has diminished somewhat. This would all be perfect and according to plan were it not for the fact that, while I am trying very hard to work with what I have, I'm still buying. (FYI, working in a quilt shop is not conducive to stash reduction.) And the scrap quilt option, while solving one problem, does create another set of challenges, because I firmly believe that a beautiful scrap quilt is harder to make than one made from pre-selected fabrics. Don't get me wrong—I love scrap quilts and I love making them, but they're more labor intensive than many other types. The fabric selection takes longer because you're going through everything you own, or at least everything of one color; the cutting takes longer because you're cutting from different sizes and shapes; the sewing takes longer because there's usually less strip-piecing; and arranging the units (blocks, strips, whatever) can be a bit like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. In fact as I read the previous sentence I realize that there are only a few reasons to make scrap quilts: either you love them or you want to use up some leftovers. Or you want a challenge. Or you refuse to purchase more fabric. Or more than one of the above. Hm…
By now you probably think that I'm recommending a fabric-buying moratorium. On the contrary, I can list several very good reasons to buy fabric. First, if we want our local quilt shops (publishers, fabric manufacturers) to stay in business, we should be purchasing something there frequently. Not only does this help the shop, and ourselves by keeping the shop in business, it gives a boost to the general economy. If every quilter bought one extra yard of fabric a week, we'd probably be out of this recession in a year. And since we'd all need more space to store our fabric, the construction industry could get some help from the aforementioned house additions.
Second, get the color while you can. We all know that colors go in and out of style and that the color you see this year may not be available next year. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that you also won't need that color next year. If you like lime green, for example, you'd better get it now because there seems to be less and less of it, and if you like orange you missed your best opportunity a few years ago. There's also the lure of inspiration fabric—most of us have at least a couple (largish) pieces of fabric that have inspired at least one quilt. And what about the possibility of a cotton crop failure?—sounds like a joke, but it happened a few years ago.
I guess what we really need is a 12-step program for fabric addiction. I've taken the first step by admitting that I have a problem. But the real problem is that I don't think I want help!
© 2010 Jane Hardy Miller
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