Shopping for Fabric, the Sarah Jessica Parker Way
I visit Vogue Fabrics in Evanston, Ill. at least two times a week. I don't always buy fabric, but always give myself the proviso that if there's something extraordinary, I can buy it. But even then, I often don't. Usually it's a matter of looking at the checkbook account balance. I rarely buy fabric on credit. My reasoning? Too frivolous. So yesterday, I passed up this lovely pink-on-pink floral burnout cotton fabric on sale, a Missoni-like zig-zag polyester and sheer white pointelle knit remnants. I figure if it's not there next time, it wasn't meant to be. It's hard for me to splurge. I come from a big family, hence my Sarah Jessica Parker analogy. She too hails from a larger-than-normal family that went through some hard times when she was young. Like Sarah, we were on food stamps at one time. So even eons later it's difficult to shake that I-can-indulge mentality. It's usually buying what I need. Last week I had to have swimswear elastic to start my swimsuit (I haven't). This week, it was ombre orange velvet ribbon for my completed indigo blue alpaca knit skirt. So I get my fabric fix in a very concentrated, handful-of-dollars sort of way. If I could return fabric easily I probably would. But once it's been cut, I think it's kind of difficult to say, "Here's my receipt. Take this back, I can't afford it!" In fact, I don't think I've ever brought fabric back. I usually feel guilty for a while, and into my Fabric Bin my latest buy goes, not to be unearthed and used for at least 24 months. In the meantime, cicadas are born, flies die and fossil fuels are burned, but at least I have something I can sew and wear when I'm 10 pounds later than I am now. Thank goodness, I don't acquire yarn the same way. I'd be knitting on my way to my funeral. "Just one more row!" I'd cry before they close the coffin. Tell me how many of you have ever returned fabric. I'm completely curious.