Stajia and I made the rounds of the local thrifts yesterday. We called it a “field trip” and I shared some of my favorite Inland Empire haunts- Redlands Thrift, and the Goodwill and Eco Thrift in San Bernardino. It was fun to be shopping with no expectations, no frantic search for just the right something. It was also one of those days when my eye caught certain colors. For my slowly evolving garden I found two flower pots, a really cool vintage bird and a bowling ball. For me I found a nice pair of very soft, thin wale AG jeans. The glass bottle has already found a home in a grouping of a few favorite things in the living room.

Yesterday that color was green and golden yellow. I’m pretty sure those colors were on my mind because I’ve been preparing my short stack of vacation clothes and that is sort of the color theme. I say short stack because I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that Carl and I are each traveling with one only carry-on. I know. A real challenge. More about that later.

Guadalupe handbag, originally uploaded by lorimarsha.

It all started in the car on the way to LA. I was looking forward to spending a day with girlfriends- shopping…lunch…conversation. We hadn’t decided exactly where we were headed and in between the talk about boutique vs. outlet vs. designer consignment, I mentioned I was looking for the perfect handbag. I “sort of” had a picture in my mind of what it would look like. First question from Cathy was “Why do you want to buy a handbag when you make them?” Hard to explain that one and at the time, I don’t think I offered up a very good answer. But I’ve thought about it a lot since then and it’s because I wanted a “go to” bag…sturdily constructed to serve all purposes in a kind of warm neutral color. Most of my designs are what I would call “extra” bags. The kind you pull out for a specific reason and when you’re moving stuff from one to the other, you have to decide which of your handbag contents you can live without.

Anyway, the day with friends was perfect even though I didn’t find the perfect bag. I didn’t realize it at the time but it appears my new mission was to make a handbag for myself that fit my description. The following week I made two handbags from some soft buttery leather leftover from a friend’s reupholstery projects. The first one was too small. The second one was too soft. They didn’t pass my own criteria because at that time, I hadn’t fullly defined the perfect handbag. Another glimpse of glaring obviousness. It’s important to define what you want.

The following week, I ordered a new riveting machine, harness leather and heavier solid brass hardware. The recycling aspect of my work is important to me, so I knew that the body of the bag would always be recycled from salvaged leather garments. But in another moment of clarity, I realized that I wouldn’t be compromising myself to upgrade my materials in the areas that get the most wear.

So yesterday I finished this handbag. It is my prototype for my own “perfect” handbag. I’m still tweaking the details but this is pretty darn close.

Although I hadn’t really thought about it before reading this quote, I realized its truth when I relate it to my work. There are definite stages of kindness, destruction and creation associated with what I do.

I love working with pretty vintage clothes…pieces that have had a full life and brought joy to the wearer. I like to imagine the party they were purchased for, the summer vacation where they were excitedly packed in the suitcase, or maybe a job interview when the owner decided to make a change in her life.

When I start a project, I feel a sense of responsibility (oftentimes fear) in making those first cuts. *Snip snip.* There’s no going back. *Stitch stitch.* Things begin to change quickly, and *smile smile.* in no time, the fear has disappeared, replaced with a warm humming glow. It is that creative buzz that draws me into the studio every day.

I have been the recipient of somany random acts of kindness in the form of raw materials for my redesigns. Dresses, lingerie, fabric, textiles, ribbons, family heirlooms..and I am overwhelmed and awed by the kindness of others.

I’m thankful to becktress, Cat Bishop, Cathy, cheves, ChicaFlamenca, corvidkid, cuestaray, gaiasrose, graygoosie, Ilene, Jessica, joulestar, Karen, ldpaulson, Linda, Manitoba Museum of Art Finds, papernest , Penny, queenbeequilter, secret lentil, somanyideas, St. Blaize, Tanis Alexis, treasureup, vaisto, whitestonestitchery, zoo gal,(and others who my memory fails to recall), all the clothing swap participants and the hundreds of people who donate their things to the thrift stores instead of throwing them out. You all have provided me with a wonderful array of raw materials to work with. And the joy this brings to me is hard to put into words.

Pictured: Three redesigns from dresses becktress sent me. I am thankful that she had the “before” photos in her photostream so I was able to document this. I always forget to take pictures of what I start with.

Why recycle?

Our culture glorifies the new. Trendy garments with built-in obsolescence quickly lose appeal when they appear on the “what’s not” side of the “what’s hot” fashion column. So they’re relegated to the back of the closet….stuffed into a bottom drawer… and, if they’re not dumped into the trash, they eventually find their way to thrift and consignment stores where they languish under the humiliation of multiple markdowns and overpopulated racks.

As every savvy recycler knows, treasure often hides between purple power suits and polyester broomstick skirts. And the thrill of finding a mustard dupioni silk blouse or a fine gauge British wool dress makes the sometimes exhaustive searches worthwhile. I am proud to say that I design all of my garments from recycled materials. They begin their lives in other forms. A skirt morphs into a dress… a dress is divided among three new dresses…an undergarment moves outside. I compare this redefining of garments to the joy of an unexpected adoption…. the designer dog abandoned by the socialite , then loved dearly by the little boy whose parents finds her at the pound. Under the right conditions, abandoned possessions live a fuller second life.