It’s here! The new year! I’m a little sad to see 2013 go because despite some tough moments which are inevitable in life, it was so fabulous in innumerable ways. But I sense that 2014 may be even better. We rang in the year quietly with just the four of us: me, K, M and my mom (well, not too quietly since we live near one of the major fireworks site in Seattle), and it was a perfect way to end a rollicking twelve months.

I have a propensity around this time to spend hours and hours reflecting on prior months to see what went wrong, what went right, what I could do to make things better. This year is no exception though I think I have some more pondering to do. I have been thinking, specifically, about this fantastic post by the talented Anna Dorfman featuring artist Chuck Close, and the video had a huge impact on me when I first watched it about a year ago. I hope you check it out – I love the idea of a note to my younger self and wonder what I would tell 14-year-old Sanae. More than anything, I am awed by the artist’s drive and perseverance to “show up and get to work”. He utilized his so-called disabilities to create a world that makes sense to him; he refused to be limited by them. It makes me think of this ee cummings quote:

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

As I was writing in my journal yesterday, I sketched a “daruma doll“, which was a staple of my childhood. Also known as Dharma dolls, these are good luck charms meant largely for children in Japan (I grew up in Los Angeles, but my parents upheld many of the traditions). What you do is make a wish, then fill in one eye. Once the wish has been fulfilled, you fill in the other eye. They’re typically bright red and a bit ominous looking, but I was always fond of them. My wishes usually involved some dramatic makeover of my looks or something so outrageously out of my parent’s price range (my own horse and stable, say), that my daruma dolls perpetually remained one-eyed. Narrowing it down to one wish is always the tricky part, but for 2014, my wish would be this: a new year of contentment with joyous relationships, rewarding work, abundant play and endless creativity and well-being for one and all. Is it cheating to throw in multiple wishes into one?

Okay. I’ve shipped out all out-of-town gifts, dropped off most of the local gifts and have just a few more odds and ends to finish up before I can consider Christmas 2013 a done deal. At the last minute, I adopted a “semi-homemade” approach this year in the vein of Sandra Lee, with mostly store-bought items embellished with handmade tags, ornaments, accessories, etc. It’s reduced my stress-level by a thousand-fold. I have a dirty secret to share: I don’t like making the same things over and over, and I’m actually not too keen on sewing for other people. I know. I feel awful about that. K is the exception because I know her size and taste so well, but with other people, I always feel like my hand-sewn items aren’t well-executed enough or not exactly hitting the mark, taste-wise. It’s part of the reason handmade mass-produced projects are not so fun for me.

While I played Mrs. Claus today, I didn’t get around to finishing my dress this week, but I promise to show you next week. In the meantime, since it’s the end of the year, I thought I would review the status of my abstention projects. Namely, I had vowed to stop buying fabric and to continue making all clothes for myself and K without purchasing a single garment.

I fully failed to uphold my first vow. In my defense, I acquired the fabrics for a couple of commissioned/collaborative projects (I’ll write about them soon!) so technically, it wasn’t for my own use. I also received an embarrassment of knit and leather riches from my mom, setting me way back. I’m going to haul myself back onto the wagon, because friends, my stash is still out of control. In my highly accurate and technical evaluation using the eyeballing method, I started out with about 30 bins, and after roughly four months of sewing consistently, I am down to about 28 bins. Fabric overfloweth. One of the challenges I’m finding is that since I used to buy with K’s clothes in mind, I don’t have a lot of yardage for adult-sized patterns. I fear you’ll be seeing a lot of color-blocking out of necessity.

As you’ve noticed, I keep using the same types of fabric: linen, cotton, knits, voile. Usually in solid colors or subtle prints. I avoid silks and silk-like materials, and I have a crazy amount of novelty/shiny/brightly patterned fabrics from K’s baby days when I thought I would…I don’t know, make her look like a clown? I believe I have to start eliminating fabric outright and I’m certain that you, my readers with exquisite aesthetics, would recoil from this selection. I tried consigning fabric at the stash place, but after several months, I’ve made a grand total of $1, and all the effort required to catalog and price them in order to get them consigned doesn’t seem worth it.

On the upside, I haven’t bought a single clothing item in over 17 months. Nada. I am exceedingly proud of this achievement. In days past, I was a big-box-store shopper. When I worked full-time and was feeling flush, I would ransack the sale racks at Anthro, Madewell and J.Crew for myself, but usually I frequented good old GAP and Old Navy, with some thrift store perusal thrown in. I liked the anniversary sales at Nordstrom for both me and K. Essentially, I was a pretty unimaginative clothing consumer.

Not that I’m an imaginative clothing sewist (seamstress? sewer? I wish someone would come up with a better moniker), but sewing has completely altered my mentality when it comes to clothes shopping. Nowadays, I know that I can make most things — perhaps not as professionally, but definitely to my own specifications. Rather than a landmine of money-guzzling, the occasional trips to the mall or online browsing has become pure research. These retail outings and online-shopping used to leave me feeling drained and inadequate, but now I find inspiration in color combinations, trends, fabric choices and stitching techniques. It’s a whole new world.

As for the practical side of not buying clothes, you may be wondering if my handmade output has kept up with the necessities of seasons, growth (in K), etc. The answer is a resounding yes. In fact, K obviously has too many clothes, though I should have made her more winter-appropriate stuff; thank goodness for grandmas that knit. People constantly comment on how well-dressed she is, and I duck my head in pleasure. I didn’t sew as much for myself, but the other day I was at the hair salon and my very chic stylist was impressed with my grey Tova. “It doesn’t look homemade at all!” she exclaimed, genuinely surprised — music to my ears!

So. 50/50 on the abstention project, but I’m going to keep going, despite the vow breach on the fabric front. I wonder if I can manage for all of 2014?