There could be worse addictions, right? Rather than a hoarder I prefer to see myself as a recycler; a rescuer of forgotten and neglected fabric. I'd choose to peruse a crowded old house over a crappy JoAnn Fabric store any day. And that's just what I did yesterday at an estate sale in Burbank. Check out my haul:
I fear if I keep up collecting that I will be like this woman in 50 years. One room was packed with fabric - huge piles and boxes of vintage linens, half-completed projects, patterns, purse handles, craft kits and more. Another room held lace and ribbon trim, velcro, embroidery floss, buttons, googly eyes, and lots more craft kit stuff that's not my style - styrofoam angel kits, latch-hook kits, crafts involving fake flowers and hot glue.
Poor Sage and his sister?brother?, one day after I'm dead they'll be trying to unload this stuff at their own yard sale. But 50 years from now I bet some yet-to-be-born crafter with happen upon that yard sale and be as excited as I was to find patchwork turtle and mushroom print fabric! gingham galore! needlepoint butterflies! googly eyes! (That is if I don't use it all first.) See? It's an investment in my family's future. Yeah, that's it.