Craft your way around the crunch
SINGER SONG: Sophie Shannon enjoys making her own clothes so much that she got a sewing machine for Christmas. Photo: David Conachy
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BEATRICE Behan was the first person I ever heard use the phrase. It's the simplest of phrases, but nowadays few people understand either its meaning or its connotation. Something that will, I fear, change.
"I have seen the two days," said Beatrice, widow of Brendan. She had the kind of spare and original beauty which was guaranteed to make an impression on a fresh-faced provincial newly arrived in Dublin in the late Sixties. One of the things that impressed me most, however, was that although she had been born into Bohemian stock -- the daughter of artist Cecil Salkeld who at some stage took to his bed in Morehampton Road and stayed there for the rest of his long life -- she lived in a gorgeous house in Anglesea Road. It was as I was remarking on its beauty that she said almost under her breath, "But I have seen the two days."
She meant she hadn't always lived in such comfort and beauty, something anyone even vaguely acquainted with the career of her husband would surmise.
It's probably true to say that most people in Ireland over 40 have seen the two days. But a lot of younger people have, too. For many, the other day has already arrived. For more, it will happen in the coming year. Tougher times -- hopefully, not full-blown poverty -- await us. As with middle age, there are consolations in that state unknowable to those outside its pale. For example, what is really the point of making yourself a beautiful party dress when the shops are stuffed with them and your pocket is so full that the purchase doesn't really make a dent? But in tougher times, doing it for yourself has many advantages, some obvious, some subtler.
We need to be able to do things for ourselves, not just to save money -- in fact, it won't always save money (as long as the high street multiples survive in our towns and cities, we will always be able to clothe ourselves cheaply) -- but to save ourselves. The Celtic Tiger brought with it a culture of instant -- indeed, instantaneous -- gratification. After that frenzy we need to find a different pace: we need to find a slower pace of gratification. The fact is, we do most things for reward, and virtue as its own reward would satisfy few nowadays.
Actually making something for yourself -- whether it's a party frock or a patio or a pate -- brings untold satisfaction. There's the planning, the anticipation and the execution. All of which are greatly needed in post-boom Ireland. Terence Conran once told me: "The country which doesn't manufacture anything is a country emasculated." I would go so far as to apply the same rule to the person who can't make anything.
Just take that frock. Instead of setting out on a Saturday afternoon for an orgy of trying-on, which basically means "Please me, please me", you have to begin by actually thinking about yourself. Then, you have to buy a fabric. And after that you must get a pattern. Here is where it all gets challenging.
Before they took the demolition balls to the crafts departments, the pattern counters were a country of the mind. I spent some of the happiest hours of my life at the Brown Thomas pattern counter flicking the pages of Vogue or Butterick or McCall's. The patterns themselves conjured up another country, New England values of self-sufficiency at McCall's or London Carnaby carefreeness in Vogue. The pattern didn't cost a lot. The fabric did. Here came prudence and good housekeeping. You would not spend hours on a complicated pattern only to waste it on a cheap fabric.
After the pattern counter and the fabric shop came the haberdashery -- so delightfully titled The Notions department in American stores. Here you got the trimmings, the buttons, the zips. Here is where you brought your individuality to your efforts. Everything but everything can be customised to your needs. No more crying "But I'm between sizes."
I am aware that to some I am now speaking in Dutch. So, you don't know how to sew?
Let me explain. Anyone can sew. Not everyone can knit -- but if you can read, you can learn to sew (and cook). Yes, it helps to take a few lessons. The truth is, anyone who can master our digital world can work their way through a dress pattern. It's logical. And beautiful. John Whelan, who runs the last of the great Singer Sewing Machine shops on Talbot Street, Dublin, spends much of his time teaching people how to thread the needle, "If they can do that they are on their way."
I am here to vouch for it. I taught myself to sew. I still love it. It brought me endless satisfaction on the Other Day. And will again. I hope.
- Anne Harris
