I've mentioned My New Favorite Shop On the Planet: Deja Vu in San Angelo. It's owned and operated by Lana Kalina, and she's just the best. In addition to buying a ton of clothes I don't wear/haven't ever worn, she's also begun selling some of the stuff I make. This is a big deal for me, and I am ever so grateful to her--you can't even imagine. As y'all know, I don't even try to sell my stuff. If I make something and don't wear it, I've been giving it away, never really knowing if it's going somewhere where it will be worn (a lot) and loved. I'm sure many things are languishing in closets, the new owners too polite to send them back with a note that says, "?"
If I were to try to sell my own stuff, it would be a disaster for many reasons. One is that I totally suck at selling things. Anything, pretty much. Good thing I was kicked out of Blue Birds and so avoided being a Girl Scout, because if I had been, my own parents would have been forced, out of embarrassment, to buy all the cookies I couldn't sell. Since they were both very skinny people who would have been unable to consume all those cookies but also very frugal people unable to throw out perfectly good food, I would surely have inherited an enormous storage building full of vintage Samoas® and Thin Mints, carefully wrapped in plastic and stacked neatly to the ceiling.
Another reason is that if I try to sell something I have made, I can't help but think of all the hours I spent doing the handwork and then think about how much my time is actually worth. How much? I don't know. Since handwork, esp. sewing and stitching, isn't valued, seeing as how we can get clothes that were beaded by hand in some far-away 3rd-world country for mere pennies via the Miracle of The Dreaded Wal-Mart and Its Overseas Labor Practices, well. Why pay more for anything? What is my time worth? Well, the things I do are things I've been doing for decades: Writing. Stitching by hand. I've been doing both since I was 5, when my mother began handing me her fabric scraps and my daddy taught me to print in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS, and then doing them seriously since high school, when I started writing for the school newspaper and started embellishing my clothes. I've been practicing both ever since, learning new stuff and honing my skills. So if I figure 40 years of experience (50 if you want to be all-inclusive and kind of picky, and why not?), what would I charge per hour?
I have no clue, but I can tell you this: it's not an hourly wage anyone is going to be willing to pay me.
On the other hand, I refuse to sell handwork for cheap. I won't sell something I made for $20. Or $50. I've gone there, and the taste it left in my mouth was not one of honey and milk, let me tell you. It was more like rancid pork and boiled liver.
I'll give it away before I'll go there. And so I have.
And then in stepped Lana. Lana knows clothes, and she has this fabulous shop, and she suggested that she sell the stuff I'm never going to wear. She's a businesswoman, and she knows what things will bring--I leave the pricing totally up to her and don't even ask. I gave her a few things, and she sold them right off. The person who bought them was happy. Lana was happy. I was happy. It's not like I'm getting paid for all the hours I put in--that's not going to happen, ever, in this society unless you're some Famous Person making stuff and selling it not on its merit but on your own fame--but this arrangement feels really good to me. It feels right. You know? Some things just feel right.
OK. So, having said all that, I wanted to show you the stuff I took on Saturday, just in case there's something that interests you. I think she'll ship stuff if you arrange for postage.
I *think* these are the ones I took. I meant to make a list, but I did not. I know this first one is one of them:
I make myself so tired.
Thanks for looking~~
glue it tuesday: week 14
18 hours ago