Not for Sale
Why a library? How can that even work? I’ve been wrestling with these questions since the idea of a pattern library first popped into my head. Sewing patterns are printed on thin tissue paper, inherently delicate and ephemeral. And the envelopes are just as delicate. So am I completely crazy to think of lending them out?
There are essentially only a few things that happen to vintage sewing patterns. They are thrown away or donated to thrift stores by people who have no idea what to do with them. They are sold on eBay and Etsy to private collectors. The special ones might be copied by someone and the copies sold on Etsy or private websites. A few end up in museum or university collections.
Here’s the thing: a sewing pattern is a creative tool. They are meant to be used. They are meant to catalyze creativity and help enable the non-trained tailors of the world (A.K.A. almost everyone) to create something of beauty to be worn and used. Vintage patterns are also time capsules, a glimpse into another era of style, dress, and fashion. The graphics are often quite beautiful. The styles are often completely unavailable to the modern person through any other route. For this reason, there is a small (but mighty) group of people who collect vintage patterns. They amass the good, the ugly, the quirky, sometimes to be sewn, though often simply to be enjoyed as a collected item.
I joined some Facebook groups for vintage pattern collectors. It’s fun to share the joy of particularly lovely or memorable patterns. I’ve posted some myself. And interestingly, I get comments like, “Oh! That’s so pretty! I just went and found a copy on Etsy and bought it!” or “I would LOVE to get my hands on this pattern!” After one post had a number of comments like this, a friend contacted me and asked if I knew where to get that particular pattern because she couldn’t find it anywhere—because literally the only copies online had just been purchased a day or two prior.
Therein lies the rub for me. Sure, it’s neat to know that I have something like 1600 patterns sitting in my bedroom. Some are stunning. Some are mundane. But I have no need for this many. I couldn’t possible sew them all, nor would I want to. But why simply sell them? So they can sit in one other person’s home for years until they end up sold or donated or trashed by someone else who doesn’t appreciate them? On the other hand, I am not a museum, and I have no desire to be.
My desire is to share this collection with the maximum number of people. I don’t think my goal will ever be perfectly preserving patterns at museum quality. My goal will always be to foster a community of sharing, creativity, and self-expression. I hope one day I can include sewing books and pattern catalogs as well. The risk of deterioration is real, but so is the possibility of spreading a love of history and sewing and empowerment through fashion.
(Please note, I’m not against institutions keeping sewing patterns. The Commercial Pattern Archive the University of Rhode Island is an amazing, wonderful treasure. Well worth signing up to explore their amazing database.)
