Better than Mildew
Learning about imperfectionism while sewing a windshield for my sailboat
This is Clouds Form Over Land, weekly writing about resilience, imperfectionism, and our relationship to the earth.
Six years ago my partner and I bought a sailboat and moved aboard. We had inklings of distant shores and figured steps one and two were acquiring a boat and saving money. Today we are on the Caribbean side of Panama excitedly awaiting the end of hurricane season.
Back in 2016, I was dusting off my middle school sewing skills with classes at A Verb For Keeping Warm in Oakland, CA. I quickly set my sights on sewing a new dodger - basically a windshield for the sailboat.
The old dodger had broken zippers and an expanding colony of mildew. The frame landed right along my line of sight, making it difficult to see either under or over. I wasn’t at ease driving our boat/home around as a newbie and this hurdle made it just a bit harder.
I soon learned about Sailrite, a sewing machine manufacturer and assembler of stellar kits for the DIY boater. I have described it to home sewists as the Klum House of boat projects. The company includes all their instructional videos for free on YouTube, and I perused them for a couple years before taking a leap and ordering their stackpack kit (a sail cover that catches the big mainsail as it drops, rather than having crew scramble to secure it in windy conditions).
My wardrobe was filling in with difficult makes (hard pants! backpacks! silk wedding dress!) and our departure from the Bay was creeping closer. I needed to gather the gumption to start and complete this project.
I come at perfectionism from the “well I couldn’t be a perfectionist because my stuff isn’t good enough” angle. I hedge my hopes by going as quickly as possible through a project, as if setting a speed record offsets the wonky seams. A gentler view is that I get so excited and find it difficult to take breaks.
In sailing, people call driving practice “tiller time”. The sewing equivalent might be something about a presserfoot, and the idea is that all practice adds up to salty experience. This advice sort of runs counter to the “perfect practice makes perfect” idea I learned in bassoon lessons and jives with my inkling to just hop in the ring.
Here’s some related wisdom from Ira Glass. Hat tip to Gillian!
“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit…It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions.”
So back to this windshield.
I didn’t think I could make it perfectly like the dodger on the product page, and that was stalling me from giving it a go. I feared the first mistake that would knock me off the false podium of perfection, and the cascade of minor mistakes that would widen the gap between my perfect idea and finished product.
The thing is, I was right! I didn’t have years of experience and a warehouse studio with specialty tables and tools and teams. I had a mildewy version screwed onto my boat, a partner who wanted to help, and a friend who offered her living room floor to layout the pattern. At the least I could make something with new fabric, working zips, and the opportunity to raise the frame a few inches.
My gaze shifted away from the capabilities of experts and toward my reality.
The kit arrived at our mailbox, took up most of the stationwagon trunk, and was busted into with glee like a kiddo on their birthday. We modified our stainless steel frame to a preferable height and kicked off patterning.
Many home sewists have an “I MADE PANTS!!!” moment along their creative journies. Tops and bags are standard fare with a larger margin for error, especially in the age of the box top. Pants on the other hand, require some more finesse and an ill-fitting pair can be quite uncomfortable. The magic of using your own waist, hip, and leg length measurements is pretty powerful. In a world of nonsensical sizing, online shopping, and malls, it’s neat to have a hand in making something that fits.
This project felt like making a pair of pants for my boat, and I pulled in Scott’s design eye (and hands) to help pattern. I am not the most precision-oriented pal around, and having a partner in getting it right helped. Know thy preferences!
With plastic pattern in hand, I continued the marathon of playing and pausing the 4.5 hour how-to video. I was amazed to find each step quite simple, although the total number was staggering. At one point, I stuck the project out a window to get the space and support needed to feed it through the machine. My $200 heavy duty Singer was a steadfast companion, occasionally needing to be hand-cranked to push the needle through the thickest portions. More expensive machines would solve this problem, but this worked just fine for my first attempt.
Ira’s quote goes on to encourage fighting through those early projects as we close the gap of our taste and abilities. Much of my early stuff has felt like a march with downcast eyes and loop of “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I might do this, oh wow I did it!”. These days I’m trying to remove the fight while leaving the determination and consistency intact.
During the dodger project, I played with stitch tension settings on my machine and was surprised to learn that it worked best on the lowest setting. Eureka! When doing something hard, go as easy possible. At the least, let’s take some water, tea, or chocolate breaks.
The last thing about all this - trust the timing of your projects! I dogged myself for years for not getting this one done, but it eventually happened right on time.
A few months later, we adopted a cat and soon discovered the dodger was her favorite spot to lay and play. She goes absolutely wild when someone tickles the underside of it. Perhaps it’s like a mouse? Her nine pounds have caused the fabric to as a bit, but the joy she creates from having so much fun is worth it. This is another reason to not be too precious about an object, salty air and cats seem to be equally untrainable.
When this one begins to fall apart, I’ll make another. Next time I would borrow an industrial machine and look for a large workspace and time to go a little slower.
Can Do List:
Name three emotions felt during the last day, week, or month from the wheel. Bonus - ask a friend for theirs!
Take a spin around the block and pick some flowers or greenery.
Consider sending or dropping off a small care package to a friend going through a challenging time or celebrating something big.
Set a timer for 15 minutes and work on that thing you’ve been avoiding.
Written in the spirit of not letting what we can’t do get in the way of what we can.
Did you try any of these? I’d love to hear about it.