If you were to stand in front of me today and say, “My first quilt was a disaster,” I would admonish you and ask you to share one thing you like about your quilt or one lesson you learned from making it. If you know me, you understand I’m not down with critical self-talk. So, please believe me when I say, my first quilt was a disaster!
OK, maybe the quilt isn’t a disaster (though it’s hideous!). But the process of making it was a disaster.
I discovered quilting after creating a few maternity dresses during my pregnancy with the Little Llama. Woof! Although those dresses fit me throughout my pregnancy and managed to cover my body with fabric, I didn’t enjoy making them at all. From unfinished seams due to not knowing what I was doing to using packaged bias tape for the neckline, also due to not knowing what I was doing, I took my big genius brain to JoAnn’s and purchased the yellow and blue calico fabric shown above. I got a rotary cutter and a cardboard cutting mat. In my defense, we were broke as a joke, and there was no way I could afford a self-healing mat.
Without any pattern or plan, I diligently cut all that calico into hundreds of 2 ½” squares. This is where my big genius brain, mentioned earlier, panicked and didn’t know what to do next. I couldn’t just waste the fabric, so I placed it into two gallon-sized Ziploc bags. I handed the remnants of the cutting mat to my husband for who knows what, and I never saw that rotary cutter again, probably for the best.
We welcomed our baby and settled into life. After being transferred to Edwards Air Force Base in California, our family joined a Jeep club where I hoped to make some friends. At one memorable meeting, a woman was working on an appliqué block, and I began asking questions. (I had no idea what appliqué was when I first saw it.) “Oh, you’re a quilter? I have these blocks in a couple of baggies at home that I don’t know what to do with them.” (Yes, I carried the baggies with me from Florida to California.)
Not knowing what she was getting into, she offered to come to the house that weekend to see how she could help me get started as a quilter. I’ll never understand why she didn’t run away when I proudly revealed my baggies. Nevertheless, she stayed and helped me create a layout that wouldn’t induce seizures and guided me through each step. Very much a traditionalist, she insisted my quilt needed two borders. “Go pick out some fabric, and we’ll meet again next weekend.” So, I selected two equally unattractive fabrics for the borders and got them sewn on.
To make a long story short, I used muslin as the backing and quilted it with a walking foot on my little starter Singer machine. It was a decent-sized throw quilt at about 60” x 60”.
At this point, I am hooked. My quilt mentor told me that if I were going to keep doing this, I would need to learn some basics to make quilts I would be proud to show off and ways to construct them more logically. Strip piecing! Who knew?! She took me to the store and paid for my new self-healing cutting mat, rotary cutter, and ruler. I remember it being so expensive and feeling incredibly grateful for her investment in me.
Then, we picked out a book with a pattern I liked, and she showed me how to read the pattern and follow the directions. When it came to the borders, I wanted something a bit more interesting, so she assisted me with some math to create pieced borders. I am so proud of this quilt!
My first quilt became a picnic blanket—because who cared if it got dirty!—and now resides in my emergency kit. I still think it’s ugly as sin, but I’ll be very grateful to have it one day. It also serves as a reminder of how far I’ve grown as a quilter, proving that practice really does pay off in the long run. Here we are, more than 25 years later, and I’m still addicted to quilting and absolutely love teaching it.
If you still think your first quilt was a disaster, we should grab some drinks at Bennigan’s and talk about where these feelings are coming from. I am convinced that no one had a more disastrous entry into quilting than I did. No one.
