For as long as I’ve been teaching, learning has happened around a table. Fabric spread out. Someone squinting at a seam. That pause before the scissors cut. The conversations that drift between technique and life. I love teaching in the studio - the energy of it, the shared focus, the small moments of “ohhh, that’s what I was doing wrong.”
Not everyone can get to the studio. Some people live too far away. Some are juggling caring responsibilities, health issues, work shifts, or simply don’t have the spare energy for travel. Others are confident sewists who don’t need a full workshop, they just want to understand this one thing properly, in their own time, without pressure.
That understanding has shaped how The Cloth Cutter has grown.
The online workshops didn’t begin as a big strategic decision. They grew out of necessity during the Covid lockdowns, when the studio doors had to close but the need for learning didn’t disappear. As the picture above shows - a throwback to the videos we created. Like many makers, I picked up a camera and worked out how to explain what I do in a different way. How to slow things down, how to demonstrate clearly, and how to teach without being able to read the room in the usual way.
What surprised me was how well it worked.
Those early recordings became the foundations of the video content that now lives inside the membership. Over time, I refined how I teach on screen, thinking carefully about what people actually need when they’re learning at home: clear explanations, reassurance, space to pause, and the freedom to come back to something when it’s ready to land.
As that library grew, something else became clear.
Not everyone needs ongoing access to everything. Sometimes you just want help with one specific thing - at the moment you reach it. You might be standing in front of an overlocker you’ve never quite trusted, or hovering over a length of jersey, unsure whether today is really the day you cut into it.
So alongside the membership, I’ve started to build stand-alone online workshops. These are designed so you can access exactly what you need, when you need it, wherever you are. No travel. No timetables. No pressure to keep up.
The first two workshops felt like natural places to begin.
Love Your Overlocker is one of the most popular workshops I’ve ever taught in the studio. It’s where people go from feeling slightly intimidated by their machine to using it with confidence and purpose, and often wondering why it felt so daunting in the first place.
Working with Knits grew alongside that, and has now expanded to include not just understanding knit fabrics, but also how to sew a T-shirt, with the Snug T-shirt pattern included. It’s about building confidence with a material that can feel unpredictable, and giving you techniques you can return to again and again.
These online workshops aren’t about replacing in-person teaching. They’re about widening access, supporting learning as it actually happens, and making sure good teaching is there when you need it, not just when you’re able to come to the studio.
Teaching Online, Learning Online
At the same time as building these workshops, I’ve found myself learning entirely online too.
My MA is taught remotely. There are no lecture theatres or fixed timetables - just recorded lectures, suggested readings, and a lot of independent thinking. At first, that felt unfamiliar. There’s no one watching you take notes. No tutor physically present to read the room and adjust the pace.
But it’s changed how I think about learning.
Online learning encourages you to slow down. To watch something once just to understand the shape of it. To come back later with fresh eyes. To sit with uncertainty for a while instead of rushing towards a finished answer.
That’s as true for theory as it is for sewing.
I see the same impulse in the studio - the desire to get to the end result quickly, to have something finished and wearable. But real learning happens earlier than that, in the moment when something clicks, rather than when something is simply completed.
Online learning, when it’s designed with care, makes space for that.
How Learning Settles Over Time
One of the things I’ve noticed - both in my own studies and in how people use the online workshops - is that learning rarely happens all at once.
People return to videos again and again. They watch once to orient themselves. Another time with fabric in hand. Another time months later, when something finally makes sense.
That ability to revisit learning when you’re ready for it is one of the quiet strengths of this way of teaching.
I see it most clearly with areas that people often feel unsure about - whatever that might be. The things that feel technical or unpredictable, where confidence changes everything.
When people take Love Your Overlocker online, they often tell me they watch it in short bursts - ten minutes here, a pause to try something, then back again. There’s no pressure to keep up with a group, no sense that you’re holding anyone back.
The same is true for Working with Knits. Knit fabrics reward understanding rather than speed. Being able to stop a video, check a stitch, rewind a section, or come back another day changes how people approach the fabric. It stops feeling precious and starts to feel workable.
That mirrors my own experience of learning through my MA. Some lectures don’t land immediately. Some readings only make sense after time has passed. That’s not a failure - it’s how learning embeds.
Common Concerns About Learning Online
It’s understandable to feel unsure about learning online, especially if you’ve had mixed experiences before.
Learning can feel more solitary without other people in the room. Motivation can slip without a fixed time and place. And there’s often that quiet question of reassurance - am I doing this right?
These aren’t personal shortcomings. They’re things that need to be supported.
The way I’ve approached the online workshops is to teach as I would in the studio: explaining why things work, talking through common mistakes, and encouraging people to pause and try rather than watching straight through.
From the learner’s side, a few small shifts help online learning feel more grounded:
-
watch with intention rather than as background
-
pause often and without apology
-
pair watching with doing, even in small ways
-
return to material more than once
-
allow understanding to take its own time
Learning isn’t linear, and it doesn’t need to be hurried.
Learning That Fits Real Lives
The reason I’ve continued to build the online workshops alongside the studio isn’t because one way of learning is better than another.
It’s because learning looks different for everyone, and at different moments in life.
Sometimes you want the shared energy of the studio table. Sometimes you want to work quietly at home, with a mug of tea and the freedom to pause, rewind, and think. Sometimes you want ongoing support. Sometimes you just need help with one specific thing, right now.
The online workshops exist to meet those moments.
They carry the same intention as my in-person teaching: to slow things down, to explain clearly, and to help you understand what you’re doing well enough that you can trust yourself when you’re on your own.
I’m learning this way too, by watching, reading, returning, reflecting. And it’s reminded me that good learning doesn’t depend on being in the same room.
It depends on care, clarity, and time.
And wherever you’re learning from, those things still matter.
When you’re ready
If you’re at a point where you’d like support with a specific skill - whether that’s getting to know your overlocker or feeling more confident working with knits - the online workshops are there to meet you where you are, whenever you’re ready. And there are more following soon.
Jules x