There’s a peculiar kind of satisfaction that comes from not quite doing things the “proper” way sometimes.
Not in a reckless, everything-must-burn kind of rebellion. But in that quieter, persistent way of thinking… yes, I see how you say this should be done… but I wonder what would happen if I did it like this instead.
I’ve come to realise over the years that this streak in me, this slightly rebellious, questioning nature, has shaped almost everything I do. It certainly didn’t make me the easiest teenager to manage. I was the one who pushed back, who questioned rules, who occasionally took things just a bit too far. There was a moment at school where it very nearly tipped into being asked to leave altogether. My very proper all girls grammar school wasn’t quite sure what to do with me and my ripped 501 jeans. I suspect it was only a change in headmistress, and perhaps her reluctance to start her tenure by expelling someone, that meant I stayed on to take my A-levels.
At the time, it probably felt like I was making life difficult for everyone around me. I’m fairly sure it played havoc with my mum’s nerves. She used - actually still does - call me a ‘Rebel Without a Clue’. (Those of a certain vintage will get the Jame Dean reference). But looking back now, I can see that same instinct - that refusal to simply accept “because that’s how it’s done” - has quietly become one of the most useful tools I have.
Especially when it comes to making my own clothes. Because sewing, on the surface, looks like a rule-following activity. Patterns come with instructions. There’s a sequence. A method. A “right” way and a “wrong” way.
But that’s only the beginning of the story.
When you first learn to sew, following instructions is incredibly helpful. It gives you structure. It builds confidence. It stops everything descending into complete chaos. There’s comfort in being told: do this, then this, then this.
But at some point, and it’s different for everyone, you start to notice the edges of that structure.
You might find yourself thinking:
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That step feels unnecessary…
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That finish isn’t quite how I want it to look…
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This shape doesn’t really suit me…
And this is where that slightly rebellious streak becomes invaluable. Because instead of assuming you’re doing it wrong, you start to ask: What if the instructions aren’t the only way?
That question is the beginning of real dressmaking freedom.
I love a psychological ‘self help’ book and remember reading The Four Tendencies at one point, quietly recognising myself in the Rebel description. Not in a dramatic, door-slamming way, (although some of that may have happened in my teenage years) but in that steady resistance to being told what to do, even by myself sometimes. It made me laugh out loud, because it explained a lot.
And it also helped me see that this way of being isn’t a flaw to fix. It’s something to understand and, when used well, something that can really support creative work.
For me, not being particularly good at blindly following instructions has meant I’ve always approached sewing a little differently. I’ve never been someone who can neatly tick off each step without questioning it. I want to understand why something is done, not just how.
And when you start looking for the “why,” something shifts.
You begin to see that:
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Seam orders are often about efficiency, not necessity
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Finishes are choices, not rules
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Patterns are suggestions, not prescriptions
Once you see that, it’s very hard to go back. Instead of feeling constrained by a pattern, you start to feel curious about it. You might follow it the first time - or you might not. You might skip ahead. You might change the order. You might ignore a step entirely and see what happens.
Sometimes it works beautifully. Sometimes it doesn’t. But either way, you learn.
I think this is where being a bit of a rebel really comes into its own because you become comfortable with the idea that there isn’t always a single correct outcome. And that’s incredibly freeing when you’re making clothes for yourself.
Because the truth is, most patterns are designed for a theoretical “average” body. They assume proportions that many of us simply don’t have. If you follow them exactly, you’ll often end up with something that technically works… but doesn’t quite feel right.
A more rule-following mindset might lead you to assume: I must have done something wrong.
But a more questioning, slightly rebellious mindset asks: Is the pattern right for me?
That’s a very different starting point.
This is where things like fit, proportion, and personal style really begin to open up.
If you’re willing to step off the prescribed path, you start to notice things about your own body and preferences:
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where you like a waistline to sit
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how much ease feels comfortable
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whether you prefer structure or softness
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how fabrics behave on your shape
And instead of forcing yourself to match the pattern, you start adjusting the pattern to match you.
That’s a powerful shift.
There’s also something deeper going on here, I think.
That early instinct, the one that had me quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) pushing back against authority, wasn’t really about being difficult. It was about wanting a sense of autonomy. Wanting to feel like I had a say in how things were done.
Sewing, and particularly designing and making your own clothes, taps into that same need.
It’s one of the few areas in life where you get to decide:
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what you wear
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how it fits
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how it’s constructed
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what rules you follow - and which ones you ignore
Running my own business has come from a similar place. That desire to not be boxed in, to do things in a way that feels aligned, even if it’s not the most conventional route. And I see it in my sewing all the time.
Of course, there’s a balance. Rebelling for the sake of rebelling can lead to frustration. There’s a difference between thoughtfully questioning something and simply refusing to engage with it.
The most useful version of this “rebel” energy is a curious one. It says:
I’ll learn the rules so I understand them… and then I’ll decide which ones I actually want to keep.
That’s where the magic tends to happen.
Because when you understand the foundations - how garments go together, how fabric behaves, how fit works - you’re no longer dependent on instructions. You’re making informed choices.
And those choices can take you in all sorts of interesting directions.
If you recognise a bit of this in yourself; that tendency to go off-piste, to question, to tweak, to quietly do things your own way then it’s worth leaning into it.
Not as a flaw, but as a strength.
It might look like:
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changing the order of construction because it makes more sense to you
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simplifying a technique that feels overly complicated
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combining elements from different patterns
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adjusting shapes and proportions until they feel right on your body
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trusting your eye, even when it doesn’t match the instructions
You don’t have to throw the rulebook out entirely. But you are allowed to edit it. And perhaps that’s the real gift of being a little bit rebellious.
It gives you permission.
Permission to question.
Permission to experiment.
Permission to not get it “perfect.”
Permission to create clothes that actually reflect you - not just what the pattern designer had in mind.
Looking back, I’m not sure I’d recommend quite the same level of teenage defiance. It did, as I said, cause a fair amount of stress for those around me. But I can see now that the underlying instinct that is the quiet refusal to simply fall into line has been incredibly useful.
It’s allowed me to build a business that works in a way that feels right to me. And it’s allowed me to make clothes that do the same.
Not because I followed every instruction perfectly.
But because I didn’t.
Jules x
Are you a Rebel or do you like to follow the Rules?