There’s a slightly awkward stage in learning to sew that I don’t think we talk about enough.
You’re not really a beginner anymore. You can thread your machine without breaking into a cold sweat. You understand seam allowances. You’ve probably made a few garments successfully and, given a decent set of instructions, you can work your way through a commercial pattern.
But then what?
For lots of people, this is actually where sewing starts to become more difficult rather than less.
When you first learn, the route ahead is relatively obvious. You learn how to use your machine, how to sew a seam, put in a zip, sew a buttonhole, finish an edge. You choose patterns labelled ‘beginner’ and follow the instructions carefully.
Eventually, though, you reach the point where you know the basics - but then you don’t necessarily know where to go next.
Confidence doesn't always keep pace with skill
One of the things I’ve noticed after years of teaching is that people are very good at underestimating how much they already know.
Someone will arrive at the studio and tell me they’re “not very experienced”, before casually mentioning that they’ve made dresses, trousers, shirts and perhaps even a coat.
What they often mean is:
“I can make things when somebody tells me exactly what to do, but I’m not confident making decisions for myself.”
And I think that distinction is really important.
Because becoming a more confident dressmaker isn’t necessarily about learning increasingly complicated techniques. It’s about beginning to understand why you’re doing something.
Why is this fabric behaving differently from the cotton you normally use?
Why does this pair of trousers fit beautifully at the front but pull strangely at the back?
Could you change that neckline?
Could you copy the shape of the favourite dress already hanging in your wardrobe?
Could you look at a construction problem and work out a solution rather than immediately reaching for the instructions?
That is a very different kind of confidence.
Your comfort zone can become surprisingly comfortable
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with making the things you already know how to make. Sewing is supposed to be enjoyable, after all - right? But it’s incredibly easy to stay within a fairly narrow sewing comfort zone.
Perhaps you always use cotton because slippery fabrics frighten you. Perhaps you avoid trousers because fitting seems mysterious. Maybe you own an overlocker but still regard it with suspicion like it’s about to grow horns and sharp pointy teeth!.
Or perhaps you keep buying commercial patterns because the idea of changing one - let alone actually creating something yourself - just feels like something only “proper” pattern cutters are allowed to do.
The trouble is that eventually that comfort zone can start to feel restrictive. From my perspective the frustrating thing is that the step beyond it is often much smaller than you would imagine.
Choose the next skill, not the next project
Instead of asking yourself, “What shall I make next?”, try asking:
“What would I like to understand next?”
That tiny change can completely alter the way you approach your sewing. Maybe you want to understand how a sleeve actually fits into an armhole. Perhaps you want to learn how to handle stretch fabrics confidently, use your overlocker properly, copy a favourite garment. Truly understand what all those adjustments on a pattern are actually doing. Or - and this is a biggy - it’s fitting trousers!
The trick is to choose just one thing that feels just beyond where you are now. Not ten things. One.
Then choose a project that gives you an opportunity to practise it. That’s how skills begin to accumulate and how you gradually stop feeling as though you’re starting from scratch every time you open a new pattern.
You already know more than you think
There is a lovely point in learning a craft when you stop experiencing everything you've learnt as a series of separate skills and start joining the pieces together. This is sometimes called synthesis - when existing knowledge begins to combine and allows you to see possibilities and solve problems you haven't explicitly been taught how to solve.
Something you learnt about grainline suddenly helps you understand why a garment is hanging strangely. Your understanding of darts helps you work out how to alter the shape of a bodice. Experience of different fabrics means you can predict how an unfamiliar cloth might behave.
You're no longer just recalling what you've been taught. You're using what you know to work things out for yourself.
That’s when sewing becomes really interesting. You stop simply following instructions and start making informed choices. And perhaps that is the real next step. Not simply becoming more advanced for the sake of it. And certainly not attempting increasingly complicated garments just to prove that you can.
Just becoming curious enough to ask why, and confident enough to have a go.
Jules x