Every time a new series of The Great British Sewing Bee comes around, I get the messages:
“You must be watching!”
“You’d be so good on it!”
“What did you think of THAT transformation challenge?!”
And I completely understand the excitement. On the surface, it feels like a win for people like us - a mainstream celebration of sewing! And don’t get me wrong, it has done a lot of good. It’s introduced thousands of people to the joy of making clothes and even allowed some contestants to change careers. It’s made dressmaking look fun and expressive and something anyone can have a go at. And I’ll always be here for that.
But still… I won’t be watching.
Let me explain.
Sewing is Not a Sprint
Sewing, for me, is not a race. It’s not about cutting corners or “hacks” or doing it all on a countdown clock.
It’s slow. And steady. And thoughtful.
It’s about listening to your body and learning what works for you, not just following a pattern to the letter or making it “fit the brief.”
I spend a lot of my time helping people unpick years of feeling like they’re the problem because shop-bought clothes never fit right. And then they come into a workshop and say, “Oh - I’m allowed to move a dart?” or “You mean this pattern isn’t supposed to fit everyone?”
That kind of unlearning takes time. Patience. Space. A fair bit of coffee and a lot of trying on and trying again.
And it’s not really the stuff of fast-paced, jeopardy based, competitive telly.
Editing Out the Process
What we see on screen is just the highlight reel; the dramatic bits, the transformation challenges, the quick unpicking and the last-minute saves. But sewing in real life? It’s not that frenetic.
We deal with wonky seams. And sleeves that have to be unpicked three times. And days where the fabric fights you. And hours spent just thinking before you cut.
All of that gets edited out of the show. Which I totally understand, they’ve got a format, and it works. But it also sets up this unrealistic picture of what sewing looks like. And it can be discouraging.
I’ve had people come into workshops feeling defeated because they think they’re “too slow” or “not very good” - and so often it turns out they’re just trying to measure themselves against a version of sewing that isn’t real.
It’s a Bit Too “Make It Work” for Me
There’s a lot of pressure in Sewing Bee to be endlessly adaptable - turn this old jumper into a skirt, repurpose these curtains, how many things can you make with an IKEA bag.
Which, in theory, is great. We should be looking at how to reuse, repurpose, and waste less.
But the show often treats it like a circus trick. Whip something up in an hour! Use four random trims and a zip from a backpack! And then be judged on whether it looks catwalk-ready.
Sustainable sewing in real life doesn’t work like that. It’s slower. More intentional. Often less showy. It’s about choosing better materials, thinking about what you’ll wear again and again, fitting and finishing things properly so they last.
For me, sustainability is about respect - for your time, your body, your fabric. Not gimmicks. Not throwaway challenges. Not fast fashion rebranded as fast craft.
I Love Sewing… But I Don’t Want to Compete
Sewing is one of the few things in my life that isn’t about competition.
It’s personal. Creative. Healing, sometimes. It’s about expressing yourself, solving problems, building skills. And no one gets “voted off” or told their stitching line wasn’t good enough.
When you’re in my studio, you’re not trying to win anything. You’re learning how to make something that works for you. Something you can wear with pride. Something that fits your shape and your lifestyle - not just a mannequin on a timed brief.
What lights me up is seeing someone discover they can draft a sleeve that actually fits their own body shape. Watching someone beam when they try on their first toile and it works.
I know the contestants on Sewing Bee are wonderfully lovely people, and the judges are often more supportive off-camera. But I find the whole structure of challenges, eliminations, time pressure just takes the joy out of something that should be so much more than that.
Sewing Deserves More Than a Gameshow Format
What we do with fabric and thread is deeply skilled. It’s thoughtful. It’s centuries of knowledge. It’s passed down, shared, reworked, and reimagined again and again.
So to see it squeezed into a kind of “Bake Off” for garments, while entertaining, just doesn’t quite sit right with me.
It’s a bit like seeing someone speed-paint a mural while a timer beeps, and then judging it before it’s dry.
That’s not how craft works.
That’s not how life works.
So What Will I Be Doing Instead?
Instead of watching this season, I’ll be working with real people on real sewing journeys.
People who want to finally make trousers that fit their beautifully asymmetric bodies. People who want to sew their clothes more sustainably. People who want to feel good in their clothes, not judged by them.
I’ll be brewing coffee in the studio. Pressing seams. Tweaking darts. Laughing at mistakes. And celebrating every quiet victory that no TV crew would ever catch.
Because for me, that’s where the real magic of sewing lives.
Final Thoughts
If The Great British Sewing Bee brings you joy - That is wonderful! Watch it. Enjoy it. Let it inspire you.
But if it leaves you feeling like you’re not quick enough, or clever enough, or skilled enough… just know this:
Sewing isn’t a performance.
It’s a conversation - with your body, your fabric, your time and your self.
And it doesn’t need a spotlight or a stopwatch.
Just a bit of space. A bit of curiosity. And maybe a pattern or two you actually like and want to wear.
So no, I won’t be tuning in this year. But I will be here, sewing slowly. Thoughtfully. Joyfully. And always cheering on anyone who wants to give it a go - at their own pace.
Love
Jules x
Jenny Barlow
Aggree with your comments entirely sitting here I’m my ill fitting dress Kate will set sleeves better next time my shoulders are less wide that pattern so sleeve head hanging off. Should I remove them narrow shoulder width and re set them in Xx jenny b