There I was, stood on the escalator, going home at the end of a long day. The woman in front of me was wearing a lime green wool coat of some extreme fabulosity. That was a great coat. Had she made it? What was the texture of the fabric? I reached out to stroke the hem … and my hand froze in mid air.
The rules of polite society, I told myself, are that you don’t go around stroking strangers clothes.
I shoved my fist into my pocket and bowed my head in shame. Just because I sew doesn’t mean that I can’t behave like a functioning member of society. That’s the theory, anyway.
I have so many sewing friends now, and so many other people who know that I sew. Everyone’s got used to a bit of man handling. A fond greeting in my world is a kiss, a hug, and a fondle of a collar. Ooh, poplin! That’s how you say hello, right? Or wrong?
Am I a hopeless case or does this happen to you, too?
Hugging Lizzie or checking out her tweed?