It started years ago, in a fit of DIY-ishness and unnecessary penny-pinching because “I could do that.” Thus, my first ever woodgrain tie was born.
In a shop full of lovely things, as I often find myself, I sifted through a young student’s handmade ties. Handling and admiring the chosen textiles (some, perhaps too much of a stretch for typical menswear, were perfect for ironic college formals) I thought less about purchasing one and more about the almost-pointy edges–how I’d love to conjure a method for recreating them on my own. Then I stumbled upon a mustard yellow woodgrain skinny tie. It was exactly the sort of perfectly outlandish thing that would have normally caused me to throw my conventional method of thinking right through an open window. However, as is often the case in pensive, musically-scored inner monologues such as these, another young predator–all sparkly-fingered and pierced-nosed–took advantage of my hesitation. My prize was lost, but not my determination.
I went immediately home that day and scoured the internet for a similar fabric. And by scour, I mean I went to this most obvious internet fabric shop and typed in “woodgrain,” thus resulting in at least twelve similar options to the one I’d let slip through my fingers.
Fabric bought and thrift store skinny tie de-stiched and ironed into pattern form, I cut, lined, and stitched my way to literally the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.
But when you make something ugly, it only succeeds in advancing your obsession with making something pretty…