Recently on a trip to San Francisco, I was reminded how great it is to be a weaver, and I wasn’t even weaving—or for that matter near yarn or a loom. I was with friends near Union Square in San Francisco, and we happened upon one of my favorite stores of all time, Britex Fabrics. My mother was a fine sewist, and my sisters and I spent a lot of time there as children looking at buttons in the button room and ribbons on the ribbon floor. This was not the same location that I knew so well but a new one, at least to me.
One wall of the first floor of the new store was filled with bolts of wool fabric, fine wool fabric in every color you could imagine, stacked floor to ceiling. I did what any weaver would do, I brushed my fingertips along the rows, marveling at the beauty of the weaves and the selection of colors. Then my eye caught the black and white fabrics woven in twills and color-and-weave. As a weaver, I was thrilled to see some of my favorite patterns—such as pinwheels, point twill, herringbone, and log-cabin—represented.
My non-weaver friends oohed and awed along with me, but for me as a weaver, it was almost a validation that what I do has meaning and that I am not alone in loving fabric. Had I been on my own, I would have spent more time. I would have examined the patterns and checked the selvedges. I would have searched out other familiar patterns and taken more pictures, and I would have petted many more bolts. I would have found the silks, just because I love silk, and probably purchased some buttons and other findings. I’m already planning to make my way to Britex Fabrics again, cell phone in hand (and my credit card), the next time I’m in San Francisco.
P.S. I'm sure I'm not the only weaver who loves fabric. I'd love to hear from you. Send me pictures of fabrics you love and why. [email protected]