The Wearable Muslin Fallacy

In sewing, it’s common to make a “muslin”—basically, a practice garment—before making the actual item of clothing.  Typically this prototype is made from inexpensive fabric (traditionally, a fabric called muslin, hence the name).  Its purpose is to work out any kinks in the fitting, etc.  

The problem is that it’s a lot of work to make the same garment twice (or more times, depending on the issues that come up).  And, it adds to the cost of each piece of clothing, even if you’re using inexpensive material for the muslin.  So, in an effort to recoup both the time and money, many sewists (myself included) use a fabric that’s less expensive than the final product, but still is something they’d be willing to wear in a finished garment.  Thus, the hope is that you’ll end up with a “wearable muslin” out of the process.

The trouble with this, of course, is that it completely negates the no-pressure aspect of making a muslin.  Muslin making should be about gaining information, maybe learning new skills, and about experimentation.  But, all of that curiosity-driven, no-expectations exploration gets stymied when a potential for creating a usable product is on the table.

I’m finding that I’m struggling with the very same challenge when it comes to writing in my journal or on my blog.  Both are meant to be tools in my journey to notice the world a bit more keenly.  The goal is to use each as a place to collect fragments and thoughts, then sift through those observations to see if there are any nuggets of wisdom inside.  

But, the processes are just like creating a muslin.  They’re meant to be an opportunity to try things out—to create for the purpose of discovery, not productivity.  Trouble arises when I give in to the lure of a workable muslin.  If I allow myself to believe that maybe I’ll write or draw something in my journal that I can use on my blog, or, if I allow myself to think that there may be a seed of a bigger essay, or even a book chapter, in a blog post, then the process is torpedoed from the beginning.

The truly tricky thing is that either of those things may well be true.  There may come of my explorations on any given day more than what I put on the page.  Explorers find things.  So, if I go exploring on any given day, I may well come home with something new.

The struggle is to know that that is possible, while simultaneously having no expectations that it will happen on this one particular day.  That is the tension I have to inhabit.