Over the Christmas holiday, while the world outside was cloaked in quiet and the air carried that peculiar magic of winter, I found my joy not just in the season, but in the rhythm of creation. My sewing machine hummed like a spell, stitching together pieces of fabric and fragments of my imagination. I spent those days sewing over 100 crossbody bags, each one a tiny story waiting to be told.
Half of the bags began their lives as proof sheets, practical and grounded, transformed into something beautiful and useful. The other half were born from a dream—I designed the templates, crafted the art, and uploaded my visions to Spoonflower, who printed them onto denim. Every bag was then cut, shaped, and sewn by my own hands. They are more than accessories; they are little acts of alchemy, turning simple materials into something meaningful.
And now, I’m thrilled to share them with you this Saturday, February 1st, at the Baton Rouge Art Market. It feels like unveiling a bit of my soul, stitched into fabric and fastened with care.
Snowfall and Marley’s Shrug
As much as my Christmas vacation was a symphony of sewing, it also held moments of stillness and wonder. Snow came briefly, dancing like tiny stars before settling over the world in a fleeting blanket of white. It was the kind of snow that seems rare and miraculous here, inviting even the most reluctant to step outside and feel its chill against their cheeks.
My almost thirteen-year-old puggle, Marley, however, was not impressed. While I laughed and threw snowballs into the quiet air, Marley stood stoic, her expression one of mild disapproval, as if to say, "This? This is what you're so excited about?" Still, I relished her company, her solid presence a reminder of all the small, steadfast joys that accompany us through the years.
Thoughts for Imbolc: A Flame Rekindled
As we approach St. Brigid’s Day, also known as Imbolc, it feels fitting to reflect on what this season represents. Imbolc is a time of light returning, a whisper of warmth stirring in the cold, a reminder that spring will come even as winter lingers. Brigid, the goddess and saint of poetry, healing, and smithcraft, is celebrated during this time—a figure who embodies creativity, transformation, and protection.
For me, the act of sewing this winter felt like a kind of Imbolc ritual. Each stitch was a promise of something new, a spark of hope for the year ahead. Imbolc invites us to honor our inner fires, to nurture the creative flames that guide us through the dark seasons.
The Freedom of Self-Love
This season also carries a deeper lesson, one I’ve come to value greatly: the importance of self-love and the freedom to make your own choices. For so long, I lived under the weight of someone else’s control, their hands pulling the strings of my life. But now, I am learning what it means to live untethered, to be the weaver of my own fate.
Self-love is a quiet rebellion against the forces that seek to dim us. It’s the courage to say, "This is who I am, and I will not apologize for it." It’s the freedom to create, to rest, to choose your path without asking for permission. And it’s a reminder that you are your own sanctuary, your own light in the dark.
An Invitation
As we step into February, I invite you to kindle your own fire. What sparks joy in your life? What quiet revolutions can you nurture within yourself? Whether it’s creating art, playing in the snow, or simply taking a moment to honor your own worth, let this season remind you that you hold the power to shape your world.
And if you’re in Baton Rouge this weekend, I would love for you to stop by the art market and see my bags. They’re more than just fabric and thread; they’re a piece of my journey, a story stitched into something you can carry.
Here’s to creativity, to self-love, and to the courage to live untethered. Here’s to the light returning.
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