Remembering Clothkits

This Easter has been the Easter of the sock (and I'm still knitting). But most every Easter I make something. I connect chocolate, roast lamb and shops being closed for the weekend with new projects. Creme Egg in one hand, crochet hook in the other. When I was a teenager, my Easter projects very nearly always involved something to wear. This was the time to open up the season's first Clothkits parcel. Clothkits?

We discovered them at Easter, too. I came back from an exchange trip to France and my sister had the catalogue waiting for me. 

Back in the 80's, and before, Clothkits produced...kits: pattern pieces screen printed onto fabric to be cut out and stitched together into coordinating outfits. Instructions, buttons, zips, even a label: everything came neatly packaged up, ready to sew. Clothkits was our secret weapon. We didn't have much to spend on clothes, but because we had to put in a bit of creative effort this way, these kits were a parent-approved purchase. We were always allowed to choose an outfit or two from the catalogue which arrived like Clothkjits clockwork twice a year, August and February. Those catalogues were works of art - with foldout flaps front and back, so you could compare colour swatches and decide which of the variously themed collections to choose. I wish we had kept ours. They're collectables now, selling on ebay for serious money. For a catalogue! 

I was about sixteen when I made the quilted jacket you can see on my layout (modelled here by my own sixteen year old). I had lots of other pieces - red cord dungarees, skirts, a gypsy petticoat - but the jacket survived because of its story. Of course. When I was nineteen, I put it on for a first trip to meet my new boyfriend's family. The girls all said "hello". They looked at each other. They looked at me. "Clothkits!" they chorused. And so that was alright. I would do. 

After that I had to keep it. And when that boyfriend asked me was there anywhere I wanted to go for my honeymoon - anywhere in England, which was as far as we could afford - I chose Bath. Partly because I knew it had a Clothkits shop. Was there one in Cambridge too? Am I remembering that right? I'm hoping I'm not the only one out there who waited for those catalogues and loved to rip open those packets.

When Clothkits closed I stopped sewing my own clothes. Several years ago, though, I discovered the name had been relaunched and there were kits to be bought once again. On my list, oh yes they are: how long can I hold out? At least until after the next pair of socks. That's all I'm saying.

Any other fans out there? Please say yes!

Details, Details

1. I've been meaning to make a "Clothkits" page for ages, so as soon as I saw this Pinkfresh paper, with its prints like the ones on the clothes I used to make, I knew I had a starting point. I had my doubts about the photo, which wasn't what I had wanted, but I decided to go ahead and see what i could make of it.

2. Oh, but choices! was that paper too busy? Would I be able to fit in the story? Was I just using it because I loved it and not because it was going to work? I pulled out some other choices..maybe white with the Pinkfresh stickers instead, just using the original as inspiration?

3. No: I'm going to stick with the original. Until I cut off that bottome strip I can never decide how it's going to look. Next..working with the photo I chose extras to enhance it instead of trying to ignore it. So, we have more woodgrain, which I found on my desk, with some "graffiti" stamps from Gossamer Blue

4. Nearly finished and just thinking about the journaling when I had a revelation! How about the best of both worlds! If I turned it into a double pager I could fit in all of the story AND have a chance to use the extra patterned paper and stickers. That's what I did:

So now it looks like this:

I have a feeling there'll be at least one more page, though. I still haven't told the story of how that Clothkits gypsy petticoat saved my life..