Am I Becoming a Crunchy Mum? Or Have I Always Been One?

I have recently discovered that I might be a crunchy mum.

Now, before you start imagining me sitting in a field eating granola, wearing sandals and hugging trees, let me explain.

Apparently, in America, a crunchy mom is a mother who favours natural living, homemade things, sustainability, reusing rather than replacing, and generally doing things the old-fashioned way.

Well, goodness me. I've been doing that for years!

I just didn't realise it had a name.

A New Name for an Old Habit

When I was younger, we didn't call it sustainable living. We called it making do.

If something was torn, you mended it. If the curtains were looking tired, you made something else from them. If you had a perfectly good piece of fabric left over, you certainly didn't throw it away.

And if you were anything like me, you kept it because you knew it would come in useful one day.

That day might be twenty years later, but it would come.

Probably.

I have a studio full of evidence to support this theory.

The Trouble With Being a Textile Artist

You see, textile artists are particularly good at being crunchy.

We save everything.

A tiny piece of fabric? Useful.

A thread barely long enough to go through a needle? Definitely useful.

An old shirt with an interesting texture? Far too good to throw away.

A strange bit of packaging? Could be interesting with a heat gun.

And don't even get me started on buttons.

I suspect there are enough buttons in my studio to fasten every coat in Norfolk, with a few left over for Suffolk.

The problem is that all these useful things need somewhere to live.

Which brings me rather neatly to the events of this week.

The Great Studio Migration

I have spent the last few days rearranging Eau Brink Studio. This picture shows it half way through.

Not just a little tidy-up, you understand.

Oh no.

This has involved moving fabric, clearing shelves, reorganising cupboards, filling the van with things for the rubbish tip, scrubbing sinks and discovering items I had completely forgotten I owned.

The shop is gradually becoming an art and handmade gift shop, while the remaining fabric stock has been moved into the studio.

At one point, I looked around and wondered whether I was creating a beautiful new working environment or simply moving the chaos from one building to another.

There is a fine line.

And I may have crossed it several times.

But something rather wonderful happened.

As the shelves were cleared, the tables polished and everything found its new home, the studio began to look like the place I had imagined.

A place to create, teach, experiment and occasionally drink a cup of tea while pretending to think very seriously about art.

The Crunchy Mum Contradiction

Here is where things get interesting.

A proper crunchy mum is supposed to embrace natural living and simplicity.

I absolutely approve of simplicity.

I just seem to require approximately 100 paintbrushes, several sewing machines, an alarming quantity of thread and enough fabric to insulate a small house in order to achieve it.

I also love the idea of reducing waste.

Which is why I keep offcuts.

And scraps.

And interesting bits of paper.

And pieces of Lutradur that have already been heated, coloured, distressed and generally abused.

Someone else might call them rubbish.

I call them possibilities.

Unfortunately, possibilities take up an extraordinary amount of space.

But Isn't That What Creativity Is About?

There is something rather satisfying about taking something ordinary, unwanted or overlooked and turning it into something beautiful.

A piece of old fabric becomes a book cover.

A scrap of denim becomes a bag.

A handful of threads becomes an embroidered picture.

An old piece of hemp sheeting becomes the foundation for a stitched landscape.

And something that might otherwise have been discarded gets a second life.

Perhaps that is what appeals to me about this whole crunchy business.

Not the label, the lifestyle trend or the idea of being fashionable.

But the belief that things have value beyond their original purpose.

That we don't always need to buy something new.

And that making something ourselves can be far more rewarding than simply purchasing it.

Am I Crunchy Enough?

I am not entirely sure I would pass the official crunchy mum examination.

I don't make my own soap.

I have no intention of giving up my sewing machines.

And I rather suspect my heat gun would horrify anyone committed to a completely natural lifestyle.

I do, however, make things, mend things, reuse things and occasionally rescue things that other people would have thrown away.

I also bake cakes for workshops, although I think that may have more to do with keeping everyone happy than saving the planet.

So perhaps I qualify as a slightly unconventional crunchy mum.

One with an embroidery machine, a collection of unusual textile materials and a studio that has finally been cleaned from top to bottom.

A Final Thought

I rather like discovering new expressions, especially when they turn out to describe something I've been doing all my life.

It makes me wonder what other fashionable labels might apply to me.

Perhaps there is an American expression for a woman who owns more thread than she could possibly use, starts three projects before finishing the first and considers a perfectly good afternoon spent experimenting with a heat gun.

If there is, I would love to hear it.

In the meantime, I shall embrace my newly discovered crunchy status.

Although I do have one small concern.

If being crunchy means keeping everything because it might be useful one day, I may have just found the perfect excuse never to tidy my studio again.

And after this week's mammoth clear-out, that would be a terrible shame.

Until next time,

Anita

Eau Brink Studio — where fabric becomes art, and apparently, so does a little bit of chaos.