snips:
You’ve probably tried eating locally. What about dressing locally? In my small town in western Colorado, gardeners abound, but seamstresses and tailors are endangered species, made scarce by $9.99 imported t-shirts. Yet local clothes are still grown and raised in the town’s cavernous old livery, where my friend Elisabeth Delehaunty runs her sewing machine and hoards her vast collection of fabric. Shelves twelve feet high burst with stacks of folded tweeds and florals and stripes, a colorful profusion of thrift-store blankets, sweaters, jackets, t-shirts, and castoff yardage. (Will she ever run out? “It could happen,” she whispers in mock terror. “It could.")
In her Colorado studio, old clothes are demolished, then reconstructed into colorful piecework scarves, skirts, tops, and sometimes even boxer shorts; leftover scraps turn into infant caps and coin purses. No fashion rule is sacred, as stripes are appliquéd on paisley prints, and slices of men’s dress shirts are paired with polka dots.
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