tükz

These unisex skateboarding or snowboarding toques are hand-sewn from recycled, felted 100% wool sweaters. Each hat is unique. Also available soon in infant and children's sizes.

tükz care instructions

Tükz hats are made from 100% felted wool. They will shrink if you machine wash and dry them. So be sure to hand wash your tükz hat in cold water with a mild detergent, and hang to dry.

eco-friendly shower curtains

Conventional store-bought shower curtains are made from polyvinyl chloride (PVC), a petrochemical product that is toxic in its manufacture and use (it outgasses a suspected carcinogen and hormone disrupter). It is being phased out of toys and household products in Europe, and hopefully North America will soon follow suit. Because it is relatively inexpensive to make, it's found in a huge variety of items. Read more about the dangers of PVC here.

Alternatives to vinyl shower curtains are available commercially in the form of fabric curtains. Most are also made from petrochemicals, however. Hemp and organic cotton shower curtains are available, but expensive.

I decided to make my own eco-friendly shower curtain out of a large piece of gauzy 100% cotton from my fabric stash. All I had to do was hem it to the appropriate length and add twelve grommets to the top. Because it's so lightweight, it dries quickly and doesn't attract mold. It's easy to wash, and can be dried by re-hanging it while still wet. It looks great in my bathroom, adding to the natural spa effect of white tiles and fixtures combined with natural materials such as wood and wicker.

linen and linen-look cushion covers

When I moved into my current apartment I wanted to go with an all-white European rustic theme for my bed. I had already made pillow slips out of heavy, linen-look rayon for my "sleeping" pillows, but wanted some throw cushions to match.

IKEA carries very inexpensive feather cushions, and I made slip-on covers for them out of vintage fabrics from my stash: two old 100% linen tablecloths, an old, worn 100% cotton sheet (lined with more cotton since the sheet had holes in some places), and 100% cotton muslin.

Each cover has a slit in the back (I don't like zippers on cushions) so it can be removed for cleaning. They look great on my bed, giving it the feel of a European farmhouse.

ecclesiastical stole

This stole was a gift to a minister who was leaving my church congregation in London, Ontario. Two churches had amalgamated, and the agreement at the outset was that one of the ministers would move on, six months after amalgamation.

One Sunday morning shortly after the amalgamation I was chatting with Marilyn (the departing minister) before worship, and I happened to ask her about the colour of her stole that day. Marilyn began to explain the various liturgical colours, and as I listened to her rhyme off the seasons of the church year I realized she hadn’t mentioned Advent.

It turned out Marilyn didn’t have an Advent stole, which should be blue in colour. In a lighthearted mood, I asked her if she wanted one. The moment passed, but later that morning during the service I realized that an Advent stole would make a wonderful gift. Being an experienced sewer, I was inspired to create a unique present for the amalgamated congregation to give to Marilyn.

I envisioned a blue stole made of patchwork; only later, in a conversation with another church member, did I discover that Marilyn was also a quilter. All but one of the many blue fabrics included in this stole was recycled from used clothing.

In total, the stole took about 25 hours to design and sew. The colours of the stole remind me of Amish garments. The ends of the stole, and the point at the back, are inspired by “Nine Patch” blocks in traditional patchwork quilting.

The text embroidered along the length of the stole is a verse of scripture from the book of Luke - Chapter 1, verse 38 - where the angel Gabriel tells Mary that she will bear a child. Mary's reply is: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

slipcovers

The upholstery on my mother's favorite armchair was rotting from sun exposure, and she didn't know what to do about it. I offered to make her a slipcover for the chair, so we went shopping for fabric (which my sister paid for), and this became Mom's birthday present that year (my responsibility was the sewing part).

In retrospect, this particular fabric was probably not a good choice; it looks amazing in the room, and coordinates well with the other pieces, but it was a royal pain having to match the pattern with its small repeat and right angles. I'm pretty obsessive, and everything has to be exactly centred and perfectly symmetrical. I was happy with the end result, though.

michelle lynne goodfellow

I've been sewing since I was about eight years old. As a child I played almost incessantly with dolls, especially my Barbies. One day I discovered that one of my closest friends knew how to use her mother's sewing machine to make doll's clothes. I immediately begged my own mother to teach me how to use our Singer, and soon Barbie's closet was full, and the Barbie-sized dollhouse my father had built for me was overflowing with new cushions, quilts, and curtains.

Mom also taught me how to knit, crochet, and embroider. I'm just one generation removed from rural farm life, and every adult female I knew as a child did some sort of handiwork. Even the men in my life dabbled at fibre arts: my paternal grandfather designed patchwork quilts in his retirement, and my father learned how to crochet when I was a child, creating ponchos for me and my sister to wear. My brother was a meticulous machine sewer who tapered his friends' pant legs as a teenager.

My mother always nurtured my creative talents in her own quiet way, and encouraged me to pursue art or design when I finished high school. I have a bachelor's degree in home economics with a major in clothing, textiles, and design, and also studied visual arts at the university level for two years before transferring programs and finishing my second bachelor's degree in film studies.

Looking back, I can see that the times when I ignored my creative impulses were the bleakest and emptiest of my life. There were many wake-up calls along the way. Once, when participating in a watercolour class at a local Waldorf school as an adult, I was shocked to realize that nobody else's work looked like mine - because I had engaged in the process on a completely different level than everyone else in the class.

I'd cried on the way to class because I'd just left a singing lesson where I despaired of ever singing well; I cried on the drive home because I finally realized how much time I had wasted worrying about all the things I couldn't do, while letting my true talents languish.

My art - whether fibre or fabric crafts, drawings, photographs, or even writing - is my way of putting the beauty I see in the world back into the world for others to see. I hope you enjoy it.