Even Now, Quilt Shops Intimidate Me
It’s strange to say this as someone who has made quilts, sold them, and even writes quilt patterns — but I still find quilt shops intimidating.
I know I know what I’m doing. I know enough to teach myself through just about anything quilting throws my way. And yet… standing in a quilt shop, surrounded by people who seem to have it all figured out, I feel that old tug of imposter syndrome creeping in. And I know that what I’m feeling is irrational — because quilt shops, in general, are wonderful, welcoming places, and quilters, in general, are lovely, generous people. It’s not about them. It’s me. I’m just… weird with people.
That feeling — that strange mix of intimidation and not-enough-ness — was sitting heavy on me after a quilt shop visit when I came home and started thinking about Winterfade. I was thinking about what it must feel like for a complete beginner — someone who might have quietly dipped their toe into quilting at a big box craft store, able to browse, choose fabric, and make those first tentative purchases without anyone watching. It was anonymous, no pressure, and it felt safe. Now, with those stores disappearing, a beginner has to step into a quilt shop — and suddenly, it feels like everyone else knows exactly what they’re doing. It’s intimidating..
Winterfade is my quiet, no-pressure, you’ve-got-this welcome to beginner quilters. It’s the pattern I wish I’d had when I started — all the random bits of knowledge I’ve picked up along the way, written down to help make quilting feel less like a secret club.
I wanted a design that felt modern and bold, but simple enough that a beginner could make it on their own — with no matching seams, no tricky piecing, and no bias edges to stretch and shift. Just straightforward sewing and a chance to play with color. You don’t need a fancy machine to do this. I sew on a 1954 Singer 301 — straight stitch only, no bells or whistles, and it gets the job done just fine.
For quilting, I’ve included recommendations and shared what I did for my Winterfade — gentle wavy lines, quilted top to bottom, about an inch apart. We all know I’m a little (okay, a lot) intimidated by the quilting part of making a quilt. My longarm still feels kinda scary, so I wanted something that felt approachable and forgiving — for me, for beginners, and for anyone who feels that moment of uh oh, how do I quilt this?
No project in the studio would be complete without Gracie, my studio sidekick, my sanity, and an excellent quilt model when she feels like it. She’s getting pretty good at posing for photos, though cookies are usually involved
I used a hand-dyed fat quarter bundle I’d had sitting around forever, waiting for the right project. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure about the lightest fabric, but what I learned (and I learn something from every quilt) is that light colors pop in a way you don’t expect — and the background fabric sets the mood for the whole quilt.
Quilting has been a constant through so many seasons of my life — a place to focus, to create, to feel productive when everything else feels like too much. My hope is that Winterfade, and the way I wrote it, will pass along some of what I’ve learned, so someone else can pick up fabric and make something they’re proud of.
Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about perfect quilts or perfect seams. It’s about taking a deep breath, giving it a go, and reminding yourself: You’ve got this.
