Extreme Quilting

As I made my way through my Sunday To Do list last week, I came upon something I actually really wanted to do: Go to the quilt store. I usually try to stay as far away from the quilt store as possible because inevitably I find something I need (“need”) and don’t want to spend the money.

I found a parking spot in the unusually full parking lot and walked towards the store. I could see the outlines of figures inside – and was happy to see people supporting their local, collectively owned quilt store.

I pulled open the door and was immediately assaulted by a flurry of fluorescent green bags attached to the forearms of middle-aged ladies. And there were lots of them. Lots. I looked in horror at the amount of people in the store, wondering if, by me stepping in, it would throw off the whole balance of the world and send us careening through space, all because too many women decided to go to the quilt store that day.

Someone asked me to close the door because it was cold outside, so I reluctantly stepped all the way in, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

I looked around somewhat frantically, trying to figure out what was going on. After a few minutes of walking around with the look of a child lost at Disney Land on my face I found out that there was a special event that day called I’m A Wild Woman/Manic Man: Meet Me At The Quilt Store!

I’m not kidding.

The fluorescent green bags* were given to everyone participating in this Wild Woman day (there were no Manic Men, of course, but it was nice that they were trying to be inclusive). Let me tell you, those were some wild quilting women. They were throwing bolts of fabric to each other across tables, flipping frantically through books, grabbing fat quarters off the shelves, and giving you dirty looks if you happened to try to pick up something they were eyeing. And I swear, if those ladies were given another five percent off their purchases they would have been throwing elbows and it would’ve been ugly.

I moved my way through the crowded store trying to get what I came for, but was so thoroughly disoriented by the amount of people I got that glassy-eyed, brain-dead feeling you get from walking around Target for too long.

As I’m picking out thread (they had a big thread sale – I’m pretty sure I saw some elbows happening around that area of the store) I heard the door open and a huge burst of cacophony erupt from the crowd: “Heeeeeeeey! Look who it is! Good to see you!.....” Huh?! Where am I?! I looked down at my hands to make sure they were holding fabric and thread and not beer and a cigarette. Did I just walk into an alternate quilting universe? Because actually that would be pretty cool (quilters are kind of uptight). But they should like send out a memo or something before they make that kind of change and not just spring it on you like that.

I eventually made my way outside, but was so thoroughly disoriented by my Sunday Afternoon Quilt Store Experience I took the wrong exit home and ended up on the totally opposite side of town. I eventually got home, fed myself, and filed the experience away in my So Weird I Just Don't Know What To Do With It folder.


*Sometimes quilters have the worst taste. Today one of the owners (who don’t tend to wear “quilt art”) was wearing a quilted batik jacket. Why? WHY?! Dear god WHY?????