I was never a very healthy eater growing up. I was your typical kid born in the 80s…my favorite food groups were Captain Crunch, Blue Bell, beef and Sonic. As I also happened to be embarrassingly stick thin, I never thought much about it, so these eating habits followed me throughout college and well into my young adult life. I couldn’t tell you when things started to change. It must have been the first few years of married life. I can remember my husband and I challenging ourselves to make some of our favorite dishes from restaurants at home. As we started cooking for ourselves more and more, we discovered that often times when we went back to the restaurants for those same dishes, they didn’t taste quite as good as we had remembered. So we kept cooking.

Despite our changing habits, one thing we still rarely did was check the labels on our food. I can still remember the day that we started looking at ingredients. I was having an insane craving for a Totino’s pizza…because no matter how much I cooked at home, every once in a while, I would still get a serious hankering for one of those triple meat pizzas. I was sitting on the couch, eating the pizza off the box like I always used to do, and my husband was sitting across from me eating his pizza and looking at the mile-long ingredient list. To my dismay, he began to look up every single one of the ingredients. I cannot tell you how heartbroken I was to find out just how unhealthy my beloved Totino’s pizzas were. As heart wrenching of a break up as it was at the time, I broke off my love affair with my snack-size frozen pizzas and set out to find better alternatives. I haven’t missed it.

A funny thing happens when you start eating well. When you start getting back to the basics and discovering the way that foods taste in their natural forms, processed foods no longer taste very good. I used to hear some of my friends say that to me, and I would smile and nod, then internally label them as smug food snobs. I hope I’m not being smug in saying it now. I just think that real food tastes better, and it is very hard to be enticed with fast food these days. I know I can make it better at home.

And now I arrive at the point of this blog post. While I had improved my eating habits and was getting better at reading and interpreting the labels on the food that I bought, I never thought about transferring what I had learned about food to the clothes that I wore. Like I said before, my main criteria for buying clothes was that it be less than $10 when possible and…well, that’s really about it. I never looked at the labels when buying my shirts and pants, had very little idea about the fabrics or stitches that went into them, no clue as to where they originated, and was rarely surprised if they started unraveling at the seams after just a few wears. I wasn’t heartbroken…after all, I had only paid the same amount I might pay for a Subway sandwich. I could just donate the shirt and move on to my next impulsive purchase.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized just how little I knew about the clothes I was putting on my body. I have sewn off and on since my teenage years and knew basic stitches and seaming techniques. It wasn’t until recently that I started learning more about what goes into a well made piece, from the fabric to the seams that are chosen and where. A well-made piece of clothing is like a piece of art. I am inspired when I go to the thrift store, pick up a vintage item and see all the ways that an individual put time and care into the production. The items were made with the intent to last, with far greater care placed on the fabrics chosen and the techniques used. And sadly, despite my sewing background, I am realizing how very little I know.

Just as fast food is no longer enticing, I am beginning to look at clothing in a different light. Whereas I have always walked into stores and been giddy with excitement to see sales and clearance notices, I am starting to see a slightly different image: clothes that are produced with the intent of selling quickly and disposed of even quicker. Items that appeal to our sense of novelty instead of timelessness. Outfits that will be rotated out and replaced with the next trend, dating themselves almost instantly. Suddenly, it feels much more like a strategy to get us to empty our pocketbooks on a frequent basis rather than actually saving money. How long can this be sustainable? And how much basic knowledge of quality have we allowed to slip away in the process?

I find it staggering to realize that just a little over 50 years ago, only 5% of clothing sold in America was imported. Fast-forward to today, and the numbers have entirely flip-flopped. Today, only about 3% of our clothing is made within our country. I say this not to demonize globalization, but to simply point out what I find to be symbolic. As we have lost touch with the physical production of our clothing, our generation seems to be teetering on the edge of losing touch with the entire knowledge of clothing production and the personalization that once made it a special and central part of the American life.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe not everyone is as ignorant as I have been. Regardless, as I learn more about fabrics and seams and structure, I am finding that it is hard to turn back. Just as the food that I eat seems more flavorful and enriching when I make it at home, I am finding that pouring myself into the clothes that I create seems to enrich them with personality and durability that I simply cannot find in the assembly line stores. Equally, I am discovering so many wonderful stories of artisans around the world who pour their personalities into the clothing that they make. In the end, it is the lives behind the items we choose to live with that make them what they are, and I am excited to begin enriching my own life by learning more about these stories.