There's nothing quite like the feeling of coming home from the market on a day that you've sold the bejeesus out of your stock, because it makes your wallet heavy, and your heart as light as air.
Today was one of those days, and it was very, very welcome.
I only do a market once or twice a month, because it's about what I can manage in amongst the full-time job, the sewing, the sleep, the relationship, the housekeeping etc (not in order of importance, by the way, clearly).
I mainly do the Shirt and Skirt Market at Abbotsford Convent, and sometimes the Northcote Town Hall markets when they're on. And I love them!
I love the whole set-up, and the process of getting my stall looking just right. I love arranging and re-arranging all the tote bags, and the doorstops, and the cushions, until it looks perfect and proper.
I love the first sale of the day, and the feeling of the notes in my fingers as I put them into my cash tin.
I love chatting to people about the weather, the economy, the political situation, gardening, skirts, and the wedding guests trooping past in a bizarre array of bondage footwear teamed with far-too short skirts and and odd assortment of suits.
But most of all, I love the compliments! If I'm honest, it may well be the real reason I do the market.
I love it when people tell me the pencil rolls are cute as pie (and they were a big hit today),
and when women stroke the cushions lovingly, and tell me
they're beautiful, and I especially love it when men buy something
for their girls. That's a big compliment.
I get a kick out of watching small children handle my soft toys with their sticky fingers - okay, maybe I don't love the sticky part that much, but I love that they like the toys themselves. Kids are honest - if they're not fussed on something, they're not shy about telling you.
I sold one of my Ellyfumps today, the orange one just here, and I sold Hoot the Owl to a fellow stallholder, and even the strange red cat (photo at the bottom of this post) got snapped up really early.
And I only made the cat last night, because I bought a new wicker basket to put the toys in, and I didn't have quite enough to fill it up ... there was a big cat-shaped hole left over, and so that's what I made (in somewhat of a panicked and sweaty hurry, I admit).
Ah, it's such a feeling of fulfilment to see it go.
I think there's something truly wonderful about receiving a compliment for something you've made with your own hands. Something you've chosen the fabric for, and designed the pattern for, and sewed together, and embellished with ribbons and buttons and bobbets.
It's a straightforward and honest compliment. There's nothing underhand about it. There's no scent of backstabbing glory-hungry colleagues (to quote The Sister Of My Heart, proto-primal friend that she is).
A compliment from a customer is a true and honest one. It comes without malice, or agenda.
And I think that's the reason I like them. In my sewing world, it's a place where things ARE as they seem.