When I was about ten, I made my first skirt. It was a simple A-line silhouette, and it was cut from a delicate, floral fabric. That skirt is the only item of clothing I’ve ever made, not counting all the jeans I’ve turned into shorts. I’m hopeless with a needle and thread, I can barely darn a sock. But I love to imagine all the things I would make if I could sew. For starters, I’d make my summer wardrobe of caftans and loose fitting pajama pants, as well as an endless supply of printed napkins and throw pillows. Nothing fancy, but things I usually pay someone else to make that I wish I could do myself. It’s a basic skill I learned as a child. I should have kept it up.