My Little Adventure with a Black Sequin Bag
So, there I was, staring into my closet a while back. You know how it is, a special occasion was kinda looming – nothing too fancy, just one of those things where you feel like you need a little something extra. My usual bags felt a bit… blah. I remembered this plain black clutch I’d had for ages, solid, good shape, but boring as a Tuesday afternoon.
Then it hit me. Sequins! A black sequin bag. I’d seen some in shops, but they were either ridiculously expensive or looked like they’d fall apart if you sneezed too hard. And honestly, I was feeling a bit crafty. Maybe it was all those years watching my grandma knit, or maybe I just needed a project to keep my hands busy.
Getting Down to Business: The Prep Work
First things first, I dug out that old black clutch. It was one of those simple envelope-style ones. Perfect canvas, I thought. Then, the big mission: sourcing the sequins. I didn’t want those massive, chunky ones. I was picturing something a bit more subtle, if sequins can ever be subtle, ha!
I trotted off to the local craft store. Man, that place is a rabbit hole. Aisles and aisles of shiny things! I eventually landed on these small, flat black sequins. They had a nice shimmer without being too over-the-top. Got myself a good spool of strong black thread and a pack of fine needles. I figured the finer the needle, the less obvious the stitches, right?
- Old black clutch: Check!
- Small black sequins: Check! (Bought way more than I thought I’d need, just in case. Good call, past me.)
- Strong black thread: Check!
- Fine sewing needles: Check!
- Patience: TBD.
The Sequin Sewing Saga
Okay, let me tell you, sewing on sequins one by one is a true test of… something. Character, maybe? I started with a plan, a sort of overlapping fish-scale pattern. Seemed easy enough in my head.
The first few rows were okay. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. “Look at me, practically a designer!” I thought. Then, reality set in. My fingers started to ache. I pricked myself more times than I care to admit. And those tiny sequins? They have a mind of their own. They’d slip, they’d slide, they’d end up on the floor, under the sofa, probably even in my tea at one point.
I tried a few different ways to hold them and sew. One sequin at a time, securing it with a couple of small stitches through the little hole. It was slow. Painfully slow. I’d do a section, then have to get up and walk around because my back was starting to protest from hunching over.
There was this one evening, I remember, I was about halfway through one side of the clutch. I looked at the pile of remaining sequins, then at the bag, then back at the sequins. And I just thought, “Is this even worth it?” I seriously considered just chucking the whole thing in a drawer and forgetting about it. My cat, bless her fluffy heart, wasn’t helping either. She seemed to think the thread was a new toy, and the stray sequins were crunchy snacks. Had to gently shoo her away more than once.
Pushing Through and the Final Sparkle
But, you know, I’m stubborn. Or maybe I just didn’t want to admit defeat to a pile of plastic discs. I put on some good music, made myself a giant mug of coffee, and just kept going. Little by little. Row by row.
Eventually, I got into a rhythm. It became almost meditative, in a slightly maddening way. And then, finally, the last sequin was stitched on. I held it up. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. If you looked closely, you could see some stitches weren’t as neat as others. Some sequins were probably a bit crooked. But darn it, it was done! And it was sparkly. And it was black.
I took it out for that occasion I mentioned. It wasn’t a massive gala or anything, just a friend’s fancy-ish dinner party. And you know what? The bag was a hit! Got a surprising number of compliments. People were asking where I bought it. Felt pretty good to say, “Oh, this old thing? I just jazzed it up a bit myself.”
So yeah, that was my adventure with the black sequin bag. It took way longer than I expected, tested my patience, and probably cost me a few brain cells. But every time I use it now, I get a little kick out of it. It’s not just a bag; it’s a story of perseverance, sore fingers, and a whole lot of tiny, shiny black dots.
