Fat Quarters - The Devil Made Me Do It...

In a previous post I explained the technical idea of "fat quarters." Now I'll describe the deviously planned impact these little innocent-looking bits have.

It's brilliant marketing. Brilliant.

Quilting calico runs between $15 to $25 a meter. The cost of a quilt, therefore, is just astronomical. When you lay out a new design and think "yardage", you reel at the hit your pocketbook is going to take. When you go into the store to look for, say 2 meters of something, you pick up a heavy bolt. You then have to wander around with this massive roll of fabric and look for something to coordinate with it. You are aware of the weight. You are aware of the cost.

Fat quarters, however, are small - easy to pick up, easy to pair up with other little fat quarters, and much less expensive. Once you figure out that you can grab a few "fat quarters" (at $4 to $7 a pop) and make something, well... you get suckered in.

The quilt shops all put their fat quarters right in the center of the store. It's the same devilry that causes grocery stores to position the lollies directly across from the breakfast cereals. They know they have you. You'll walk in with every intention of picking up that inexpensive meter from the "clearance table" - but you have to walk past the fat quarter table to get there.

Yeah... they know what they are doing.

You walk up to the table (no... you are pulled... it's a magnetic force... BEWARE). You spot the edge of something pretty - something unusual. Orange and gold dragonflies on a field of navy (no! impossible! how can it be so pretty?!?!?!) You extract it from the mass of neatly tucked-in folds of similar size. You look at it and think "oh! I wonder what I might use this for..." And you can't help but look to see what might coordinate. The next thing you know, you're designing (mentally) a work of art large enough to cover the Vatican.

I watched friend Pauline hit the FQ table the first time she took me to what is now my favorite quilting shop. She walked around the perimiter, of course, first looking at the bolts of fabric. She found some lovely lavender calico and bought enough for a single-sized coverlet. She thought that would save her. Wrong! The overpowering tractor beam of the FQ table pulled her in. And after about half an hour she was caught - a moth to the flame. I watched as she sorted through hundreds - literally HUNDREDS of fabric swatches. Matching, discarding this, picking up that. Pauline is an artist. She has a fabulous eye for finding interesting coordinating bits. In about 40 minutes she assembled a stack of quarters - browns and burnished coppers - that looked as if the good Lord Himself must've intended those bits to be together in a harmonious rhapsody of color and pattern. Delicious. But I saw how MANY of these quarters she had. Most were over $5 a unit - and she had something like 20 units.

And of course, being a good friend, I did what any other girlfriend would do. "GO FOR IT!" I said "Gorgeous! Yeah! Do it, Pauline!"

Sorry. No self-restraint possible in a quilting store.

I escaped the magnetism of the evil FQ table that day. But only about 4 weeks later I found myself in another quilt shop - one that was closing down and had excellent "everything must go" prices. I'd intended - yes actually intended - to buy some quarters to make a quilt. I did that. But also came out with enough bits (totally different color/pattern) to make a 2nd quilt top.

As I write this I am planning another trip to the quilt shop. I want to pick out some fabric to use in making table runners and other smallish projects that I can work on while I recover from my upcoming cancer surgeries. I know that the fat quarter table is a good place to start. Logically it should turn out well. But... will I be able to walk out with only the items I plan to?

Doubt it.