How We Got This Way
The Charmed Quilts Story
When I was about eighteen, I walked into a quilt store. I'm not sure why; I certainly had never quilted or even considered it. I didn't own any quilts. No one I knew back then was a quilter. In retrospect, I wonder if it was because of the many fat bolts of brightly colored fabric, temptingly displayed in the window, like so much ripe fruit in the sun. Something happened to my brain. I can't be held responsible for my decisions. I walked out with an embarrassing portion of the store.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do with all that fabric, but I'd figure it out. Of course. Certainly. No doubt. After all, it wasn't like I was in a position to spend any more money that week. Or month. Or Quarter.
Technically we had the internet back then, but not the way it exists today. There was no YouTube, TikTok, or Rumble. Back then, if you wanted to learn how to quilt, you mostly either had to learn out of books or you had to find actual people to teach you. Turns out there were scads of people who would have been happy to teach me if I'd known how and who to ask. I'm sure even the people who sold me the fabric at that first shop would have been happy to hook me up. There were, and are, an incredible number of quilting enthusiasts, and they're a very social lot. However, I bumbled along on my own for a long time.
​Because we learn by doing, when my cousin's First Baby came along, I was in a position to make a tumbling blocks charm quilt. I had never even seen a charm quilt in person, only in pictures, and I really wanted to make one. I loved it, to tell you the truth. I was a little sad when I was finishing the binding, because it had become a pleasure to work on. That's how you know it's good. It just looks and feels so right! Success was mine! I had moved from ignominy to artistry!
A few years later funny thing happened – my cousin announced Baby Number Two was on the way. I suddenly realized that it was absolutely imperative that I meet or exceed the standard I had set with the last quilt, or I would be scorned by my family, my friends, and possibly the entire human race for the rest of my natural life. Baby Number Two, recipient of an inferior quilt, would certainly grow up hating me. I began to suffer nearly crippling anxiety about this. When I made the previous quilt, I had had a lot more free time. Now what was I going to do?
But then I realized there was an easy solution! I thanked my lucky stars! Modern convenience would surely allow me to the opportunity to buy a charm quilt kit, thus delivering me from the horns of my dilemma.
​Alas. There was not a single one to be had, anywhere on the Entire Internet. Not that I could find. “How can this be?” I murmured in despair, preparing for the inevitable arrival of shame and hatred that would soon be my wretched lot. I could buy an ordinary quilt kit, but then who knows how many other babies would be running around with the exact same quilt. Probably Baby Number Two would never know, but I'd know. And it would eat me up. Yes, I'm ridiculous that way.
I eventually made a big stitch super scrappy Irish Chain, some time before Baby Number Two's college graduation.
The fabled Quilt Police never arrived to book me. My family has not disowned me. Baby Number 2 has not yet complained. But, my friends, the whole thing got me thinking: Surely others out there are in a similar pickle. So I made Charmed Quilts for you! Okay. And also for me. Because seriously, I never did figure out what to do about this fabric habit.
I hope you find something here you like – a tip, a chuckle, a kit.
I sign off wishing you cheerfully irresponsible use of color, improbable geometries, and exactly the level of contrast you prefer.
Yours,
Jae Marie