Stash: The Fabric

Admiring all of the fabrics at Stash, I can't help but notice that each grouping of prints begs to signify something to each customer and onlooker. Each print recalls a small detail from a story or memory: the leaves on the trees that hung just so; the pattern on the tablecloth that was used over and over again that summer; or the wallpaper that covered the room where you used to hide in hide-and-go-seek. The colors that make up the fabrics aren't from the typical spectrum of colors that comes to mind when "orange," "blue," or "yellow" are mentioned. Instead of orange, the color is the sheen on from the sun on stalks of wheat, crisping under the 2 o'clock sun. Instead of "blue," the color is the water in your swimming pool. Instead of "yellow," the color is just like the filling that is layered between two flaky, crust bookends when making key lime pie.

Of course when it comes to classifying the prints and colors of the fabrics at Stash into personal stories and recollections, I can only speak for myself when describing what exactly it is that each bolt of fabric brings to mind. I've listed my comments below, yours may be different- which would speak to the power inherent in the beauty of these fabrics, that they can remind everyone of such uniquely personal motifs.


This fabric group channels the tones found in the Walla Walla wheatfields. I have often tried to describe to friends and family what the quality of light is like in the wheatfields and why the colors there make it a place of calm energy. It's almost as if these fabric colors are filtered somehow to be basking in rural Washington sun and mixing in the same wind that ruffles the wheat to make it whisper.

When greens turn to yellows and oranges and a swift crackle is heard underfoot when tromping outdoors, it's autumn in Walla Walla. All of the colors in these fabrics remind me of this time of year. The landscape is comandeered by fiery oranges and wafts of woodsmoke, both of which lie in contrast to the clear and cool-hued sky over the tips of the Blues.


I can't help but think of when I was very little and wore ribbons in my pigtails. There was a drawer in the bathroom that overflowed with satin ribbons in every possible color for every possible day and occasion. The colors in these fabrics are those of some of the ribbons that had most frequent use, and the patterns are those of some of the skirts and shorts that I wore to threads as accompaniment to those most-loved pigtail ribbons.