In London, of course.

I have to confess, my initial reason for wanting to visit the Victoria & Albert Museum wasn’t to see the quilts exhibit (I didn’t know about it yet), but to take in Grace Kelly: Style Icon. Because whether you’re into quilting or not, the lure of rows and rows of outfits worn by Her Serene Highness herself cannot be denied. It wasn’t until I was ambling down Cromwell Road that I spotted the giant banners proclaiming “QUILTS” that I fully knew what I was in for.

I didn’t see the quilts, or the dresses, for that matter, that day, as the exhibits were sold out, so we bought tickets to return the following evening. My appetite for textiles, however, was whetted, so we jumped back on the Underground and headed to Liberty of London.

Actually, I think we headed to a pub before Liberty, which made the ultimate destination that much more heady and exhilarating.

I’ve heard and read much about shopping for fabric at Liberty, and for a seamster or knitter, it will certainly be a highlight of traveling in Britain. But if you go, please, please, please leave yourself enough time to visit every floor. Take a moment to appreciate the stylish furniture, the fancy tableware, and the unique accessories. Liberty is not just a company that does fabric well. Liberty does everything well.

But because everything at Liberty is expensive (if you’re familiar with the quality of the items, this won’t surprise you), and I hardly had room in my suitcase for a brilliantly upholstered settee, I confined myself to shopping in the fabric area. Choosing yardage from the bolts would have been nearly impossible, with so many choices, so I was happy to find a bundle, much like this one, in an easy-to-pack- and-haul-through-Scotland-and-France in – what else? – a range of lovely pink hues.

While checking out, the clerk informed me that the bundles were their bestseller. “Have you been to the Victoria and Albert exhibit yet?” he asked.

I told him I was going tomorrow.

“You’ll see why,” he said, with a knowing a nod.

While there were a number of quilts I really loved at the V&A, the one I most want to discuss is the “why” in question: Liberty Jack by Janey Forgan, in the flickr photostream of Christopher S. Cortez. (Click the photo to see his flickr page.)

I don’t want to talk about it because it’s fabulous, though it is. Every thread of it is. What really astounds me and impresses me about this quilt is that it is so. Unbelievably. British.

You can look at the design and say, “Yeah, obvs, it’s all flags,” but there’s more to it than that. In the US, we are more than spoiled for choice when it comes to fabric. The same goes for Japanese fabrics, to the extent that using them no longer seems trendy – it seems like using them indicates a taste for darn good textiles. But what quilting-weight American cotton is so iconic that it could be sewn up into an American flag without anyone caring the colors were wrong?

There are plenty of American arts and crafts that are deeply tied to our national identity, and you can even argue that Americans invented quilting as we know it. But only in England, where cotton lawn dotted with tiny flowers is as much a symbol of the county as a red phone booth or double-decker bus could Liberty Jack be made, and appreciated. And something so singular really should be appreciated.

Unfortunately, the Quilts exhibit at the V&A closed on July 4th, but a few photos remain online, and a book about the exhibit is available.

And if you’re wondering what I did with my bundle, after hauling it through Scotland and France… and Maryland, and Pennsylvania, all the way to Boston:

It’s just a start, but I’m exited. It’s Liberty, after all!

I love Mary’s inspiration so much that it intimidates me a bit. It’s one thing to figure out what someone likes and just go for it, but my tastes are similar to Mary’s. So the pressure is on to make something really fabulous.

Wish me luck!

Today I’m going to add another entry to that distinguished group, which I can only describe as a wholecloth with single floating star block. Or perhaps it’s technically a star quilt, with white borders that can be measured in feet or meters? Take your pick:

I love this vintage-looking quilt by Me? A Mom? to pieces. It was sized for a toddler bed, which makes it seem especially genius to me. I know I often get excited about the idea of going whole hog and spending months and years on that perfect set of 49 (or more) hugely intricate blocks for that special, once-in-a-lifetime quilt, but let’s be practical here. If you responsibilities go beyond crafting for a small child into the realm of, say, caring for a small child, you just don’t have the kind of time to make dozens of spiderweb blocks every time your little one outgrows a piece of furniture.

Unless you do, in which case you are a superhero, and I’m not sure I want to be talking to you.

At any rate, there’s something to be said about a quilt that seems to speak to its function. The simplicity of all that white coupled with the the jaunty color placement just screams childhood to me, even though there’s plenty of adult appeal here. And while I admire lots of fancy handiwork as much as anybody, it’s a breath of fresh air to see a quilt that isn’t too labored.

I can see this quilt getting lots of love in the future. Better yet, I can see it getting lots of love now.

(Oh, that cover art. Francine Pascal, why must you always prey upon my love for pastels?)

And if you have the weird head fro details that I somehow have when it comes to bad young adult fiction, you may remember that when 1800’s Elizabeth (Elisabeth?) becomes a hobo because Jess has, naturally, run off to become the hottest bareback rider in any circus in the history of the world, Liz/Lis wraps all of her stuff up in an evening star quilt.

Leave it to the Sweet Valley franchise to make it a really sexy sounding quilt, and not something normal like Log Cabin, or Drunkard’s Path. But then, it would be very un-Elizabeth to sleep under a Drunkard’s Path quilt, unless she’s on her way to the Jungle Prom.

An image search for evening star quilt brings up a number of different things, but most look like this:

Now, this was made around 1929, so it post-dates Liz’s prairie adventures, but isn’t it uncanny that it matches her “sparkling, aquamarine eyes”?

I have too much going on, sewing-wise, to start a new quilt right now, but if one of these is on my bed in six months, we’ll have all learned just how obsessive I can get.