No Pattern, No Problem: What Sewing Pants Taught Me About Myself

I didn’t expect a two-hour sewing class to feel like a portal to my future- or a return to my roots. One minute, we were threading needles at The Cut Studios in downtown LA. The next, I was looking across the table at my mom, guiding her hands on a sewing machine. Not the one she used back in the Philippines, but something about it still felt familiar- like muscle memory from a childhood spent in "home economics" class or the hum of a manual machine echoing in our family history.

The truth is, I signed us up for this beginner class because I wanted to do something creative together. It cost $75, lasted 2 hours, and by the end, we each walked away with a pair of pants we had made ourselves. But what I really took home was something way bigger than clothes.

Technically, I’ve touched a sewing machine before. During the pandemic, I did what a lot of us did- picked up new hobbies in between existential spirals. I made a mask for my dog (it was awful), hemmed a few pants (badly), and told myself, "One day, I’ll get better." But the dream-to design and bring my own pieces to life-has always been there. Since I was a kid, I’d sketch designs, doodle outfits in the corners of notebooks, and imagine building something that was mine. I just didn’t know how to start. Fashion school? Business school? YouTube rabbit holes? So when I found this beginner class in LA, I figured: maybe the first stitch isn’t on a garment, it’s on your mindset. Just show up. Sit down. Thread the needle.

My family doesn’t consider themselves crafty. Well-except my mom, who’s always had that maker magic in her. She used to sew in school back in the Philippines, using a manual machine. Seeing her relearn it here in LA? That was full-circle. My sisters? Not the DIY type. But they came. They showed up. They laughed, struggled, asked questions, made mistakes, and kept going. And there was something so healing about that. In a world that rewards polish, we were learning to embrace process. We weren’t perfect. Our stitches went wonky. We broke rules. The teacher, Michelle (who’s also self-taught), would peek over and say, "I don’t even know how you’re doing that- but it’s working." We just kept sewing.

Right now, I’m juggling a full-time job while building my brand part-time. There are days I wonder if I should drop everything and go back to school. Get formal training. Make it official. But I’m learning that self-taught doesn’t mean self-doubt. I’m talking to people, taking workshops, surrounding myself with other builders. Every experience-even a random Tuesday sewing pants with my family-is shaping my path. I don’t need to have it all figured out to get started. I just need to move. Take messy, beautiful, misaligned, magical action. And maybe that’s what starting a business looks like. Not spreadsheets and venture capital and ten-year plans, but this: a family at a sewing table, trying something new. Threading into it, and learning as we go.

We made pants that day. Actual pants! But what we really made was a memory, a reminder, a marker of where I am and where I’m going. My sisters joked that now I have a team of in-house sewers if I ever launch a factory. We laughed. But deep down, it felt like a quiet promise: we’re in this together. This isn’t the last class. It’s the first of many. I’ll be back at The Cut Studios soon, taking more lessons, learning how to make my own patterns, sharpening my craft. I’m not waiting for the perfect moment to be "ready." I’m sewing the moment into existence.

Uploaded on: Kilig Ko | Youtube

Date: July 23, 2025, 6 PM PDT

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