A few weeks ago saw the sequin-sprinkled finale of the second series of BBC2’s Great British Sewing Bee, an eight-part stitch-off of amateur home-sewers from the makers of The Great British Bake Off. If this newer show hasn’t amassed quite the same devoted following as Bake Off, its dress-patterns-at-dawn format has nevertheless been cheerful watching.
Each week, ten hopefuls earnestly examined eyelets and finished French seams as they competed for the crown of “Britain’s best amateur sewer”. One of the miracles of the show was how perma-tanned presenter Claudia Winkleman’s infuriating fringe managed to escape an expedient snip, especially given the number of sharpened scissors lying about. Aside from the banalities, what really makes the programme such a quiet and gentle triumph is its graceful acknowledgement of the craft of making clothes; its recognition of the exquisite artisanship of even the most basic dressmaking, and its sense of the extent to which we have forgotten how important these skills are to our daily lives.
Throughout the show, contestants have had to demonstrate a range of skills: adhering to simple patterns, managing alterations and meticulously fitting bespoke garments. In many ways, this is a homely and sensible sort of programme. With neither couture airs nor voguish graces, it taps in, perhaps, to our contemporary guilt about waste and celebrates scrupulousness in straitened times.
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