Your stories

My earliest memories are of market stalls stacked with yard upon yard of fabric, that was back when 'yard' was the only way to measure fabric. I learned my Grandma's trick of measuring from the nose to the tip of the finger. When they went metric, you had to turn your head away to add a bit on and yes, it does look daft.

Sharon has filled her shop with fabric and colour.

Apparently, my mum gets a bit teary when she watches me talk about fabric. I rub my finger and thumb together quite unconsciously, in the exact same manner as Grandma did. When we were young our weekend treat was to go up into Grandma's attic which was crammed full. She would say, "Choose any fabric, go on kids, enjoy yourselves." Better than sweets!

So once I'd worked through the 'proper' job syndrome, almost inevitably, I ended up succumbing to what was in the blood. Born and bred in a town of mills and mill shops, markets and sewing machines and a long family history of sewing, from necessity as much as pleasure, I am now more at home surrounded by my piles of fabric and sewing thread than I ever was in an office.

Bolsita, a little bag in Spanish, really started about five years ago. As with most crazy ideas it began in the spare room, with one or two experiments given to friends, then sold to friends, bless them, then a craft market stall, then every weekend at craft fairs. But it was all too small scale, too hit and miss. I moved on to larger events until I'd done about every relevant major event in the country whilst working full-time.

Bags of colour!

It was hard work but I wouldn't have changed the journey. It's taught me so much about products, marketing, pitches, prices, everything. I was building up biceps, surprisingly heavy work bag selling, and coming out a bit less than even. I still felt that there was a definite market for what I was doing. Deep down, I really believed that people wanted to buy unique, handcrafted, beautiful yet functional bags.

Then decision time came. Did I want to carry on in an office job with an uncertain career path and, truthfully, not being very creative? Or did I want to take the plunge into the unknown world of self employment, building a business, doing what I loved, with no-one to lean on or answer to but myself? Easy to say yes, but it took some doing. In a situation like that, you have to just remind yourself that there's nothing to fear but fear itself. I was terrified.

I went over and over the potential figures. I looked at shop premises until I came across the perfect place in Micklegate. It was the bicycle with a basket parked outside that sold it to me. Once I'd stepped through the door on my first visit I knew it was the right place. If I was going to make bags and sell them for a living, it had to be here. With a large basement for messy stuff and a large enough shop floor for me to sell from and sew in and, most importantly, with a rent I could imagine covering. It seemed ideal, in fact the flipping place kept me awake at night until the lease was signed.

Sharon knew this shop was the right one for her.

And now?

All the fear is gone. I dream, create, sew and sell all day, every day. I make friends with my customers. I support other tiny local craft businesses. I get a thrill when a bag comes off the sewing machine and is bought and used by someone.

For me there is no better way to spend my days. I'd like to be a squillionaire, but I will be content with being able to pay my bills and have a few glasses of vino in the garden. All through that most fundamental of human activity, being creative and working quite hard.

Sharon Winfield