Meet Bertie: Making an Heirloom Bear
There is something rather special about making something with your own hands.
Perhaps it is the slowness of it. Perhaps it is knowing that every little stitch was made by you. Or perhaps it is the thought that something made today might still be treasured many years from now.
I have always loved the idea of things being made to last — things that carry a little of the person who made them and become part of the stories of the people who eventually hold them.
So recently, I decided to make a bear.
And this is Bertie.
A handmade heirloom bear named Bertie, dressed in a navy tweed-style suit with an orange patterned tie, white collar and matching hat.
From a piece of felt to a little character
Bertie began very simply.
A piece of wool felt, a pattern, some thread and rather a lot of patience.
I used a pattern from Sew Felt Animals from Apple Blossom Wood by Claire Bowman, a beautiful book about sewing heirloom animal dolls and their clothing. I was particularly drawn to the idea of making not just a bear, but a bear who could have his own little personality.
The first stage was cutting out all of the pieces.
There is something quite satisfying about laying the pattern pieces out and seeing the shape of the animal slowly appear before you've even sewn a stitch.
His head.
His body.
His arms and legs.
At this stage, Bertie didn't look much like a bear at all.
But gradually, with each seam, he began to take shape.
The joy is in the details
Once his body was made, the really enjoyable part began — giving Bertie his character.
I chose simple black button eyes and a little brown felt nose. His face is very understated, which I think is part of his charm.
Then came his clothes.
And this is where Bertie really started to come to life.
I wanted him to have an old-fashioned, slightly country gentleman feel, so I made him a little white shirt, waistcoat, trousers, tie and jacket, all from beautiful fabrics.
His navy jacket and waistcoat are made from a lovely textured tweed fabric I found in a charity shop, with warm orange-brown details running through the outfit. Most of these fabrics were in my fabric box, collected over years, waiting for the perfect project. I particularly love the orange lining inside his jacket and the little matching tie.
And then, of course, there is his hat.
A bear needs a hat, after all.
A little bear with a story
I think this is what I love most about handmade things.
When something comes from a shop, it arrives finished. We see the object, but usually not the making of it.
With something handmade, the making becomes part of the story.
I remember Bertie's pattern pieces spread out on my table.
I remember choosing the fabrics.
I remember working out how his clothes would fit.
I remember the little details that needed adjusting along the way.
And now, when I look at him sitting on the shelf, I don't just see a bear.
I see the hours spent making him. The mistakes I made along the way that needed to be rectified.
That is what makes an heirloom different, I think.
It isn't necessarily perfect.
It doesn't need to be.
It carries the evidence of human hands.
Why make an heirloom?
We live in a world where so many things are made quickly, bought easily and replaced when something new comes along.
There is something wonderfully grounding about choosing to make instead.
Making asks us to slow down.
It asks us to pay attention.
It gives our hands something meaningful to do while our minds become quieter.
And when the thing we make is intended to be treasured, rather than quickly consumed, the whole process feels different.
An heirloom bear doesn't need to be particularly expensive or elaborate.
It simply needs to have been made with care.
Perhaps one day Bertie will sit on a child's bed.
Perhaps he will be held during story time, taken on adventures, or tucked beneath a little arm at bedtime.
Perhaps he will become slightly worn around the edges.
And I hope he does.
Because those little signs of love are what turn a handmade object into something precious.