I like quilts. Over the years I have collected some and made some. And sometimes I get sidetracked by blankets … but that’s another story.

I’ll start my quilt fetish at the beginning.

The January-February 2005 Edition of Inside Out and in particular the article titled Sitting Pretty on Lynn Gardener and her shop Empire 111.

Here’s the photo that did it for me!

I LOVE that cupboard. Totally ridiculous I know (no one could use all those quilts) but I was smitten with the concept of piles of quilts as decoration.

And so it began.  Unconsciously.  The first two feather ones I acquired (centre left and centre right) were from the Mornington antique place that used to be across the road from the racetrack (I loved that place). They are very old and I got a bit of a deal on them together. Which is lucky, because they certainly proved impractical in a using sense – I washed the pink one and the dye ran. And the blue one (I do love it) is silk and is so fragile the fabric tears if you use it.

Undeterred I kept on.

Next came the cotton quilts.  The one with red (bottom middle) and the lovely bright aqua and pink floral one (top right).  Both in a similarly bad state of repair (let’s just say they require strategic folding). I found the aqua one sewn inside a doona cover at the tip shop. Crappy, but I LOVE the colours. I think it is my favourite.

When the kids came along I took up quilting myself for a while, but as an ongoing hobby it requires more patience, particularness and care than comes naturally to me.

I have made one each for my two older girls (middle and bottom left) and we use these, and 3 for my sisters kids. I have material and wadding ready to make one for my youngest’s 1st birthday (but she just started school and is turning 6 this year).   Maybe it will happen – but she’s got a lovely crochet blanket handmade by a crafty person for Peter Mac hospital shop and I fear that might have to do.

And you’ve seen the aqua and purple pair that are the other quilts that I actually use. They were in my post on cast iron beds.

So finally there is this patchwork ripper (top left) that I found at Camberwell hard rubbish (oh I mourn the loss of Boroondara hard rubbish). So much work. Hand stitching.  Dinky patterns.  Lucky it is now with someone who appreciates it.

As you can see, I keep all these quilts stacked up on the top of a wardrobe.

I aspire to having a wardrobe of them, like Lynn, but that luxury will have to wait until the children move out of home or we double the size of our house (whichever comes first).

In the meantime I reckon I could double or triple my collection before hitting the ceiling … if I really wanted to.