Thrifty Living: The sewing world needs a celebrity to give it a spruce up

I entered this week in a sort of mental haze, largely due to exhaustion caused wholly by my weekend fixation with my new toy, the sewing machine. Egged on by the juniors, I managed to successfully make two summer dresses. Yes, I know there are some readers out there who doubt that I practice what I preach, but I must shock you all by revealing that from two metres of material, a couple of dresses have been born. Alright, they have no zips, buttons or pleating, but two whole dresses!

As I pressed the seams and shook them out, I felt that I was witnessing a sort of astonishing alchemy. Alright, the fabric cost a fiver per dress, and the pattern another fiver, but two dresses for £15 ain't bad. If you don't count the time I took in making them, that is. But, five hours for the first, two and a half for the second, I think, reveals some form of progress. If I make a third, it will probably take me about 40 minutes. The feeling of achievement was palpable, not least for overcoming the not insignificant hurdle of understanding the instructions. And I would like everyone who has written rather grumpily to me about why I am so besotted with my sewing machine to have a go themselves. It's not easy!

Frankly, I think the world of dressmaking could do with a Jamie Oliver-style makeover. The patterns are written so archaically I had to look up some of the technical stuff in a dictionary. From a dim memory of school craft lessons, I vaguely knew what basting was. And top-stitching was obvious. But space-stitching? What's that all about? Plus, is 'facing' really necessary? Furthermore, the way the patterns are drawn out, with weird arrows and cross-hatchings everywhere, are total mind-benders. Imagine if recipes were similarly user-unfriendly. We would never have had the phenomenon of the middle-class foodie. There's clearly a gap in the market; perhaps Nigella should consider pouting all over a Singer next year.

Never mind. Once I had all the tissue-thin patterns pinned to my fabric, and started to cut, I felt wholly creative and truly thrifty. "You are the best sewer EVER" said Honey, 5, at half-hour intervals during my sewing marathon, until she was forcibly packed off to bed. She was jolly chuffed, however, when I presented her with her two new dresses in the morning. Much to my pride, she has worn them to school every day this week. Meanwhile, I've put myself on to the next level of difficulty. Pleats, gathering and buttons is this week's challenge. Next week, I am attempting a Bob the Builder-style pair of boy's dungarees, and if I get those completed, I will award myself a medal. Trousers are much trickier than dresses, you see, as I soon discovered after looking through what felt like 3,000 patterns for dresses and only two for trousers.

Anyway, once I began wading into the world of sewing, I've discovered there's a whole community out there; people have been directing me to cheap markets for fabrics, suggesting I go to charity shops for inspiration in clothes (buy a dress, unpick it and copy the pattern), and I've been guided onto websites such as Burdastyle.com, where you can download simple patterns for child's pyjamas or ballerina-style slippers, and then join in on an online conversation giving advice about how to make them.

Because Honey is young enough not to pay any attention to designer labels, she positively revels in the fact her dresses are home-made. I am aware, of course, that this may not be the case with every child in this country. Which is where my friend Romaine comes in. She specialises in discounted designer childrenswear. Every three months or so, she has a warehouse sale in Islington, north London, where she offers fashionable clothes for children aged between one and 12 by Timberland, D&G, Monna Lisa, Joseph Baby and others at bargain basement prices. If you are in need of a summer wardrobe for your sprogs, you could probably do a lot worse than go along to the sale, which charges £1 entry and runs from May 14 to 17. (www.juniorstylesales.co.uk). Romaine's warehouse might be a more sensible and economic option than going to Top Shop with your fashion conscious pre-teen, and it has the considerable bonus of not being on Oxford Street. Me, I'm sticking to running up cushion covers and learning how to do pintucks.

Compare and save on money, insurance and energy deals at Independent Compare