I’m not sure how to paint a good mental image of the fabric market for you. I even tried to snap a few pics on the sly while I was there, but they just don’t do it justice. Imagine walking down a long hallway that has little rooms that open up here and there, each one packed floor to ceiling with fabric. Panels of folded fabric hang over every inch of the walls. Waist-high stacks of it that you have to maneuver around. Clotheslines of it hanging from the ceiling. Seriously, it’s everywhere.
It’s also overwhelming because the fabric is all “igitange,” the brightly colored and crazily patterned African fabrics. After about 10 minutes of trying to choose fabrics for new Peace House projects, I started to get cross-eyed and the 100s of patterns all started to look the same. Is there such a thing as being fabric-drunk? Because I think I was.
When it comes to buying something, you negotiate with the woman who appears to manage the “section” of fabric you’re choosing from. I’m terrible at negotiating! First of all, I struggle to even know what a good base price is. Secondly, I’m soft and will pay any price that they’re asking.
The fabric market really is a fun experience. And based upon the amount of fabric the girls and I used this past week, I’m going be headed there fairly often!