Fail Hard, and Fail Often

By Juliette P





Overly Comepetitive was a nickname of mine. The word “failure” probably didn't exist in my vocabulary until I entered middle school. My parents put me in sports, competitions, and dance to try to teach me it was okay to lose. Despite this, I still was too arrogant to accept failure as an option.


Ever since I was a child I had a passion for Fashion Design. The first step to becoming a fashion designer is learning to sew. In seventh grade I decided I would learn how to sew, expecting (of course) to be a natural expert. Clothing construction is a tedious process, but it teaches people to be patient, respect quality over quantity, research before jumping in, and - most importantly - to be okay with failure.


“Sewing is generally looked upon as an easy and relaxing hobby. It depends on what you are sewing and if you have done it for a long time,” said my teacher on the first day of class at Joann’s. At the time, I was unaware of the strenuous requirements of this hobby. I took two weeks worth of classes (roughly twenty-five hours) and was in tears. I had turned in three assignments and my grades were never above a C. Towards the end of the class I improved my skills to barely to a B. My teacher pulled me aside on and said, “You need to keep your head high, have confidence, patience and not give up even if you fail, and if you fail practice and practice.”


This cheesy conversation with my teacher struck a chord. After class, I bought 3 identical, 99-cent patterns, planning on ruining each one. I practiced the same project for a week, unafraid to abort my abominations. The practice paid off. For the final exam, I made a pair of not-too-uncomfortable shorts. I got an “A”, and even wore the shorts for almost a day before they fell apart.

That four week class was four long summers ago. I gave up on sewing classes but I didn't give up sewing. Since then I have improved from being a lowly beginner to a moderately okay seamstress. I learned to fail hard, and fail often. As a result, when a project looks like it’s headed in the wrong direction, I’m not afraid to consider it a failure and start over. Starting over means going back to the drawing board, retracing my steps, and possibly finding something even more beautiful buried within that original idea. Because only by admitting that something is not perfect, do we stand a chance of actually perfecting it.