Dressed New Orleans' Chain Stitching Magic

You’ve Got to Pick Up Every Stitch

Meat the Mastermind Behind Dressed New Orleans, Sigourney Morrison

Story by Ashley Hinson • Photos by Alexandra Kennon

Should you make your way to the Bywater’s Upper Ninth Ward, then stroll down Japonica Street, you will find a collection of artist studios settled inside an old school building, bedecked in murals. Step inside, and on the floor is a sleeping rescue mutt, Roxie, in a hand-stitched leather collar. Her owner, Sigourney Morrison, is at work, the vintage Singer 114w103 whirring.

“It’s pretty much the standard chain stitch machine everyone uses,” Morrison explained in a Zoom call last December. “They don’t make ‘em anymore, so you have to find a vintage one.”

Chain stitching is purely decorative, most recognizable as tiny loops that often make up flowers all strung together, but Morrison is “not interested in making things that have been made before.” Her designs are each a personal touch within her unique aesthetic realm, a world woven with color. The playful camps of Dolly Parton, Karen O, and Grace Jones’ rock ’n’ roll glam come into play with her childhood fascination with Kelly Bundy. Then, throw in a bit of southwestern influence—befitting a creator whose style motto is “If I can’t wear my boots, I’m not going.”

Morrison showcases the kinetic and eclectic style of her chain stitching under the moniker Dressed New Orleans. A quick look at her Instagram @dressedneworleans reveals neon-infused evil eyes on requisite cool kid denim jackets, lovingly-detailed okra patches, and the wild and ancient landscapes that drape Louisiana. Like many artists before her, New Orleans has captured Morrison’s attention as “an endless source of inspiration,” but she avoids the kitsch in favor of a downtown, savvy—if cheeky—aesthetic. Though the New Roads native hesitates to call herself an artist, Dressed New Orleans’ success has been her sole form of income for two years. “Beats the service industry,” she joked. Morrison’s journey to entrepreneurship started with popups in trendy shops and requests for pet portraits on embellished jacket sleeves. But before all of that, and even before formally studying fashion, she learned embroidery from her paternal grandmother, Shirley. Morrison still holds onto Shirley’s sewing kit, along with three others that belonged to women in her family; she has four generations’ collected textile tools. Her dexterous hands and eye for design found direction at Louisiana State University, where she majored in fashion design and first began constructing and selling hats and detailing veils. The seven-year stint of hat-making led her to discover chain stitching, which she taught herself as a way to add flourishes to her pieces.

Alexandra Kennon

Soon enough, she said, “It took over. I stopped doing everything else and started concentrating on that.”

However, Morrison said her transition into full-time creative was harder than she imagined it was going to be.

“I’m still not performing at eighty percent of what I could be doing,” she said. “It’s hard because you’re the marketer, the secretary, the treasurer, the president, everybody. You’re spinning plants at the same time!” To combat chain stitching fatigue, she said that she practices yoga and takes part in dance classes.

The past year has been especially difficult. As an immunocompromised person, she’s been especially cautious, all while battling the loss of business that typically comes from festivals and pop ups. And yet, Morrison’s niche styles keep her afloat. Traditional chain stitching veers into homemaking territory, but she subverts the traditional methods of her craft with her off-the-wall bait-and-switch. The textured thread is familiar, endearing in a way that covers quirky without being cloying. Her online shop is a gallery of her mind: tame camellias alongside a Willendorf Venus, a pink and starry tablecloth “for an altar or tarot card reading.” A banner reads, in proud cursive, “Homeaux.”

Alexandra Kennon

“A lot of it is ironic, funny, or subversive, so I try to stay away from basic stuff,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with [the basic stuff], but there’s plenty enough of it to go around.” Morrison’s approach to fashion is personal and gravitates toward the time-tested. “It’s movement in the total opposite direction of fast fashion,” she said, explaining her commitment to avoid purchasing fast fashion products. She lamented the staggering amount of clothing that ends up in landfills annually; the EPA totaled 11.3 million tons of textiles in 2018. Morrison’s closet is filled exclusively with previouslyowned clothing or pieces purchased with knowledge of who made it, where it was made, the process behind it, and if it was ethically produced. “That has helped a lot, I think, in curating a more sustainable and longer-lasting wardrobe, too. I mostly work on vintage pieces, so I incorporate sustainability.”

Expressive style is a hallmark of New Orleans women, but Morrison’s inspiration for her curated closet leads back to Shirley, who made flamboyant dressing a daily habit. “She was very extra,” said Morrison, who keeps several pieces from her grandmother in her closet. “She wore scarves around her neck, Mardi Gras beads as jewelry, and her gold patent leather shoes all the time—anything extra and an accessory. Every day was, for her, like a costume day. That did shape my perception of wearing clothes. She was loud, cheerful, and I get most of my inspiration from her. She taught me a lot. ‘It doesn’t matter what they think.’ ‘Do whatever you want.’ She lived by that.”

Alexandra Kennon

On crafting sustainable and memorable fashion accessories in the spirit of personal expression, Morrison mused: “When you wear something you feel is special, you have a certain emotion and confidence, and people tend to gravitate toward that.”

dressedneworleans.com