Erasure of Expertise
Or, an elegy on in-store shopping

There’s a shop in my town that’s about to close. I usually don’t care about such announcements, as a lot of my shopping happens online anyway. Except when.

Except I’m a hobby sewist with no formal training, who entered the craft by way of Burda without Google or YouTube (1/10 would not recommend). I still learn by failing and improve with each garment, but sometimes I am just stuck. Stuck as in unable to measure myself properly, stuck as in unable to do certain fitting adjustments. Stuck, because of lacking expertise. Of course, there’s plenty of expertise online, yet also “expertise”. This is when human contact helps you to become unstuck. And I kid you not, such humans can also be found in real stores.

Many bigger towns have at least one brick-and-mortar haberdashery selling just that one thing that you need to succeed. That button in the perfect matching color. Top-quality zippers. Horsehair canvas. But these stores not only sell things, they have staff who know their stock down to the last tiny brooch and are often skilled crafters and sewists themselves. Elderly women who have sewn all their lives, know the tricks of the trade, and how to complete the most intricate projects – and who are more than happy to share their knowledge.

This is why I love and need physical shops: They not only sell goods, they also provide expertise. A recent project (to be blogged) had so many firsts that I was at a loss as how to tackle it. Instead of finding questionable opinions online, I went to my local haberdashery and the employee there knew exactly what I needed, provided options, and I succeeded thanks to her help.

When I went back with my finished pride, I spotted a note of doom in the shop window: The original owner retires and closes the store. It will likely be replaced by some chain, whose employees answer every question with “We only have what’s here”. I presented my project to the employee to thank her and share my joy – and expressed my grief about the shop’s closure. Its end erases the best haberdashery in my vicinity, and all the expertise that helped my project to completion. “We are looking for a successor”, she said politely. Her eyes were watery.

Image source: Nightcafé/Google Imagen 3.0


Last modified on 2025-05-30

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