Formula for choosing fabric

There’s no special formula for choosing fabric. I started my sewing journey by doing the most scientific thing imaginable: using fabric I liked.

When I first started, I knew absolutely nothing about fabrics or yarns. I had no idea there were so many different types, weights, and finishes, or that they mattered. It didn’t take long, though, to realise I consistently gravitated towards 100% cotton. Touch has always guided me, not just in sewing but in clothes shopping too. I can walk through a shop without touching a single item because I already know, just by looking, whether the texture will make my skin want to crawl off and run away.

The ugliest quilt ever committed to cotton

My Saturday sewing classes always began with group discussions about fabric choices for the day’s project. Everyone had an opinion, and no two people ever put the same fabrics together. It was fascinating, and reassuring, to see how differently we all approached the same brief. By the end of the class I was always blown away with how different the quilts were yet they were all the same design and pattern.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered scrap bags. Moda sell them on their website, and they’re essentially bags of trimmed fabric edges, usually 3.5 inch strips with the selvedge still attached, in a complete mix of prints and colours. The joy of these bags is the total lack of control. You have no idea what you’re getting: no chosen palette, no coordinated patterns, not even a vague colour theme. It’s all a surprise, and sometimes, that’s where the magic happens.

In this post, I’m sharing how I choose fabric, not as a rulebook, but as a process. I’ll talk about trusting instinct, learning through touch, why texture matters more than trends, and how letting go of “perfectly matched” fabrics can lead to more interesting, more personal work.

One of my favourite quilts was made entirely from a Moda scraps bag. My friend, who was also my class teacher, made no secret of her strong dislike for the fabrics I’d chosen. In fact, there was genuine concern that this might be the ugliest quilt ever committed to cotton.

They were wrong.

I needed to add extra fabric to sash the blocks, and I knew this was the make-or-break moment. One wrong choice and the whole thing would collapse into chaos. I ignored the advice, trusted my instincts, and chose fabrics that I felt tied everything together.

That decision made the quilt.

What emerged was a bold, retro-style quilt full of browns, oranges, pinks, blues, and greens, busy, unapologetic, and somehow perfectly balanced. While I didn’t follow anyone else’s rules, I did follow a few of my own. Over time, those personal rules have stuck, and they’re ones I still use today.

My Fabric Rules (that I occasionally break… strategically)

Over time, I’ve developed a few fabric rules of my own. They’re not industry standards, and they’re definitely not set in stone, but they do stop me disappearing down a rabbit hole of indecision.

Four to Six Fabrics

I usually work with four to six fabrics per block, depending on the pattern. If I’m feeling overwhelmed or short on time, starting with a fat quarter bundle that’s already been put together can take the pressure off and stop me overthinking every decision.

Fat quarter packs are also a brilliant way to start building a fabric collection. There’s a huge range of small projects you can make with them, which helps develop your sewing skills while still producing something cute, useful, and giftable.

A Range of Fabrics

I always aim for a mix of fabric types: something plain to let the eye rest, something printed to add interest, and what I call a simple pattern, subtle, supportive, and not fighting for attention.

There’s always one fabric that’s the star of the show. The rest are there to support it, enhance it, and let it shine as brightly as possible without stealing the spotlight.

Print Scale

Print scale really matters. Large, bold designs can disappear when chopped into small pieces, while tiny prints can look overly busy in larger blocks. Matching the size of the print to the block makes a much bigger difference than people realise.

There’s nothing worse than choosing a beautiful fabric only to lose the pattern entirely because the pieces are too small. It’s also worth remembering that some fabrics are directional. Few things are more heartbreaking than finishing a quilt, stepping back to admire hours of blood, sweat, and tears, and realising the cats are hanging upside down.

Fabric Structure

I make sure all my fabrics have the same structure. For me, that means 100% cotton, so everything cuts, presses, and quilts consistently, without any unpleasant surprises.

The same thinking applies to thread choice. I always match the bobbin thread to the top thread to reduce tension issues and avoid unnecessary breakages, because life’s too short to be rethreading a machine every five minutes.

The Ugliest quilt ever committed to cotton and matching cushions.

Confidence

And finally, don’t rush, be brave. Walk away, lay the fabrics out again, trust your instincts, and commit. If it feels right to you, it probably is. I have found that putting the fabrics next to each other and taking a photo can help. It means I can walk away and look back under different light and when I am in different moods to see if I still like them together. I do however believe that if you are not sure its actually a no and that there is something better out there, you just haven’t found it yet. Hold on, you could apply that to many different areas of your life!

Colour Wheels

Colour wheels can be useful tools, especially when you’re starting out or feeling stuck. They help explain why certain colours work well together, whether that’s complementary colours that create contrast, or analogous colours that sit comfortably side by side.

That said, I don’t use a colour wheel to tell me what I must do. I use it to understand why something works after my instinct has already made the decision. It’s reassurance, not permission.

If you’re unsure, a colour wheel can help you balance a bold choice or stop a quilt tipping into visual chaos. It can also help you see when you need a neutral to calm things down, or when a pop of contrast will bring everything to life.

Over time, though, you start to internalise this. Your eye becomes your colour wheel. You begin to recognise balance, contrast, and harmony without consciously naming them and that’s when confidence really starts to show.

Use colour wheels as a reference, not a restriction. Learn the rules, understand the relationships, and then trust yourself enough to bend them. If it looks right to you, chances are it is right.

How to use a colour wheel

Colours that sit next to each other on the wheel create calm, cohesive palettes, while colours opposite each other add contrast and energy. I use the colour wheel to understand why a combination works and not to tell me what I’m allowed to choose.

All of these rules exist for one reason: to build confidence, not to limit creativity. They’re a framework I fall back on when self-doubt creeps in or when I’m standing in a fabric shop surrounded by too many choices and not enough clarity.

Confidence doesn’t come from getting it “right” every time. It comes from making decisions, standing by them, and learning why something worked or why it didn’t. The more quilts you make, the more your eye develops, and the more you start to recognise what feels right before you can explain why.

Trusting your eye takes practice. It means being willing to ignore well-meaning advice, breaking a few rules, and occasionally making something that doesn’t quite land. But it also means discovering combinations you never would have planned, finding your own style, and realising that your instincts are worth listening to.

If a fabric choice excites you, makes you pause, or feels quietly right, that’s usually reason enough. Lay it out, walk away, come back, and commit. Confidence grows in the doing, and sometimes the ugliest quilt on the table turns out to be the best one.

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