Jaunice Thompson

About the practice

Every garment in my studio carries a whisper of a previous life. Before a needle ever threads or a pair of shears touches the fabric, there is already history in the room: the soft, faded whiskers across a pair of jeans, the meticulous hand-embroidered floral border, d, on a forgotten table runner, discarded clothing items, or the delicate floral motifs of antique lace. ThreadsReclaimed did not begin in a traditional fashion studio. It began with one of my favorite wardrobe staples—a great pair of worn-in denim overalls. I wanted to transform them into something truly distinct and personal. Tucked away in a drawer, I had a collection of antique lace, lace and crocheted table cloths and hankies that once belonged to my mother and grandmother. Like so many heirloom linens, it was beautiful, fragile with memories, and utterly unseen. Instead of letting it sit hidden for another generation, or off to a donation center, I decided to stitch portions of it directly onto the denim alongside a patchwork of collected fabric remnants. When I wore those finished overalls out for the first time, the reaction was immediate. Strangers stopped me in coffee shops, on sidewalks, and at markets to ask where they came from. When I told them I had made them myself, the follow-up question was always the same: “Can you make one for me?” That single pair of overalls sparked a revelation: people weren’t just drawn to a unique style; they were responding to the soul and warmth of materials that carry a story. That spark became ThreadsReclaimed. Denim is the canvas of my work. As a textile, denim is resilient, structural, and honest. It develops character as it ages, showing where it was folded, stretched, and loved. But the magic happens when durable, workwear denim intersects with softer, rescued textiles. I spend countless hours hunting through thrift shops, estate sales, and vintage markets, searching for pieces with good bones and unique textures. I’m drawn to old cutter quilts, that are too damaged to be used on a bed, vintage tea towels, hand-crocheted doilies, tablecloths, flannel shirts, and odd fabric remnants or even fancy dresses. When an item has outlived its original domestic purpose, its useful life isn’t over—it’s simply ready for a second chapter. A torn quilt might contain five perfect patchwork squares featuring vibrant 1940s calico prints. An embroidered tablecloth with an indelible stain might still offer six inches of pristine, hand-stitched floral work. My sewing process is entirely intuitive and improvisational. I do not cut from mass-produced commercial patterns. Instead, I lay out a garment on my worktable and treat it like an evolving collage. I place swatches of textiles against the denim, sliding pieces around, balancing color contrast, pattern scale, and tactile weight. The original garment’s fading, seams, belt loops, and distressing dictate where the patches want to live. Technically, marrying contrasting fabric weights is both a challenge and a joy. Layering delicate vintage cotton, heirloom lace and various other fabrics over heavyweight denim requires careful stabilizer choices, tailored seam finishes, and precise topstitching to ensure the piece is sturdy enough for everyday wear. Because of the limited nature of antique and salvaged textiles, no two pieces can ever be identical. When someone puts on a ThreadsReclaimed piece, they are wearing something created exclusively for them—art that cannot be replicated on a factory line. Beyond the aesthetics, this work is rooted in environmental responsibility. Spending time surrounded by secondhand textiles makes the scale of modern garment waste impossible to ignore. Upcycling is my way of pushing back against throwaway culture and landfill overflow—one stitch and one thread at a time. It allows me to create vibrant, fashion-forward pieces without demanding new raw resources from the planet. Ultimately, creativity and sustainability must walk together. I never want someone to purchase a piece solely because it is upcycled; I want them to wear it because they feel confident, expressive, and connected to the garment. Every time I sit down at my sewing machine, I return to that first feeling of stitching my grandmother’s lace onto denim. Taking what already has a history, honoring the hands that made it decades ago, and infusing it with modern craftsmanship to send it back out into the world—that is the heart of what I do. "Saving the World One Thread at a Time"