Redwork has been quietly showing up in my world lately. A scrap here, a square there—familiar stitches in that unmistakable red thread. It’s the kind of thing that feels both timeless and totally specific. Even if you don’t know the name, you’ve probably seen it before: simple linework stitched in red on muslin or cotton, usually sweet, sometimes silly, and always lovingly made.
It turns out redwork embroidery has a history as charming as the stitches themselves.
The style started gaining popularity in the late 1800s, when a new kind of red thread hit the market—one that was both colorfast and cheap. This was a big deal. Before that, red dyes were notorious for bleeding, so needleworkers stuck with darker tones or black thread. But now, for just a penny, you could buy a square of white cotton with a stamped design, grab skein of this bright, turkey red cotton and start stitching.
And stitch they did.
Image: Close up of panel from a Redwork bed cover, made by the Busy Bees of Shevlin, Minnesota, 1908. Featured on the Minnesota Historical Society's Collections Up Close blog.
Women and girls began using redwork to decorate all sorts of things: pillowcases, dresser scarves, nursery quilts, laundry bags. The designs were usually simple—animals, children, flowers, teapots, alphabet samplers—and the point wasn’t to be fussy or intricate. Redwork was accessible. Approachable. It was embroidery for everyone.
In some ways, it still is.
You don’t need a huge setup to get started. All you really need is some plain fabric, a hoop (optional but helpful), red embroidery floss, and a needle. That’s it. You can trace a vintage pattern or doodle your own—anything with clean lines will do. Then it’s just a matter of using a basic stitch like backstitch or stem stitch to outline the design.
The beauty of redwork is how meditative it feels. There’s something calming about sticking with one color. You’re not fussing over shading or palettes. You’re just stitching, slowly building the image one line at a time.
If you enjoy the quiet rhythm of hand-sewing—or if you’re looking for a low-stress craft to pick up this season—redwork might be just the thing. It’s also a lovely way to incorporate vintage or reclaimed materials. Old linens, worn cotton, even salvaged napkins or shirt panels can make great foundations for your work.
Image available via Auckland Museum.
And yes, if you stumble on a redwork quilt square at a thrift store or tucked inside a box of remnants—consider rescuing it. Add it to a patchwork piece, turn it into a pocket, or just let it shine on its own. These small pieces carry stories with them, whether or not we know the full history.
I’m planning to try a few redwork patches myself soon. Maybe some updated motifs. A mushroom? A Polaroid camera? A leftover bagel? I like the idea of keeping the spirit of redwork alive but making it modern—folk meets fun.
If you end up trying redwork, tag Peo Vee or drop a note below. I’d love to see what you’re stitching.
P.S. Want to try redwork yourself? Here are a few resources to get you st
🧵 Free patterns:
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Needle 'n Thread has some beautiful redwork-inspired line drawings—search for “free patterns” or “line embroidery.”
📚 Books to check out:
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Redwork: Winter Twitterings by Robin Kingsley (modern redwork with a seasonal theme)
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Redwork from the Workbasket – a reprint collection of classic designs from the vintage Workbasket magazine
🧺 Supplies:
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DMC 321 and 498 are the most commonly used reds for that classic turkey red look.
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Look for vintage or secondhand cotton or muslin to stitch on—thrifted pillowcases, cloth napkins, and fabric remnants work beautifully.
🧷 Inspiration & kits:
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Etsy has dozens of redwork kits, vintage linens, and pre-printed panels—search “redwork embroidery kit” or “redwork quilt block.”
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YouTube has helpful walkthroughs on backstitch, stem stitch, and starting embroidery with minimal tools.
