Not Ya Mamas Sewing Circle Is Stitching Together Salt Lake’s DIY Scene

Activism, Outreach and Education

On a Saturday afternoon at Aces High Saloon, the heavy metal never really stops. Neither do the conversations.

Tib Hartman and Brandon Cromer outside of Aces.
Believe it or not, there’s a sewing circle tucked inside Salt Lake City’s beloved heavy metal bar. Photo: Sam Wilson

Not Ya Mama’s Sewing Circle founders Brandon Cromer and Tib Hartman described a typical gathering: A bartender walks by asking how everyone’s latest project is coming along. Someone passes a spool of thread to a stranger across the table. A half-finished battle jacket sits beside an embroidery hoop while another person crochets quietly in the corner. Every few minutes, someone new walks through the door and is greeted like they’ve been coming for years.

It sounds less like a sewing circle and more like a living room tucked inside Salt Lake City’s beloved heavy metal bar. That sense of belonging was the goal. The idea started on the Aces patio in late 2024. Cromer looked down at his battle jacket, its glued-on patches beginning to peel away, and admitted he should probably learn how to sew. “I can teach you,” Hartman replied.

They walked inside and asked if Aces High Saloon would host a sewing night. The bar said yes. Two weeks later, Not Ya Mama’s Sewing Circle made its debut. What began as a way to sew patches onto jackets quickly grew into a recurring gathering for Salt Lake’s punk, metal and DIY communities.

Today, battle jackets share table space with crochet projects, embroidery hoops and knitting needles. The monthly meetup draws musicians, fiber artists, first-time crafters and regulars who come to hang out.

“If I see somebody with a battle jacket on, I’m like, ‘You live in Utah, right? You’re coming to this.’”

“Honestly, since we started this a year and a half ago, I think I’ve sewn twice,” Cromer says. Instead, he spends most sewing circles introducing himself to newcomers. He also recruits future regulars wherever he spots a battle jacket. “If I see somebody with a battle jacket on,” he says, “I’m like, ‘You live in Utah, right? You’re coming to this.’”

Hartman became the group’s resident teacher almost by default. Sewing was something he learned from his grandmother, who taught him to mend clothes, make quilts and value what they already had. Before she passed away, Hartman told her those lessons were being passed on to the “punks and metalheads” gathered around tables at Aces High. “She felt very honored at that,” Hartman says. “It was a very sweet conversation.”

While Hartman still helps beginners learn the basics, regulars now teach one another embroidery, crochet, visible mending and machine sewing, turning each month’s meetup into a shared exchange of skills.

Ask either founder what makes the sewing circle special, and they quickly point to everyone else in the room. There’s Kenny, often on shift behind the bar, who works on sewing projects between pouring drinks. Maeve Putnam, who brings her sewing machine, ended up hemming the Aces curtains after Hartman connected her with the owners. Then there’s the Metal Missionary, who sells patches to raise money for charity and, as Cromer says, does “everything out of the kindness of his heart.”

“Community is the greatest resource anybody can have. I may not know everything, but I sure as hell know somebody who does.”

Patches spread out over a table.
People come to sew on patches, mend clothes, learn new skills and share supplies. They leave with new contacts, creative collaborators and, often, plans to come back next month. Photo: Sam Wilson

People come to sew on patches, mend clothes, learn new skills and share supplies. They leave with new contacts, creative collaborators and, often, plans to come back next month. Hartman said creating an intentionally welcoming environment — especially for transgender and gender-nonconforming people — has always been nonnegotiable. Aces High Saloon already felt like home, and they wanted everyone else to experience that same feeling. For Cromer, the goal is simple: “I want people to actually feel like, ‘Maybe I do have a place.’”

Hartman hopes people leave with more than a finished project. “Community is the greatest resource anybody can have,” he says. “I may not know everything, but I sure as hell know somebody who does.” By the end of a typical sewing circle, unfinished jackets cover the tables. Metal rattles the speakers. New needles are being threaded, and new friendships are forming. The patches may bring people through the Aces doors, but it’s the people who keep them coming back.

Read more about what’s happening around Salt Lake:
999 Ride Panel Discussion @ RoHa Brewing Project 08.17.2026
The 18th Annual Craft Lake City DIY Festival Presented by Harmons

If you use SLUG to stay up-to-date on community happenings, considering joining our community of donors!