Ardeana Hamlin never can seem to leave well enough alone.

Refurbishing old clothes and tinkering with patterns have become passions for the Hampden woman whose wardrobe is stocked with wonderful, funky outfits that reflect her free-spirit personality to a T.

“What I wear has become a very personal kind of thing – it’s like, ‘oh, yeah, this is me,'” said Hamlin, a copy editor at the Bangor Daily News.

“I take a certain pride in that,” she says. “I’ve had this wonderful creative exercise and been able to delight in my color sense and have the fun of thinking about how this fabric will become this or how this thrift shop item can be revamped to reflect some little whimsical idea I had – whether it’s adding embroidery, sticking on beads or hacking off a neckline.”

A historian and published author, Hamlin relaxes in her cozy 1795 home and happily shows off some of her creations.

“My first transformation project,” she says proudly, holding up a pair of navy blue wool knickers she made almost 30 years ago out of Navy-issue uniform pants with wide bell bottoms.

Searching for something that would keep her warm while cross-country skiing, Hamlin said she knew right off the bat that “trendy ski clothing” wasn’t for her.

“Polyester was everywhere in the 1970s, but I wanted something wool, I wanted it to be kind of organic,” says the 56-year-old innovator, who decorated her knickers with navy blue buttons engraved with anchors.

“They’re toasty; I don’t get wet,” she says. “I’ll never, ever let go of them.”

Another favorite is a brightly colored cotton skirt embellished with a Western motif of cows, horses, and cowboys holding lassos.

Purchased from a thrift shop, the yellow and red material “was too great to cut up into something else,” she recalls.

Although the skirt was too large at the waist, she had only to insert some elastic for a tighter fit.

The skirt may have made a previous owner look heavy, Hamlin reflects. But she revels in its fullness. “It passes the swirl test,” she says with a smile.

Hamlin often buys material on a whim.

“Sometimes you fall in love with a fabric and don’t know what to do because it’s so strange,” she explains.

Once, at Marden’s in Brewer, she happened upon some bolts of crinkled rayon-type fabric in both pale blue and lavender. The lovely, pleated material fairly called out to her with its shimmering folds.

After thinking about it for a time, Hamlin decided to make column skirts for herself and as gifts for her two cousins.

The slippery material was ghastly to work with, but the end result was worth the trouble, she says, holding up the skirt.

Perfect for a night on the town, a visitor ventured.

“Barefoot would be good, too,” adds Hamlin, whose friends tell her she has never quite left her hippie days behind.

The skirts continue to evoke compliments, her cousins said last week.

Phyllis Vonherrlich, a student at University of Maine at Augusta, pairs it with a long-sleeved, V-neck shirt in almost the same lavender color.

“It’s very fetching,” says Vonherrlich, who wears it when she visits her children in New York. “It has a very elegant kind of feeling to it, and when you walk, it looks like a very expensive silk crepe.”

Paula Collier, a teacher at Bath Middle School, often wears her blue skirt to class. “Every time, people want to touch it, it’s so unique,” she reports.

For Hamlin, a fashion mistake is rife with tantalizing possibilities. Once, after finding that the sleeves of a lavender and gray silk shirt she bought at a thrift shop were too tight, she simply cut them off. In an instant she had transformed the top into a one-of-a-kind T-shirt!

“I had no idea what to do with it when I bought it,” she recollects. “I figured if it wasn’t wearable, I’d cut it up and make it into a pillow.”

When it turned out that a blue panne velvet turtleneck – another thrift shop find – was too tight to pull over her head, Hamlin didn’t hesitate.

“I cut the turtle out,” she said. “I hacked it off and made it into a jewel neck.”

The way Hamlin sees it, anyone can transform clothes. “There shouldn’t be a big mystery to sewing or working with fabrics,” she says. “We live in a society where so much is mystified – people think they need to have a certain set of knowledge to make something with their hands, when really all they need is material, imagination and the desire to begin.”

Sewing projects are just the tip of the iceberg for Hamlin. She also knits, needlepoints, crochets, embroiders and hooks rugs.

“I have feathered my nest with my needle,” said Hamlin, pointing to the afghans, quilts, pillows and wall hangings that add to her home’s unique charm.

A native of Bingham, Hamlin developed an affinity for sewing at an early age. Her grandmother and aunt were accomplished seamstresses, and her mother constantly was making and remaking clothing.

As a child, Hamlin recalled a trunk filled with an assortment of garments.

“In the wintertime, the summer clothes were in the trunk and in the summertime, the winter clothes went in,” she relates. “As the seasons changed, my mother would take them out. We’d grow and she’d say, ‘Hmm, you’ll need a pair of wool pants.’ She’d look in the trunk to see what’s there and find a hand-me-down from a family member and say, ‘OK, I guess I’ll make you a pair of wool pants.’

“That’s what people did during the Depression years,” Hamlin says. “They used things up, made things do and wore things out. And they saw wonderful possibilities in things. It wasn’t about recycling, it wasn’t a political concept. It was like – what do I need, what can I make out of this?”

The author of “Pink Chimneys,” an historical novel set in early Bangor and published in 1987, Hamlin is keenly aware that with her handwork she is carrying on a legacy.

“Women have a rich history of needlework, of creating things to keep their families warm and make their houses beautiful to satisfy their own need for beauty and color and creative urges,” she muses. “For years women were barred from the conventional ways of creating beauty – sculpture and painting. But they always had fabric and needles and shuttles and wheels so they could create beautiful things.”

Hamlin is no stranger to adversity. Ten years ago, out of the blue, she developed fibromyalgia. The disorder, characterized by fatigue, pain and muscle stiffness, made handwork impossible and limited her to short bursts of writing.

Although her condition gradually has improved, she still suffers periodically. “I’ve learned to live with it and to slow down,” said Hamlin, who is working on her fourth novel.

For Hamlin, handwork provides the perfect vehicle for both meditating and socializing. “Once you’ve mastered the basics, you don’t even have to look, and your brain is free to go anywhere,” she says.

Once a month, Hamlin and some friends gather up their sewing and knitting projects and meet at one or another’s home for what they call the Stitch and Bitch Club. But since Sept. 11, discussions have focused mainly on people’s blessings.

No one has to remind Hamlin to look on the bright side. Last Dec. 21 she came into the newsroom wearing a crown of gold and silver stars and red ribbons.

“I love the idea that on this particular day the universe shifts, and that the shortest day of the year is also the very moment when it begins to go the other way,” she says. “It just seems to me we should celebrate that. There’s so much in this world and in our lives that’s serious. It was a playful thing to do. People don’t play enough anymore.”