If you had been hanging around my house this past weekend you would have wondered why I was cussing at my sewing machine and why I wasn't letting someone else alter that new pair of pants. I was cussing because my sewing machine is 35 years old and doesn't always cooperate. I didn't take the pants to a tailor because I haven't found anyone who can do a better job than me. Let me clarify that statement. I can't find a tailor that can hem a pair of pants that will stay hemmed past the second wash. I'm serious.
Thanks to my mother, I learned to appreciate the construction of clothes at an early age. I remember sitting next to her as she looked through the pattern books at the fabric store. Becoming bored with the big pattern books, I would wander amongst the bolts of cloth reaching out to touch whatever caught my eye. I learned that fabric had a personality of its own and didn't get along with just any pattern. I knew that some fabric was "fancy" and not within our budget. At first I got my mother's flannel scraps to make blankets for my babies. I learned to thread a needle, turn up the edge and "hem" the blanket. I don't remember how old I was the first time I cut out a pattern or used my mother's sewing machine. I do remember being scared that I would sew over my finger. I'm sure it crossed my mother's mind also.
I was a lucky little girl. I had the softest, prettiest nightgowns and new curtains whenever I changed the color of my bedroom. My Barbie and Ken were the best dressed dolls on the block. What patience it took for my mother to set those tiny little sleeves and sew on those tiny little snaps. And most beautiful of all was the wedding dress that sparkled with tiny sequins and pearl beads. Barbie and Ken got married a lot that year.
Most everything I learned about sewing was under my mother's guidance. Sometimes she gave me instruction but most of the time I quietly observed. I learned from her mistakes as well as her triumphs. She taught me technical details like calculating yardage and the importance of laying out the pattern pieces to minimize waste. I learned to feel the direction of the nap and why it was important. Eventually I learned how to place pattern pieces so that plaids and patterns matched at the seams. Taking short cuts never paid off and no project was out of reach if you just followed the instructions.
Before I graduated high school, I had my own sewing machine. This was the sewing machine I used to make my wedding dress. By the time I had my children, I replaced the old machine with a fancy model that made button holes and embroidery patterns. That sewing machine is the same one that got cussed at last weekend. It more than earned its keep. It sewed curtains and furniture covers, clothes for me, the kids, and my husband. There were Halloween costumes every year and Cabbage Patch clothes. Then, my youngest entered school and I entered the workforce. I went to the store and bought clothes like everyone else. I still managed a few Halloween costumes and an outfit or two, but mostly I used it for altering and mending the store bought clothes. Eventually other technology caught my interest. The Atari, then the Apple computer then the Compaq computer then the Dell and the next Dell and the next and the old laptop and the new laptop and now the iPhone. Then, as I was cussing under my breath trying to get the 30 year old bobbin to wind I decided that my next new piece of technology would be a replacement for the old Singer. It won't be anytime soon but you know, eventually I will retire and have time to shop for fabric and cut out patterns. Someday I might have grandchildren and maybe even a granddaughter who will need some doll clothes. Or maybe there won't be grandchildren, but there will always be windows and I bet I can still make a pretty mean set of curtains.
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