One of the local seamstresses, wearing her new skirt purchased
on the recent shopping trip.
Last week the GeorgiaGirl and I braved the big city for some shopping before her return to school. At her request, we ventured into the bright lights and vibrant hues of a fabric store.
Fabric stores, with their oceans of colorful opportunities, always deceive me, tempt me, lure me. If I bring home just one piece of something beautiful and soft, the thinking goes, I'll jump in and sew with my daughters---Marmee with her four little women, peacefully and joyfully making happy memories together at home.
Then I remember my wretched, 1970s-era bathrobe. My mother, an accomplished seamstress, had volunteered to teach her teen-aged daughter to sew. For my very first project, I chose a housecoat. The fabric had great, garish purple swirls and bright orange dots in cotton and polyester.
I ripped out and restitched, ripped and restitched, ripped and restitched the circular, set-in sleeve until I wanted to hurl fabric, sewing machine, and my poor mother into the abyss. I finally got a death grip on the sleeve and rammed the presser foot past all objections, swallowing up gathers and basting threads in great gulps and wads. I didn't care.
With the sleeves mangled into place, I attacked the buttonholes. The buttonhole attachment jumped and clattered back and forth behind the presser foot, leaving ragged strips of bright orange thread under my impatient hand. The thread refused to lie in the neat rows of a buttonhole, poking randomly out of the uneven cuts like clumps of hair on a red-headed boy. Bullheaded and angry, I decided that sewing wasn't for me.
Nine or ten years later I was expecting my first child. Nesting instinct must have overshadowed sewing memories, and I made myself another robe. Thrilled with the joy of new life, I was as gentle and careful sewing this second robe (snaps, no buttons) as I had been angry and impatient with the first. God can do a lot with a human soul in nine or ten years.
Fabric stores, with their oceans of colorful opportunities, always deceive me, tempt me, lure me. If I bring home just one piece of something beautiful and soft, the thinking goes, I'll jump in and sew with my daughters---Marmee with her four little women, peacefully and joyfully making happy memories together at home.
Then I remember my wretched, 1970s-era bathrobe. My mother, an accomplished seamstress, had volunteered to teach her teen-aged daughter to sew. For my very first project, I chose a housecoat. The fabric had great, garish purple swirls and bright orange dots in cotton and polyester.
I ripped out and restitched, ripped and restitched, ripped and restitched the circular, set-in sleeve until I wanted to hurl fabric, sewing machine, and my poor mother into the abyss. I finally got a death grip on the sleeve and rammed the presser foot past all objections, swallowing up gathers and basting threads in great gulps and wads. I didn't care.
With the sleeves mangled into place, I attacked the buttonholes. The buttonhole attachment jumped and clattered back and forth behind the presser foot, leaving ragged strips of bright orange thread under my impatient hand. The thread refused to lie in the neat rows of a buttonhole, poking randomly out of the uneven cuts like clumps of hair on a red-headed boy. Bullheaded and angry, I decided that sewing wasn't for me.
Nine or ten years later I was expecting my first child. Nesting instinct must have overshadowed sewing memories, and I made myself another robe. Thrilled with the joy of new life, I was as gentle and careful sewing this second robe (snaps, no buttons) as I had been angry and impatient with the first. God can do a lot with a human soul in nine or ten years.
Nonetheless, I know my talents lie elsewhere. I still love the colors and textures of a fabric store, but don't often allow myself past the fingering and dreaming stage. I will not be sewing a garment any time soon. But look what fun some other people are going to have over the next few weeks!
6 comments:
That piece with the lavendar roses is lovely and I like the one with the little purses! I, too, have to be careful about fabric stores - not because I'm bad at sewing, but because I can get ideas about SO MANY PIECES of fabric that I could literally fill my house with the stuff, and then where would we live? (HA HA HA) My husband told me I'm not to buy any more fabric until I work through the stuff I already have, so lately, if I feel like I need a new somethingorother that I don't have a suitable fabric for, I just "shop" my mom's stash. She freely admits that she probably won't get to most of what she has anyway, so I might as well put it to use! :)
You might check the date stamp and time on your entry... unless, of course, you've been doing some time travel that we don't know about... :)
Oh, and I just wanted to add that I hated sewing with a passion when I was a girl/teen. I didn't start to think it was worth my time until I got into college and beyond. And though I've been sewing for a while now, sleeves STILL give me oodles of trouble. I think I could safely say I still hate setting in sleeves. Whoever thought up "ease"...well, I probably shouldn't go there. :)
I love Rachel's skirt! It's really cute and so her.
oh!!!!! I want to sew!!!
I love all the material!
Pretty fabric! I bet the girls will enjoy working with it.
I've only just taken up really trying to learn how to do things like zippers and sleeves. Yes, sleeves are tedious, but I am thankful to know how to put them in now. On to buttonholes...
I did my first buttinholes on the drive from Nebraska to Mahomet, and then they were too small and I had to fix them :( Sewing teachs patience!
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