This will have to be a quickie since I have to finish my coffee — which I didn’t make myself, it being a task my kind husband has taken over — and get to a doctor by 9 am and it’s already 7:30. I really should stop reading until 3 in the morning. It’s ruining my early morning cheery face.
Back when the world and I were young, I thought I should make my own clothing. My mother had made all my clothing when I was a child. She continued to make almost all her own stuff. Now that I was an adult with a full-time job and a toddler, she would occasionally — if I begged and pleaded — make something for me. Things I wanted but couldn’t find in the store, or afford even if I found them.
I yearned to go back to the days when she made my clothing. I hadn’t begun to appreciate the gorgeous outfits she created, how beautifully they fitted and how special they were. Then all I had wanted was to look like everyone else. Kids are dumb that way. I was as dumb as everyone. Maybe dumber.
I figured “how hard can it be?” I got a second-hand sewing machine, bought a few patterns, even took a class in sewing. Acquired some fabric, zippers, buttons, threads and all the little widgety doodads that sewing requires — there were a lot more than I imagined possible — and made myself some spiffy new outfits. I was thrilled at how much clothing I could make for a pittance … especially compared to buying it at Macy’s.
People stared at my clothing. Admiration, I thought. They must be impressed. I was right.
Long pause. “You made that yourself, did you?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
It turns out that you have to set both sleeves the same way so one isn’t puffy while the other flat. Then there’s pattern matching. Oh, and buttons. They are supposed to line up. Zippers are not supposed to stick out and be all bunchy and also, they are supposed to close so that both parts of the closure are level when zipped. Details, details. And about those hems? One length all around. And those pesky collars. I hated collars. Even is the word in making clothing. Both sides should be pretty much the same, unless you are oddly shaped or are making a costume for a party and want to look weird.
I took a second course in tailoring, but that didn’t go nearly as well as sewing had. You had to use padding and stuff that makes fabric stiffer to hold its shape and I was never patient enough to get it right.
I quietly gave up making my own clothing and returned to holding my little plastic card and yelling “CHARGE!” as I went into the mall. The sewing machine grew dusty. It is still gathering dust in my dining room lo these many long years later. It’s all closed now. But not wasted. It’s a lovely spare table on which to display dolls. I collect dolls. And no, I do not make their clothing.
I do many things myself. I get up and out of bed by myself. Every day, nearly, except once in a while when I need a little help. I wash dishes. I write, edit, take pictures, process photos. I pass out treats to dogs, lend money to my granddaughter. Manage the family’s so-to-speak finances.
Take more pictures. Water plants. Maintain this blog.
That’s pretty good, isn’t it? All by myself I mean?
Oh, and I fix the computers, install software and if you need anyone to explain how to use it? I’m your gal. Does anyone need an older, but barely used sewing machine?
- For The Promptless – S. 2, E. 12 – DIY (thequeencreative.wordpress.com)
- One of those days (sewnhenge.com)
- Easy DIY Sewing Project: Table Centerpiece (paroxadesigns.wordpress.com)