The Object of My Dejection — Tell us about the object of your dejection — something you made, a masterpiece unfinished, or some sort of project that failed to meet your expectations. What did you learn from the experience? How would you do things differently next time?
When I was a young mommy working full-time and raising my son, I thought I should make my own clothing. It would save a lot of money. My mom made all my clothing when I was a child. She continued throughout her life to make her own outfits and they were gorgeous and classy.
Now that I was grown up with a job and a toddler, she occasionally — if I begged and pleaded — made something for me. Things I wanted but couldn’t find in the store, or afford if I found them.
I waxed nostalgic about the days when Mom made my clothes. I didn’t appreciate how beautifully everything fit. How special the outfits were until I was much older. When I was a kid, I wanted was to look like everyone else. Kids are dumb that way.
I spent childhood watching my mother create things on her magic Singer Sewing Machine. Most the clothing I wore to school and all of my dress clothing was homemade.
How hard could it be? I picked up a second-hand sewing machine. Took a sewing class. Bought a few patterns. Bought fabric, zippers, buttons, threads — all those little widgets and doodads sewing requires. Thus armed, I dove in and made a few new outfits. I was delighted by how much I could make for a pittance, especially compared to buying its equivalent ready-made. People stared at my clothing. Admiration? They must be impressed. I was right.
Long pause. “You made that yourself?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
It turns out you have to set both sleeves the same way so one isn’t puffy while the other lays flat. There’s pattern matching and buttons which are supposed to line up. Zippers aren’t supposed to stick out or be bunched up. So many details. Hems? One length all around seemed to be the standard.
Those pesky collars — they never came out right. It was getting personal. Even is a big word in sewing — the noun, not the pronoun form. Both sides of a garment are supposed to be identical or so close that the differences are invisible. Unless your model is oddly shaped.
I took another sewing class. This time, I was ambitious. Tailoring. It didn’t go nearly as well as sewing had. There was padding and that stuff which stiffens fabric. I gave up, threw in my pinking shears and folded up the machine where it remains to this day.
Nowadays, I play to my strengths. I have cameras, take pretty good pictures. Write little stories. Wrote a book, maintain this blog. I leave the handicrafts to the handy. Does anyone need an older, but barely used sewing machine?