The Time had come. The Council was having one of their extraordinary rubbish collections. I had not known about this, but when I went outside last Sunday, to walk up to the local second hand market and see what was worth adding to my book collection, I happened to notice large piles of rubbish/ex-beloved possessions festooning the footpaths. So naturally I wondered how not to waste this opportunity.
I added the broken pieces of the frames I used years ago for silk painting, various pots, and other miscellaneous junk. Then I bethought me of my sewing machine.
This genuine antique was more than 30 years old. I used it to make curtains, the occasional dress or outfit for the female Persiflagettes, and to replace zippers, or to take up hems. I even made a couple of cushions covers, and a witch's cloak. The trouble is that the more I sewed the worse I got. This defies both logic and general human experience. For example, the more I cooked and kept house, the more I improved, and the more I read the more I learned. The more I worked the better the job. So why was sewing the exception to this? Even thinking about this is depressing. It was so frustrating.
Hard to say. It seemed difficult to sew a straight seam. I never acquired a dressmakers dummy, so the fitting of garments was somewhat haphazard. There was no dedicated spot for the sewing machine, so I had to use the dining table, and inevitably would have to put the sewing away so we could eat at night. Life got busier, the children grew, I worked part time and studied. But essentially I just did not sew very well. I Lacked Talent. Sob.
The final straw came when I was trying to make a blouse for myself. I got through quite a lot of it, then realised I had not cut out the facings. So I grabbed a piece of fabric and cut them out. The piece I used turned out to be one of the sleeves. Damn! I said to myself that obviously God did not want me to sew, but instead wanted me to help others earn their living that way. So I stopped, desisted, ceased, etcetera. Apart from the odd repairs.
I got the machine out a couple of months ago to sew something or other, and the beast's engine refused to go. Dilemma! What to do? For this genuine antique, it did not seem worthwhile or cost-effective to get it repaired. So I put it away for while to let my sub-conscious make the decision. Which it did. The machine has now gone to Janome Heaven.
Yet I have a certain regret. Somewhere inside me lurks a person who wants to do crafty things. I have a large stash of fabrics, which I still hope to use one day. Are there others out there like me? There are silks, cottons, woollen fabrics. Bought in the days when good quality and attractive fabrics were relatively easy to find. I don't want them all to be wasted. I will have to find a dressmaker.
My treacherous mind is still whispering to me that it would be a good idea to buy a new machine. I could hie me over to Chatswood and go to the shop there, and allow myself to succumb to temptation. Probably if I did succumb I'd have to smuggle it into the house, as the spouse does not understand at all this sort of irrational female impulse.
All you crafty bloggers out there - what would YOU do?
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