We all have things that make us nostalgic. When, for example I find a old box filled with buttons at a yard sale it makes me want them.
Since sewing is a lost art, most of us are reminded of a grandmother’s sewing box of implements when we see these things. I used to sew, not well, but well enough to turn an idea in my head into a real object for use. Mind you, it was only on the order of something like stitching one square of fabric to another, nothing wearable. Once, many years ago I took a sewing class at the community school. Of all the things I could have picked as a first project, the red satin evening coat was probably a very poor choice. First of all, it was impossible to make for a beginner. And second of all, where in the world did I think I was going to wear such an elegant garment? Perhaps I was living out some fantasy from another life.
I don’t remember if I ever finished it, but I know to this day I can not claim sewing as something I’m proud of although I do own two sewing machines.
They gather dust in a closet. Somehow I never got the hang of how that bobbin works. And forget about instructions. I never trust them even when they aren’t written in Chinese. But to this day I love sewing accouterments: buttons on cards and in baby jars a staple of every yard sale and junk yard store, old fashioned scissors called “snippers” from the 1930’s, tape measures made of silk and encased in metal, wood or celluloid from the 1920’s, pin cushions, needle packs with ornate labels with fancy fonts, patterns on yellow tissue thin paper and wooden spools of silk thread.