… on the name of this site
My residence, whose construction was completed in 1870, was first numbered 24 Washington. City changes to the street names and numbers over the years meant that now it bears a 3-digit identification, but I’ve always been felt linked to “24”.
… on creating
Creating anything seemed to be driven by necessity, and not by any desire to create masterpieces.
Sewing was always done quickly to get something to the point of being wearable.
Interfacing? Why’d you need that.
Lining? Why’d you need that?
Zig-zag seams?
Waist band? Why, why, why?
Once garments could be worn, they would be.
In 2019, after being a very fascinated follower of Angela Clayton for a number of years, and moreso after discovering Bernadette Banner, I decided that perhaps I should stop the rush to get things to the “wearable” stage, and actually look into making items that are carefully fitted, and then, finished! (At which point this site was created)
… on sewing machines
My mother had a Singer 66 treadle with thistle decal. I learned to sew on that.
It was a curiosity thing, really – I put the needle in back-to-front … threaded the needle front-to-back … tightened and loosened the tension … pedalled and then back-pedalled … and inevitably asked for help because the thread had broken. Again. And again. And again.
But that machine was amazing.
The thread may have broken, but the machine never did.
To this day, well over 30 years since my abuse, it still treadles.
It should be hardly surprising that this love is lasting a lifetime.
I have my own – well, several – they all work – they all have been maintained – the ones I use on any regular basis are treadles.
Treadles are simply marvelous.
…on work rooms
Growing up, patterns, a work-basket, buttons, bags of rags, and bits of fabric were precariously balanced (I swear one-on-top-of-another, held up by some mystic force) in a dark room along the hallway.
Also in that room was a collection of recipe books. Metals shelves. Other books. Just so much “stuff” … from floor to ceiling. That was my mother’s work room. Or was it her storage room? Did it have a name?
That was an unfortunate introduction, as I have always fought to keep my workspace in order.
>>> more to follow