Slow Sundays & Stashes

I’m never sure what to do with Sundays – they seem to have so much potential and possibility.  I always want to put so much into them, and it’s pretty much always an exercise in overachievement.  Sometimes, it works out.  I think today almost worked out.  I just needed an extra 5 hours and it would all be perfect.

(The whole stash on the dining room table.  I found it amusing that the striped fabric to the far left was marked “remnant.”  I love search for and buy discount remnants also.)

One of today’s tasks was to sort through and wash a stash of fabrics from the seventies and eighties I got from my mom – a couple of bags from her old fabric stash.  My mom once had a lot of fabric, and this is only a small part.  Today, as always, as I looked at the pile, I am amazed at the skill with a sewing machine she had.  I’m not really sure what my mom thinks of her sewing skill, but I’ve always been impressed.

(Fabric with matching buttons, thread and zipper from a project never completed)

My mom’s the sort of seamstress who can make a lined, tailored suit.  If you’re not a sewer, know that dealing with two layers of fabric, including one of slippery acetate, is not a piece of cake.  Neither is tailoring, which generally means the garment needs to be fitted. Tailoring also means that all the seaming details are perfectly finished – tailored garments often look nearly as pretty on the inside as they do on the outside.

(Brown fabric:  the piece on the left was actually a remnant from something else and sports about 7 feet of a hand slip-stitched border.  The striped fabric had matching acetate lining, probably for an unfinished suit.)

I don’t have my mom’s skill – nowhere near it.  I’ve never had to sew clothes for myself.  Although I’ve sewn clothing, I am still intimidated by it.  I’ve only done the simplest sort of handmade clothing.  Kinda seems silly that I’ve made two quilts, but I remain intimidated by sewing clothing, but there you go.  I guess at some point I noticed the billionth article about how hard fitting sleeves is, and I became unsure whether I was up to the task.

(I suspect these violently colored pieces of jersey – yes, they’re actually this bright! – were from the 80s.  I seem to remember these colors.)

My mom thinks I’ve really become pretty crafty, and I suppose over time I have, but still sometimes the things my parents can do well are the very things I shy away from.  I guess I always had to do the things my parents didn’t do so I wouldn’t be so unsure about how well I might be able to do them.  My parents are both scarily intelligent, skilled people, so trying to follow them in their skills seems like an impossibility.

(Some great blue pieces in here.  The starts are actually more recent from her teaching profession.  I wish there was more of that blue floral.  Great scraps!)

I’m not even sure my mom knows I’m in awe of her sewing ability, but I am.  If I knew half of what she knows about sewing, I would have quit my job and would be able to do this for a living!

(These are two pieces for which I remember the outcomes.  The blue on the left is from a pair of dresses she made when she and my dad lived in Germany and my dad was in the Army.  One dress for someone else, one for her.  However, she told me she made a short dress for herself – but it was actually long with a deep v-neckline.  I tried it on when I was in high school!  Beautiful! 

The white piece on the right is from my flower girl dress I wore when I was seven for my aunt Miriam’s wedding.  I thought that was the most awesome dress I’d ever worn.  I bragged my mom had made it – who else could say that?  It was long, made of this lovely white eyelet, and had a wide blue ribbon for a sash.  Wonderful!)