And so of course, three days into writing a blog, I
lose my internet. For a week. Zip, zilch, nada.
Three strong men came to fix my system; three strong
men failed. Thank God for my-son-the-computer-genius,
who came over, on his day off from fixing computers no less, and tinkered with
it until he found the culprits. A wire with an incompetent head, among other stuff, and so he fixed the thing. That
kid has a big red S on his chest, as far as I’m concerned.
Speaking of tools, one of the tools that most
fascinated me when I was very young was the needle and thread. I remember watching my grandmother, dear
Gramma Iney, doing the mending. That
motion—pulling the needle through the cloth, far up and to the right of her
body, the little twist of the wrist that made it tight and ensured the thread
didn’t tangle—the entire process captivated me.
When she finished, I’d take the needle and thread and “sew,” stitching through
paper towels, over and over, just to be able to copy that motion. It was
completely satisfying.
In those days, almost all women sewed. I had many lovely clothes and costumes
courtesy of my mother and grandmothers. I
learned the basics of sewing in 4-H Club.
I made a few things, then lost interest until college when my friend Bev
taught me approximately nine million embroidery stitches on the bank of a lakeside
park one sunny day. Embroidery became my
relief from studying, and rapidly escalated to an obsession. Briefly.
Throughout the years, I sewed curtains, slipcovers,
and baby clothes. But, since I am so extremely distractible, I have done very
little sewing in the last fifteen years.
And then last December, the San Francisco Chronicle printed an article
entitled, “A Sew-Sew Approach.” It
starts:
“First you make skirts. Twenty-three skirts. Then you move
on to bodices, darts, necklines, collars, sleeves, pockets and finally,
tailored pants and jeans. You'll make 130 muslin prototypes and about 10 to 15
garments in fabric - plus an eight-piece ready-to-wear collection. And that's
just for starters at San Francisco's toughest fashion school.
Oh dear. I’m
already hooked. Apparel Arts wants to “bring
back San Francisco's once-proud apparel production reputation now lost to fast
fashion and offshore manufacturing. And
pattern making is the core.”
Is there anything more appealing than becoming absolutely expert at a practical skill? Especially if you love clothing, and have definite, specific ideas about what clothes you want to wear, even though they don’t seem to exist anywhere?? COME TO MAMA.
The course is
not just rigorous, it’s expensive.
Drat. Can I justify the $? Well,
let’s see; I could start by clearing off my art table; it would convert to a
sewing table pretty easily; then I could find a pattern approximating the kind of thing I like, make
up a muslin version to adjust it to my needs…and see whether I can sustain
interest long enough to finish an actual garment.
Sounds exciting, and maybe entrancing…
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