Kim's comment has me thinking--How many of us learned to sew in Home Ec? While both my Mother and Grandmother sewed, I learned to sew on a sewing machine in school. The sewing machines were attached to the desks and all I remember of them is that the bobbin dropped into a slot beneath the machine. We had several sewing options, and I chose the sweatshirt. I don't believe my teacher was too thrilled with me choosing the most advanced option as I hadn't shown much interest in the class. In fact, the teacher had called my mother to complain that I would sit and read a book under my desk instead of pay attention. Now I ask you- which is a better way to spend 40 minutes: cutting out pictures of fruits and vegetables to paste onto a folder, or read a book? Yeah, this teacher had us doing things we did in nursery school, and she calls my Mom to complain that I would rather read a book. Please.
So, the sweatshirt. My Mom drove me to the mainland to buy fabric and I forget if we went to Kmart or an actual fabric store. I chose a white synthetic material suitable for a sweatshirt that had small rings of varied colors on it. Ugly ugly ugly. I liked it though, and she sighed and had the salesperson cut the yardage.
And I sewed a sweatshirt, having never sewed anything beyond a few simple stitches through felt before. And while I recall having some missteps, I also recall being happy and fully occupied, a feeling that happened very rarely in school. The only bad day of sewing happened when another class was sat in the back of ours because their teacher was, well who knows? Stuff like that happened a lot at our school. So these kids, trouble makers you could tell by their denim jackets and huge white sneakers that were loosely laced sprawled over several chairs like ivy and watched those of us sewing. One boy from my bus whom I'd had a crush on for a year leaned forward and snidely asked "Is that fun? It sure looks like fun" and a cute girl next to him with bunches of bouncy hair and black eyeliner said "Stop teasing Chappy!" and my face was red and I was proud to be able to answer him in a bored bemused monotone that alerted me to the advantages of sarcasm and painlessly ended my crush on him.
I didn't sew again until 20 years later. Why? Because sewing was so, antiquated? So Little House? Just the other day I was knitting while watching my daughter in her karate class and a young girl behind me told her mother, "I want to learn to do that. To knit" and her mother's disbelief and distaste was so evident in her "really?"
So here's the practice top I sewed from Heather Ross's Weekend Sewing. And I have to sew it again, in lighter material for cooler summer nights if there are any. I love that feeling of imagining, planning, cutting the pieces that fit together so logically and then wearing something that didn't emerge from that hellish growth of concrete and synthetics called The Mall. It's rough living in New Jersey with that thought. I wore that sweatshirt to school a few times, too. I wasn't a popular kid, and I'm sure that sweatshirt didn't help. But I made it, I own it and I know it looked RTW and I liked it. At least I was smart enough to go with those feelings. And smart enough to read under the table instead of cut and paste.
---Kelly
