I See!

As I was sewing a couple weeks ago, I had taken my glasses off as I prepared to do some top stitching on a bag. When I am doing any type of finishing stitching on a project I like to really be able to see up close-I literally have my brown peepers just inches from my work-and in order to do this I have to take my glasses off. And, as usual when I’m working on something-my studio turns into utter chaos. As I was looking for a clear, safe spot to put my glasses, ( I learned the hard way that a safe place is critical-I sat on a pair of glasses once-they were never quite the same after that) my husband walked in and said, “You really need one of those chains that you wear around your neck to hold your glasses.” Brilliant suggestion! And as usual, I started to look for a vintage one. I found this cute eyeglass chain on Etsy from a shop called mupearls. Not vintage-but beautifully handmade from vintage amber and golden glass beads. I love the way they sparkle-and wearing my new eyeglass chain makes me feel rather glamorous when I work! Now if I could just operate my sewing machine’s foot pedal in my 40’s Cuban heels!

Only Fitting

Once upon a time I was a student at a smallish university in an equally smallish town and my intended major was Home Economics with a specialty in fashion design. Though this school was well known for some of its programs, fashion design was not really one of them…and no one pretended it was. When anyone asked what I planned to major in, and I told them, they would throw out the tired old line “Oh, you’re getting your M.R.S. degree!” Not exactly high praise.

What then, made my time at this particular institute of higher learning so meaningful?

Even though we learned obvious skills such as sewing and pattern making, preparing us for the larger picture of life was the more important objective. There was little talk of making it big in places like New York City or landing jobs with some major designer, because in reality that wasn’t what most of us would do. The goal was making sure that we felt good about ourselves so that we would be happy and proud of ourselves no matter where we ended up. I remember one assignment we were given to design and then make a skirt. I used a vintage drapery panel and some fringe. The resulting skirt was probably dreadful, but because of the praise I received as I modeled it for my grade, I “felt” like a designer. Another time I wore a pea soup green men’s golf sweater to class and paired it with a fuchsia scarf. Who else, but one of my gems of a professor would see the positive side and tell me that pea soup green was a difficult color to wear, but how ingenious of me to make it work by wearing the fuchsia scarf next to my face. Even mistakes were handled diplomatically. Once, when I incorrectly made up a pattern, I wasn’t told I was wrong, but instead I received the comment, “I’ve never seen anyone approach that design in quite that way before!”

I didn’t graduate from this school. I dropped out, for a variety of reasons. I eventually went back to school several years later at a much bigger and better known university. There the stakes were higher, image was everything, and if a career in the “majors” wasn’t going to happen, then there really wasn’t much point, was there? Pea soup green sweaters were a definite no no.

So why this trip down memory lane? Because once again I live in that same small town--and just a few blocks from that same ( but not quite so smallish anymore) university. And it was while living in this town, this time, that I dreamed up my little handmade barkcloth bag business, For the Love of Pete-which embodies all those important lessons I learned here as a student. That doing what I love and being proud of what I do, no matter how humble, are pretty big achievements after all. I think my old professors would approve .

Photo by Philip Gendreau

The Virtue of Patience

On a recent foray to Goodwill, I came across a zip lock stuffed with bits and pieces of a quilt someone had started, but never finished. A bargain at $14.99, I bought it and was excited to get home and see what all was in the bag. I found about 25 finished blocks, and enough pieced sections for about 25 more blocks. The fabric appeared to be vintage, and the hand stitching well executed. This quilt had been started by an excellent quilter, and I wondered what had happened that the quilt was never finished. “This will make a good summer project." I told myself, but after about 20 minutes of rearranging the squares, and marveling at the interesting colors and designs of the fabric I lost my resolve and stuffed everything back in the bag. “This would take so long to finish.” I decided. I didn’t really feel I’d have the time and that was that. Perhaps my dear mom, an excellent quilter, would be able to do something with it.

Last week, as I watched footage of the massive BP oil spill, and thought about the way the world is now-so fast and complicated and full of staggering problems-I thought about simpler, slower times. And I began to appreciate the making of a quilt. I know you can buy mass produced quilts-but I don’t mean those. I mean the kind that I found at Goodwill-the kind that someone had planned to sew herself. I thought about the reasons why I love objects that are handmade, including those I make myself-- they are crafted by a person, an artist who puts heart and soul into into his or her work, and they are usually made to last for a long time. And I realized one more reason, too. That those handmade items take time to make. They require a commitment of hours and attention and an understanding that things of beauty don’t always happen overnight. This is a tough concept in our hurried world where we are used to instant gratification. I was guilty of this myself.

The quilt is once again on my list of summer projects-I want to see it finished because it will be really pretty when it is done. I’m also going to see if both my mom and my daughter want to help me. I know that patience is something I need to learn, but I’d like to have some company while I do.

A Match Made in Heaven!

This past week I got all three of these supplies in the mail-from three different sources. The pretty green floral barkcloth is from the 1950’s. The red, white and green plaid is a reproduction but looks straight out of the 1930’s. (I really love 30’s and 40’s style plaids!) The vintage buttons have glittery confetti inside and are the prettiest color of mint green.

I instantly knew they had to be combined into one bag because they are perfect together. I usually have to work harder than this when designing a bag, but not this time. I can say that it’s kismet, serendipity or fate…but given that today is St. Patrick’s day, it may just be the luck of the Irish!

Before I got my scissors out…

I just love the finished bag!

What a Mess!

Photo by Ian Britton

I didn’t really make any New Year’s resolutions this year, but if I had, one would have been to keep my studio neat and tidy all the time. And in the tradition of New Year’s resolutions, that resolution would be broken (many times) by now. I just don’t think it’s possible…keeping my studio neat as a pin all the time, that is.

It is neat some of the time, but this is what happens. It looks so inviting, all orderly and organized, that I go in to admire my surroundings. There is a sofa bed in there for when we have extra house guests, or it gets too hot in the summer to sleep upstairs.

So I stretch out on the sofa bed and look at my barkcloth which is in easy view of where I am. I start thinking how one particular barkcloth might go well with a certain lining fabric, and the so and so buttons would look great too. Before I know it I am laying fabric out on the sofa bed, ironing board, work table, or any other clear spot, and pulling out buttons and patterns. Then I might grab my sketch book and do a quick drawing of an idea to see if I think it might work or not.

By this time I’m getting really excited about the new bag I want to make and I have to clear a spot for the cutting out process. Then there is the rummaging through the thread to find the right color, turning on the iron and all the other details I must attend to-all the while shifting piles of stuff around the room as I go so that I can work.

Once I do start sewing, bits of thread and fabric are flung everywhere as I snip and trim. And yes, there are two trash cans in the room, but never in the right place at the right time.

The solution is obvious-clean up, and put away as I go. Put about 25 trash cans around the room. Try not to start a project until every work area is ready for action. And clean up right away when I finish something.

One of my most embarrassing moments (and one that should have spurred me into making the resolution to keep my studio clean) happened one evening when a friend of mine showed up unannounced with a friend of hers. They’d heard about my bags and wanted to come see them. I was horrified! My friend is an easy going woman, but the friend she brought along was very prim and proper and I can still see her standing precariously on one leg among the mess on the floor-trying to pull off a wad of packing tape that was stuck to the bottom of her shoe (I’d sold a bag and had all of my packing stuff out too!)

I do eventually clean my room up…and once again it looks soooo inviting to be in…and well, now you know where that leads!

I Love Lavender

I love to sew, and if I may say so modestly, I am very good at it. (My mom taught me after all, and she is really good!) But more often than I care to admit, I make a mistake. Sometimes I even mess something up pretty good. And this is exactly why I keep close at hand, with the usual necessary items like scissors and pins, a sachet filled with lavender.

I adore the scent of lavender, and what is so great about lavender is that not only does it smell incredibly good, but it does good too. With its uplifting and relaxing aroma, it helps me feel calmer (and less likely to throw something.) Sure, when I do screw up, I might say a few choice words too, but a good deep breath of my favorite herb goes a long way to putting me back on track.

Note: When I was photographing my sachet for this post, I dropped my camera on my hard cement patio. If ever I had a need for lavender, it was then...

Bird of Paradise

I love barkcloth and I love
sewing with it. It's like a constant feast for the eyes. I especially love using tropical barkcloth because I think tropical flowers are among the most beautiful on earth.

One of the most stunning of tropical flowers is the Bird of Paradise. It is used quite often as a motif in tropical barkcloth. Originally from South Africa, the Bird of Paradise is as symbolic of Hawaii as is the Plumeria or Hibiscus. I was absolutely thrilled to see a Bird of Paradise last March in Hawaii, and my father took this wonderful photograph.

I can't grow these beauties where I live in Eastern Washington, but between my dad's talent as a photographer and the skills of barkcloth designers past and present, I still get to enjoy them.

A Vintage Love Affair

Not long after I started For the Love of Pete I decided I should have a fancy, new, expensive sewing machine. After all, I was starting my own business and needed the proper equipment. I made a few bags and my fancy, new, expensive machine did a great job. It was easy to use and sewed beautiful seams. Perfection in a machine, right? Well somehow I felt let down.

Then I saw an ad for a vintage 1950 Singer and knew instantly that my fancy, new, expensive machine had been a mistake. What was missing from all the wonderful features my modern machine had was soul. The soul that comes from having a history, a past, a connection to other people in other times.

I bought that 1950 Singer and I've never looked back. I have given the modern machine to my daughter because it will be an easier machine for her to learn on. But some day soon, when she has mastered the art of sewing, I'll help her find her very own soulful vintage beauty.