Hand Sewing

I have never had the bravery to create a garment myself, since That One Experiment when my parents first gave me a machine and I attempted my first pattern.  It's a shame I am so easily discouraged, but nothing new; since that time the only other actual *creation* I've made is that quilt, made with Hawai'ian quilting squares my sister-in-law gave me, which I do still have but which itself is no raving success.  It wasn't wide enough, so I used a (somewhat dingy, old) sheet to widen it, and "decorated" that with slubs and scribbles of rubbery fabric paint.  You can imagine the results.

And so I have a perfectly nice Singer, and it has only ever been used for hemming and darting.  I can do a pretty good job taking in a pair of pants, actually ... but here is the point of my post.  One of the odder oddment skills in my repertoire is a dab hand with a needle.

I'm no Isis, to be sure; the very idea, particularly given my age and lack of confidence, is as laughable as she rather wishes it wouldn't be (it's so lovely to see someone of great talent who is not a snob) - but mom taught me to hem pants somewhere in my early womanhood, and I actually know what Isis refers to when she discusses visible machine stitching.  I can hem a pant leg invisibly; I understand how very good that looks.  It's no great shakes, seamstress-wise - never creating anything means never accomplishing anything but remediation - but it is more than many people can do, and I am happy enough that I do it well.  I've done many little alterations and repairs with hand stitching, and my eyes' decline over the past three or so years hasn't dented that completely.

This weekend, I have six bras I want to prevent from falling apart (they're brand new, but the idea of a "convertible" strap is a nuisance innovation I intend to put paid to with immobilizing stitches), one piece of lace to tack down, where the dogs I've been walking together made me step on it and tear it apart, a beaded dress in need of serious de-beading where the sharp glass edges of unnecessary bugle baubles tear at the tender skin of my arms, two necklines to modest-ify, a skirt waist to take in, and three maxis which are a bit too maxi for my frame.  One I may hem closer up to the knee; it's a great dress and I have visions of it at a more flirty length.  Finally, there are two harnesses Pen has partially and fully chewed through; while I am glad to give my money to products manufactured in the US (these both were), I also don't quite like to believe in instant obsolescence every time.  These harnesses are reparable.  I plan to repair them.

Not all of these projects will be done by hand stitching, but actually most will.  The bras, the lace, the necklines, the taking-in.  And the harnesses.

I like jobs like this.  As Madame Isis points out, you can sew and listen to movies, you can socialize with those around you (well, in my case, you can occasionally interject to the furbabies how cute or how good they are ...).  Sewing *is* a pleasant pastime, hand-sewing at least.

And so I am off to teach a few bra straps a few things about not converting spontaneously.  When it's done I'll have that nice feeling of "new clothes" and significantly more comfortable garments for me and for Pen.