Do you remember your first sewing machine? I certainly do. I knew that machine longer than I’ve known my husband and we’ve been married for 20 years. My mother taught me to sew when I was nine but I didn’t get my sewing machine until the year I headed off to college. I wanted to join a sorority. My parents agreed, but said I would have to make my own cocktail and evening dresses to help make up for the cost of the sorority dues. I made party clothes while I was in college and business clothes after graduation. That sewing machine stitched the matching Easter dresses for my daughters, their cute and crazy Halloween costumes, as well as heirloom Christmas gifts for my family and friends. It may seem silly to some, but I get a little sentimental when I think about that machine and all of the beautiful things I made with it.
I also stitched some fantastic failures, but I can look back at those and laugh. There was the time in college when I was so intent on making pants to fit my tiny waist, that I forgot the waist band had to fit over my hips before making it to my waist. Of course, there were all those times I used the wrong fabric for the wrong garment or tried to stitch knits on a machine that simply wasn’t meant for knits.
That sewing machine was a classic – a workhorse – and through the years it almost never failed me. In the end, it needed servicing far too often and there was no one in the area who could handle the job. The men and women with the training were retiring and I’d never learned to repair the machine myself.
The sewing machine I have now is a different brand. It sews nice stitches and I can work at night without waking up the entire household, but there is still something about that first machine. There was the way the sound of it could wake the dead, and the way it could shake the house off its foundation when I really got up to speed.
There are the memories of the outfits I made that worked – the times I felt good in a beautifully fit and tailored suit. This was prior to the time when clothing companies offered a line of clothes for petite women and it was wonderful having my waistband sit at my waist and having all the darts and tucks in the right place on my frame.
Surely, I’m not the only one with fond memories of their first sewing machine. Care to share your story?
