So So Sew

Sewing is not for the faint-hearted. It requires an enormous amount of patience and perseverance of which I have a short supply when it comes to tiny, delicate movements of digits or even interest in the matter at all. My mother, who was close to genius at stitchery skill, diligently taught me how to sew before I encountered Miss Maxwell of Grade Seven Home Economics class. My mother was of the sewing slickery-trickery thought. Get the job done using short cuts and get the garment on your back as quickly as possible, was her motto. The wearing of the thing was the goal, and not the making of it. That was all very well until I met Miss M and her regime of precise measurement and precision execution according to the text book. There were no short cuts in the index of her small hard covered red manual. Ironically, while wearing a skirt I made on my mother's latest electric model sewing machine, I was forced by the curriculum, to sew an apron which was to accommodate the vagaries of the cooking class that Miss M taught also. And teach she did. We had to show that we could sew a seam on the collection of treadle machine beasts that lined up at the side of her lab. My grandmother had one of these horrific contraptions on the farm and we used to play with it while watching the iron wheel spin. That was fun; this was not. To coordinate foot and hand movements while wrangling the white cotton of the potential apron, according to the dictates of Miss M, was, for me, an impossible task. The apron that took six weeks to make, had uneven seams, a belt that rambled and a hem that hosted random-sized stitches defying the laws of physics. I did get a note of permission stating that I was able to operate the one and only electric sewing machine in the lab, but Miss Maxwell obviously did not approve of such laziness and furthermore it didn't help. I wore the loathed apron only during class and then buried it secretly in the back yard without ceremony when Grade Nine course options freed me from the agonies of Home Economics. Biology with its amoebas and frogs  made a lot more sense to me than basting and button holes. These days I do have a nice sewing machine that sits right next to my computer where I can order lovely garments from New York that I couldn't begin to make even with Mom's tailoring hints. I think there are many others who find it's much simpler and cheaper to buy than to sew. The song I sing is "Where have all the fabrics gone?" It's hard enough now, when you lose a shirt button, to find a store that sells them. As to making my own clothes, sadly for all of Miss M's efforts, it's not going to happen in my lifetime.