So You Want to Sew

by Donna Hruska

Did you ever envy the woman who sews–not the one whose products look home-made, but the one who buys designer original patterns and comes away from her sewing machine looking like she just stepped out of a St. Laurent Boutique? Well, don’t. Take it from one who tried it and emerged back aching and eyes asquint, it isn’t as easy as it looks. There are things the enthusiasts don’t tell you.

For instance, a private room for sewing is almost essential, unless you have that rare husband who can maintain his equanimity in the face of a room littered with snips of fabric, odd pattern pieces, tailor’s chalk and pins, pins everywhere–particularly if you are the absent-minded type who leaves needles stuck in the chair arms.

If you have children you need a strong lock on the door, preferably a padlock. Any child worth two snaps is quite adept at opening the regular push button type locks with a screw driver. There is something about the equipment in mother’s sewing box that draws pre-schoolers like an ice-cream wagon. They will pick locks, scale walls and batter down closet doors to get at it. The attraction isn’t hard to understand. Tailor’s chalk comes in many lovely colors, a tracing wheel is great for making dotted lines on the end tables, those expensive dressmaking shears are perfect for cutting paper dolls and tape measures, and the pins–well, there’s no end to what a resourceful child can do with pins.

As a matter of fact, if you have little children, it might be better to just forget the whole thing. You can’t sew when they are around. They think a length of material laid out on the floor for cutting is a path for walking. They poke their fingers into the sewing machine belt and, of course, there is always a good chance that you will sew up a finger or two, either yours or theirs. They adjust all those interesting little knobs so that the tension is so loose that your seam looks like you crocheted it or so tight that it looks gathered. They unwind your thread, rip your patterns and lose your zipper foot.

Perhaps you envision a quiet evening in the family room with your husband watching his favorite television program while you sew. You may as well forget it. The sewing machine interferes with the TV set. You’ll find yourself trying to run the machine only during the commercials to keep him from yelling at you. In your haste you’ll make a mistake and you’ll yell at him. No, for the sake of family peace you’re going to have to lock yourself in that separate room–at night–to get your sewing done.

But suppose you don’t have any children, or your husband reads the newspaper instead of watching TV. Suppose you make your garment and it fits and you’re the envy of all your friends. Your troubles are over, right? Wrong! Nine chances out of eleven, if you make more than one garment successfully, you’ve fallen into the home sewer’s trap.

You can’t buy clothes any more. Now you know how they are supposed to fit, with the seams straight and the darts angled just so. No longer will you believe the saleslady when she says, “Just letting it out a little here and taking it up a little there will make it perfect.” Now you realize that you may be a perfect size 12 on the top, but on the bottom you’re at least a 14 and no amount of letting out will make it fit the way it should.

You’ll find yourself turning the dress inside out to see how much seam allowance there is, if the seams are finished properly, how many stitches per inch, what kind of button holes are used. With your new knowledge of proper construction methods, the only ready made clothes that will satisfy you are in the $75 and up class.

But, in spite of all this, if you do find a dress that fits the way it should, is properly constructed and sells for what you used to consider to be a fair price, unless you are a completely impractical woman, you’ll find yourself hesitating before you buy it. “You could make two dresses for the price of this one,” your conscience insinuates, and before you can say needles and pins, there you are back in the fabric department thumbing through those pattern books. You’re caught. Never again can you go on a light-hearted shopping spree for a new dress. In fact, every occasion that calls for a new dress will probably find you putting in your hem half an hour before it’s time to leave.

Ah well, I’m caught, though you needn’t be. That is, unless you hanker after a Dior original at a price you can afford. You do? Then get cutting!