The Gift in the Machine

For Christmas I was given £50 by my Aunt and Uncle (thank you very much). They said it was to spend on whatever alcohol it was I drank (they have expensive tastes in alcohol, and, I have to admit, mine aren't exactly cheap); I, however, like to spend gift money as a lump sum. So rather than buying five £10 items, I'd want to buy one, big, £50 item. Why? Because chances are I 'll save up enough money to treat myself to a bottle of  quality  spiced rum or gin at the end of the month, while something that's worth £30, £40 or £50, well, on a student budget I'm likely to not get there.

I was wondering what to spend my money on when I saw some little sewing machines for sale in the local supermarket. They were £50 and very, very pink. I'm not much a sewer, but this is partly because I always have to use my mum's sewing machine; because I don't have any sewing equipment of my own. I do really want to learn; as a historical re-enactor I feel it is an almost compulsory skill and yet I've got away without it for nearly ten years now. That and my mother provides all the clothes for me, my brother, my father and herself. Bare in mind that I've physically grown a lot since I was twelve and have needed multiple sets of historical clothes, plus the fact that my father and I now do multiple periods. To date, I have had eight sets of historical clothing made and only one was made by me (and even then, only half of it). I feel that if I want to continue this hobby that it is unfair to continually rely on mummy dearest to cut, shape and sew every garment I might want.

A little machine, but my machine.

So, yes. I want to learn to sew. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not passionate about it like I am knitting, but I do want to learn and, hopefully, as my skills increase so will my enjoyment (currently, I often find myself getting frustrated by my projects and I often try to finish them in much too short a space of time). Anyway, I went home and voiced the idea of buying myself a sewing machine to my mum; she thought it was a good idea but when we researched the brand of machine available locally, the reviews were... Not so great. To eBay it was then, looking for older, but higher quality, machines with a top price of £50. I managed to stumble across a wonderful little gem; a Singer Featherweight Plus 324, made in the 70s/80s, barely been used for a whole £30. Now, there were a couple of other listings for the same machine, both which were upwards of £50. Bargain, I thought. Bought it and then the next day I went round to pick it up. 

I feel that the spool is in an odd place on this machine.

I spent the remaining £20 on various other sewing bits. It was missing a zipper foot, for example, so I bought one of those, a handful of threads, pins, fabric scissors, tailor's chalk, etc., so that by the time the weekend was out I'd gone from having no sewing equipment to pretty much everything I would ever need. Money well spent, I should think.

I have found that the need to use brand new Christmas toys has not faded with age and, with the sewing machine next to me I was desperate to try it out. My mum and I had a discussion; it was the evening, so no time to go and buy fabric or a pattern. Fortunately, our spare room is a bit of an Aladdin's cave of sewing stuff (I think it's a prerequisite of being a re-enactor, that at least one room in the house needs to be drowning in craft materials) so we went upstairs and rifled through what we had. Mum suggested that I make a simple bag to use as a project bag for my knitting (the one I had was actually a book bag and a little too small). Easy enough of a project and it meant that I got to play, so that's exactly what I did.

I cut a rectangle of some heavy weight gold and red fabric (so that my needles won't pierce it), a white linen lining and a pair of triangles to make the flap. I started with the latter most; they were easy enough to do, just sewed the two pieces together, leaving the long edge open to attach to the main bag later.


To the lining I added a couple of pockets. One tall and thin for any extra needles I might need (some patterns require a needle change) and a low, fat one for any other extras. Notably, my row counter and usually the pattern (or scribbled notes) itself. I accentuated these with a red thread trim. Chances are that you won't see them anyway because they're inside the bag, but, hey, the devil is in the details, right?

Now, this was my first sewing project working without a pattern, Honestly, we were working out of my mum's head. It wasn't a difficult pattern, but I do have to admit that, even after many years  of sewing, my mum's one downfall is insides. If you sew, you'll know that everything is done inside out, so that you can't see the seams; this can get a bit complicated when you're already working everything backwards and then add a lining which is the reverse of everything and not inside and and blurgh. It confuses my mother, especially when it comes to sleeves (she is forever making two left ones). So if adding a lining to a simple tote bag was going to confuse a sewing veteran, I had no chance. We spent pretty much the rest of the evening sewing and unpicking the lining because somehow or another it ended up being on wrong. Hey, I'm still new at this!

We finally gave up on trying to make the inner of the bag completely seamless. Instead, all unpicked, we (I) folded the heavy fabric in half, wrong side facing, with the lining, right side facing, folded around that. Then zip, zip, up both sides. Sew the completed flap to one side of the opening and there you have it. The basic workings of a knitting project bag.

The beginnings of handles.

All that was left was the handles. I could have done regular, normal handles but this is me. I cut six strips of the heavier fabric sewed them together to make flat tubes and then proceeded to plait these together. They were originally intended to be two handles, but it was forgotten just how much plaiting something shortens the over all length. So instead these two finished plaits were sewn together to make one longer plait. The seam was bound with thick, black tread to hide it. This binding didn't look too out of place, as it also bound the stitches by the d-rings, that attached the handle to the bag proper.

I'll admit, it was far from an adventurous first project, but it was something, something I could call my own and the first thing I had made on my very own sewing machine. Proud? Yes. Okay, it is no mesmer coat, I'll grant you, but mine none the less. And it was a damn site easier than what was to come (a silk A-line skirt; why do I torture myself like this?) in the following weeks.

A preview of things to come...