Sew What

Friday, February 18, 2005

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Sew What

By J’AMY PACHECO

I’m not the world’s greatest seamstress. When it comes to using a sewing machine, well…let’s say I’m probably better at driving a forklift than at creating magnificent garments. (And I’ve never actually driven a forklift.)

That lack of talent doesn’t keep me from trying, and over the years I’ve managed to crank out a respectable number of costumes for my daughter to wear trick-or-treating or in stage productions at school.

If I make a mistake, I cover it with sequins or bows. When I noticed last week that the sparkly red Valentine dress I made for my daughter had a slightly crooked hem, I advised her to keep her legs moving so nobody would notice.

No question about it — while my intentions are good, my skills are lacking.

So you can imagine my panic when my little one received a child-sized sewing machine for Christmas. The momentary relief I felt when I thought she could start sewing her own costumes disappeared the second I realized she didn’t know how. The grandmother who gave the machine as a gift wouldn’t be much help; after dropping the gift off, she drove to her home, 120 miles distant.

I managed to avoid the subject of sewing lessons until last week, when my budding Suzy Homemaker begged me to teach her to make an apron for her favorite Barbie doll.

Since sewing tiny clothing for Barbie dolls is about as easy as tying shoelaces on ants, I encouraged her to start with something bigger and simpler: the fleece tote bag kit that came with the sewing machine.

Now, you would think that a kit that comes with a toy-sized sewing machine would be as simple as possible. In some ways, this one was — it consisted of only a few pieces and didn’t require any hemming.

But the first step was a doozy — it involved tracing and cutting out a five-pointed star, which was to be appliquéd on the front of the bag.

Taking into consideration the many angles around which she had to maneuver the machine’s needle and the fact that the fleece was kind of stretchy and hard to hold, she might as well have started with an Oscar gown. Sheesh.

By the time the third point was stitched on – more or less – my daughter decided she was ready to solo. She asked me to go somewhere else while she finished the star.

The thought of her tiny fingers being unsupervised so near the up-and-down motion of the menacing needle filled me with dread. But she really, really wanted to do it alone.

“Okay,” I said, reluctantly. “But if you do happen to sew through your finger, you know you should raise the needle all the way before you pull your finger out, right?”

Unfortunately, I know far too many adults who have somehow managed to sew through their fingers. Thankfully, I’m not one of them, but the mere thought had me on pins and needles, so to speak, when I redirected my attention from the sewing machine to my computer.

With confidence born of my encouraging words, she turned to the task at hand. She managed to get the entire star sewn on without spilling a drop of blood.

The next step was almost as difficult – she had to sew four tiny triangles to attach the straps to the tote. The final stitches were easy — just two long, straight seams up the sides and she had herself a tote bag. She immediately turned it upside down and covered the sewing machine with it.

I thought she would lose interest in the machine, but I was wrong. I managed to put off her requests for an apron-sewing lesson until Sunday, when the sewing machine grandma showed up with her grandaughter’s birthday gifts.

She came bearing boxes of fabric, ribbons and trims; snaps and doll clothing patterns. She also brought a child-sized version of her own sewing basket, stuffed with tools guaranteed to bring tears to a paranoid mommy’s eyes: scissors, needles, a pointy, metal seam ripper. And pins — plastic cartons filled with pins short enough to get lost in the carpet, and long enough to puncture a tiny foot.

My daughter spent Sunday afternoon putting her pins into her new tomato-shaped pincushion. She only stuck herself twice and, so far, nobody has found a stray with their bare feet.

I’m encouraged. At the rate she’s going, maybe by Halloween, she’ll be able to teach me a thing or two about sewing.

I wonder how she’d be with a forklift?