While my mother and I may not always see eye to eye, I can happily say that I will forever be grateful for what I’ve learned from her. In this particular instance, I am referring to sewing.
My mother taught me to sew at a very young age, and I don’t mean stitching together some cheesy project with a needle and thread. I mean that she taught me to use her sewing machine, and that I was reasonably adept by the age of 10.
I recall taking a six week block of Home Economics when I was in 6th grade, and all of the students were supposed to order a basic sewing project out of the catalog. I got permission to order one of the stuffed animals instead (because pillows are boring). I grew up sewing clothing and costumes and what have you on her old Pfaff machine, and I was spoiled by it.
When I left for college, my mother took me shopping, for the one thing that a young woman really needed as she sets out to make her way in the world: a sewing machine. We got me an entry-level Singer, and it wasn’t a bad machine, but it only did the basics.
To this day, I long for a nice, mid-level Pfaff (their top of the line models sell for about $10K). They make beautiful machines. And, ooh, the projects I could make with one!
So what’s the point? Sewing is fun? I’ve got some mad seamstressing skills? Well, the point is that my mother’s view of sewing as a lifelong skill proves to be true now and again… like when I need to make a relatively minimal alteration to a bridesmaid’s dress for an upcoming wedding. And it means that I don’t have to pay someone else to tear out two seams, adjust the straps about an inch, and re-stitch them.
So thanks, Mom, for taking the time some twenty-odd years ago to teach me how to sew. It really has been a useful skill.