I learned from my mother’s memoirs that my great grandfather was a tailor in the late 1800’s. In the one photograph I have of him, he looks like a proud and fastidious man. I can just envision him at work in his Chicago storefront, measuring important clients from head to toe. That was an era long ago when patrons arrived in horse and buggy! I can only imagine how exciting his life must have been, revolving around the important milestones in his customers’ lives. Whether fitting suits, wedding finery or burial clothes, a good tailor was probably on par with one’s clergyman.
As a child, I was told that my grandmother was also a very talented woman. She worked for a decorative arts factory making paper party favors, and she loved to sew. I inherited her black Singer treadle sewing machine which was later converted to electricity. It still has an old piece of cloth wrapped around the top where she stuck her pins after removing them from the fabric. Every time I look at that machine I feel a kindredness with the grandmother I never knew, but completely understand.
My mother was an excellent seamstress, too. She never seemed to give her ability to sew undue attention. After all, didn’t every mother know how to sew? Mom sewed all of my school clothes and costumes for the plays I performed in (she was amazingly selfless). Although I occasionally took my “personal seamstress” for granted, I always marveled at her ability to create a finished product from start to finish.
Finally by the time I reached high school, I tackled sewing my first blouse. I vividly remember laying the pattern out on a piece of aqua blue and pink seersucker fabric. Like all of my ancestors before me, I enjoyed the meticulous process of lining up all the pieces and sewing them together. I remember mom saying how important it was to wash and iron your material before you start to sew and how equally important it is to press each seam flat as you completed them. That blouse is the only garment I sewed at a young age, but thanks to mom, a love for sewing had been rooted deeply to blossom forth in another season of life.
My mother passed away in 1986, and one of the most extraordinary things she did was to leave me her Bernina sewing machine. One of three sisters, I don’t know what prompted her in that direction except that she probably knew I would one day want to sew for my daughters the way she had sewed for me. And she was right. I eventually taught myself to follow pattern directions and began sewing on a regular basis. And like mom, I didn’t realize I was continuing a sewing legacy that would bless generations to come.
When my oldest daughter Claire was ten, I taught her to sew her first jumper, and over the years she had free access to the sewing machine. But it wasn’t until she attended a Civil War Reenactment that she caught a vision for sewing historical costumes. She made three complicated costumes that well surpassed anything I had undertaken (I just love seeing Elizabeth and Anna in her hand-me-downs). And when I was asked to speak at a homeschool convention about nature journaling, she made a very sweet Victorian era costume for her characterization of Beatrix Potter (featured in The Girlhood Home Companion Treasury Album Volume II and Becoming God’s Naturalist ).
If you don’t already sew, I hope my family’s experiences have given you a vision to acquire this practical and highly enjoyable skill. If your mother didn’t teach you, the learning curve may be a little steep in the beginning, but it’s never too late to learn. Sign up for sewing classes at a local sewing center or find an experienced seamstress in your church or community who would be happy to teach you. Sew up a legacy for you and your daughters—one stitch at a time!
If you have some fun sewing experiences, I’d love to hear them. How did you learn to sew? What are your favorite memories that revolve around sewing? Are you teaching your daughters to sew now? Are any of them accomplished seamstresses? Share your story with our audience below!
