SEWING—FOR SURE!

My writer friend, Christy Struben, says that when I write, I somehow go off on little "rabbit trails." I can't dispute that at all. My mind just goes faster than I can manage and I write so many things that have nothing to do with one another. I just have to get everything in before I forget it. Guess that comes with "old age" creeping up on me.

Sewing. That was what I had intended to write about in the blog before this one. My husband had given me four pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans for Christmas. Since I am so short, I have to cut off a couple inches and hem them up again. I don't believe I have ever bought but one pair of jeans that fit lengthwise since I began wearing jeans when I was a teenager. I usually go to the petite section of the store but even some of those clothing does not fit well. I am by no means petite in body stature. I'm just shortwaisted and short legged.

I wear a size 6 shoe but I can't find a pair of socks to fit my small "short" foot. The normal size sock for my shoe size is about an inch too long and either the heel comes up to my ankle or I have to turn it under, which makes the toes feel very uncomfortable. My wonderful aunt in Alabama could cut the toe of the sock off and painstakingly sew it up again so it would fit. She had a small foot too. She sent me several pair of socks she had sewn up like that and believe it or not-they fit! I have long since worn them out so I can't use them as a pattern to follow to fix mine. I resorted to buying boys socks and they fit the foot great, but they are very snug around the ankle and lower leg areas. It cuts off the circulation a bit down there so I don't know whether that is good or bad. My dear Aunt Velma has long since passed to her eternal home so I won't be getting any more socks from her. One of her daughters, Christine, I believe, worked in the sock factory in Alabama and she brought some of the imperfect socks home and gave to Aunt Velma. Those are the socks my aunt would fix at the toes. Not to brag for the sake of bragging, but southern people who have lived lives of poverty, learn how to "make-do" with whatever comes their way. I guess I come by that naturally. I've learned a lot in my life so I try to pass on some of the goodies I've learned.

Now, getting back to sewing—again. When my husband was in the army and stationed in Viet Nam, he sent me a box of silk fabric made over there. In the box was three bolts of fabric; turquoise blue, pure white, and gold. When I opened the box I thought I was in heaven. I thought of so many things to make out of that lovely silk. All of the bolts of material had oriental designs all over it. I chose the turquoise first to sew. I bought a lovely dress pattern of a mandarin dress with high collar and those fancy "frogs" for closures. Then I set to work cutting out the dress as well as a lining of the same color that I had bought. I was never so careful of cutting and basting, then sewing slowly so as not to make a mistake. I had never sewn anything so tedious in my all my years of sewing. The silk and the rayon lining was constantly shifting and I'd find myself doing crazy things with my needle and thread to keep the two slippery pieces of material in line with one another. After a few times taking out the same stitches I had just put in, I learned that I really did need the pins as well as the basting to keep the material from shifting and ruining the design of the dress. The finished dress was my triumph once I tacked the frogs to the front opening, just like the oriental tailors did it. When I tried that dress on and it fit like a glove, showing off my curves and bust line, I couldn't have been more pleased with myself. I had my next door neighbor take a picture of me in it and I sent it to my husband. The "Wow!" I got when he saw the picture said volumes! I could almost picture in my mind the way his eyes sparkled when he was pleased.

Next, I bought a pattern for a simple sundress with rounded collar and full back zipper that went below my waist. I chose the gold silk to create this dress. Again, I bought gold rayon for the lining. I worked for days cutting and sewing the dress, lining it completely. When it was done and I had it on, it looked like a cocktail dress. What it needed now was a matching stole for cover up on a cool evening. So, I set to work again, also lining it with the gold rayon material. I really wasn't done though. I thought it needed a matching long coat-jacket. So, again, I bought a pattern and in no time I had a beautiful evening coat to wear in case the weather grew cool when the sun went down.

Looking at my new wardrobe, I couldn't have been more pleased with myself. I showed it to several friends and they oohed and aahed over the dresses and stole, plus the evening coat. Now, where would I wear something so simple and yet elegant? I bought wardrobe "closets" to hang everything in so they wouldn't need pressing after hanging in my closet.

I wrote my husband about my accomplishments with the material he sent me and my trusty sewing machine that was just a few years old then. (It is now almost 60 years old and still running well.) I decided not to use the white silk just yet, but I knew that one day it would get its' turn at becoming something beautiful.

Years later, when our third child, a girl we named Evelyn Marie, was six years old, was going to make her first holy communion. We were living in Germany at the time. I took the bus and went into Hanau, a lovely town that had a big department store called the Kaufhoff, much like Target is today. There I found a few yards of German white lace for the overlay skirt and bodice. Afterward, I went to our Post Exchange (the PX) and I found some white organdy material to make an underskirt. I found a pattern for the dress I wanted to make and promptly set to work on it. Marie's first holy communion was only a few weeks off. She had to look as pretty, or prettier than the rest of the girls. I cut and basted and sewed until I was almost blind but I finished the dress on time. My husband and I couldn't have been prouder if I had made a dress for a princess. Well, let's face it—she was our princess! I took lots of pictures of her in her beautiful white dress, white veil and flower tiarra and white baby doll shoes.

Now, our three children are all grown up; our two boys into fine young men and our daughter into a beautiful, successful woman. My dresses are still in the zippered bags to keep them clean, and Marie's dress is in the closet. She is married now for twenty six years and as Fate would have it, she has no children, no little girl of her own to wear her communion dress. I'll just keep it and remember when I sewed it with Viet Nam silk, German lace and American organdy. (I thought of it as a real international dress.)

Enough about sewing now. God bless you who will read this labor of love. Evelyn.