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There
are uncounted treasures that have vanished with the popularity of
dime-a-dozen super stores and half-price outlets.
Not so terribly long ago we would take our family's measure and fit
them out ourselves. We’d whip up clothing and accessories on our old
Singer or White or whatever machine our Grandmother used, taught us
on and left behind for us to continue with. We could send for the
patterns in the Farmers Almanac and buy yards of fabric at Vogt's
drygood store on Main. Perhaps a little bonnet board to shore up the
harder working plackets and buttonholes, if needed. Personally, I
swore by Mrs. Bierman's buttonholes. Once the garment was marked you
could leave it with her and she'd charge a quarter per button. They
were of better quality than any made in the commercial markets, I
can tell you. When the collar wore out on our shirts, we took them
to City Cleaners and Mrs. Murphy would turn them for us or mend our
rips and/or worn out knees and elbows. Erna or Eugene blocked my crochet
and knitting for mere pennies and there was always conversation and
a few good jokes floating around the front desk, especially if Bernice
was there.
One of the last bastions of self-expression that isn't illegal, unhealthy
or just plain dangerous is the act of dressing ourselves. Many winters
ago I made several of my friends velvet dresses. They had that cozy,
heavy, ‘hangy’ feeling and I wore mine out before spring. Everyone
has seen similar dresses on the rack at various department stores,
but they just aren't the same. Mine were simple; no fuss scoop neck
jumper-type dresses that looked good on most everyone and didn't cost
an arm and a leg to make. My friend, Mick, designs and makes wonderful
frocks and men’s' & women’s' casual wear that can't be found anywhere
else. They're suited to full-bodied women and men and enhance the
positive aspect of that fullness. In these complicated times it's
rather hard to find clothing on the rack that suits anyone who isn't
either rail thin or XXX22+. The selections aren't particularly attractive
or thoughtful, either. To make matters worse, the latest 'reality'
TV show involving fashion design features a kind of neurotic bunch
of metrosexual individuals who appear to design for shock value as
opposed to flattering fit and comfort of movement.
Another seamstress friend of mine bought a suitcase at an estate sale
that I'll never forget. It contained a collection of hand-made clothing
belonging to a long forgotten male child. There was an example of
each piece of his clothing spanning the years from infancy to adolescence
when he earned his 'long pants'. Each specimen was lovingly hand sewn
and had been fitted to the child...from the baptism gown, soakers,
one-sie, sailor suit, knickers and finally the corduroy long pants
and blazer. Each shy little shirt, vest, jacket and knitted sweater,
sock and tweed hat became more elegant and finely turned out as the
years went by. By the time the long pants and blazer came along Mother
was an expert.
Speaking of treasures, there was a young cowboy who would bring his
felt to hang on the barbershop wall in the spring and leave it there
all the hot summer. In the fall, he’d swap it out with his summer
straw. One winter he ripped a chunk out of the felt's brim chasing
calves through the brush and had sewn it back together while in the
saddle. It looked pretty darn good and almost fit exactly where it
was supposed to. He knew how much I admired that old hat and had his
Mother send it along to my shop to hang for good when he married up
and quit that lonesome work to raise a family. That old hat is hanging
on my wall somewhere, still. I guess that's a profession that still
allows a bit of sewing if you're an adventurous soul.
Life in the fast lane makes for little time to engage in these rites
of passage anymore. All we need now is a few minutes, a shopping cart,
a little piece of plastic and we're outfitted with the rest of our
kind in mostly identical duds. On the other hand, where would we get
our rags without these huge factory style rubber-stampers? Think of
the huge garage sales, thrift stores, landfills...but I digress. At
least we can be thankful that corsets and bustles are no longer the
rage. |
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