Alas JoAnn Fabrics! I knew you well.

The recent demise of JoAnn fabrics might also have collateral damage in the form of my infrequent but joyful forays into the realm of the peacetime arts of Athena, the goddess of crafts. I identify myself proudly as a “not in the least” creative person with no original ideas. It was in our 7th grade sewing class that this became evident.  The teacher was mercilessly unencouraging and it didn’t help that the Singer treadle machines (now found in museums!) required synchronised delicate movements of feet to operate the needle along with deft hands to guide the fabric in straight lines. Too many skills to master at once for me!  I blamed the fact that I seemed to get everything upside down or back to front on my left handed brain. My sister had greater success and, having bought a Singer portable machine some years later, made some of her own clothes. I marveled at this machine that creatively turned fabric into tailor made clothes that Grandfather Barr, a tailor by trade, would have been proud of. In my late teens, I bought patterns and fabric to follow suit, but I frequently got stuck with my own pins, frustrated by the instructions, and my finished efforts belonged more in the “not quite as seen on Pinterest” category.  

  

Years later, when I was pregnant with Lyn, I wanted to create a welcoming and perfect nursery so I requested a sewing machine for Christmas.  Once again, Singer promised confidently to “unleash inner creativity” by providing an array of stitches, zipper possibilities and buttonholes when all I needed was to sew in a straight line.  An excellent seamstress friend came over to offer some simple instructions and convinced me I too could be a capable sewer.  For crib bedding, (before all that was banned) I entered the amazing world of trying to find the perfect fabrics. I had so much fun with mix-and-match fabrics and furbelows, trim, and ribbons that made plain items into exclusively crafted and personalised ones.  Encouraged by my initial success, I followed the example of other mothers in the church and expanded the repertoire to simple pinafores, which required use of the buttonhole device on my machine, dresses, some with zippers, winter flannel nightdresses and summer shorts.  I enjoyed choosing the fabrics and playing with contrasts and textures. I was amazed how flat fabric could take on forms and shapes and be transformed in an afternoon.  The quality and my patience gradually improved and the pride in completed products overlooked not a few imperfections. Alas, eventually “made by mom” was no longer a desired brand and the sewing machine took a rest in the back of the closet. 

In 2002 we moved to Leesburg to a more spacious house. Everyone talked about how exciting it would be to decorate and furnish it, to plan the new rooms and arrange the furniture in different settings. This all just seemed very daunting to me as we were dealing with a longer commute and busier schedules and I had really enjoyed the comfort of the home we left. Now the task was to turn the new house into a home.

I watched the sunrise in the mornings to  see how the light played on the walls.  I  watched where the spring flowers bloomed and how the autumn leaves changed on nearby trees.  I  felt the summer’s cool relief from the outside and the comfort of its warmth and walls against the first snow, blizzard, and its protection while Hurricane Isabel relentlessly tore down power lines but kept us safe within.  Finally I was ready to decorate and I decided that by giving each room a theme or motif I could carry colors and textures from one space to the next. That required time and patience to coordinate fabrics and paint choices. So I blew the dust off my trusty Singer  and treated it to an oil change and service at the local craft store. During breaks and holidays I set off in search of materials at a fancy new high end fabric store hoping I would do them justice. Guided by images in magazines or books and coached by sewing experts, with my trusty Singer’s help, I made an array of drapes and duvet covers, pillow and cushion covers, all carefully chosen to complement each room’s light and theme, with the goal that at the end of busy days they would provide a haven. The greatest challenge again was sewing in a straight line - my variety of zigzag being the default! 

Casual valances created light and relaxing moods to link the inside to the outside in the sunroom, light hearted blues and whites for Lyn’s room, demure toiles for the primary bedroom, colorful cabana stripe drapes with matching but muted bedding for the guest suite, while an English garden theme with heavy trim provided a restful setting in the other. The final project was valences and cushions for the living room which also housed the library so it needed to be comfortable and cosy. In this project I discovered the use for my long-lost geometry as I measured and pleated, making sure to respect the adage, “measure twice but cut once” to avoid costly and irreparable mistakes in calculation. In doing these I learned other tricks of the trade, the power of super glue to hold the fabric perfectly on mounting boards with no sewing required!  I labored hard with the luscious thick cushion fabric and their lion mane trim to match the ottoman, and I broke several sewing machine needles in the effort  but they were  worth every penny, minute, needle and curse as they still adorn the sofa in our home in West Virginia maybe 15 years later. They had better last as I have no desire to put the machine or myself through that experience again. 

And after a long rest of several years, during the pandemic (2020), Mr. Singer emerged for a sequel to its original mission, to make cute and comforting baby blankets, (all only requiring straight lines), for the next generation, and of course to make masks to keep us safe.  For almost forty years, it has been not just a useful tool but a forgiving partner, along with JoAnn fabrics, in trying to remedy the transgressions and trauma of 7th grade sewing class!  

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