I was talking to my mom the other day about sewing and using pinking shears versus finishing off raw edges with a serger or zigzag stitch. She’s a pinking shears sewer, and hers had bitten the dust, so I got her a new pair of Gingher G-7P 7-1/2-Inch Pinking Shears as a birthday gift. I knew she wouldn’t spend the extra bucks on Ginger, so I figured it was the perfect gift. We continued to debate how to finish edges when she turned to me and said, “I did not teach you that,” sort of surprised by her daughter/craft-student. This scene started the following train of thought:

I come from a fairly crafty family. Some of our crafting was due to the joy of making things, but a good deal of it was out of necessity. My dad made a decent living, but I wouldn’t call us rich. While we were better off than most, my parents were frugal and careful (still are) when it comes to money.

As a result, my dad made much of the furniture in our house, repaired the family car, and was a general handyman, fixing anything from a broken Barbie doll’s leg to a clothes dryer. My mom was a SAHM who cooked, cleaned, chauffeured, and all the other million and one “mom” chores that most moms still do. Part of this included sewing for her three girls. In fact, my “princess” picture shows off some of her handiwork. Easter dresses, Halloween costumes, play clothes, even prom dresses were stitched with love by my mom.

We rarely wore store-bought clothes; even our school uniforms often had to be altered with a new hem or elastic in the waist back in the day when I was a toothpick. I did not appreciate the work that went into my clothing back then. Actually, it was kind of the opposite. The few store-bought clothes I had were rare and thus cherished. Some of it was due to the novelty of it all, but admittedly, mom sewed mainly for practical purposes. For example, she would often get one pattern that had multiple sizes and make three identical dresses in three different sizes for her three different sized girls. Polyester (a 1970s staple and nothing like what we have today) was her primary choice of fabric. It was inexpensive and easy to work with.

She was a self-taught seamstress who learned for her own practical reasons: As the oldest of five children, the only way she got new clothes was if she made them herself. Like any good mom during the 70s and 80s, she attempted to pass down her domestic knowledge to her daughters. And, I did pick up a thing or two in between jamming her sewing machine with thread and burning the occasional batch of cup cakes. I also learned some sewing skills when I joined a local 4-h club during junior high. However, my knowledge-base was solidified years later when a college roommate of mine (who is not only an amazingly talented stitcher but whose mom was a home-ec teacher on top of that) gave me a number of one-on-one sewing lessons.

During this time, I began to realize that I could make clothes that were better than “store-bought.” While mom gave me the nuts and bolts of sewing, my roomie taught me how to refine it. This included extra steps like finishing seams, hand-stitching hems, pressing after pinning, and covering shoulder pads (it was the 80s!) with matching material. These extra touches, along with the fact that my finished pieces were actually wearable, finally made it all “click” in me. I got it! It was an empowering feeling, and I understand a little more now about why mom took her precious time to make clothes for us. Today’s talk of “sustainability” was a way of life for my folks, and being able to do for yourself versus being dependent on others is a good feeling.