Rainy Days & Mondays

Friends, remember Rain, that mysterious sometimes-MPB reader who appeared seemingly out of nowhere last winter offering to restore my beloved Singer 15-91 sewing machine?

Well he's back.  Last Friday he returned my machine and -- what can I say? -- it's gorgeous!  Rain said he's going to provide me with a full list of all the restoration work he has done (and hopefully not a bill), half of which I probably won't understand.   He says he wants me to have it for my records.

Am I supposed to be keeping records...of anything?

Here's a before shot -- grimy grimy grimy:



And after -- how did he do that?



Before:



After:





Isn't that amazing?

Rain restored the machine top to bottom, inside and out.  Even the peddle has been rewired.

Meanwhile, crackerjack Rain is taking a look at my Featherweight.  It seems that there are teeny tiny burrs on the hook that need to be polished down somehow and Rain doesn't have the necessary tools to do it.  Lacking 1/10th of the patience Rain has, I decided to purchase another Featherweight hook assembly on eBay for about $35 from someone who is selling a Featherweight for parts (she has excellent feedback).  I suspect Rain thinks this is sort of cheating, but I'm tired of not being able to use my machine.  I didn't want to have to ship my hook across the country (or to the UK) to one of the specialists Rain mentioned as possibilities.  I mean, really.  

Now friends, you may be wondering how I compensated Rain for all his hard work.  It seems that Rain is eager to own a Singer 15 hand crank.  The original hand cranks were the 15-89 model, but the 15-88 and 15-90s can also be converted.  Now, you may recall, I purchased a Singer 15-90 to use in my treadle table, but changed my mind, and am treadling with the original 66 the table came with.

Readers, I gave Rain my 15-90.

I know what you're thinking: this was Rain's nefarious plan from the  beginning and I fell for it.  If it was, I forgive him.  I am actually delighted to free up the space on my sewing table.  I'd bought the 15-90 before I stumbled upon my Pfaff 30.  And now I have my 15-91 back in working condition and eventually I'll have my Featherweight.  So I have plenty of machines.

One wants to stay on the the good side of someone like Rain.  You never know what might break down next, and he makes house calls (well, to me at least).   I may even bake him brownies.

Readers, we're out of time.  I was away this weekend so I have all kinds of catching up to do.  In just one week we begin our Jeans Sew-Along and I ask that those who are hyperventilating with anticipation take a deep breath and visualize clouds or waves or something.  It's going to be OK.  Have you joined the Flickr group yet?

Happy Monday, everybody!

MPB First-Ever Valerie Bertinelli Pattern GIVEAWAY!

Readers, do you remember the Seventies?  I do -- vividly -- and I just know Valerie Bertinelli wore a dress like the one pictured above on One Day at a Time.  Or am I thinking of Valerie Harper?

But more about today's vintage pattern giveaway in a moment.  First, I have to share with you a strange thing that happened to me yesterday.  So I'm sitting on my sofa stitching in the facings of my bolero jacket -- you know, a normal Saturday -- when I receive a phone call from Rain.  Remember, Rain, the guy who offered to tune up my Singer 15-91 sewing machine at some unspecified future time in exchange for some yet-to-be-determined quantity of sewing guidance?

Rain tells me he's in my area with a friend who has a car, and would I like him to pick up my 15-91 now so he could work on it?  Well, sure, I said.  I mean, why not, right?

So ten minutes later he rings my doorbell -- well him and his Akita -- and five minutes after that he's walking out the door with my treasured, albeit crumbly-wired, 15-91 sewing machine.





Readers, your honest opinion:

Will I ever see this sewing machine again?  I mean, who is Rain?  The whole thing sounds a little suspicious but being the trusting person I am, I figure let's see what happens.  It's not like it's my only sewing machine and I was certainly in no hurry to rewire it myself.  Maybe Rain is a person who badly needs a sewing machine and this is the only way he can think of to get his hands on one.

And speaking of vintage sewing machines, look what I made yesterday with my Pfaff 30: a belt for Cathy's new dress using the topstitching-new-fabric-atop-old-vinyl-belt method.  This machine not only managed this with no problem whatsoever, it even stitched through double layers of vinyl to secure the buckle!  (Don't try this with your Brother LS2125.)



But now back to our giveaway:



This charming pattern dates from 1973 and is in fine vintage condition.  It's a size 12 -- 34" bust and 26 1/2" waist.  I love the sweetheart neckline and the details on the sleeves.  It would be perfect for spring in a crepe, linen, or double knit.



I also love these shoes; sadly they don't come with the pattern.



MPB followers the world over are eligible to enter and all you have to do to participate is answer one simple question:

What do you think Rain intends to do with my sewing machine and will I ever see it again?

OK, that's two questions.

You have till Monday at midnight EST to enter and I'll announce the winner on Tuesday.  Be creative! (Winner will be chosen at random of course but still.)

Thank you again for all your wonderful comments on yesterday's Approval post.  It's wonderful to hear so many different perspectives and they enrich the blog tremendously.

Happy Sunday, everybody!

P.S. Michael announces his giveaway winner on his blog today.  Can you stand it?

In other news... + Teaching Schedule!

Friends, do you ever have rescue fantasies?  I do -- in fact, I'm having one right now.  I bring this up because yesterday, out of nowhere, I was rescued and let me tell you, readers, it felt wonderful.  (Don't let them tell you otherwise.)

Remember my beloved Singer 15-91, my go-to machine for everything until I decided on a whim that it needed to be rewired?  And then I couldn't get the hand wheel off because it felt cemented on?  Well MPB reader and all-around handy guy and native New Yorker Rain (as in, Singing in the) offered to remove the hand wheel for me -- he owns about six 15-91's in his large and growing vintage sewing machine collection and he has successfully restored/is restoring all of them!



He arrived yesterday after lunch and in about a minute and a half had that hand wheel off.  Then he starting dismantling the machine itself.  It was thrilling!  He brought his own solvents, special screw drivers (the kind you use for guns), everything but paper towels.





The machine really will need to be rewired and Rain has offered to do it for me in exchange for a little sewing guidance so we're going to do a trade.  He even offered to help me restore -- if needed -- my Featherweight, which still hasn't arrived, btw, nor have I received any communication from the seller since the purchase eight days ago.  This is not good.

And speaking of teaching, it's official: starting May 3rd, I'll be teaching elementary men's clothing construction at a gorgeous space in Brooklyn, Textile Arts Center.  You can read about their course offerings here (mine is toward the bottom).  My first class will focus on making boxers, followed by a more advanced class on jeans, and another on men's shirts.  They're not only for male students, of course, but we are hoping for a few.  I'm very excited about it!

In other news...

Friends, I realized that some of my difficulty making a decision yesterday about the rose-print dress was related to my apartment being a total mess -- Cathy's shoes, hats, stole, still lying about everywhere nearly a week after the big event.  I could barely see my poor Vinyls amid all the detritus.  Something had to give; it was time for another round of decluttering.

Here are few items that didn't make the cut (i.e., adiós a vosotros), along with a few that I'm still not ready to part with.

It breaks my heart, but this vintage crochet wine bottle poodle has to go.  NOTE TO SELF: Avoid kitschy knit-knacks sold in thrift stores -- the fact that somebody else dumped them contains an important message.



I bought this vintage orange Braun hair dryer at the flea market because I liked the design; I don't have any hair to dry.  Alas, it has a European plug and I could never turn it on.  It has been sitting in a drawer for fifteen years!



I also have this classic Braun men's razor, though I have never shaved with it.  I love its Teutonic good looks and I'm not ready to part with it -- yet.



I bought this carrying case in 2001 for a camera I no longer own and I never use a camera case these days anyway.  It's well made but what am I saving it for?  It just sits.  It's hard for me to part with things I paid money for (as opposed to finding in the street).



Here are a few (more) things I'm not ready to part with, though I really should, I know, I know....

This old box of travel soaps, no doubt collected assiduously by some peripatetic newlywed fifty years ago.  The scent of Lux is still overpowering!











And these old autograph albums, seventy years old.  I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff and now when I see it at the flea market (it's always there) I run the other way.  Read them and weep for our collective lost innocence -- and penmanship skills.













In closing readers, I ask you: what kind of crap do you collect that your husband or wife, parent or friend, thinks you're nuts to hold on to but hold on to you must?

Do you consider things like the autograph albums and soaps pictured above priceless memorabilia or just so much dead weight and best tossed in the dumpster?

Any interest in a crochet poodle?

Have a great day everybody!

Peter's Holiday Hodgepodge

Readers, it can no longer be ignored: it's almost you-know-what-mas again.  I hope you've been good little girls and boys; I know I have been!

And speaking of Christmas miracles, just look what I found in the trash yesterday when I was doing laundry.



I call these suede beauties my Sally McGraws, though they're actually by Liz Clairborne.  Might they be prominently featured in a loving visual homage to Sally-style and her fantastic blog Already Pretty sometime in early 2011?  I know Cathy's game; if ONLY we could get Sally to appear as well.  (Universe, do your thing!)

Meanwhile, you'll be happy to know that my back is much, much better, so much so that I was able to launder both my plaid cotton flannel and my leopard cotton velvet.  Both came out beautifully and I couldn't keep myself from experimenting with a little topstitching on the leopard with my new Singer 15-90 treadle.





In even more electrifying news, I have begun to dismantle the wiring of my dearly beloved but dangerous Singer 15-91.  I'm a little embarrassed to show you the state of this machine's wiring for fear you'll think I harbored a death wish.

I'm not sure a shock from an electrified all-metal sewing machine body could kill a person unless it were tossed in one's bath, but it could definitely make one's hair stand on end and result in mild-to-moderate memory loss if a calmer overall affect.

Brace yourself, kids:











I think I'm up to the challenge of this rewiring project and it's helpful to know that many MPB readers have done this themselves -- or at least have an opinion about it.  I feel less alone.

Friends, that's it!  I'm cautiously optimistic about the prospects of getting some real sewing done today.  Sexy leopard pants by Christmas?  We'll see.

Happy Thursday, everybody! 

Any snow falling out there?

BTW, where does one purchase a solderer -- solder gun...blow torch?  Will I need goggles?

BREAKING -- Singer treadle switcheroo!

Friends, I know I lose a great many of you when I talk about vintage sewing machines.  Eyes glaze over, minds wander, thumbs twiddle.  We live in the time of Twitter and attention spans are short.

Hence I pepper my blog entries with video clips, movie memorabilia, and references to yesteryear's exciting stars of tomorrow Troy Donahue, Connie Stevens, and Keir Dullea -- something even knitters (and there are some) can enjoy.

And yet rarely has the topic of sewing machines been as dynamic and fertile here at MPB.  So much to tell!

First of all, I have a surprise for you -- close your eyes -- OK, now open them!





I picked up this little straight stitch walking foot at the informative website, Sew-Classic.  Jenny sells all kinds of useful parts and accessories for vintage sewing machines there, and she has written at great length about some of my favorite Singer models, including the 15-91.

So yesterday I am reading her 15-91 review, and she starts discussing wiring problems common to old 15-91 machines.  I'm like, OK, let's see if my 15-91 also has any of these potentially dangerous problems.  I know there's visible cracking on the wire leading to the light and I know that every once in a while the wire leading to the outlet needs to be moved two inches this way or that way before the machine turns on -- highly suggestive of a short -- but only once in a while!  I unscrew the three-prong terminal on the machine that the power cord plugs into to inspect the condition of the wires (connecting pedal, motor, and lamp) and almost immediately pieces of brittle wire insulation crack off.  This is not good.

Friends, I have decided that one of my first projects in the new year will be to rewire my 15-91.  I don't like shocks of any kind and I can't take risks with my life, not when I have a blog to write.  I may even learn to solder.

But let's get to the topic at hand: treadles.

Yesterday, despite debilitating back pain and with much assistance from Michael since I can't lift 35 lbs. right now, I replaced my Singer 66 treadle machine with the new vintage 15-90 that arrived on Monday.  It took about ten minutes.

Just one screw released the motor, another screw, the lamp.



I then removed the clutch release wheel and the clutch control washer (I'm learning so many new words.).



This is what you see.



Next I slid the hand wheel off and then the belt.



Now the machine looks like this.



Next we removed the machine from its wooden base by unscrewing the hinge screws on the inside base of the machine and sliding the machine off the hinges.  We did the same to the Singer 66 in the treadle table (first removing the hand wheel to free the leather treadle belt).

We placed the Singer 66 in the wooden base that the 15-90 had formerly occupied.  (I've ordered a shorter -- 13 3/4" -- belt through Sew-Classic so I can attach the motor to the 66; that's next.) 



We placed the 15-90 in the treadle table and attached the leather belt.  No belt adjustment necessary!





Beautiful stitches, no electricity needed, and I can regulate stitch length as well as reverse stitch the modern (circa 1949) way.





Friends, nothing is perfect in life but this comes close.  I am a happy man albeit one currently prone to lower back spasms.

For those still with us who have an interest in such things, much (much) better instructions for performing this treadle conversion can be found at the Treadleon.net website, here.  It's an invaluable resource for treadlers and those who love them.

Now who can teach me to solder?

Indulgent readers, we're nearly out of time.  I am so happy I can share my obsessions with you.  Michael and I, Freddy and Willy, and the surviving cast members of Madame X all wish you the happiest of happy holiday seasons.  I'll be back on the morrow, not to worry.

And what of you?  Drowning in a sea of wrapping paper, homemade toddler pajamas, and tote bags?

Do tell!


(Pass the Kleenex as Lana and Keir reduce us to wet noodles.)