Peter Speaks! The Kenmore 158.141 video

Friends, I'd like to introduce your formally to my new Kenmore zigzagger, with a short video I made.

I haven't used this machine on a project yet -- there hasn't been time -- but I will and soon.  I love this Kenmore's power and the beautiful stitches it makes.  And it's great having the sewing table, too, though it's the third one in our living room to date and things are getting rather cramped.

But that's my headache.  Please sit back and relax and enjoy the soothing sound of a 1.2 amp sewing machine motor as played by an electronic foot pedal -- there's nothing like it!

Have a great day, everybody!

"Oops, I did it again!" or Peter's Latest Vintage Sewing Machine

Friends, as I've said in the past, when it comes to $20 sewing machines, I have no resistence.   Anything over that and I get very picky -- and rational.   But quote me $20 and I'm hauling that baby home.

I found this vintage (Sixties, I believe) Kenmore 158.141 at the flea market this morning in a table.  In fact, the $20 included the table and I told the guy I'd be back to haul the table home but now I'm not so sure I will.  I have two sewing machine tables already and if you think things are tight with the sewing machines, you can imagine how tight they are with the tables.  

I hate to think that table is going to go to waste -- I'm sure it'll end up in the garbage -- but I don't have room for it.  It had a neat spring action attachment that made the machine pop up easily, unlike my Pfaff table or my Singer treadle table.  Unfortunately, it wasn't all that attractive -- made more for a basement than a living room.

I was actually going to the flea market in search of a straw bag for Cathy (which I didn't get), not a sewing machine.  I really should be chaperoned.

But more about the machine...

Sewing machines in tables are almost always pristine, as this one was.  But it probably hadn't been sewed with in forty years.  When I say this machine was frozen, I mean it was frozen.  Solid.  But I've been through this before to varying degrees.  You oil every place where metal touches metal.  And sure enough, slowly but surely, it started to move.

This machine is a lot like my very first sewing machine, the Kenmore 158.1212, only with more stitches.  It has two settings, one for regular forward stitches, and then one for stitches that go backward.

It takes regular Class 15 bobbins and uses standard low shank feet.  I'll probably add a low-shank snap-on foot adapter and use my generic snap-on feet.



Even without changing the needle or fussing with the tension, the stitches look fine.



The one problem it seems to be having is stitching a plain zigzag; I think it just needs a little more oil and a little more use.  It seems very unlikely that a machine that can do embroidery stitches like the ones above couldn't handle a simple zigzag.

UPDATE: problem solved!  It just needed a longer oil soak:



Did I mention that this Kenmore has a 1.2 amp motor?  That's strong, folks!  The 158 Kenmores were made in Japan by Jaguar/Marzen and they are wonderful machines.  Here's an interesting article I found about vintage Kenmores on eBay.

I'm especially happy not to have to deal with cams.

And speaking of cams, remember the Singer 401A from last week?  Well guess what -- it's still at the flea market!  I didn't ask what it was going for this week (less one would hope).  I'm sure it's a wonderful machine, but I think I draw the line at machines that need their own special feet.  I have too many attachments as it is.

Friends, that's it.  If you're wondering about the 40's midriff outfit, we're on schedule.  I hope to have Cathy here for a photo shoot tomorrow.

Yesterday I worked on the skirt, adding the contrasting fabric to the button placket to tie it in with the midriff top.





Here's how it's looking so far:



Shortly we're having lunch with Michael's folks, who are in NYC for the day with friends.  Then it's back home to finish my outfit.  New sewing machine, lunch out, sewing Cathy clothes -- life is good.

Have a great day, everybody!

Roads Not Taken

Readers, I was this close to buying a vintage Singer 401A sewing machine at the flea market yesterday.  The dealer was asking $80, but I'm pretty certain he'd have taken less.  It came complete with a box of slant attachments and a very nice carrying case, and it looked like such fun.

But I exercised some restraint (for a change) and walked away.  Let someone else buy it who really needs it, I thought or did I actually say it out loud?

I don't have the space and I don't need the clutter -- physical or mental; I have a lot of sewing to do.  Despite last winter's eight-machine purge, plus my impulse gift to Rain of a Singer 15-90, I still have what feels like an awful lot of vintage sewing machines:

Singer 15-91



Singer 99



Singer 221 Featherweight



Singer 66 treadle



Pfaff 30
 

Pfaff 139 zigzagger
 

Viking 3240 zigzagger



Plus my Brother 1034D serger -- which has performed flawlessly for more than 16 months.



That's a lot of sewing machines, no? 

No, I can't justify one more sewing machine, unless it were a vintage Elna Lotus, of course.  (If you know some good reasons for skipping the Lotus, please share them.)

I feel proud of myself and I know you feel proud of me too.  I mean, maybe if I had a dedicated room solely for sewing machines, as some of you have.  But I live in an apartment, and wherever I happen to be sewing, a lot of other things are going on too, including cooking, blogging, and chihuahua wrestling.

Still, every time I let a deal like the aforementioned Singer go by, I feel a brief pang of regret -- like, it would have been worth the money just to play with the machine for a while, and then pass it on to a sewing machine hoarder friend like Rain or Johanna.

I often get emails from MPB readers telling me about the fantastic deals they got via their local Craigslist or some estate sale.  The same reader I mentioned a few weeks ago whom I'd advised on a purchase of a Singer 99K (the very same day I found my 99K) just sent me this:

For $50 he picked up this stunning Singer 201 complete with attachments, table and stool!

Does this email seem a little insensitive to you, readers?  I always try to see the good in people.  He no doubt wanted to share his good fortune with me.  And who doesn't enjoy sharing others' (extraordinary) good fortune? 

In closing, friends, today I'd like to focus not on the things we have, but on the things we have chosen not to have.

• Because we exercised some self-discipline. 
• Because we were responsible adults to our insatiable inner children and said no, not this, not now.  
• Because it was the right thing to do.

Tell me about a deal you passed up.  A good deal -- no, a great deal.  Tell me about how you at first tried to rationalize the purchase but ultimately resisted, and why.  Tell me how you never regretted it.

Make me feel better!

(Nearly) Jeans-Free Friday!

Friends, we're off to a late start today, as Blogger has been down all morning.  Yesterday's Jeans Sew-Along button fly post was MIA for a while there, but is back.  (The comments were lost, unfortunately.)

I'm nearly finished with Michael's button fly jeans and we're both very happy with them.  More pics this weekend.



In other news: I have a new sewing machine!  In fact, I topstitched Michael's waistband with it.  Here's the story:

Since visiting Rain last month in his amazing sewing machine workshop/apartment, I've been haunting the sewing machine listings on eBay again.  It's a terrible habit, I know, and obviously has absolutely nothing to do with needing another sewing machine.  I mean, I gave my 15-90 to Rain!

Then earlier this week I got an email from an MPB reader who was in the market for a new sewing machine and asked me what he should purchase.  Since his budget didn't include a serger, I recommended a vintage Sixties or Seventies Kenmore zigzagger for overcasting, and a Singer 15-91 or 201 for everything else.  He found a Kenmore zigzagger locally on Craigslist for something like $30, and he was looking for a Singer on eBay.  Don't you love when people ask for your advice and actually follow it?

Well naturally, all this sewing machine talk got me thinking about sewing machines even more fervently, and I started exploring Craigslist.  On Wednesday, someone near me posted a vintage Singer that looked a lot like a 99K for $20.  Friends, $20 for a sewing machine is the equivalent of free in my book, so I immediately emailed the seller and set up an appointment to pick it up that evening.

Sure enough, the machine was a lovely, dusty, Singer 99K.  The seller, a young woman who couldn't have been nicer, had purchased the machine at a garage sale the previous year but never learned to thread it and bought herself an inexpensive new Janome instead.  She never did figure out it was a 99K or get a hold of the manual.  Kids!

I was only too happy to take it off her hands (before Rain got his greedy mitts on it; he practically lives on Craigslist apparently).  I put the machine in an oversized bag (all 35 lbs!) and carried it four blocks to the subway and 15 minutes later was back home examining my treasure.  Behold!



Readers, I love this machine so.  It was dusty, the wooden box is beat up, and the wires will need to be replaced down the road, but it's a thing of beauty and power.  The 99K is a 3/4 size Singer, nearly identical to the Singer Spartan, which was the no frills version of the 99 (the "K" refers to Kilbowie, Scotland, where it was manufactured).  The 99K came with a lamp and attachments, plus the carrying case.   I always kind of regretted selling my Singer Spartan last winter, but this 99K is even better -- amazing piercing power and a sturdier pedal.



My version dates from 1949 but still has the old screw to adjust stitch length (like my Singer 66) and lacks a reverse.  No matter, I love it with the intensity with which one can only love a vintage sewing machine that cost $20 -- it makes me love me more too!  After a lot of oiling and a few minor adjustments, it was stitching, beautifully, cotton shirting, denim, and leather! 







The 99K is an excellent lower-priced alternative to the 201 and 15-91 models.  On eBay they rarely go for more than $100 and often for significantly less.  The funniest part is that yesterday the guy I'd advised about sewing machines the previous day told me he'd purchased a 99K too!  Spooky, no?

More pics of my new machine here.

Friends, that's it for today.  More jeans talk tomorrow as we wind down our Sew-Along.  (I know -- if only it could go on forever.)

Happy Friday, everybody!

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!

Sewing and the Impulse Purchase

Kind readers, I won't lie: I've indulged in a few impulsive pick-ups in my day -- shopping, I mean.

I am not a spendthrift, however -- just the opposite -- and other than my local Rite Aid (when I need nail polish) I avoid stores.

You're probably wondering, well, how about those saddle shoes you were obsessing over the other day?  Friends, they came, I saw, and I conquered my desire for saddle shoes; plus the toe box was too narrow.  Back to Zappos they go!



Walking the dogs yesterday, I chanced upon these Opening Ceremony brand men's gray suede shoes in great condition in the trash.  The price, as they say, was right, and the fit, perfect.  Saddle shoes can wait for the sales.



At the flea market -- completely cash-based, obviously -- I'm always clear-headed and cautious. A typical purchase is $2 kid gloves or vintage fabric, or a few $1 patterns, many of which become giveaways (I'm always thinking of your needs, readers).





 

With most other things like clothes, I'm happy to shop the Salvation Army or make it myself (with the exception of socks).

Parenthetically, one of the best things about Amazon is that you can create a "wish list."  Nearly everything I've ever put on my wish list I've revisited later and decided against purchasing.  Try it -- it's a great tool.

No, when it comes to shopping, I have only two weaknesses: Etsy, and eBay.

Actually, since the only things I've ever bought on Etsy are patterns, it hasn't been that big a problem. Do I sew every pattern I purchase?  Of course not.  But I have sewn roughly half, with about half of the rest on my to-do list.  A few, admittedly, are filed under "What Was I Thinking?"



But we're talking $5 here, $5 there (and often less), nothing big. Some people buy Soy Lattes at Starbucks, I buy patterns. And I always shop around (many patterns are listed by multiple sellers at wildly varying prices).

Here's my latest, which can be had for $4, $6, or $12 -- take your pick.



Ebay is my true weakness.  To be clear: I will not purchase things I don't have the money for upfront.  I would never go into debt for, say, a doll...or five or six.



Or their wardrobe.



Or stinky luggage.  (Note to self: remove months-old cat litter, execute Plan B.)



Or vintage wool bathing suits.  (A passing phase.)





So you can probably guess where this is leading.  On Friday I made an impulse purchase of the worst -- or best -- kind, depending on how you look at it.



The way I see it is this:  I haven't bought one sewing machine yet all year and here it is nearly April, my birthday month.  I've had an intense last few weeks, and it's healthy to indulge now and then, right?  If I hate it, I can clean it up a bit and sell it.

I've been looking at these on eBay, Craigslist, and at the flea market for a long time and while the one I chose wasn't the bargain of the century, it wasn't high for Featherweights (due, in part to the machine needing a new belt and coming in a somewhat beat up case).

I should receive it any day now and friends, I can't wait.  Shouldn't a man who writes about vintage sewing machines have working knowledge of a Featherweight?  Of course he should (I think).

In closing, dear readers, confession time:

Have you ever made a sewing-related impulse purchase?  Do you tend to be more impulsive with sewing purchases or are you the same way with everything you buy?

Fabric, sewing machines, notions, other -- we don't judge at MPB. 

Confess and absolve yourselves!

Resisting Sewing Obsession

Readers, as you can see, I now have my Pfaff 30 here at home in its original table.  I am so into this machine.  We have an incredible physical connection.

But it's not perfect.

And friends, this is where I need your help.  You know how you've helped me get past some of my former obsessions, like fitting my self-drafted bodice and living with the natural drape of my wool melton toggle coat?  Well now I need to learn how to live with a vintage sewing machine that isn't quite at its physical peak though definitely possessing all the potential to get there.

The belt, one of those stretchy tube-like ones, while still basically intact, could probably be replaced.  I can do that easily.



Tinkering with belts of late, I have learned to my surprise that belts often do better looser rather than tighter, as a tight belt can strain the motor.  That adjustment definitely helped in the case of the Pfaff 30. 

BTW, have I showed you my knee pedal?  I love not having to deal with one more pedal on the floor.  When I first attached it it seemed oddly high until I remembered that that lever part swings down.  Duh.  (I was like, Did women sew in high heels or something so their knees were up higher...?)



Then there's the subject of cleaning.  OK, here's the deal: while I am willing to douse my sewing machines with enough sewing machine oil to give them acne, I draw the line at kerosene.  Those inclined toward the mechanical -- Debbie, Susan -- certainly know about kerosene.  It's sort of like gasoline, and in some parts of the world is used as a fuel source, and it's supposed to be incredibly effective at dissolving old grease,  unsticking frozen gears, and killing head lice (I'm not kidding).  But its smell is easily absorbed into just about everything and once you have that smell in your house, fuggitabout it -- you have to move.

Now I do have a balcony where I could work but right now it's covered with about ten inches of snow and it's freezing outside.  I actually do own a liter of kerosene -- it was recommended in my old Elna Grasshopper instruction manual to use as a lubricant -- which has been sitting on a shelf on the balcony; it's recommended you don't even store the stuff in your house.

Even the plastic container the kerosene comes in stinks -- think gas station mixed with bus exhaust -- and I just don't want to deal with it.  I've read about people soaking entire machine heads in kerosene to thoroughly clean them, but honestly, where do they do this?  Certainly not in their living room.

Frankly, while all my machines could benefit from this sort of cleaning, is it necessary?  When I turn the hand wheels of my Singers, they feel wonderfully free; the Pfaff, a little bit less so.  I've oiled and wiped and oiled again and I think the more I sew on the machine the more things will loosen up -- this was definitely the case for my Singer 15-91 which, as you may recall from my 15-91 video, arrived a little noisy and stiff and now runs like a thoroughbred, even though I never did more than oil it (with plain old Singer sewing machine oil).

I have to remind myself that these machines are here to serve me in my sewing and not me to serve them, though obviously I want to keep my tools in good shape.  I like when vintage machines need a little TLC and it's a great feeling to bring an old machine back to working life, as I did with my Singer 66 treadle.

But they -- like my sewing projects -- don't have to be perfect, right?

I'm also thinking of buying a wire sealant for the old wires in my Singer 15-91 and not replacing all of them right now.  For one thing, as I mentioned the other day, the clutch release wheel is stuck.  It's going to take kerosene to break that down, and I can't rewire the motor without removing the hand wheel (I don't think).  I'll likely replace the light, where the wire deterioration is most evident, with the light that came with my 15-90.  Or not, I don't know.

Friends of an obsessive bent, how do you deal with these moments of compulsive tinkering, be it on a sewing project or maintaining a vintage sewing machine?  Is it best to just go for a swim, clean out a closet, make soup -- anything that takes you away from the obsession du jour?

I think this is why people buy brand new sewing machines.  When they break -- and they will -- you can just throw them away and buy another one.  You can't soak a plastic Brother LS2125 in kerosene, that's for sure. 

 Guys, I need good tips and I need them soon, before I start preparing my kerosene cocktail. (Won't a little lemon juice or apple cider vinegar work just as well?  Hydrogen peroxide and baking soda?)

In closing, do you ever experience sewing obsession?   Do you fuss over invisible zippers that are ever-so-slightly visible?  Do you pick lint out from under your throat plate after every project?  Do you pre-shrink your thread?

Where does it end and why is it worse around the holidays?!  Your wise counsel, please.

A big Pfaff-y hug to you all!