I have a love/hate relationship with sewing. Sewing is something that I’ve been doing since grade school. In the beginning, I used to sew my doll clothes by hand, then I moved onto patterns, and now I make my own patterns and sew my own clothes. It is a mostly love relationship. I love designing and bringing something I’ve imagined into life. However, and this is something I didn’t realize for many, many years, I find the actual process of sewing quite stressful. I lean heavily towards perfectionism. Sewing takes all my concentration. I usually end-up doing sewing marathons, 13-15 hour stretches of sewing. I have to finish what I’ve started within 36 hours. It can’t sit around, it must be done. All this is leading to the fact that I’m the biggest grumpy pants when I’m sewing. I don’t like to be disturbed. I like to crawl into my little back room and sew until my fingers are raw and the product is finished.
Even though it is a bit of a trial, my sewing machine has never let me down. My mother was kind enough to give me her portable sewing machine when I moved to Vancouver. I didn’t have space for the table unit that I had before. It is a good machine. A solid workhorse. I’ve sewn leather, neoprene, jeans and layers and layers of silk and cotton with this puppy. I know there are better, quieter machines, but I can’t imagine anything that would be good enough to replace my machine.
Someday, I’d like to get to the point where I print, design, and sew all my own fabric. It would be pretty fantastic to make everything for my family and home (all moodiness aside).