mass production

My sister and I always bemoan the way that it takes making something to figure out how to make it. This isn’t really a problem in general, but one of economy of scale, or economy of crafting energy. When you make something once, it takes a pretty spell to cut everything out, get comfortable with the directions, and then figure out the necessary techniques. The problem for me is that the first time I do something, I realize how lousy the directions are or how poorly I’m doing it. The first zipper is always the worst and the first seam is always the wonkiest (save, of course, for those 3 am seams when you just can’t go to sleep until you’ve finished the damn thing). We’re always saying, it’d be fine if I had just cut out 4 versions of it.

This time I cut out 8. I finished 7. One became the recipient of all the first technique attempts and thus headed straight for my stash of scraps. The pattern is Heather Ross’s, from Weekend Sewing, and it really isn’t half bad. The real bad was the oilcloth. Never again. It sticks. It pulls. It doesn’t care to do as commanded. Even after I started using the walking foot, I felt my beloved machine pumping and grinding a bit too hard. I almost thought it got winded at one point. After a particularly dispiriting spell of cranking through six layers of material, it demanded a vacation at the Collingwood, New Jersey hospital for sick sewing machines. It's copay was $136.00 and a subway ticket to the suburbs.

I did, however, come to like the feeling of running a little assembly line in my apartment. One day I did all of the cutting, the next all of the ironing, the next the zippers, etc., etc. I liked watching as my seams got straighter and my turns more efficient. I liked feeling—for just a moment—what it might feel like to have a little cottage industry. I liked being a worker bee.