Homemade or Handmade: Iron!

Ah, enough history for now! Time to get down to the practical concerning sewing--homemade vs. handmade.  Familiar scene: we're standing in the shop, someone thrusts a garment across the counter, saying, "Oh, I've never had any lessons", "I'm self-taught", "I never use a pattern", "I just did this the quickest way possible", or my personal favorite, "How hard can this really be?" After looking at the skirt or dress or jumper, I want to respond accordingly, "I can tell", "Indeed you are", "Perhaps you should try", "Slow down & pay attention", and "Probably harder than you think". yikes. The ideas may be lovely, the fabrics (especially if they're ours!) may be gorgeous, the sewer may be bursting with love, but if the construction is lacking or downright lousy, what do you have? A homemade-looking dress, jumper, skirt, pants, top. yikes.
Ways to avoid the homemade, and step it up to handmade.
I'll start with the simplest: IRON.

Iron your fabric prior to cutting. Iron your pattern pieces to get the most accurate cut.
Press every seam as you sew it. Press your finished garment. Press your pattern pieces before you put them away (bonus--they'll fit back into the envelope!) press press press.
Invest in an iron that heats up quickly and has a few auto shut-off settings. An elongated tip on your iron will help you get in to those tiny spots. My iron hovers so I don't have to set it up on it's heel for its resting position--a sweet technological improvement! Plus it's a happy yellow. Amazing as it sounds, I LOVE my iron.
Must haves: a press cloth (provides protection to heat-sensitve fabrics, and can protect your iron from  bonding agents & adhesives; a sleeve board (to get inside all those kid-sized sleeves and pant legs); a pressing ham (for pressing darts--or anything that has a curve).
Invest in a rock-steady ironing board. Buy an extra cover so you can toss the starch-laden, adhesive-spotted one in the wash once in a while. And by all means, place the board in a spot that forces you to actually get up from your sewing chair to use it!

Done!

Make the bed. Gym. Home. Breakfast. Throw another load of laundry in the washer. Fold. Plan supper. Chop onions, peel garlic, potatoes, carrots. Dress for work. Empty the dishwasher. Pay some bills online. Drive. Work. Home. Make a salad. Serve supper. Eat. Clean-up. Pick-up (where does all that stuff come from anyway?) Vacuum. Then up to my sewing room I go, pick up the floral corduroy and my dog-eared Lucy pattern by Children's Corner, lay it out watching my nap--of-course!--cut it out, stitch the side seams, press. Glue-baste ric-rac, pull buttons out of my stash, stitch the lining, the bodice, the hem. Press. Turn it right side out. Press. Stitch the other side seam. Press. Top stitch everything. Buttonholes. Buttons Done. aaahh.
This is why I love sewing: it's one of the few things I do that STAYS DONE!

Oh, the Emotion of it All!

My love affair with sewing is in year 30-- I never would have predicted I would one day own a fabric shop (along with my friend, Dawn) and be able to "spread the love"! I get such a kick out of watching a new sewer get excited about stitching up her first project. Even better when she brings it by the shop for a little Show 'n Tell! The cool thing is veteran sewers (or sewists, if you prefer!) get that very same look on their face when they're strutting their stuff. Especially when they've stitched it for someone they love. I remember taking a doll-making class just so I could make a Raggedy Andy for my son's first birthday (he's married & a tough attorney now--I'm sure it just fed his sensitive side!) When I stitched the little "I Love You" heart over the doll's chest, I felt a burst of....I don't know, something pretty intense. That was ages ago, yet I can still resurrect that feeling when I think of it. So wonderful to be able to produce something in your hands that is an expression of your heart.

Birth Pangs!

I will forever be grateful to Ann Johnson. Expecting my first baby and eager to expand my wardrobe (to keep up with my waistline!), I jumped when Ann offered to teach me to sew. Maternity clothes in the '80s were pretty limited style-wise--OK, they were just plain bad-- consisting mostly of paneled pants & babydoll tops. Not to mention the jumpers. Ugh. But they proved to be the perfect learn-to-sew projects: unstructured, lots of fitting ease, and nice long seams for stitch practice. Couple that with my need for a new wardrobe, and I was hooked. 

I met Ann at her home twice a week, my new no-name sewing machine and cardboard cutting board in tow. She taught me everything--Sewing 101. From how to read a pattern to how to finish a seam. Maternity clothes grew into a crib skirt & bumpers (yeah, we used those in the 80s) in safe shades of yellow. A baby quilt with raised stuffed animals on each square. Cotton  nightgowns strewn with flowers (which I proudly adapted for nursing) and a white seersucker & eyelet robe for the hospital. Yep, I had definitely upped my domesticity quotient! More importantly, I began a relationship with what was to become a huge love in my life: sewing. Oh, not to mention the now-6'5"-baby boy.