The Fabric Scissors

Scissor mastery was achieved early in my family. In fact, I learned so young that my only real memory of children's round-tipped scissors is seeing the shiny new pair that appeared in my box at the beginning of each school year. If they were on the list of school supplies displayed at the local variety store, they were purchased exactly as specified. My mom wasn't exactly a rule follower, but she was properly respectful of my teachers and their wishes. But we both knew those scissors were just a polite gesture.

At home was where the "real scissors" lived. The all purpose metal shears with the black painted handles were kept in a drawer along with the stapler, tape, a small ball peen hammer, and a screwdriver set in a red vinyl pouch. Kitchen shears rested among the ladles and spatulas in a drawer near the stove. The bathroom cabinets housed the very sharp haircutting scissors, as well as a strangely toothed pair used to thin one's hair. Small fingernail clipping scissors were kept in the second drawer down.

Having a stay-at-home mom with an art degree, I was blessed with childhood days filled with creative endeavors. We cut anything and everything with the regular scissors, but mostly paper. Origami, folded hexagonal snowflakes, and paper dolls were just a few of the things we crafted. Fiber arts were in their heyday, so we also cut a lot of yarn and string as we made pom-pons and practiced macrame knots. The standard scissors were adequate for all of these techniques.

It was not until I learned to sew in my upper elementary years that the hallowed kingdom of scissors was revealed to me. The sewing desk. There were the small, springy thread clippers kept in the flat drawer. A slightly larger pair with a rectangular notched blade was also kept there. These "buttonhole scissors" had but one purpose as the name indicated, to safely span across the edge of a garment to cut out the center of a zig-zagged buttonhole.

In the deeper, upper righthand drawer of the sewing desk were the "orange-handled" scissors. The Holy Grail, the fabric scissors. Fiskars. Even the name seemed rare and exotic. They were to be used ONLY ON FABRIC. No exceptions.

My mom's ear was so highly trained to detect misusage that I swear she could scold us from outside in the garden! They did have their own unique cutting sound, quite different than the everyday metal scissors. You could hear the Fiskars crisply slicing through your fabric and tissue paper pattern, with Mom unconsciously holding her breath a bit each time you approached a pin.

She had four older sisters. Each of "the Duff girls" frequently sewed or altered her own clothes and also pursued hobby interests such as quilting, embroidery, and knitting. Their foundational skills were learned at a young age from my grandmother and perhaps a 4-H leader now and then.

Their projects always made an appearance at family holiday gatherings. Clothing they'd sewn was sometimes worn to the event, and other finished pieces were often intended as gifts. But others were works in progress, shown and discussed on the holiday dining table once the dishes had been cleared. It was the latter that interested me most. I loved listening to the women in my family discuss how and why they were making the craft projects they were making.

Past the pressure of preparing the holiday meal, with the 20-cup percolator now set up for self-serve coffee on a side table, they were finally free to talk about themselves and show their projects. And as I listened, I felt connected to my family heritage in a way that I still cannot quite understand or explain. In these moments, there was an openness and enthusiasm that seemed a little uncommon for these midwestern Presbyterian women.

Like my mother, I pursued a degree in the arts. I specialized in jewelry/metals, an emphasis area in which high quality, specialty tools abound. I love the feel of swinging a perfectly weighted, pristine jeweler's hammer or filing metal with a fine, high-quality file. But these tools are reserved for the processes of making and finishing.

It is earlier, in the design phase, when I return to the fundamentals. Scissors are always my first tool of choice when I begin a new project. I pick up my Fiskars and cut cardstock (gasp) to make models rather than sketching or drawing my 3D designs. I have to believe that the many scissors used in my formative years helped develop my current day working methods and affinity for fine tools.

At some point after graduate school, I discovered that "fabric scissors" would also cut thin sheet metal. I have since had in my toolbox a pair of scissors designated as such by the word METAL written in Sharpie on their orange handles. If there is anything that is keeping my Mom unsettled in the afterlife, I fear it may be this. But as I said earlier, she wasn't exactly a rule follower.