Threads of Generations

The thrumming of my sewing machine will always bring a nostalgic calm over me. Growing up my grandmother, who raised me, used to sit in her sewing room every night conjuring amazing creations from simple fabric and thread. I used to pull up a chair and watch her, fascinated as she performed these magic acts. I would prattle on about my day, boys, school while she worked away, occasionally pausing to show me how to sew in a zipper or how to rethread the machine. She made everything, she made curtains, dresses, Halloween costumes, pillows, anything I could ever imagine.

Around the age of twelve, I decided that I wanted to be a fashion designer. I drew silhouettes and wonderful dresses and shirts with lace and big puffy sleeves. I asked my grandmother to teach me how to sew, she was skeptical, knowing how impatient and short tempered I could be. But she was also excited, she had three daughters and none of them had been interested in learning how to sew. So without too much hesitation she took me to the fabric store and helped me pick out a sewing pattern and some fabric.

I will never forget my first sewing project. I had picked out a light brown polyester blend fabric with a pretty gold design on it and a pattern to make a simple purse. My grandmother and I soon realized that I was in a little over my head. After many tears, a lot of arguments, and some screaming; the purse was finally finished. My grandmother and I didn’t speak for almost a week after that but my dreams of becoming a famous fashion designer were not deterred. The purse was absolutely beautiful, but I was still a little immature and impatient to learn how to sew properly. Nonetheless I still sat at my grandmother’s machine with her every night, talking with her and watching her work.

My goal since I was fourteen was to go to The Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in California and major in fashion marketing. In my technical high school I had joined the program banking, marketing, and retail as a freshman to prepare myself. When I was a senior in high school for my senior project I did a runway show using donated clothing and based my thesis on marketing in the fashion industry. I touched on current trends, predicting trends, and finding your demographic. I got an A+ and it seemed like everything was on the right track for me to reach my goals.

Then I got a boyfriend, and I know how stereotypical to throw away your dreams for a boy, but I was young and stupid. I threw away my opportunity to go to my dream college for the person I thought was my future, I didn’t even get as far as the application. I decided to go to the fashion marketing program at Johnson and Wales in Rhode Island only a little over an hour from my home in Massachusetts so I could stay close to my boyfriend, but life had another plan for me.

After only about five months of dating, my boyfriend and I got pregnant with our son. We got engaged and I decided that college just wasn’t in the cards for me at the time. I got a second job and worked myself ragged trying to save up money for maternity leave. Then when the baby came, college just didn’t seem important anymore. Nothing except for my son mattered to me at all anymore. I knew I wasn’t going to be a famous fashion designer, I knew I wasn’t going to be anything except for a wife and a mother. But yet again life had another plan for me.

The break up was traumatic, but so was my relationship. I won’t get into the nitty gritty details, because there’s no point in it. But it did lead to me moving back in with my grandparents, disappointed and depressed. Those were dark times, I felt like a robot, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. I dove into work and friends and dating; but nothing set my soul on fire. My son was still my top priority, but nothing else could make me feel anything anymore.

At first when I moved home I didn’t watch my grandmother sew, I stayed in my room and closed myself off. But slowly over time I’d catch myself peeking at whatever my grandmother was working on. Occasionally I’d ask her a question or two. Eventually I would find myself sitting with her while she worked just like I was a kid again. Yammering about my day, the man I was dating, work. The only difference was now I was having to take breaks to chase my toddler around.

Then the coronavirus hit and my job closed permanently. I was unemployed and quite frankly, bored out of my mind. When my son’s dad had my son, I was absolutely lost. I had spent so much time trying to stay distracted by other people and my job that I had no hobbies. I started to scramble to find things that I liked to do. It started off with painting, then I got a longboard and started coasting around the neighborhood, next was gardening. The hobbies just started piling up, but again nothing really excited me all that much.

One day I was bored exploring the junk room in the basement, looking at all the vintage books from the seventies, when I saw it. A giant stack of old fabric. Something sparked in me and I took the stairs, two at a time, to ask my grandmother if I could have it. She gave me a “what are you up to now” look, but consented. I washed and dried all of the fabric, folded it and brought it up to my room. Then I realized I had no patterns and no idea what I wanted to do with all of this fabric. After some contemplation I decided to play it safe and start with a few pillow cases. Eventually moving on to more complex projects.

From the first project I started as an adult, I knew immediately that this was my thing. A sense of calm and strangely a sense of purpose washed over me. I sew all the time now, I’m always finding new patterns that I want to make. I’m still working my way through all of the fabric I found in the basement and occasionally picking up a few yards at the fabric store. I have a new job, so I don’t get to sew as often as in quarantine, but it’s definitely my favorite way to decompress. As an adult my mistakes and shortcomings in sewing, or otherwise, don’t make me cry or get angry, even having to stitch-rip my mistakes keeps me relaxed. I’m still only a novice, but my grandmother comes to help me and she’s always a call away. My grandparents bought me a sewing machine for Christmas and continue to support me on my journey. I’ve even talked to them about me applying to Johnson and Wales in the fall.