Sewing: My Very Mild Superpower

My ability to sew is my most cherished skill and my own very mild superpower. As clothing has become cheap and ubiquitous, sewing has become a rare and almost mythical skill to behold. Most people are aware that sewing is concerned with the stitching together of pieces of textile and most people do generally appreciate their clothing staying together and intact as they move through their daily lives. However, it seems as though most people simply overlook the sheer beauty of crisp seams, an ultrasharp quick-unpick or a clean, straight hem. Sewing is full of these really simple pleasures, and I am so happy to have had access to them.

I grew up watching a popular Australian music-focused quiz show called Spicks & Specks. As well as providing me with an exceptional knack for guessing a song from a mere hum of a tune or a string of lyrics, one particular performance by a comedian has stuck with me for many years now. It was a song created and performed by Irish comedian, David O’Doherty and it was titled, ‘Very Mild Superpowers’. Throughout the song, performed live with the aid of his miniature electronic keyboard, O’Doherty details his very mild superpowers such as, ‘frequently in kitchens where I've never been / I can sense the location / of the cups and crockery’ or ‘my legs aren't bionic / my eyes aren't x-rays / but I'm a very good judge / of whether things will fit through doorways / (Sofas, tables in particular)’. Although a slight digression from my point of this story, this song made me laugh and made me think of what my very mild superpower would be, and I have since decided it is definitely sewing.

The truth is that sewing is a grossly understated, rare form of magic. Just like how a magician’s trick can leave audiences highly entertained but sceptical, an ability to sew inspires the same reception of awe, wonder and disbelief. I was recently approached by a friend of mine who had torn a hole in his favourite tote bag. Unsure of how to tackle the repair without sewing ability or know-how, he sheepishly asked my opinion on how I would handle the fix. I watched his eyes glaze over as I tried to explain that a patch would be the best option to maintain the structural integrity of the bag, but a simple stitch-up on my overlocker would be lifetimes quicker and easier and probably what I would do myself, if it was my bag. He nodded at me like people nod at you when they have no idea what you’re talking about. I knew I had to just fix it for him, to save my breath and to save his brain from exploding. Utterly confused but very grateful, he insisted on watching the process. I Introduced him to my overlocker, explained what it does in layman’s terms and in a matter of seconds, his bag was fixed right before his eyes. His reaction of speechlessness and pure bewilderment reminded me of the joy of sewing and the value of being able to fix things, but ultimately, it reminded me that I am practically a wizard to people who cannot sew.

Fixing garments and amazing your friends are just two mere examples of the power of sewing. Being able to sew also means that you have an ‘in’ with Mothers and Grandmothers everywhere. I wish I could put into words the feeling of connection you feel when you meet someone else who can sew, particularly if that person is more than fifty years your senior. When I was young, my mother worked in aged care and would constantly boast to her clients about her 10-year-old who was teaching herself how to sew. As it turns out, a sewing hobby is tantamount to an endless collection of fabrics, patterns, buttons and haberdashery and when you’ve had 90 odd years to accumulate this collection and not one grandchild even remotely interested in inheriting it, you’re beyond pleased to palm it off to your lovely care nurse’s daughter. I became the proud beneficiary of amazing vintage sewing tools and knick-knacks that have filled my cupboards for years ever since. Now days, a sift through my sewing bits and pieces can feel like owning my own little museum. Somehow, I have become the proprietor of paper sewing patterns from as early as the 1940’s and unfinished high school sewing projects, with ancient pins still holding them together, inscribed with the names of their owners; the sewing extraordinaires that came before me and continue to inspire this madness.

The crux of every sewing project, as is often the case with creative works, takes its form in self doubt and painstaking perfectionism. This is where sewing, although very much a superpower of mine, becomes a very mild one. It’s incredible the negative things you can convince yourself of when you have been staring at a project for too long. Wonky stitches are so unimportant when making a garment for oneself and yet, when entrusted to create items for others, you suddenly cannot see anything else. Sometimes when I sew, the voice of my sewing teacher rings in my ears like a little devil sitting on my shoulder, scrupulously inspecting my work. Amidst many of my mid-project-breakdowns, I have had to be reassured by friends that no, no one else will notice that your bobbin ran out of thread there and you had to rethread and backstitch in the middle of that seam. They have to constantly reassure me that to the untrained eye, stitches are important but very much invisible. Sometimes I measure twice, cut once, and then wish like anything that I would have measured thrice. Don’t get me wrong, I would love for every one of my sewing endeavours to run seamlessly (pardon the pun), but the truth is that my humanness often gets in the way.

Somewhere along the line, we have forgotten about the human hands that create our clothing. These days, when I find the time to step into the section of my house that hosts my various sewing machines and mountains of fabric, I find solace in using my hands to create things, especially things that challenge the straight-line conventions of sewing. I piece fabric on to fabric and then just sew willy-nilly all over it. This practice is incredibly satisfying and goes against everything that the sewing world stands for. I can just picture my late Great-Grandmother wincing at the very thought of it. In an effort to make my hobby a career, I’ve studied fashion, worked in the industry and toyed with plans to open up my own small business, but in a world that doesn’t appreciate seams as much as I have come to, the return has not been fruitful. For now, I am more than happy to keep this little secret skill up my sleeve, who knows when it might come in handy next.