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Remaking History, And Myself

with scissors

By maisie Published 3 years ago Updated about a year ago 2 min read
2
Mid 18th century stays (photo by me)

Most of my hobbies are not original.

I started writing because my friend did it. I took self-defense classes because my friend did it. I rode horses because my friend did it. And I taught myself how to sew a full 18th-century ensemble from almost-top to almost-bottom in 2 months, only partially to spite my friend who I had just fallen out with.

It was actually the last thing we fought about. We always fought about dumb little things to avoid the big things. She was assembling a late Victorian costume and sewing parts of it, and I was jealous because I wanted historical clothing, too but couldn't afford a sewing machine. It was after the friendship was ended and the long, dark hours of winter quarantine were closing in, that I posted an inquiry on Facebook to see if anyone local had an old sewing machine I could buy for cheap. A long shot, maybe, but I needed something to do. I had dedicated an unhealthy amount of myself to keeping that friendship afloat, and now that it was over, I was left adrift.

By some stroke of luck, a month later, I ended up with a free sewing machine, and for Christmas I received my first bolts of fabric, needles and thread, gloriously sharp scissors, and a pin cushion that quite frankly scared me a bit. (I'm not afraid of needles, but I do have a very strong startle-flinch reaction to pricking myself.)

photo by me

I had never touched a sewing machine in my life before and had a single, very thin book from Amazon to show me how to do it. For hours I practiced on old cloth napkins, sewing wobbly lines up and down, and making "well, it's still straighter than me" jokes to my friends over text.

Once I was satisfied that I could create something resembling a seam, I jumped straight from my little Amazon book into the world of youtube historical sewing tutorials. My clothing of choice was 18th century. Not the same as what my ex-friend had been making, but similar enough that I could garner some bitter sense of satisfaction from it. I would start with the shift and move on to the stays, and eventually the bodice and skirts. If I didn't fail. I didn't know what I would do if I failed. I needed to be able to do this, and I needed to love it. Otherwise, I was lost.

shift pattern pieces (photo by me)

But as it turned out, that project probably saved me. It gave me something to do, let me distract myself as I slowly picked up the pieces one by one and (literally and metaphorically) stitched them back together, figuring out who I was without my best friend.

The problem with having the same hobbies as someone, and severe anxiety, was that in the back of my mind it was always a competition. And she was always winning. I sought her approval in everything I did, everything I made, comparing every minute detail and never finding myself measuring up.

Suddenly, I had no one to compare to. There was no competition. I was creating something for me, and no one else. There was just me, and how far I had come... by myself.

me featuring stays, shift, petticoat, and awkward peace signs (the outer skirt and bodice are still in the works)

If you enjoyed this story, I’d appreciate it if you left a heart or even a small tip to support me, if you feel so inclined. <3

friendship
2

About the Creator

maisie

prose, short stories, and occasional poetry of the mystery, crime, and psychological horror variety

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