That Old Familiar Hum

The crunch of metal on crisp fabric has echoed through the generations of my family for at least 100 years. My great grandmother Irene used her talents to help support her family just after the Great Depression by opening a bridal shop in San Francisco in the 1920’s.

My grandma Mabel followed suit, creating matching outfits for her brood of five for cross country road trips and vacations to make it easy to identify them if they ever got separated. This continued well into their adolescent years, much to their embarrassment. When her offspring grew up and had their own kids, the sewing machine still kept its rhythmic saw. My grandma created some of my very first picture day outfits in elementary school, beautiful matching flower girl dresses for my sisters for my mom’s second marriage, and eventually bridesmaid dresses when my older siblings began to marry off.

As a teenager, I began exploring my own style and independence by learning to sew my own creations. It started with hair scrunchies, which I could never have too many of in my teens. My mom put me into the local 4-H club where I could enter projects into the county fair, and even participated in a few fashion shows showcasing my latest creations.

There was a skirt made from an arrangement of recycled neck ties I had collected from local thrift stores, and a dress made of an assortment of beautiful scarves with a fringe made of coke can tabs. The dress wasn’t too practical or functional to wear as (it was heavy and difficult to wash) but at 14 I thought I was the poster hippy child of the ‘90’s.

You would think this creative energy would have been channeled into some form of business, or maybe even some kind of fashion degree. But the sewing machine was left behind and the creativity seemed to stop when I moved away to college to get a “normal” job. I never thought back on this passion as something that brought me joy, or that could even make me a living. It was just a hobby that I picked up as a kid.

It wasn’t until many years later while I was living in Mexico and having difficulties in my marriage that a neighbor lent me her sewing machine (which she barely even knew how to use.) I found some fabric at a local Red Cross and before I knew it, I was sewing curtains, pillow shams, and whatever else I could to add that feminine touch to our place.

Browsing the local markets in our tiny little town in Mexico became my weekend highlight, to see what fun fabric or clothing I could find to re-purpose. And one day, I hit a goldmine when I came across a bag full of rich upholstery samples of all sorts of colors, textures, and shapes, and sizes, practically being given away. It was like finding the keys to an abandoned artist’s studio. I laid out the colorful swatches and began arranging them into different combinations. Before I knew it, I had an assortment of small handbags, purses and make up bags I began selling casually online and on the markets to make a few extra dollars.

My marriage was crumbling around me, but I had found a new joy to escape to. At night I could be alone in my thoughts with the quiet hum of a sewing machine to keep me company. New life sprang from deep within me as I unleashed my inner artist and that free-spirited girl had been re-born. I didn’t care that I would soon be starting my life over. Or that I would be leaving the beautiful beachfront slice of paradise I had worked so hard for. I had awakened the inner artist, and that creativity began to blossom in many other forms including my writing and music.

When I left Mexico, I didn’t have much more than what I could fit in my car. The sewing machine was left behind with the neighbor, but I still had a few bags I had made which I sold on the beaches and boardwalks of Southern California. The money I earned helped me find my way back home to the safety of family and friends as I finalized my divorce and started my new life over.

I recently was going through storage and I found a few of those swatches of fabric I had saved. They remind me that life always provides opportunities from unexpected places. And that joy can easily be found when we tap into that inner child willing to give us that freedom of creativity.

Perhaps one day I’ll have a boutique in an upscale down on the seaside somewhere. Or maybe one day I will have a daughter of my own that I can create beautiful little outfits for, or at the very least teach her how to do the same. I know for now on those nights that I feel bored or lonely on my own, there’s an old friend I can bring out that will always sing that old familiar hum.