Buttons, buttons...buttons

When I began making my latest shirt, I must admit that buttons were the farthest thing from my mind. I picked the pattern, I dug the fabric out of my stash, and I chose a nice red thread for the assembly. But nope, never did I even consider what buttons I would use.

I usually stick with the plain and simple white, opalescent buttons. They match just about everything and all of my store-bought shirts have come with extras, so I've amassed quite a collection. So, now that the shirt is assembled (I stayed up way too late last night finishing it), I have to make a button choice. I pulled out my stash of buttons (we all have them, I think we secretly hoard them), and I just stared. I narrowed it down to four.

The top is the opalescent standby. This shirt makes a statement, so I'm not certain I want plain Jane buttons. The second button is a milky, variegated  almost translucent white. I like it and it stands out against the red of the fabric. The red button was actually my first color choice. It disappears into the red of the fabric, but really stands out against the white flowers. The last one is almost and off-white, but it doesn't show well in the photo. That button blends the best with the flowers and their internal coloring. I'm really leaning towards that one, with the red as a very close second.

With either of those two buttons, there will be a certain amount of high contrast, depending on where the button holes fall on the placket. And, because I've chosen to use the same red thread used in assembly and the top-stitching for the buttonholes. Therefore, my buttonholes better look perfect. And they will look perfect, because I'll be using my grandmother's 401 and the Singer Professional Buttonholer. That little gizmo makes better buttonholes than any modern machine that I've seen. (Hope I didn't just jinx myself.)

Also, I need to decide if I want to put buttons on the collar, to hold the collar crisply to the shirt, like a typical oxford. When I tried the shirt on last night (and it fits GREAT!), I couldn't decide if I liked the collar falling wherever, or if I liked it better tacked down. I'm leaning towards the tacked down version, even though the pattern doesn't call for it. I'll need to find two smaller buttons in the same color and style as the rest. That task may just make the decision for me.

As soon as this shirt is done, I need to start tearing down and cleaning the Singer 66-1 and cut the fabric for my Halloween costume. It's a boring Roman senator/Caesar pattern, that I hope to jazz up a bit with some fancy stitchery using either the 401 or the modern L-500. The L-500 makes a horrible straight stitch, but its decorative stitches are beautiful. I had to pull out the Featherweight to top-stitch the sleeve cuffs on my shirt; the L-500 just balked at the multiple layers of fabric and interfacing. It's a good thing I bought it used for a third of its retail cost and that it quilts beautifully; otherwise I'd have thrown it out the window.

1950 Singer 99k - Finished

The 1950 Singer 99k is finally finished. All the moving parts have been removed, cleaned, polished, replaced and now operate properly. The motor and foot controller have been re-wired. And the 'bug-eye' light from hell has been re-wired. So, here you go....

1950 Singer 99k in full working glory.

This isn't a really good picture, but if you compare it to the 'before' shot, she's a beauty!

I can't believe this is the same machine as above. 

And to top it all off, shortly after I finished her (aka "Ann"), I found a 1926 Singer 99 (US made) for $25, complete with all the parts and pieces. I've been feverishly working on "Ruby" and thanks to my new friend Michelle donating a few parts, that machine is now finished. I'll post a complete set of rebuild posts for the 1926 Singer 99. I'm really pleased how both of these machines have turned out. I'll try and have those posts up by the end of the week, before I start on my next projects.

Next on the list: 1914 Singer 66-1 "Red Eye". I've been lusting after a Red-Eye machine for a while, and found one at the right price. Once she's done, I'll place her in the treadle where she can be appreciated on a daily basis.

And as luck would have it, I stumbled upon a 1957 Singer 401A at a yard sale last Friday. Yes, it came home with me; I couldn't help myself. But that machine is fully intended to be refurbished and re-sold. I already have my grandmother's 401, so I don't really need two of them. And then of course, there's the 1951 Centennial Edition Featherweight 221 that found its way to my house as well. Sigh. I swear I'm not addicted, honest.  Well, okay, maybe a little bit. But at least it keeps me busy and out of the refrigerator. Good Lord, candy corn is calling my name.

Of All Things, Why Vintage Sewing Machines?

Restoring a vintage sewing machine is truly a labor of love and a time consuming task, as I have quickly discovered over the last several years with each successive machine. I never imagined that such a symbol of domesticity would ever give me such joy as these hefty little beauties seem to provide. My journey into this hobby began with my grandmother's Singer 401A.

I inherited Nana's sewing machine back in 1995 when she passed away. It was her only possession that I truly wanted and fortunately for me, no one else in my family saw any value in the old machine. I don't mean monetary value, though top condition 401's can bring a nice sum of money these days; I mean in sentimental and emotional value, as each time I look at or use that 1950's beige and white machine, I relive some of the happiest memories of my childhood. That machine is priceless to me. I watched her sew and repair many garments on that machine; she patched my favorite pair of jeans where I had worn the seat out, on that machine; Nana taught me to sew on that machine.

Over the years, I have made mostly quilts with the 401, making one for each of my nieces and nephews at their birth. I've patched some clothing, hemmed a lot of pants (being only 5'6", I hem a lot of pants). A couple of years ago, I opened up the sewing cabinet to hem a newly acquired pair of jeans. As I started my project, I noticed the machine didn't quite sound 'right'; she was a little sluggish, and her stitch knobs wouldn't budge. I pushed on and finished my small project, but I was concerned that my grandmother's machine may be on her last leg.

I started searching the internet and joining any/all sewing machine forums I could find. I felt like a vacuum cleaner at one point, sucking in so much information. With my newly found 'knowledge' and printouts of parts charts, wiring diagrams, and an adjuster's manual (thank you Lord for the internet!), I set out to breathe new life into Nana's 1958 Singer 401A - the Slant-O-Matic.

Nana's 1958 Singer 401A Slant-O-Matic

Two weeks and a lot of elbow grease later, Nana's 401 was sewing like new again! I can't tell you how much joy and pride I have in this little beauty! I say little, but even with a cast aluminum body, she still weighs in at about 25 lbs! And I haven't come across a single thing that she can't sew through when using the proper needle. She could certainly handle another round of intense cleaning; 40+ years of cigarette smoke and nicotine definitely take their toll. So now each time I sew with her, I give her a nice clean up afterwards and she shines just a little bit more.

While doing my research to fix and repair my grandmother's machine, I discovered that having a few spare parts on hand might not be a bad idea. After all, this machine hasn't been produced in nearly 50 years and new O.E.M. parts would certainly become harder to find than hen's teeth. One part in particular that I was concerned about given my 401's recent sluggishness was a replacement  for the internal motor. Fortunately, dried, gummy oil had caused her slow responsiveness and not the motor, but having a spare certainly couldn't hurt.

I began scouring my local Craigslist for similar machines and one day a Singer 403 popped up, for a dirt cheap price. The 403A is in essence the same as a 401 with one major exception - the 403 requires external cams (Singer called them Fashion Disks) to be inserted to zig-zag or make fancy stitches; the 401 has the zig-zag built in, as well as multiple other stitches and can use the Fashion Disks also.  I call the owner who it turns out was settling his father's estate; his father had bought the machine new for his mom and it hadn't been used in years. All the parts were there, so I loaded her up and brought her home. After inspection, I realized this machine had seen little to no use, and using my newly acquired knowledge about the 401, I set about servicing the the new-to-me 1959 Singer 403A.

1959 Singer 403A Special

The Singer 403A cleaned up and sewed beautifully, albeit a bit noisier than Nana's 401. I think probably because the 403 had never truly been broken-in.  She became the second machine in my collection and I soon realized just how great these machines are. They were designed to last a lifetime without worries or troubles. They were made in the USA, when workers had pride in the job and in their product, and were made long before built-in obsolescence was commonplace.

I decided then that I wanted more of a challenge and began looking for an out-of-service machine. That next machine just happened to be a Singer 404 - the basic straight-stitch only introductory machine to the Slant 400 series.  That machine had been used hard and put away wet, as it were, having been used in schools to teach and it had obvious signs of abuse.  A few eBay parts later and some touch-up paint later, this bad-boy was ready for another 40+ years of sewing.

1959 Singer 404

And so a new hobby (addiction?) was born...all from the love and adoration of my Nana and her cherished Singer 401A.