Garage Sale Day

Cruising my local Craigslist this morning, always in search of those key words "vintage sewing machine", I came across two estate sales listings which mentioned vintage sewing and both were a short drive from my office. My colleagues at work know how I am when I see those magic words - I get sort of a glazed look over my eyes and before I had a chance to ask permission to take an early lunch, they were pushing me out the door.

The first Estate Sale Ad mentioned that both parents had recently been moved into an assisted living home. The children were conducting the sale, and right from the start I picked up on the fact that were truly dreading what they were doing. I can sympathize - disposing of a loved one's possessions isn't easy, especially if there are emotional attachments involved. We exchanged pleasantries and I began perusing over the items on display. When I had decided there was nothing there for me, next to a vintage Necchi sewing machine, I literally stumbled upon my find of the day - sitting in a computer box on the floor, an older Bernette serger. No prices were listed, so I inquired about it and the nice lady said $80. I pondered, pulled out my iPhone, Googled / eBayed and decided that the asking price was fair. I looked around the room for a manual and accessories, but none were available. I mentioned the missing items to the owner, and I don't generally try to haggle, but in this instance I offered a lower number. She accepted and I packed the little tank of a machine into the trunk of my car.

Bernette 334D Serger - my model, but not my machine.
My photos to come later.

Now, having bought one machine today, I certainly should have returned to work immediately and called it a successful day. But, nope, not me. Curiosity had gotten the better of me. I proceeded to the next Estate Sale. This second estate sale was packed with cars, which generally means I am too late to find anything good. This sale was run by a family friend, with no attachments to any of the items, and all the items were priced in true 'garage sale' fashion, i.e. 'we want it gone, and gone quickly'. In the main room was a huge selection of vintage linens - tablecloths, napkins and such. Those quickly jumped into my outstretched arms. And three rooms later, I found the sewing room. In a beautiful desk was an early 1970s New Home sewing machine. If that desk could have properly held any of my Singers without major modification, I would have found a way to get it home. It truly was a nice piece of furniture. Other than that machine, only a few notions here and there were to be found, and at nickel, dime and quarter pricing, I added to my armful.

Meanwhile, another shopper overhead my conversation with the sweet older lady who was tending to that area of the sale. I made mention of Vintage Singers and you'd have thought I mentioned free money! She asked if I used or worked on Featherweights. I mentioned my growing collection and a new friend was made! We exchanged numbers and I look forward to hearing from her soon.

On my way out, I stopped by a bedroom. Many clothes and costume jewelry were laid out for sale. My first thoughts were of Peter over at Male Pattern Boldness and his cousin Cathy. So, taking inspiration from Peter, I looked around here and there and in that room, a lovely Mink collar found found its way into my arms, as did an assortment of buttons - both of which will be perfect accents for this year's Halloween costume. (That post will come much later - I'm still planning.) So, a BIG Thank You Peter Lappin for teaching me to keep my eyes open! As for the New Home machine, it stayed behind waiting for another sewing-related crazy person to come along.

As soon as I have Bern(ad)ette cleaned up and stitching, I'll post pictures of her. Yes, I named her already. Bernadette seemed fitting.

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.

Singer 99K Progress

A few weeks ago, this little Singer 99K followed me home. No one else thought she was worth saving, but I could see the 'diamond in the rough'.

 

When I see or find machines like this 99, in the sad condition it is in, I often wonder about its life story. No, I'm not crazy. Each of the machines I find has a story; certainly it was loved and cherished at one time in its life. I can picture the owner spending countless hours with the machine, working on children's clothes, repairing a hem, or making an extravagant dress for a special occasion. And being that this machine was made in 1950, I feel confident that its previous owner was a woman. So, while I work and tinker on a machine, I get lost in the nostalgia and then I become determined to re-animate as best as I can. (I choose the term 're-animate', because that is what I do - give it new life. I'm not a professional restorer or refurbish-er. I think these old machines should show some of their battle scars.)

And so begins my task of re-animating the Singer 99k. I began by taking pictures...lots of pictures. It doesn't matter how many diagrams and schematics you have, a picture truly is worth a thousand words. Photos give me a chance to have a 'before & after', and it lets me know exactly how a piece was sitting in place when it was removed. Diagrams may show you where a piece goes, but they don't always show you how it was positioned.

My initial photographs give the machine the appearance of being not only used, but neglected. Many of the parts that should be bright and shiny look very rusty...not a good sign for a smooth running machine.

Bobbin case and hook assembly

Needle bar & pressure bar assembly

 The bobbin case area appeared to be rusted solid, as did the needle bar area. But the machine would turn over, so hopefully it was only surface rust and not welded together rust. The whitish spot you see on the bobbin case photo is duct tape residue. Tape is bad; duct tape is HORRIBLE! I can only assume the previous owner used it to hold the bobbin cover in place. Those bobbin covers can be tricky to re-install once completely removed. In fact, this machine was missing that piece completely.  Reproduction parts are available, but I prefer an original part. Original parts cost a little more, especially if you have to bid for them. 

That duct tape will be a beast to remove, without damaging the finish underneath. I've removed masking tape and sticky labels before without issue. My initial tests with the duct tape removal have been unfruitful. But, let's get the guts working first before I even worry about the 99's paint finish.  I've also decided to save the wiring replacement until the end. Better to be certain the machine sews, before I waste my time with the motor/light/controller.

More updates to come!

Antique/Thrift Shopping (or How a Singer 99k followed me home)

A few Saturdays ago,  Michel, my sister Deana and I went spent the day together and set about antique shopping in some of the north Georgia towns. Deana had been asking me for weeks to go with her, just to spend time together and to help her find some Depression Glass. I was fortunate enough to inherit my mother's Depression Glass (who got if from her mother, her got it from her mother-in-law) and my sister wants to start a collection of her own. So, we set off in search of something yellow, her favorite color.

Our first stop was a veritable treasure trove of glass. You name it, they had it. We found lots of different yellow pieces in more patterns than I can remember. Deana found a few that she liked, but didn't purchase anything, as it was only our first stop and she couldn't commit to a favorite pattern. While we were at that shop, I found a few vintage sewing odds and ends that I thought were neat, but didn't purchase. On the drive to the next stop, a voice in the back of my head said to actively look for sewing paraphernalia. Sometimes I listen to that voice a little too much and passed on to Michel and Deana that I was looking for "Singer" branded items.

The second stop was a typical antiques store - lots of nice things, but at very high prices. We browsed around, with the usual 'just looking' response when asked if we needed help. I always feel bad just 'window shopping'; those store owners need to earn a living just as much as I do and every just browsing customer is a non-paying customer.  But, as we were about to leave, Deana spotted a little green box with 'Singer' on it. The box was full of attachments for a low-shank machine - perfect for my newly acquired Singer Featherweight! The price was less than I could find online and I scooped them up!

The next stop was the mountain city of Ellijay - a place with antique/thrift stores galore! Browsing around the first in a long line of stores, I gravitated towards a wood domed shaped object, knowing its significance as a case for vintage & antique sewing machines.

I opened it up and inside was a Singer 99 sewing machine. The machine was mostly intact, but missing the critical knee bar controller so there was no way to test the electric motor. The wires were in fair shape, and thinking about it, it would not have been safe to try it out; exposed wiring is not something you want to play with. For its condition and missing pieces, the asking price was a little high and I wasn't willing to take the gamble on how much work it would need, given that high asking price. I spent a good twenty  minutes or so pondering the purchase. How badly did I want it? Did I really need another machine? I lost count at eight machines, but what's one more? Right? Right? Well, rationality took over and I passed on this one. There would be others I was certain.

But I didn't leave empty handed. Deana found me this gem, for a decent price and it goes perfectly with my model 27 treadle from 1899 (machine number 3 in my growing collection).

Several more hours of store shopping yielded many interesting finds, but nothing that screamed 'take me home'. Probably not a bad thing for my wallet in the grand scheme of things. On our return trip home, we decided to stop at an recently opened antique/thrift shop near my sister's home. Deana said it was a re purposed Hobby Lobby, so I knew it would have lots and lots of treasures. There were neat things, but again, no 'screamers'. Although, I was certain I would scream personally if I had seen one more sewing machine treadle cabinet with those nice cast iron legs underneath a piece of glass for a decorator table! For me, you might as well take a Tiffany lamp and smash it against a wall. It hurts my soul to see the wonderful machines cast out as trash and destroyed. Oh the stories they could tell if only they could speak. How many hours of hard labor had each of them seen under the tender hands of their owners? Maybe that is the root of my hidden desire to restore every forsaken machine I come across. Those machines were designed to last a lifetime, many of them have done so with proper care and maintenance; some of them multiple lifetimes.

And so, at this last store of the day, this little forgotten treasure came home with me.

I wasn't going to purchase this machine; it is electric and needs a complete re-wire. That isn't beyond my skill level, but not something I had on my 'to do' list, as it were.  But through the use of modern technology (thank you Android and 4G!), we ran the serial number and according to Singer, this machine was allotted on January 5, 1950. Which in non-collector speak, means this machine was manufactured sometime between January 5 through July 27, 1950 (the next allotment for this model). Why is that important? Well, to a Singer Collector, there is no significance to that particular date; nothing unusual about the machine to make it extraordinarily collectible.  But to me, to me it has meaning. Mom was born in February 1950. This little machine and woman I treasured could very well share the same birthday. Though that I could, I know I can't bring Mom back. But, I could breathe new life into this little machine. Michel saw the gleam in my eye as we discussed the machine's 'birth date'. He knew what its significance meant to me.


Michel bought this little gem for me. Not only because it reminded me of Mom (though she never really sewed), but also because I think he gets a bit joy from watching my excitement as I bring one of these little babies back from the brink of death.  I've been busy working on her since we brought her home. Yes, this machine is a 'her', and her name is Ann. As I progress, I'll post photos so you can see Ann's rebirth. I can't wait to sew with her; perhaps Ann's first project will be a sundress for the grand-daughter her namesake never had a chance to meet.