BANNED from the vintage Kenmore yahoo group!

Wowzer!  I posted a message a couple of days ago to the vintage kenmore yahoo group and suddenly stopped getting the digest.  Today I went to the homepage and learned that I have been BANNED from the board.

Now I have NO idea why.  Several months ago I included my blog URL after my signature, and was told that this was against the rules.  So I apologized to the moderator and never did it again.

Recently I tried to post a message saying that I could not open a file on this board, and asked for help.  It had an rar at the end instead of the pdf that all the other files had.  I did not whine or complain in any way.  I just asked for help.  And I got banned.

Anybody have any ideas about this?

I'm not majorly a Kenmore girl, so this won't hurt me too badly.  But it would be nice to know what I did wrong, and I now have no way to contact them to ask why.

The Sewing Machine Reduction Plan

Three years ago I restored my husband's grandmother's Singer treadle and an obsession was born.

Lovely to look at, a pain in the neck to sew on.  If the handwheel slips backwards the tiniest bit, the thread breaks

Fortunately DD-A wanted it as an art object for her new house.  She did learn to use it, too.

I have followed the path trod by many others and gone through the same phases:  initial enthusiasm without the necessary knowledge or wisdom, resulting in the acquisition of some questionable machines among the jewels.  Later on, overestimation of my emerging skills, resulting in the unnecessary conversion of a couple of decent machines into parts machines (in other words, in fixing them I broke them).  Lately, facing the consequences of three years of buying sewing machines at thrift shops and from CraigsList: there were 21 sewing machines in my dining room over the holidays.  Fortunately the big dinner is at the MIL's, but really.  21 sewing machines.  And that's just the dining room.  Total head count for the entire house:  88.  It's time to turn the corner and start reducing the herd.

I had a plan, but it morphed along the way.  I was going to focus on getting the high-end Singers (401 and 500) fixed up and sell them on CraigsList.  I delved into half a dozen machines sequentially.

Singer 401s:  Enthusiasts claim that this is the best sewing machine Singer ever made

I even "repaired" one, by which I mean that I unscrewed and adjusted things and got them aligned properly.  Usually all I do is deep clean and oil them.  I always feel especially empowered and virtuous when I move beyond clean-and-oil.  I got to the point where one was clearly going to take up too much time, four each had one small thing that needed to be fixed or added, and the last one is a parts machine that could donate to some of the four.  None of those tiny repairs ever happened.  So I guess I have a plan for Christmas 2013.

In the meantime, the DH's home health nurse got interested in the sewing machines strewn around the house.  Everyone in her family, including her father, sews.  She wants to learn and asked about buying a machine from me.  We discussed it in snippets of time over several weeks.  She absolutely loved the Singer 66 brown Lotus.  Everyone in her family told her she needed a machine with at least reverse and a zig-zag and I explained why I agreed with them.  It took her a while to give up the dream of the Lotus, but in the end she choose a Singer 237 and we put it in a Singer 7-drawer treadle with the gingerbread trim on the sides.  Her family approves, which pleased and surprised me since none of them are treadling.

The Singer 237 is one of my all-time-favorite models.  Sturdy, reliable, simple and straightforward.  

Can be treadled or handcranked too.

So I had five 237's sitting around (in the front hall under the entry table), a couple of them never touched, a couple with serious problems or missing parts.  I moved from the 401s and 500s to the 237s and got three into excellent shape, combined two into one good machine and a parts machine.  One went to the nurse (she does have a name but I have not yet asked her permission to mention her here).  Another one went to a nice couple--he made the call initially and said he wanted to buy his wife a sewing machine for Christmas.  Gotta love a guy like that.  One is reserved for studio use.  One needs a minor adjusment to the spring on the tensioner.  And today I bought another one at the thrift shop.  Two out, one in--that's not bad, right? 

A fellow guild member asked me to look at her family treadle.  It turned out to be a Singer 9W, identical to a Wheeler & Wilson D-9, but with a class 221 bobbin rather than the hard to find Wheeler & Wilson bagel bobbin.  The tensioner was badly rusted, so I convinced her to buy a W&W D-9 head from me as a parts machine.  I charged her the ENTIRE $5.00 that I had paid for it, too.  And before you tell me how much I will regret letting it go, let me mention that I have a W&W No.8 with a complete set of the glass presser feet, in its treadle.

Jo's Singer 9W.  It has a Wheeler & Wilson serial number.  We put a new belt on it and got it turning smoothly.

I sold a Singer 338 to a mother for her young daughter.  Grandma is teaching the little girl to sew.  It has problems and they returned it.  Fortunately I had another one to loan them while I try to fix it.  I'm the only person on my local CraigsList to offer a 30-day guarantee on vintage sewing machines.  And if I can't fix it I will either give the money back or they can keep the loaner.

I love Singer's flat cam machines, and these are the prettiest color!

I sold a lovely Riccar 108 Japanese zig-zagger to a woman who has become a student, so you may see her later on.

Everyone who has sewed on this machine loves it (all three of us!)

 And on Christmas Eve I sold a green Alden's zig-zagger to a woman with several daughters.

Never found a cam set to fit it, so it remains a zig-zag and straight stitch only machine.

And here's the best news of all:  THEY ALL TOOK A CABINET WITH THEM.   They took the well-used but sturdy vintage cabinets.  They took the funky not-yet-cleaned cabinet with the peeling veneer.  They even took the beautiful vintage Singer cabinet with the lovely coordinating chair, and they paid extra for that one (the rest were free).

A couple of machines were re-homed without any money changing hands.  The SIL wanted a zig-zagger and took a two-tone aqua Singer 347.  Merry Christmas, Mary!

Simple zig-zagger and very pretty.

And although I haven't delivered it yet, I am planning to give Don back the 15-clone that he gave me.  I had cleaned and oiled his lady's plastic Singer and when I took it back he confessed that he is the sewing person in the household.  His sewing needs are for tarps and canvas and boat cushions.  I told him that he had given me the machine that he really needed.

Post WWII Japanese copies of the Singer model 15 are known as 15 clones.

This was the worst-looking machine ever to come through my hands.  Three living spiders emerged during the cleaning process--three different species, too.  Paint was badly chipped.  Wiring was horrifying, but it turned out that only the light wire was bad, the motor wire was fine.  So I removed the light, cleaned and oiled it, touched up the paint, replaced the missing bobbin cover, put a size 18 needle in it and some heavy duty thread, and adjusted both thread and bobbin tensions for the heavy thread.  Presto-bingo, a boat cushion cover machine for Don's workshop.

After restoration:  Sews beautifully through eight layers of heavy canvas.  Maybe more.

The two other black 15-clones that I had fitted out with hand cranks did not sell.  Not only that, they did not even get a nibble (not a single phone call).  Next year I am going to put the motors back on, fit them up with size 18 needles and market them as workshop machines for guys.  I'll let you know how that goes.



The sales did not end at Christmas.  After Christmas I sold two Singer 301s.  One a lovely LBOW (light beige, oyster white) in a cabinet with the cradle that allows you to snap the machine in and out without unscrewing anything.  AND the matching stool with storage inside.  AND a 301 zig-zagger, buttonholer, and an assortment of slant shank presser feet.

And I sold the black longbed 301 shown in the last blog post.

The nurse came back for another machine, too, a gift for a crafty young relative.

Singer 128, La Vendedora decals.  It now has a new front slide plate and a hand crank.

Eleven machines gone.  So, it sounds like the machine reduction plan was a success, right?  Not so much.  During the same period of time three more machines showed up to join the herd.  Five if you include the month of October.   But those are a story for another day.

That's it for this year.  I sold everything I had fixed up and ready to go.  I did this last Christmas, and plan to do it next Christmas too, but not during the year. I may let a few go to friends or friends of friends, but I don't want to do CraigsList for more than one month a year.   And people enjoy spending money at Christmas when they are looking for gifts for themselves or others.

Are you wondering how many thousands of dollars I made selling these lovely vintage sewing machines?  Mwahahahahahahaha.  The best models sold for just over what a low end plastic wonder from Walmart costs.  I DID recover my own costs, which I carefully track, right down to my favorite double-ended lint brush and bottle of sewing machine oil with a brass telescoping spout.  I can't in all good conscience sell a sewing machine without these.  And here's the disclaimer about my financial relationship with Jenny at Sew-Classic:  I buy stuff from her.  That's it. 

I don't track the time spent on each machine, but I have a pretty good idea.  If you count ONLY the machines I actually sold, I made less than $3/hour.  If you include all the machines I worked on last year and did not sell, my hourly wage drops to well under $1/hour.  What I have NOT tracked is what I spent last year on tools and cleaning chemicals, paint, etc.  So I'm guessing that it is just about at the break even point.  A self-supporting hobby is not to be sneezed at.

And the money from Christmas 2012 went straight back into the hobby.  I bought some industrial-type steel shelves and rolling carts and converted an unused guest room into a sewing machine workshop.  I bought some tools.  I'll take my MIL out to lunch at Two For Tea, my favorite hyper-girly lunch place. And that will take care of it!

Which brings me to a final confession:  I am going to take some dead sewing machine carcasses to a scrap metal dealer to see what I can get.  A 127 with lots of rust, missing critical parts (and stripped of everything useful).  A completely rusted up 66.  And possibly a White missing some vital organs.  At least they will not be in the landfill.  If you are upset by the thought of them being melted down, well, I'm not.  It's a lovely image.  Think Gollum and Mount Doom. 

Photographing a Singer 301, black longbed

Well, okay, there is another motive for this blog post.  I promised someone some photos of this machine, and the easiest way for me to do that is to throw them on the blog.  But I got a new camera for Christmas so I will be talking about photography.  And it has been a long time since the last blog post and I am feeling chatty.  Welcome back, hope your holidays were fabulous.

Singer 301, black, longbed

Black sewing machines have to be the toughest to photograph. 

I've taken more than one photography-for-absolute-beginners course over the last 40 years, to no noticeable effect.  I have learned a few things though.

Rule #1:  Take skillions of photos and throw most of them away.

I took about 10 photos of the front of this machine, and none of them were much good.  I do like the shadow effect on this one though.

I especially want to show the surface of this machine, which has some issues, before someone drives an hour to see it.  This was a well used and well maintained machine.  The paint still has some gloss, but also has patina.

Rule #2:  Crop.
I think of my photographs as information rather than as art.  No one would think of my photos as art!  Ruthlessly crop that photo right down to the relevant information.

worn clear coat, but not rough to the touch (or the fabric)

You may have to look closely, but this is an amazing photograph.  If only I knew how I achieved it. 

It shows the areas of the bed where the clear coat has worn away, as well as the worn decals in the front.  I think it looks better than this is real life, but my purpose here, the information I needed to convey, was the condition of that clear coat.

Rule #3:  The auto-fix buttons are your friends.
I use PhotoScape, a free image processing program similar to Photoshop.  Or, to be more accurate, similar to Photoshop Express.  There are tons of image processing programs out there.  Your digital camera undoubtedly came with one.  They all include auto-fix features.  The ones I use in PhotoScape are auto level, auto contrast, and backlight.  I click each one on and then off again if it doesn't help.

And now you know everything I know about photography.  And as I fully expected, getting a better camera did not make me a better photographer.  At least Santa did not go all out (the DH and I always pick out our own presents.  One of the great thing about being married for decades is that you work all that stuff out).  It's a step up from the least expensive 14 megapixel one.  But it looks (to my uneducated eye) like the $900 ones.  It's the same shape anyhow.  I feel all empowered by it.  My last camera was a tiny flat one.  Are you convinced by now that I am not a person whose advice about photography should be taken seriously? 

Getting back to the most important things in life, sewing machines and their accessories:  this one comes with lots of lovely toys.

That familiar green Singer attachments box, with a better-than-usual assortment of vintage presser feet.

Back row, left to right:  binder, adjustable hemmer, edge stitcher, ruffler.  Front row:  seam guide, narrow hemmer, shirring foot, adjustable zipper foot.

Automatic zig-zagger with seven cams.

The zig-zagger, the original 4 cams, and 3 out of 4 of an additional set.

The general rap on the boards about automatic zig-zaggers is that they are an amusing toy, but that if you want to zig-zag you should buy a zig-zag sewing machine.  I have road-tested two of these zig-zaggers in the last week and I was pleasantly surprised by the quite decent quality of the zig-zag stitch and the scallop.  You can use the scallop as a blind hem stitch.  Zig-zag and blind hem are the two most useful extra construction stitches you can have, and this attachment transforms the straight-stitch 301. 

It works in much the same way as the buttonholer:  arm up over the needlebar screw, attaches just like any presser foot.  The motion of the needle up and down makes it go.  It moves the fabric back and forth, again in the same way as the buttonholer.  Unlike the buttonholer (feed dogs down), you leave the feed dogs up, which means that you can control the stitch density with the stitch length lever on the sewing machine.  You can also control stitch width with a setting on the side of the attachment--yet another similarity with the buttonholer.

Functional stitches (zig-zag, blind hem):  just fine.  Decorative stitches, not so much.  But I ran these up in a hurry.

And speaking of putting the feed dogs up and down, this is ridiculously easy on a 301.  It's really easy to change the bobbins, too, which is good because they are not very big--same size as the Featherweight bobbins.

Flip the bed extension up and you have access to the bobbin.  Turn the knob to the right to raise or lower the feed dogs.

And speaking of buttonholers:  The Pink Jetson

A slant shank Singer buttonholer, affectionately nicknamed the Pink Jetson for obvious reasons.  Obvious to anyone of ripe and mature years anyway.

There is a Green Jetson also---that one is for low shank machines.




Most of the cam buttonholers are mechanically identical, and most of them, of most brands, were made by Greist.  You do need to have the right shank style.

Five cams make five different sizes of buttonhole

If you have never used a Greist buttonholer you probably hate making buttonholes.  If you have used a buttonholer like this and did not enjoy it, next time use stabilizer--not interfacing, stabilizer.  With a firm foundation these make lovely buttonholes in the twinkle of an eye.


It's original case, funky vintage charm.

Sturdy case, handle and latches seem secure.  The rule of thumb about vintage cases (never, ever trust them as carrying cases) probably does not apply in this case.  First of all, this is a seriously sturdy suitcase-type case.  Mostly though its because the 301 is aluminum (16 pounds) rather than the cast iron of other vintage machines (40 pounds).

Entirely functional, but certainly not in mint condition

I always glance over the suitcases in thrift shops, hoping to spot this trapezoidal shape.  No luck so far.














There is a bracket inside for the motor controller.  It's identical to the brackets in Singer cabinets.

I think the bracket in the upper right is for an oil can.  If you know, drop a line below.

The machine fits neatly into the case.  Note the wooden piece bottom right that holds it in place.  It won't slide around in there.

The space above that wooden brace is just right for the attachments box.  And since it does not have an oil can, the zigzagger fits in there also.

This machine, the case and all the goodies except the buttonholer (I added that) had one previous owner.  I bought it from her daughter, and I don't really consider myself an owner.  I'm just the spa treatment before it moves on to a new owner. 

The daughter told me that this machine was her mom's pride and joy and that she took good care of it.  It has obviously been well used (see the bed wear) but was also obviously well maintained--very clean inside.  It had been sitting unused for decades, but it has now been cleaned, oiled and lubed and turns very smoothly and makes the beautiful stitch that this model is known for.

I love all of the all-metal vintage and antique sewing machines that pass through my hands. I want them all to go to good homes, but really what I want is for each person to have the sewing machine that is the perfect machine for her or him.

The 301 is very popular among vintage-sewing-machine-loving quilters for its beautiful straight stitch and its portability.  Just a few pounds more than that adorable but oh-too-trendy half size machine but the 301 has a full size bed.  So this machine would be perfect for a quilter looking for complete functionality and lots of original vintage goodies but who does not care about cosmetic perfection.  And who wants to be on the cutting edge of vintage:  301 aficionados claim that this is the next big thing.  If only they had that cuteness factor...

Sewing Machine Cabinets

I'm selling off some of my vintage sewing machines and have the following cabinets available.  Not all machines will fit all of the cabinets, so feel free to ask questions before driving out to see one.  The machines will be listed on Raleigh Craigslist.  Search "DragonPoodle" to see what machines are available (listings will be going up throughout December).  I will not ship anything.

If you spend $100 or more on a sewing machine, then any of my available cabinets will be free with purchase.  If you spend less than that, I'll still throw in a free cabinet, but it will be a funky one.  I also have some cases available if you don't have room for a cabinet.  However, a heavy vintage sewing machine is easiest to use in a cabinet.

All of these cabinets are functional and strong.   Almost all have cosmetic "issues".  Cabinets and machines are often interchangeable--there were a couple of standard sizes.  Non-Singers will usually fit into Singer cabinets and vice-versa.

It's first come, first served and I will take the pictures down as the cabinets are sold.

The cabinet names and model numbers are my best guess based on web searches.  I am not an expert on this.

Singer cabinet model #72 or "Ardmore". Very good condition.

Probably not a Singer cabinet.  Cosmetic issues.

A Singer Queen Anne style cabinet, perhaps model #40.  This one is considered "collectible", although it too has some cosmetic issues.

Sewing Machines For Sale

Note to my regular readers:  I am selling off some of the herd on CraigsList and will use the blog to give prospective buyers additional information.  Sorry, I won't ship them.

My hobby is restoring vintage sewing machines.  The all-metal machines of the 1960's and earlier were real workhorses designed to last forever and it is pleasure to bring them back to life.  Modern machines are made of plastic and computer components and are designed to last a few years.  Feel free to throw your money away on one of those if you like.  But for the same price as a low end plastic wonder from Walmart you COULD have a lovely vintage sewing machine that will probably outlive you. 

90% of the time all the vintage machines need is a thorough cleaning and some new oil and lube.  Anyone even slightly mechanical can do this, by the way, but it does take time.  I spend between 5 and 20 hours on each machine (longer for the really old ones with beautiful but tragically fragile decals).  I love doing this but after years of this hobby I have a house full of restored vintage sewing machines.  I only "need" a dozen or so for myself ;), so it is time to clear house and make room so that I can buy MORE vintage sewing machines.

Every machine I sell has been cleaned, oiled, lubed, and tested thoroughly.  If it has a motor, every inch of the wiring has been inspected and appears to be sound.  The motor has been run at full speed for half an hour, giving it plenty of time for any problems to show up.  I don't open the motors for inspection--that is beyond my skill level at this time.  If the machine does not perform well I don't sell it--I may strip it for parts, but I won't sell it.

I am not running a business.  My goal in selling them is to clear space and to gather some funds to buy even more vintage sewing machines, and the tools I need to fix them.  I think you will find my prices not only reasonable, but ridiculously low if you consider the labor that has gone into them.

Prices for vintage machines on CraigsList range from quite cheap ($25 and under) to stratospherically delusional.  You can get great deals just about any time and if you are interested in buying a cheap one and restoring it yourself it is pretty easy to do.  But you won't know until you get it home and spend the time on it whether it will turn out to be a gem or a dud.  If it has a missing piece you may or may not be able to get parts for it, and if you can it will probably double the price of that "cheap" machine.  It may look vintage and cool and yet have non-metal parts lurking inside just waiting to break.

Or, you can buy one from me, spend a bit more and know that it it is an all-metal machine which will work.  I guarantee every machine I sell for 30 days.  At Christmas time I extend the warranty to January 31, so if you give it as a gift the recipient will have plenty of time to check it out after the holidays.  I've never seen another CraigsList seller of vintage sewing machines offer a warranty.  In five years of selling, I have only had one machine returned.  And I gave the owner a loaner while I made further adjustments to that machine, successfully, and then returned it to her.

I will spend up to an hour with you (or later with the recipient of your gift) demonstrating the machine.

Lessons are also available, for money or barter.  I enormously prefer barter.  Can you make handmade tortillas?  Create a simple database?  Clean out gutters? Groom poodles?  Build a garden fence?  Till a garden (starting from grass cover)?  Teach me how to do maintenance on sewing machine motors?  Perhaps you have a skill you can barter for sewing lessons.  (My favorite barter was with a professional massage therapist, but I doubt I will ever be that lucky again.)

I'm also always looking for an apprentice.  This person would trade me one hour of their time cleaning up the studio and doing miscellaneous studio-related chores in return for an hour of sewing instruction.  He or she would get to play with all the studio toys and have access to all of my supplies at my (thrift shop) cost.  I imagine a young teenager doing this, but would not discriminate based on age.   If a young person does this, I will provide continuous real-time video coverage privately available online to their parent(s) or guardian(s), for their peace of mind about their child's security.

Vintage Quilt Analysis: Scrappy 1960s

This quilt came home with me from the thrift shop.  I paid all of $8 for it.  It was only after I got it home and took a close look at it that I realized why it attracted me.  It is not an especially lovely or aesthetically pleasing quilt.

The flying geese on the left are another quilt layered beneath this one.

I "know" this quilt on a very deep level, although it's maker and history are completely unknown to me.

I can place it in time to "The Sixties", using Tom Wolfe's definition that the decade that we think of as the Sixties took place from 1965 to 1975.  I know.  I was there.


In the Sixties, the only people who were still quilting were old ladies who had taken it up in the Twenties or Thirties.  My great aunt Bessie, for instance, who made lovely traditional applique quilts.

This quilt has all the hallmarks of a quilt made BEFORE the great quilting revival that began after the American Bicentennial.  Made by someone who was not trained in any quilting tradition.  Someone who could sew, and who had seen quilts, possibly crazy quilts, but who had no idea how to go about it.

Is it pieced?  Is it appliqued?  Yes.  It does have a basic block structure, and piecing happened, but when the quilter ran into a problem she simply sewed patches down on top of other patches.  

There is no attempt at a color scheme.  She used whatever she had of the leftovers from garment and home dec sewing.

It is competently quilted in a thick black thread and in the pattern known as "Baptist Fan". 










So, why do I feel that I know this quilt and understand the quiltmaker?  Because I made a very similar quilt in 1971, before I knew anything at all about quilting.






The inspiration was this quilt, made by Shelley Cook in 1970 and given to me when my son was born.  It's receiving-blanket-size.  She pieced it and then machine quilted it down on top of pre-quilted fabric.

It doesn't have the crazy-quilt piecing/appliqueing of the quilt above, but it does use the same type of mix of garment and home dec fabrics.

I liked it very much and copied the idea to make this quilt, which is about half a crib-sized quilt.   Similar fabric mix to Shelley's quilt, and even today 40 years later I could tell you what dresses, shirts, curtains, and tapestry handbags were the the origins of the scraps that made this quilt.

These two quilts were treasured for years and later became our "sit-upons" for visits to the lake at Hueston Woods, OH.

This was mostly pieced, but if you look very closely you can find at least one spot where it ventured into appliqued patches.












The problem-solving-through-applique approach can be seen much better in the first quilt I made, but before I really learned anything about quilting.  Georgia Bonesteel was on public TV by this time, and I used a quilt-as-you-go technique, building each block on a base of batting and muslin.  I could not stand the thought of all that hand-sewing of the seam allowances on the back of the quilt, so the seam allowances are on the front and covered with ribbon.  I had scored a large spool of ribbon at a thrift shop.

The circles are from a decades-later repair.  I really like them and now wish I had put even more on there.

Here's the story that goes with this quilt.
This was the very first bed sized quilt that I ever made.  I had the idea for it for a long time and hoarded thrift shop garments in velvets and sparkly fabrics and cut them up.  Many of these fabrics were not good choices for a quilt, but I didn't know any better then.  I did know that "real" crazy quilts had lots of embroidery on them but I had no patience for that. 

My daughters were very young at the time--I  think Emily was 3 or 4 years old.   When the quilt was finished she looked at it with very big eyes and said "Is that for ME?"  I was absolutely delighted that she reacted that way and so it WAS for her.  We called it her princess quilt.

This story always embarrasses her because she thinks it means that she was greedy and acquisitive at that young age.  At least I think that is why it embarrasses her.  The funny part of that is that she is not, and never has been, the least bit greedy or acquisitive.

For my part, absolutely nothing could have thrilled me more than the fact that my daughter instantaneously fell in love with the very first quilt I ever made.  And that's why I keep telling this story.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

After that last blockbuster post, how about something short and sweet:  three of my favorite things.

2.5" clear Not-A-Ruler

Yes, it IS hard to see.  I lose it on the cutting mat all the time.  This has been photoshopped to make it show up!

Once upon a time, only a few little old ladies quilted (or so the myth goes).  They may have learned their skills back in the 1930's when there was a surge of interest in quilting, but I am just guessing.  There were no guilds.  There was no multi-billion dollar quilting industry.  There were no rotary cutters.  There were just the little old ladies like my great-aunt Bessie, and they had two choices in quilting fabric:  solids and little calicoes.  They cut their fabric with scissors.  They used thin cardboard to make their own quilting templates.

Then America had a national bicentennial (that was in 1976 for those of you from other places).  Suddenly all things colonial were hot and trendy, although the words "hot" and "trendy" were not yet heard of, and "colonial" was not yet a synonym for evil (at least not in the US).   A quilting revival was born, and I was there for the birth.

Barbara Schaeffer (at the time a mother of schoolchildren, NOT a little old lady) taught quilting to a small class of interested women at the community room in her church.  From that tiny beginning a guild* was born.  One of the women in the group volunteered to have her husband cut long pieces of clear rigid plastic into sizes useful for quilt blocks.  I used them to mark fabric with a pencil, which I then cut with scissors.  Nothing like this was available on the market.  There WAS no market!

Pre-cut 2.5" strips.  This photo was taken a while ago and these jars are full now.

I still have the whole set, but it is the 2.5" one that I use all the time.  I do my own pre-cuts of fabrics I buy at the thrift shops.  And I love remembering the days when we were quilting pioneers.  Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly willing to spend money on awesome fabrics and the latest tools (you should see my collection of specialty rulers).  But I also get disgusted at the crass commercialism of the quilting industry today.  Yes, this is quite hypocritical. 

*ps:  After 25 years away from Maryland, I still love and miss you, Eternal Quilters of Glen Burnie.

Not-A-Steam Press

Imagine that your iron was 25 inches long, 11 inches wide, and exerted umpty pounds of pressure (one of the ads says 100 pounds).  That's what this is/does.  I could not live without it. 




The upper surface gets hot, the lower surface is like an ironing board.  The official name of this awesome device is "steam press" because you can put water into it to generate steam. I have learned my lesson with steam irons and NEVER do this.  A spray bottle of water does the trick and the device will last years longer.

Pressing fabric.  Pressing blocks.  Fusing.   That's what I use it for.  And when I say "fusing", I don't mean fusing one wimpy little piece of quilting cotton to another, although it will do that.  I mean fusing rag rugs to canvas backing.  Xena Warrior Princess fusing.

The first one I had was "digital" and had an electronic display.  It burned out quickly and I was lucky enough to find this older, pre-digital model. 


Not-An-$11-Stiletto

Break a bamboo skewer in half.  Keep the pointy end, throw the other half away.

I sew with this in my right hand, using it to place, guide and push the fabric (as needed) under the presser foot.  It safely gives you much more precision than a finger would do.  Some people use chopsticks for this, but I like the pointy-ness of the skewer.  It is also great for fishing out that little loop of bobbin thread from under the presser foot when you are threading the machine. 

And life is all about the enjoyment of the simple things, like bamboo skewers.  Did you know that they come in all sorts of diameters and lengths?  I buy them all and they are useful for all sorts of things.

Feel free to share your own bamboo skewer stories or tips below.

Are You Looking For ONE good vintage machine?

Note:  I have a link to this post in my current CraigsList ads, but please remember that I wrote this post in 2012.  The machines shown in the photos below are NOT currently for sale.  They have gone to new owners long ago!  But I do have other nice machines for sale now.

In the last couple of months I have begun to get emails from readers who have questions about buying vintage machines. This post is for you.  You, the person who is looking for a one, and only one, great vintage sewing machine.  You, the person who loves to sew and NEEDS a solid, reliable workhorse of a machine.  You, the person who just wants to go out and buy a machine without having to fix it yourself.  I didn't know you were reading my blog, and I'm delighted to meet you. 

Being consulted as if I were an expert strikes me as funny. I have only been in this hobby for a few years.  Hopefully I have made it obvious that I am just blundering through this world.  I make mistakes.  I laugh at myself.  I invite the reader to laugh along with me. 

In the photos in this post The Herd means that the machine has been cleaned, repaired if necessary, and is sewing as it should.  The Hoard are those machines that are waiting for attention, hoarded for a rainy day when I need a machine to work on.

Lots of people have generously given their time and advice to me and I'm glad to pass it on when I can.  See above about how much of an expert I am not.  The place to go for RELIABLE advice is a good bulletin board.  Yahoo runs a bunch of them.  You may get both reliable and unreliable responses to your questions, but someone will step in if the advice is off kilter.

The Herd:  Wheeler & Wilson No. 8, circa 1878

Here is why people love vintage sewing machines:  they are solidly built of metal to last for decades or centuries.  Yes, you heard me right:  centuries (not including the motors or electric wiring, which can be easily replaced).  One of my machines, working beautifully, is 130 years old, and there's no reason why it shouldn't still be around 330 years from now.  Just try to wrap your mind around that for a moment.

Everyone who sews should have a good vintage sewing machine.  But how do you go about it?

The approach followed by me and many of my blog friends

• buy that first vintage sewing machine
• fix it up
• fall in love with both the machine AND the process of fixing it up
• buy another machine
• fix it up
• repeat, repeat, repeat, learning more and more with each "new" vintage machine

The good vintage machines are now 50 years old or older, and will need some TLC.  Do you want to do your own sewing machine maintenance and repair?  It isn't all that difficult on vintage machines, and you can learn just about everything on the internet, AMHIK.  But it takes time and trial and error.  If you begin as a total novice, as I did, it takes lots and lots and lots and lots of time.  Maybe you have a full time job.  Kids.  A life.  Maybe you don't have the time or the inclination to learn to be a sewing machine mechanic.

There is a big difference between collecting vintage machines and looking for just one good one to sew with.  I collect them, and of necessity I do all my own maintenance and repair.  Because I have many I can swipe parts from one machine to make another one work.  I don't mind if they aren't working well when I buy them because I enjoy fixing them.  You will be following a different path.

Parts have been harvested from this rustbucket Singer 66

So:  here you are.  Not aspiring to be a mechanic.  Wanting a vintage sewing machine to own and love. 

What approach should you take to finding that one perfect machine for you?  I'm going to make some suggestions, but there are no guarantees!  You can't just pop into a store and buy a vintage machine they way you can pop into Ikea for a chair.

First, be open minded.  Think about what functions you want rather than what brand name.  A particular brand and model may have a very good reputation, but that does not mean that the one that you find for sale is a good machine.  That specific machine may have led a terribly tragic life, neglected, un-oiled, left to choke in its own lint for decades.  Insects may have built colonies inside it.  I'm speaking from personal experience here (shuddering at the memory).

This Singer 99, nicknamed "The Yeti" for its coat of fur, was rescued from the trash pile behind my local thrift shop.

Photo from The Golden Age of Style

Basic types:

Straight stitchers

Plentiful and often quite cheap, which around here means $10.  They do one stitch only and the good ones do it superbly.  Every quilter should own one.   And when you think about it, all of those beautiful elaborate Victorian and Edwardian garments were sewn on straight stitchers because the zig-zag had not yet been invented.

The Hoard:  A Morse.

How to spot a straight stitcher: 

There is a lever or knob on the pillar (on the right hand side) to control stitch length.  That's the only lever (or knob).  It has a needle plate with a tiny hole for the needle to go through, rather than an oval opening, and the presser foot also has a very narrow slot for the needle to slip through.

For every pretty green or pink one, there are a hundred black ones, btw.

Zig-Zaggers

The Hoard:  Universal MZ

You can set them to straight stitch, or to make a zig-zag stitch.  You can make just about anything with them, and the zig-zag is handy for mending and for finishing edges so that they don't ravel.  But if you are the passionate seamstress I am imagining, you already know this.

How to spot a zig-zagger:  

There are usually two levers (or sometimes large knobs), one for stitch length and one for stitch (zig-zag) width.  The needle hole is oval and large enough to accommodate those zigs and zags.  The presser foot will also have a much wider opening than on a straight stitcher.

Multi-Stitchers

They make a variety of stitches, functional and decorative, in addition to the usual straight stitch and zig-zag.  Creators of garments will love the blind hem stitch.  I love decorative stitches but some folks never use them.  

The Hoard:  Morse 4400

How to spot a multi-stitcher: 

Vintage multi-stitchers use round cams to make their stitches.  Some of them have a built-in cam stack, and these will have a lever for stitch selection with tiny diagrams of the stitches above each position of the lever.  

The Hoard:  Elna Supermatic. The flat surface folds up to become the carrying case.  See the cam door?

Some of them take individual cams, and these will have an opening on the top so that you can insert the cam you want.  If there are no cams with the machine, then what you are seeing is a multi-stitch CAPABLE machine, but now only a straight stitcher or zig-zagger.  Move the stitch width lever to maximum to check if it zig-zags.  They also have the oval needle hole and wider presser foot opening.

Now about brands.  You may already know the good ones:  Singer, Pfaff, Elna, Necchi, Brother, White, Bernina (good vintage Berninas are rarer than hen's teeth). This does not even scratch the surface.  Good companies made machines and "badged" them with the name of the department store selling them.  Japanese companies in the post WWII period produced millions of machines under hundreds of names designed to appeal to the American market.  (all of this is bulletin board lore, btw.  Remember, I am not an expert, I'm just passing the info along.  It's probably correct, but how would I know if it was not?  If I hear it often enough, or from sources I have come to trust, I assume it is right).

The Herd:  Riccar 108, zig-zagger

Kenmore 1515 multi-stitcher

And speaking of brands, don't overlook the Japanese-made Kenmores.  Almost all of them are plain and utilitarian in styling.  They will probably not make your heart sing at first sight.  But they have followers that are loyal to the point of fanaticism and the song they sing is very convincing.  

Kenmore 1515 with its extension table

Vintage Kenmores are solid, reliable, dependable, and can handle just about anything.  They are not sexy and others may sneer at your machine.  Yes, it happened to me.  Just smile smugly, because you know something they don't:  these are some great machines. 

(see below about how to tell good vintage from crappy vintage, because there are crappy vintage machines of every brand name out there also).

Where to look:

• The attics and basements of your friends and family.  Put the word out.
• Thrift shops run by charities
• Yard sales and estate sales
• CraigsList.  
• Type "sewing" in the search box
• Be smart about doing business with total strangers. 
• Prices on CraigsList range from ridiculously low to stratospherically high.  If you are patient and look every day you may find a gem for a great price.  

and a reader added a brilliant suggestion, so brilliant that I am ashamed that I did not think of it myself.  See his or her anonymous comment below.

• an OSMG (old sewing machine guy, discussed in more detail at the end of this blog post).  

I don't bother with antique stores or thrift shops run for profit.  I'm shopping at the bottom of the market, but you may not need to be so cheap frugal.

If you are a novice, stay far, far away from eBay.  First, the shipping charges alone will be enough to buy you a good local machine.  Next, there are hundreds of horror stories about poor packing and machines broken during shipping.  Finally, you want a machine you can see and examine.  There ARE good reliable people who sell machines on eBay but there are many more who do not know enough to write a useful reliable description of the condition of the machine, or know how to pack a 40 pound machine for shipping.

Translations of sewing machine descriptions used by sellers: local, thrift shop, and eBay:

"Works" means that they plugged it in and the light came on.  It does not necessarily mean that it works.  You may think I am joking, but the manager of a Habitat store actually told me this.  I had suspected it for a long time!

"Runs" and "Runs good" means that they plugged it in, pushed the motor controller (foot pedal) and the motor made spinning noises and did not emit smoke.  It means that they think the motor runs, but does not necessarily mean that the machine runs.

 "Worked the last time we used it", which might have been 25 years ago, really needs no translation.

and my personal favorite, which I have heard several times:

"I know it works good because it belonged to my grandma."

Is it "good vintage" or "crappy vintage"? 

You have tracked down a machine, and are suspending belief on whatever the seller is telling you.  How do you figure out whether to take a chance on it or not?  And don't kid yourself, every vintage machine purchase is a roll of the dice.  You may win, you may lose, it may be a draw (you win eventually but only after spending more time or money than you planned).

Good vintage is solid metal, especially any drive shafts or gears.  Crappy vintage has plastic gears and perhaps other plastic parts.   The transition from all metal machines to more and more plastic parts began in the mid-1960's, but it is doubtful if you will know the date of the machine in front of you.  Here are some guides to finding a good one.

Where was it made?

It may be worn away, but usually if you search you can find "Made in___" information somewhere on the machine.

US, Great Britain, Canada:  Potentially good

Once upon a time we had factories.  Remember factories?  Remember when there were good industrial jobs here in the US?  If you do, you are probably as old as I am!

Germany, Switzerland, Italy:  Potentially ever better

Japan:  Also potentially good, many wonderful machines were produced here after WWII.

The Herd:  A pink Atlas, made in Japan for the Brother company.

Taiwan?  Cast iron?  OK.  Plastic?  Walk away from it.

The Herd:  The front says "Necchi", but the back says "Made in Taiwan".

p.s.:  in the comments section below both Elizabeth and Cari tell me they have found good Taiwanese machines.  My advice: be sure to peek inside to see if it is an all-metal model.

China?  Run, don't walk.  Leave that puppy behind.

It's not that there is anything wrong with the Taiwanese or the Chinese.  It's the fact that by the time sewing machine manufacturing had moved to those places, the days of all metal machines were long gone*.  Which leads us to the next point...

*update:  I recently had a cast iron Taiwanese "15 clone" come through my workshop.  

Does it have plastic parts?

Examine it as best as you can.  If it has a computer type screen, walk away.  If the body is plastic, walk away.  If you can open it up and peer inside and you see plastic, walk away.  If it obviously weighs 40 pounds, it's probably a good all-metal one. 

You might make an exception to the "no plastic" rule for the cam stack of a multi-stitch machine.  Be sure to turn the machine so that you can see the stack through a full rotation.  If there are cracks, walk away.

Is the motor internal (built in) or external (hanging off the back of the machine and connected to the handwheel by a belt)? 

If it is built in, walk away.  If something is wrong with it, you are out of luck. Or if a motor for it can be found, you are out of a rather large quantity of money.  If you buy one with an external motor and the motor is bad, you can buy a brand new motor for around $50.  Or you could buy another vintage machine and swipe the motor off of that one---they are pretty much interchangeable.  And then the insidious disease of vintage sewing machine collecting and repair will get its grips on you.

By the way, you can replace the drive belt very cheaply, so don't let a bad or missing one scare you away.

The Hoard:  A White

When you turn the handwheel (on the right) does the needle go up and down?

If it doesn't, walk away.  

If you hear yourself thinking "It probably just needs a little sewing machine oil" then succumb to your fate and face the fact that sooner or later you, too, will be collecting and working on vintage sewing machines.  Cleaning and oiling solve 90% of the problems with a good all-metal machine.

P.S.:  Most of the handwheels will turn towards you (as you face the machine).  Whites turn away from you.

 

Is the wiring taped together?  Is the insulation falling off of it?

And if it does not look fine, you know what to do.  All together now: WALK AWAY.  Or you could take the motor off, throw it away, and put a hand crank on it.  but that's a story for another day.

Miles of electrical tape do not make this wiring safe!

Time to test stitch 

 If it passes all the tests above, do some test stitching.  This means that you should have in your purse a bit of fabric, a spool of thread, and a loaded class 15 bobbin (for the bobbins that are inserted into a holder and then put in the machine) and a class 66 bobbin (for the bobbins that drop into the top of the machine). 

How does the stitch look?  A tiny bit of a slant to the stitches is a normal result of the way the stitch is formed.  How's the tension?  Does turning the tension dial change the tension?  Move the zig-zag lever through a range of widths.  Is it working?  How's the motor controller (foot pedal or knee lever)?  Does it start right up and change speeds smoothly?  Or do you have to give it a boost?  Or is there a jackrabbit start?  How does the motor sound, look, smell?  Screeching, sparking and smoking are obviously not good signs.

The most important question is:  does it make a stitch?  Almost all of these vintage machines desperately need to be cleaned and oiled, and they will perform much better once this has been done.  By the way, all of the problems described above are fixable, so it if is making a satisfactory stitch, it is a good candidate for you to:

BUY IT.  If you love it.  

If you don't love it, trust your instincts and keep looking.  Unless it is super cheap and you need a machine RIGHT NOW.  Then buy it and keep looking for one to love.  

Who is going to clean and oil and adjust it?

You can do it yourself.  You really, really can.  But I promised that this post was for the person who just doesn't want to for whatever reason.  

So now you need to find someone to work on it.  

Here's what's not to do, and what will happen if you ignore this advice.

What not to do:

Look in the yellow pages, or whatever digital version you use, for a sewing machine repair shop for your brand.  Walk in and tell them that you want it cleaned, oiled, and lubed, the motor and all wiring checked, and any necessary adjustments made.

Here's what may happen :

When you return to pick it up they may tell you one or all of the following:

 (all plucked from stories on the boards, and in each case turned out to be not true)

• your machine is obsolete
• it needs parts that are not available
• no repair manual is available for it
• it is so old and worn out that adjustments are no longer possible

Then, guess what?  They will kindly offer to sell you a brand new whiz bang plastic computerized wonder.  Engineered to last for YEARS (not decades or centuries).  Costing many hundreds (for a really cheap one) to many thousands of dollars.  Any wonder why they don't want to fix your vintage machine?

What you need is an OSMG

Old Sewing Machine Guy.  Old enough to have been trained back in the day when sewing machines (and all other mechanical devices) were meant to be repaired.   This means that the OSMGs are all over age 75 by now.  Nowadays "repair" people just yank components out, throw them away and replace them, not the same thing as real repair at all.  Word of mouth is the only way to find an OSMG.  Or I suppose you could just start calling up shops and asking how old their repair guy is (and they were all guys back in the day). 

And now you understand why so many of us repair our own machines.  I'm sure there are good repair people out there everywhere and in several age cohorts younger than 75-80, and word of mouth is really the best way to find one.  If you join a bulletin board you can even ask if there is anyone in your area who can recommend one.

By the way, my local shop requires that you pay to have the machine cleaned before they will even look at it to see what repairs are needed.  Cleaning is $75.  That would buy me three lovely vintage cast iron machines.   

Good luck in your hunt for that one perfect machine.  And don't blame me if you contract a serious, incurable case of VSMAD:  Vintage Sewing Machine Acquisition Disorder.

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Sewing machine collectors and vintage fix-it folks:  Please leave your own advice for the person who wants to buy a vintage machine, but who does not want to become a geek like us and spend hours researching machines and days and weeks cleaning and repairing them.  I may incorporate your advice into the post above, and will give you credit if I do.  TIA!

This post is really, really long.   I thought about breaking it into parts (part 1, what kind of machine, part 2, where to look and what to look for).  My conclusion was that it would be more useful all in one.  Any opinions to guide me in the future? 

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Addendum:
I don't know Ed Lamoureux, but I like his blog.  He has also written about finding and buying an old sewing machine.