heather ross on vintage sewing machines

hi everybody - today is the day for heather's stop at my blog on her "blog book tour". if you are new to my blog thanks so much for visiting!

when i was in new york a couple of weeks ago i had the pleasure of attending a party celebrating the release of a fab new book - weekend sewing - more than 40 projects and ideas for inspired sewing by heather ross.  i spotted a vintage necchi sewing machine - in brown no less - sitting on a table (the very one that you see in that second image). i desperately need to replace my total clunker of a sewing machine (a sear's kenmore i purchased in 1987) and have had my eye on a necchi but had never seen one in person - unless you count the one that's behind glass in the design collection at MOMA.  well of course now i knew that i had made the right choice and couldn't wait to get home and add necchi to my ebay saved searches (i did score a brochure - see previous post - but no sewing machine yet).

i complimented heather on her choice of sewing machine and she proceeded to tell me the most fascinating story about them. she then went on to tell me all about her grandfather's time as a singer sewing machine rep. you know i'm a sucker for crafty history so i was totally blown away.  i knew that we had just the right topic for her stop at my blog on her tour!  what follows (in bold type) is what heather sent me - i just love it and am sure you will too.

I am an advocate for vintage sewing machine, and have had a few great loves in my own life. The first was a sparkly teal-green vintage Singer. It belonged to my great grandmother originally, then my grandmother, and then my mother, who I believe still owns it.

I sewed on it so much in high school that I was allowed to take it with me to college. During my first year in the dorms I set it up on my desk (where my books and papers were supposed to go, this probably explains my less than stellar academic record) and sewed regularly, which I am sure really thrilled my room mate. I do remember one night, when I was lost on some project and keeping her awake, she finally sat straight up in bed and said “Heather. Enough. Sewing.”  The machine worked really well, but at some point the little screw that held the presser foot in place became loosened. I would tighten it as best I could but as I sewed the foot would start to wiggle a little and then shake violently and then eventually get in the way of the needle and then, when the two collided, the needle would break and fly into my face. My solution, partly because the nearest Singer sewing machine dealer was an hour or more away and this model was such an antique that replacing the stripped screw hole was maybe not an option, was to sew with my ski goggles on. I was raised to improvise, not to replace.

My Singer had once lived in China. My grandfather worked for the Singer Sewing Machine in Asia during the late 30’s. America had already been introduced to home sewing machines, and Singer had developed (and had much success with) the first widely used “pay by installment” system in order to enable the average household to afford such a helpful tool. Now, with the depression on in the U.S., they were opening new markets in China. And not just in the cities, but deep into the countryside. My grandfather was one of their men, I think mostly sales and sometimes, debt collections. He travelled by car (there is a family legend of him also taking trips by elephant, which seems believable considering how many towns were not connected by roads at this time, and because an elephant could certainly carry a lot of sewing machines) but no one can say for sure. A record of his sales trips exist in the form of his letters and pictures sent my grandmother, who was living in Saigon. I thought you would like this little excerpt:

                                                   

Mrs. H. L. Beemer     

#45 Rue Garcerie
Saigon
 
Tuesday June 13, 1939
 
Hello my love --
    Arrived here late this afternoon after a hectic trip from Nhatrang.  The car has been up to its usual stuff -- the water pump folded up about 100 km from anywhere & we had to do the stop & fill stunt every 25 km all the way to Nhatrang (the nearest place with a garage). 
They worked till 10 last night making the pump over -- it was too late to go on so stayed there & got another early start today & all was OK till about 40 km out the fan belt broke.  We hailed & bus & the little man wove a belt from some rope he had on hand & we limped into town.  I sent you a dempo then took the bath -- put a wet towel on the old face to rest the eyes & now here I am guzzling an olive (not bad) & taking hand-in-hand to write to mine love.
    Have been traveling through interesting country – from Phanthiet to Quinhon -- you skirt the sea off & on -- about 350 km -- with a few spots very much like Izu -- I wanted to go for a swim but inasmuch as you weren't there -- the punch wasn't in it at all so didn't go in. ...

and it goes on. What I love most about this photo is that he is pouring water into his cars radiator with his hat. He wore hats like that his whole life. So very dapper. My uncle has told me that in China you could not fully understand how many households depended on their Singer sewing machines until a fire tore through a city block or a mountain village, and the streets would fill quickly with Singer Sewing machines, vacated before any other belonging. I believe that the Singer I sewed on came to live in the US just a little while after this letter was written, which would have been about the time my mother was born.

By the time I gave that Singer back to my mother I had learned to take it apart and put it back together again. Every part was metal, every piece stayed shiny and chromed, even when it lived with me in musty cabins and humid old apartment houses. I oiled it sporadically, but used it often. I think this is the trick with sturdy old machines: they long to be used. I had other interests for a while, horses, backpacking, not so much sewing.

When I wanted back in a few years later, I picked up an old industrial Singer. It was a powerhouse, capable of sewing just about anything. It was the most dependable and solid machine I have ever used. I sold it when I moved to New York, because it was far too big to ship and where would I put it? Besides, a modern apartment demands a modern machine. And I knew just the one.

Necchi is the sports car of sewing machines. If Featherweight is a VW beetle, and a Singer is more of a Buick, then a Necchi is really the Fiat or the Ferrari. In fact, the Necchi Mirella is the only sewing machine ever put permanently on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, apparently because it is considered to be the most successful design, in aesthetic terms, ever produced. Necchi was the sporty sexy sewing machine, and was extremely successful in Italy. A young Sophia Loren was their spokesmodel (below). An effort was made to introduce the Necchi to the US markets, but failed when the man put in charge was preoccupied with the lovely ladies and high society in New York, and spent much more time out and about than in his office on West 24th street. The next time you are walking down 7th avenue, look for the enormous but faded painting on a brick building of the Necchi Silvia, its ultra modern lines looking avante garde even today. 

I sewed most of the photo samples in Weekend Sewing on my Necchi Maximatic, which is the same chocolate brown model shown in my book. This is a fantastic machine, a little loud, but very reliable and sturdy. Once again, made exclusively of metal parts. I sometimes try to feed it plastic bobbins, but it spits them out. I paid about $75 for this machine on Ebay, and will likely have to have a new foot pedal put on it soon. While I am at it, I may just put a new motor in it. Maybe. I sort of like the gurgle-y sound this one makes. If you are looking for a machine that will look lovely on display, perhaps among your danish or post modern decor, this is a great choice.

And then, of course, there is the Featherweight. If you’ve never sewn on one, you really ought to try. It takes curves and corners with a surprising eagerness. Using these little machines is quite thrilling, a little like doing doughnuts in a volkswagen beetle in the high school parking lot in two feet of snow. I’m especially fascinated by the story that a recent reader sent in about her Featherweight, Bonnie. She was told that her machine, which is a “white” Featherweight, has a hint of green in it (like many of them do) because it was “part of a batch that was sprayed with paint from a machine that had not been properly cleaned first, and still had some green left in it from a previous job”. I wonder. Was it British Racing Green? Ammunition Green? Hmmm. Now that I have heard this story I will never stop wondering... And yes, that would make Bonnie a sibling of the little Featherweight on the cover of Weekend Sewing, who many of you have pointed out, is just a touch green. Take a look at what the pure white ones look like here and you will really notice the difference. For great help finding a Featherweight of your own, turn to Featherweight Fanatics.

I have long been on the prowl for a Singer Junior Miss. This is not a toy machine, just a model meant for small hands. I want it because I need a tiny machine that will travel with me for demos and signings and weekend trips. And because its freaking adorable. In exactly twelve minutes I will either be outbid or I will be the new owner of this little beauty. Fingers Crossed.

Also on my list?

The Elna Grasshopper, with its almost military (its Swiss, after all) sturdiness and innovative carrying case that turns into a work surface. I love the green. It comes in a red, too, FYI.

Another Green Machine, the Necchi Mirella. Look at the color of this sewing machine, like Baby British Racing Green!

wow - wasn't that amazing? thanks heather - i think you are world's leading expert on vintage sewing machines. i am so moved and inspired by heather's knowledge and passion. and i do hope she won the "singer junior miss". i am now going to go into my closet and pull out my mom's beloved singer (it's black and i think probably from the mid 50s) and take a good look at it.

if you would like to get a copy of heather's new book  weekend sewing - more than 40 projects and ideas for inspired sewing please leave a comment (i will close comments tuesday 3/31@ 11:59pm pacific time)  and share your memories of a favorite vintage sewing machine. one lucky winner will be chosen!

update: 4/1 thanks everybody for your comments. what amazing stories! let's all give a big cheer for the winner: amanda who is still using her grandpa's sewing machine!

Comments

[Pattie Cordova]

I love vintage sewing machines... a Singer is on my way soon

[oneredboot]

what great stories! the machine i use now is a fabulous viking from the 80s--not so old, but old enough that i worry about it breaking in a way that the singer guy down the road tells me he won't be able to fix...

[Nova]

The only one I have any experience with is my mother's old Singer. (which I am kind of afraid to touch :))

[~Heather]

I'd hardly call my early 90's Bernette vintage, but it's the only one I really have experience with. I nearly got one of those Singer Junior Miss numbers on freecycle last winter, but alas, someone else got there first... sigh... ~Heather

[MelodyJ]

My grandmother had a sewing machine that was made in 1946 in Occupied Japan. I don't know the brand. My mom had a Kenmore from the 70's. Sadly we don't have either anymore.

melodyj(at)gmail(dot)com

[Jan Rader]

I love this post - how fascinating to read the letter from 1939 and the history! I sewed on my mother's Singer from the 1950s for home ec classes, then "inherited" my grandmother's Singer from the 1960s later. I didn't really like the machine, but I loved the cabinet (I no longer have either the machine or the cabinet). I liked my mom's Singer better, but it was in constant use, and my grandmother's hadn't been used for a long time. Then, of course, after I left home, my mom got a Bernina, which she has loved for more than 30 years now! My current machine was made by Pfaff, but it must have been like their store brand because it doesn't have the Pfaff name on it anywhere. I like it a lot, but it doesn't do a lot, either - just a couple of stitches outside of straight and zigzag. My only complaint about it is the zipper foot is the stupidest one I've ever seen. But the machine I WISH I had been able to use was the very old Singer Featherweight inside a beautiful table that was on my grandmother's sleeping porch. I never saw it used during my lifetime, no one would let me have it or use it, and it was sold at auction when my great-uncle (the last one in the house) died. Oh, how I wish I had known about it earlier and been able to convince someone that I would love it forever!

[sherri s.]

I would probably own a roomful of vintage machines (next to the room of vintage typewriters!). My mom's 1956 Singer...so heavy, so well used (Barbie clothes, my clothes, prom dresses)...it will be mine one day, and I'll cherish it!

[Meridith]

I started out sewing on my grandmother's Singer. A bit noisy, but what a workhorse. I love that little Junior Miss machine. I am going to have to keep my eyes open for one of those for my girls.

[beinred]

I inherited my great grandmother's friendship quilt. Each block is signed. I went to the tiny Tennessee community it was made in to talk to people about the characters from the quilt.

I found out that my great aunt Evalene was the one who orchestrated the making of the quilt. She was an idustrial seamstress, and a successful one. My dad remembers her having "a ring on every finger." Late in life, after her first husband died, she married a 22 year old.

Auntie Evalene was also the first one in the community to have a sewing machine with foot pedal.

[Jennie]

My favorite vintage sewing machine is the one my Mom has. I don't know the brand, but it's powder blue and was her going-off-to-college present from her parents. It's been her one and only sewing machine for the past 40 years.

[DianeM]

Wow, I loved the article. I'll have to look into that Singer Jr. Miss.
My Grandma had an old treadle sewing machine in her apartment...I don't remember much about the machine, but I do remember the big foot plate that you'd pump. After that she got a machine that had a knee pedal instead of a foot pedal - that one came from my Aunt Hattie's estate. I don't think my Grandma ever sewed anything, but back in those days every lady had (or wanted) a sewing machine. The machine I have is fast approaching vintage..it's a Kenmore I got for one of my birthdays back in college - I was soooo practical :) It's on my kitchen table today waiting for me to start sewing again.
Smiles, DianeM
basketblessed@yahoo.com

[Sara Anzlovar]

I have my mother's Singer featherweight that I learned to sew on in 1959--60. I had 2 singers after that but the last one was a terrible piece of junk. I switched to Viking and have loved them ever since. I have a Viking 940 or 950 and a Designer I. I had a Viking from the late 70's that I traded with my sister for my mother's featherweight. Opening the featherweight makes me smile as I remember all that I learned on it. Would like a copy of Heather's book. Sara A.

[Lolly]

My nana's old Singer has a set of cams that can be swapped in to produce fancy stitch patterns. I'm crossing my fingers and being very patient that my dad will fix its broken gear soon. We've been apart for too long.

[stacy]

A friend's mom was an avid quilter, but Alzheimer's meant she could no longer live on her own. I inherited her 1950's Adler 189A, my first vintage machine, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Compared to the newer machines I've used, it's like a big, old Cadillac - solid and smooth. Of course, it weighs as much as an old car, too!

[amy]

i have about 10 machines, including my serger and newer machines, but my old ones are my loves! i can't seem to stop collecting them, much like my love of vintage typewriters - much like sherri s feared, they ARE addictive once you start!

i have several old singers and an old kenmore, all 60s or earlier and in fabulous colours like gold and baby blue. a late 80s pfaff which i never use, and a late 80s brother that i bought at a garage sale for $2 and then sewed 3 years worth of clothing lines on it (great investment!) but my absolute favourite machines in my collection are my elna grasshoppers. SOOOO beautiful! i really lucked out when i found them in two separate thrift store. my sister has a featherweight which is fabulous, but i can't be too jealous because i have my grasshoppers!

heather's book looks fabulous! it's definitely on my wish list at the moment, so thank you for the opportunity to win it (and the opportunity to babble about my machines, i love talking about vintage machines!)

[Estelle]

What a great story :)

Thanks for sharing with us!

[kariko]

I've been looking for a vintage machines for a looong time. There was this great pink toyota machine on ebay that I LOVED but chickened out on the bidding and regreted ever since. Wish I had Heather's knowledge and her passion is inspiring.
thanks!

[Nicole]

love the post, would love to win the book! i have a bit of an obsession with vintage machines...i own several beauties in varying shades of green and brown.

but my absolute, all-time favouritest is a gorgeous old black singer, which i think is circa 1929. my grandmother gave it to me last summer, happy to know it would be valued. i cherish that machine...to think of the love that has flowed through it over the years! mothers and wives and daughters and sisters have in their turn sat before it, creating--out of necessity, or simply for the joy of creating. i imagine my grandmother, a farmer's wife who was widowed at a young age, working to create clothes for my father and his siblings, curtains for their windows, cushions for their sofa.

i love the baggage that comes with vintage machines. there's an emotional residue, whether real or imagined, that only adds to their value. i am perhaps irrationally fond of sewing machines, but my grandmother's singer is precious beyond words.

[Clair Shearar]

What an amazing story! I have an old Husqvarna that belongs to my mom, which I use. It is from the 50's & is, by far, the best machine I have ever used. Almost all metal, it went for it's first service just a couple of years ago, after having being put into storage for a few years. I believe what Heather says that old machines just need to be used.

[Hilde]

Great article! I do have a few remarks. The Featherweight wasn't made in pure white (see http://www.singer-featherweight.com/siteone%20pages/Facts-Myths.html), only in the slightly greenish white. Also, I think the Elna Grasshopper was only made in green (hence its name), not in red.
Vintage sewing machines are so much fun to use! I have both a Featherweigth and a Grasshopper. The Grasshopper was purchased on Curacao by my great aunt, then brought back to the Netherlands, sold (or given?) to my other great aunt, taken to Australia when she emigrated there, and brought back to the Netherlands as a gift for me from my great aunt when my parents visited her a few years ago. This machine has travelled more than I have! It sews beautifully, but has some motor issues now (and I don't know where to get it repaired, don't really trust my local repair shop with this beauty). I love it.

[Hilde]

I forgot to mention this: for more information about the Grasshopper (and a lot more vintage machines) see http://www.ismacs.net/elna/remember.html. There's a great promotional picture there as well.

[Barbara Gibson]

I am still sewing on my Sears Kenmore that I bought in Atlanta in 1973...the only sewing machine that I own...love it!

[Lorene]

Well, now. This writeup opened my eyes to a world of sewing machines that I knew nothing about! I had never heard of the Italian model before... Thanks so much for choosing this topic to discuss with Heather Ross about.

[Beth]

I've been longing for this book, and now I am longing for a vintage sewing machine as well!

[dawn]

A wonderful story. I'm so glad people still appreciate these classy old machines. About the white Featherweights: many of them have a celery-green cast to them. It wasn't a manufacturer error, exactly. The primer used as an undercoat causes the white paint to appear greenish.