Sewing in the Machine Age Exhibit at SFO

Warning: image-heavy post!

As I mentioned, I just got back from a lovely trip to Seattle with my best friends from high school. Before the trip even started, though, things were looking up when I discovered that there was a sewing machine history exhibit in our terminal at SFO! I think I may have even told Elaine that if the trip ended right then and there, I would still be happy. Anyway, I took a whole bunch of pictures and Elaine graciously waited for me to finish exclaiming over everything.

I would have loved to be gifted with a treadle machine upon my marriage. [picture]

I remember what a big deal it was in Little Town on the Prairie when Pa bought a sewing machine for Ma, and how it made light work of Laura's wedding trousseau.

I remember learning about John Henry vs. the steam engine, but somehow missed out on seamstresses vs. the sewing machine.

These early machines don't look anything like what I'm used to seeing.

Ahhh, that's more like it.

Early sewing patterns.

Apologies about the blurriness...I was excited.

This sounds like a fascinating system.

An ad for Simplicity patterns. I love these looks, especially the braid on the sheath dress and the raglan sleeve casual dress.

This display wasn't that interesting, except that I actually have a copy of that textbook!

Speaking of sewing and books, this absolutely ridiculous poem? list of vocabulary words? mystic chant? is from an old children's book. I am dubious about the wisdom of teaching children words like "PenCil" and "MaChine" with such odd capitalization.

Even back then, there was an association between cats and sewing. This pleases me.

They also had an assortment of displays of sewing-related objects.

Beautiful portable sewing kits.

Less portable, but still awesome egg-shaped etui.

Besides eggs, there are also bird-shaped sewing implement holders.
The fact that the scissors are all stabbed through the birds' heads tickles my fancy. Does that make me a horrible person?

Actual sewing birds! Meant to grip fabric so that you can hand-roll hems and such.
I wish I had one of these cool things! Instead, I just use my machine's lowered presser foot.

I'm glad they acknowledge that irons are essential to good sewing.

Besides all the actual items on display, there were so many pretty posters showing vintage styles!

These are much like the fashion plates in my Harper's Bazaar Victorian fashions book.
I am loving the nautical look on the left. It's like, let me hit you on the head with how many places I can put stripes.

 

I will never get tired of looking at 30s styles.

Apparently I was so excited about this poster of Downton Abbey-era dresses, I couldn't stand still.

They also had two extant gowns on display! It was difficult to get good pictures of them, though, due to an unfortunate combination of the lighting there, the glass, and my camera.

A classic Victorian dress. I love the black velvet and how it stands out even on a black background.

A hand-sewn dress from the pre-machine age. This could be Jane Eyre's wedding dress!

Absolutely gorgeous!

Unfortunately, this exhibit is after you go through security, so you won't be able to just waltz into SFO and check it out. However, if you should be so fortunate as to be flying out of or into Terminal 3, plan on at least twenty extra minutes there for drooling.

Vintage Fashion Expo Recap

This was just one half of a booth.
Imagine hundreds of these booths in a giant hall.

Two Sundays ago, I got to drop by the Santa Monica Vintage Fashion Expo, thanks to a tip from one of the ladies from the 1912 project. I meant to write up my experience earlier, but life (and Sew Grateful Week!) intervened. So here it is now!

I went into the expo not entirely sure what to expect, but also pretty sure that I wasn't going to buy anything. I was mostly hoping to get a chance to examine some Downton Abbey-esque clothing, since museum pictures don't really give one an idea of actual construction. When I walked into the Santa Monica Convention Center, I felt like I had just walked into Comic-Con, but for vintage clothing...it was amazing! Although, for the record, more people are dressed up at Comic-Con. I did wear my Pan-Am dress, it being the most obviously vintage thing in my wardrobe; several ladies there commented on it and one even thought it was an actual vintage piece! She was very sweet when I said that I had made it myself, although I didn't tell her I made it from a poly-cotton bedsheet for less than $3.

[Incidentally, if you're planning on going to Comic-Con, ever, either paid or as a volunteer, you need to sign up for a member ID. It's not a commitment to go, but more to streamline registration. *end PSA*]

There were a ton of vendors selling clothing (mostly more modern vintage, think 1930s and on, but there were some Edwardian things a couple of absolutely lovely Victorian pieces), accessories (hats! gloves! belts! jewelry!), notions (lots of lace trims and appliques and crocheted pieces!), and shoes (not especially interesting to me). I did see a couple of stalls with sewing patterns, but they were frankly not that special and kind of overpriced ($8+, when normally I get them for less than a dollar each).  Unfortunately, most of the clothing was waaaaay out of my price range, even if I'd been interested in buying. I did snag a few pictures, courtesy of kind vendors, but the lighting was quite bad and I only had my iPhone.

The front of an Edwardian era blouse. Note the high neck, lace insertion, tiny decorative buttons, and amazing embroidery. Try not to note the fact that it's out of focus. This piece was $125.

I love the look of white on white embroidery. Pintucks and lace insertion seem to be common design features. This more elaborate piece was $250!

The back of these blouses mostly closed with tiny buttons or snaps. Another thing they all had in common was the relatively short back, with a much longer front, presumably to get the poofed-out pouter pigeon look.

Beautiful 1930s dress with a pink slip and a pale pink embroidered net overdress. This piece was $400. 

The bottom of the dress. Love the glorious drapey skirt.

I really need to learn how to do this whole bias-cut gown thing.

I loved the back of the gown. I also didn't even bother trying to find out how much this piece cost.

The highlight for me was getting to try on a couple of actual corsets from the famed San Francisco company Dark Garden. Their corsets are extremely well-made, but well out of my price range, unfortunately. It was still a treat, though, to see what a steel-boned corset should feel like: very supportive, like a tight hug, and nothing at all like the cheap, plastic-boned one that I used for my steampunk costume. The kind lady running the booth laced me down to 23", which looked a little too exaggerated an hourglass for my taste. And while I can't imagine Scarlett O'Hara's 16" waist, or Ma Ingalls' "when-I-was-married-Charles-could-put-his-hands-around-my-waist," I can see how some of those extreme-looking, old-timey photos of women in corsets weren't actually that extreme; the women were just smaller to begin with.

The only things I brought home with me were a pair of white 60s-era gloves for $5, as well as an assortment of trims, which I'll hopefully utilize in the 1912 project.

4 yards of the wide lace, 4 yards of the mint beaded trim (do I see a Lady Mary-esque evening gown in my future??), and 4 yards each of the other crocheted lace trims; all of these were from the same vendor, for a total of $14! That's not bad, right?  I'm hoping to make a blouse with lace trim like the creamy one Lady Mary always wears with that belted, slightly flared skirt.
Let's just hope that the 1912 project drawings are in my favor!

The Santa Monica Antique Mall and the Rose Bowl Flea Market are still on my list of vintage-y things to check out, but I don't know when I'll be able to go. Hopefully their prices will be better than the ones at the expo! Does anyone know of any other sources of vintage clothing in the LA area?

Thoughts on Being Asian-American, and Don't I Miss the Old Days?

[This has nothing to do with sewing or geekery, so move along if you're just looking for more of my ridiculous projects.]

It was one of these beauties, but much dustier and rustier.
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I tagged along the other day when my husband went to get a haircut in preparation for a big interview, but rather than stay and supervise and play backseat hair-cutter, I decided to check out the vintage store across the street. August Rust has some fantastically-priced vintage wool skirts, but since it was 75 degrees out, I was just browsing. After some poking around, I did spot a lovely old defunct Singer sewing machine hiding behind some old chairs, but much as I would love one of those beauties, I don't exactly have the budget for restoring/repairing one right now. The owner of the store seemed surprised to hear that I was interested in actually sewing with the machine, as opposed to just dusting it off for display, so I started explaining to her all that I've learned in the past year of reading sewing blogs: that these old metal beasts could be sturdier than their plastic descendants, and that depending on what you wanted to sew, it might actually be better to use something so "outdated."

This led to a pleasant conversation about how some vintage items were so much better quality than their modern counterparts, and then that meandered into a discussion about the travesty of being able to Google or Wikipedia anything, and how kids these days don't need to work their brains because everything is just a click away. As a teacher, that is definitely a topic near and dear to my heart, especially since I have seen my homework questions show up on Yahoo! Questions/Answers. I know that students often (not always, and not all of them) take the shortcut of just looking up solutions instead of thinking through them. I've had students take shortcuts that end up being more work, just because they were trying to avoid thinking/studying too hard in the first place (so you're going to go research all the past AP Psych exam questions and memorize entire essays rather than just study properly for the test in the first place?! Really, child??? Did you think I wouldn't catch that?). But I digress.

Anyway, the store owner concluded our vintage vs. modern discussion by saying something to the effect of "Don't you think we're worse off now, as a society? Don't you miss the old days?" Readers, I have to confess, I really wanted to burst out laughing. First off, this lady, at least in my estimation, was probably close to twice my age...I'm not sure how old she thought I was (I was even wearing a cutesy little sundress), but I'm pretty sure her idea of "the old days" doesn't match mine. But after I swallowed the urge to laugh, I had to say no; no, I don't miss those old days. I tried to explain that while it was too bad that plastic appliances and Forever 21 clothing don't last forever (ironically), and yes, I do wish kids still needed to use their brains to draw conclusions, I wouldn't trade our progress as a society for her old days. Maybe it's because I'm too attached to my Apple products, or maybe it's because I'm an Asian-American woman, but I'm pretty sure that growing up in the old days would've sucked.

I do wish, sometimes, that I lived in an era where women still lunched in lovely lace tea gowns and wore cute hats and gloves, but then I remember that back then, that's pretty much all they were "allowed" to do. I like having the choice to wear my full skirts and gloves, but also having the choice to go out in jeans and flip-flops without being thought under-dressed or unfeminine. Even though I ended up in the quintessential 19th century single lady job -- a teacher -- straight out of college, I like that I chose it out of many possible professional options, and that I even had the chance to go to college (and not just to get my Mrs. degree!). I don't have kids now, but I'm glad that when/if I do, they'll have examples of Asian-Americans breaking barriers to look up to. I was really fortunate to grow up in San Francisco, where being of Chinese descent wasn't a big deal, but my dad has stories of being a college student in the Midwest, fresh off the plane from Hong Kong in the late 60s, and getting all manner of racist comments. Granted, that still happens today, but at least magazines don't print articles like this anymore: 

An article from Pageant, published in May 1959. It's so un-PC it's comical.

I know this article was written by a well-meaning Chinese-American man, but still! I think part of his statement has to do with the fact that back then, it was unthinkable for someone like Jeremy Lin to have the position he has now, so most Chinese-Americans really did just have to settle for making money and big families?

For some reason, eh? 

This article, while progressive for its time in trying to educate America at large, was still miles from where we are now as Asian-Americans. I really appreciate the progress that's been made in America's ideas of Asian-Americans, and while we're still not quite there yet, it's better than having people look at me and ask where I'm really from, or how come my English is so good. Oh wait, that still happens.

Anyway, the lady at the store seemed unconvinced even though I tried my best to explain about more opportunities and all. But even though that was a week ago, I'm still thinking about it. I don't have any clever conclusion or deep thoughts to wrap this rambly post up, but suffice it to say, even though I'm not a sports person at all (and basketball holds a particularly non-soft spot in my heart for the part it played in my middle school torment), I'm really excited for Jeremy Lin. I know, everyone's jumping on the JLin bandwagon now, but I think it's more because his success is especially meaningful for every Asian-American that's ever been teased at school for being too short, scrawny, or bookish for sports, than because of a desire to cheer for a suddenly winning team.


It's not fair to Jackie Robinson, who had to fight actual segregation laws and a firmly entrenched culture of discrimination, to say that Lin is "the eastern Jackie Robinson." That said, however, I do hope that Lin can be a symbol of changes in both the broader American culture, and Asian-Americans' view of themselves.

So no, I don't miss the old days.

And just in case you all were wondering, here's what the cover of that publication looks like. Oh honey, must doctors tell lies?

DIY Cardboard Faux Fireplace

It looks like a real home now, with a cat in front of the fireplace and everything!

I have officially turned the corner into Crazy Craft Person Land. The other day, as we were coming home from a trip to the mall, I spotted a giant cardboard box in the dumpster (balanced on top, in pristine condition, not dirty at all) and told my husband I was going to bring it home and make it into a fireplace. I think he was seriously concerned; superhero dresses out of somebody's old sheets was bad enough, now we were going to have a fireplace out of an old box? Well, I figured if LiEr of Ikatbag can wrestle old boxes home to make amazing toys for her kids, I can do the same for my...errr...small fur child. Actually, no, this is all about making me happy.

[cue soft tinkly music and blurring of the picture to indicate that a nostalgic memory is taking over]



 

Imagine these hanging above white leather couches and gold and glass end tables. From here.

Some of my fondest winter childhood memories involve a fireplace and cardboard. See, when we were younger my mom used to work part-time for this laser disk rental company that would let her take home brand new cardboard promotional displays. You know, like the kind you see at movie theaters with the characters all cut out and all. Seriously, for a time the highlight of every week was finding out which movie she scored, and then assembling the giant cardboard stand. My mother should be nominated for sainthood; I'm not sure what normal mom lets her children turn a pristine, beautifully decorated living room into an entire themed room advertising Fern Gully. Or Thumbelina or Batman Returns. The best was when Jurassic Park came out and there was not only the huge cardboard dinosaur, but signs proclaiming Dinosaur Crossing and Danger: High Voltage. Anyway, in the winter we got to cluster all the cardboard displays around the fireplace to make a little fort and then we would sit around a roaring pyramid of fresh pine branches feeble fire of one Duraflame "log." And then try to toast three-year-old marshmallows from that one time we made Rice Krispies treats.

TL;DR summary: Christmas without a fireplace just doesn't feel complete, so obviously I had to make one. Also, we have no Christmas tree to put up and decorate, so it's about time I started decking out the apartment somehow.

I started by wiping down the box with a damp towel to remove all the dust and mental dumpster association. Walnut helped welcome the box into the apartment by rubbing his cheek all over the corners. Then I used duct tape to secure the corners so that it would stand up on the flaps.

To make space for the fire, I used a box cutter to cut out a rectangle on one side.

Since the box was pretty wide, and I didn't want it to take up too much space against the wall, I cut the box in half.

It was still pretty short, so I sawed off the flaps on the other half of the box and hot glued them to the bottom of the fireplace. This raised it to a nice healthy mantel height of four feet. At this height, though, the horizontal part looked all out of proportion, so I cut it in half and inserted some extra cardboard. I reinforced it with lots of tape and more cardboard inside.

At that point, I decided that it would be just a little too ghetto to follow my original plan of drawing directly on the cardboard. I mean, a DIY faux fireplace made out of a box you pulled out of a dumpster is pretty bad; let's dress it up just a little bit. I went to Staples and bought a roll of brown paper (I only used a fraction of the roll, so I still have plenty for making patterns and wrapping packages with string). I carefully measured and cut and folded to get the paper to fit the weird shape of the fireplace. Definitely one of the odder things I've wrapped. Before I taped the paper down for real, I drew all over it to get a more realistic (ha!) fireplace look.


I knew I wanted to give a nod to the Art Nouveau aesthetic, as it is probably my favorite period in architecture/furnishings/promotional posters. Looking to my Mucha book, clip art from Dover, and pictures of Art Nouveau fireplaces online for inspiration, I came up with this lily design. I really like that I was also able to pay vague homage to Rohan and the elves in my laughable knot-work. The hardest part was that once I drew the first column, I had to sketch a mirror-image on the second column. I'm really bad at it, but I didn't feel like digging out tracing paper and carbon transfer paper to make sure it was perfect. I mean, this is a a cardboard fireplace, after all.

Oops, I see some pencil that I forgot to erase.

Check out my sad attempt at mitered tape corners!

You can see more of my sketchy taping on the side.

After placing the box against the wall, I folded a dark red poly-satin fabric from my stash on the mantel and set up some frames leftover from our wedding tables, birthday cards, Christmas cards, and two handmade stuffed cats from when I was experimenting with softies. Also, it is the perfect place to put my LOTR plaque!

Instead of a fire, I set up a box with some gold glittery fabric and Christmas lights wrapped around a pillar candle. I think it really adds a homey holiday feeling to our living room! And best of all, my husband has moved past his initial, not totally unfounded skepticism and loves it.

Summary:
Materials: Cardboard box, duct tape, glue, brown wrapping paper
Tools: Hot glue gun, box cutter, scissors, pencil, Sharpie
Hours: About 2.5 for the actual construction, another four for the designing and drawing and securing to the cardboard
Will you make this again? I'd forgotten how much I like working with cardboard! I'm toying with the idea of making a new fireplace every year with a different drawing. This website has some great ideas for classic fireplace surrounds, conveniently already in line-art form. But ideally one day we'd have a house with a real one.
Total cost: The roll of wrapping paper was $6, but I hardly used any. The tools and tape I already had, and obviously the box was free, so probably about $1, total! But I'll confess that I bought Christmas lights for $5 from Target just for this.
Final thoughts: We had a bunch of business school people over for a dumpling-making party last night, and they were all surprised to hear that I just up and made a faux fireplace. Not sure if it was a pleasant oh-wow-I-can't-believe-that-was-a-cardboard-box kind of surprise or a gosh-that-wife-of-Eric's-is-weird surprise, but it makes me happy. I don't know how long we'll leave this up (it does seem a little bit weird for year-round decor), but for very little money and some time (which was fun, and not chore-like at all), we have a beautiful mood-setting piece in our living room!

Linked to Made by You Mondays at Skip to My Lou, Take-A-Look Tuesday at Sugar Bee Crafts, and Tutorial Tuesday at Hope Studios.