Wow… almost three months since I’ve posted. But I have good reason. Honest, I do. When it comes to being creative, I’m all over the place – moving from one crazy idea to the next. I’ve had lots of “rambles” in my head, but I’ve been letting them simmer a bit while rediscovering (and falling madly in love with) a skill that I had packed away in my storage closet for several decades.

Sewing. Yes, sewing.

It started about 57 years ago, watching my grandmother at her machine, making everything from quilts to curtains to costumes…

And, trust me… I wore quite a few of those costumes. Not only was my Granny Taylor an incredible seamstress, she was also a career music teacher and had a musical kindergarten called “Rhythm Band”. At the end of each year, she’d have a recital… and in this particular year, I had learned the piano and was so hung up on Liberace (look him up if you don’t know who he is… he’s FABULOUS) that she stitched up a silver sequined tuxedo jacket for me to wear while playing “Alley Cat”. And, yes… I had a candelabra, just like he used to have.

But I digress.

I spent hours with my Granny and Momma, tagging along as they went to the local fabric store in Denton, NC. (I sure wish I could recall the name of that place.) I’d walk in and feel both comforted and a bit frightened by the towering bolts of fabric looming above me. When you’re barely over three feet tall, walking through that place felt like walking through the maze in “The Shining” – you never knew what or who might be lurking around the corner, hatchet in hand, ready to chase you. Yet, at the same time, I was mesmerized by the multitude of colors, patterns, and textures and wondered what the two of them might be taking home to cut up and stitch into something wonderful.

The holidays were particularly exciting times for Granny. She loved Christmas (well, any holiday, for that matter, but especially Christmas) and made matching outfits for Momma and me. And they were usually in a rich velvet or velour with fancy embroidered trim. This is one of my favorites (I was three years old, and from the look on my face, not too excited to sit there and have my photo taken).

Yikes… just noticed that set of knives in the background. Scary Christmas, huh?

Granny used to tell me the story of how, on Christmas Eve, “she and Mrs. Claus sat late at night at her sewing machine while Santa put presents under the tree, and the two of them stitched up clothes for my new baby dolls”. And one Christmas in particular, “they” made matching red velvet jackets with white furry trim around the hood and sleeves. That, according to Granny, was “Mrs. Claus’ idea”. Wish I could find that photo to show you.

Then, there was the infamous Easter ensemble. A navy blue dotted Swiss fabric dress with a sweet little white apron. That year, Granny was feeling especially, er, creative, and decided to make a matching hat. She used a round pan (probably a pizza pan) as her guide and cut a huge circle. A bit of elastic and some lace trim…and voila!

Okay, I was the first grandchild… and subjected to quite a few sewing “experiments”. I remember my Momma telling me that when we were at church that Easter Sunday, some lady came up to me and said, “Oh, how sweet! Little Miss Muffet!” I quickly let her know that I “was NOT Miss Muffet… I was Shirley Temple!”

Not only did my Granny make some memorable clothing, the quilts she created were works of art. There was one she had stitched that had handprints of all of her piano and voice students over the years. She made an outline of each of their hands, cut out the fabric, and on each square, embroidered their name and the dates that they took lessons from her. I have one of her Dresden Plate quilts, took a photograph of it and made it into notecards and pendants.

My Grandmother Tysor and Aunt Sylvia McElhannon were also skilled seamstresses. I remember a sweet little calico print pinafore dress with cuffed sleeves that Grandmother made for me – and now every time I see a calico print, I feel comforted for some reason. Aunt Sylvia made all of the bridesmaids dresses for my cousin’s wedding, and I remember spending the weekend with her so she could finish fitting and sewing mine. It was a beautiful pale yellow eyelet fabric floor-length dress with ruffled short sleeves. The wedding was in August, so that fabric was perfect.

Momma sewed, too. She had one of those old Singer machines that was built onto a wooden table and had that huge black iron foot pedal that you would rock back and forth to power it – “old school” for sure. I remember her letting me sit at it one day and work the pedal and try stitching. After she died, I can’t remember what happened to it… I’m guessing my dad sold it or gave it away. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those that actually works.

The thing I remember most about Momma in her very short life was that she saw possibility in everything – and if she could bring something old, and maybe even forgotten, to life, she was on it. Before her hands became so crippled by the effects of scleroderma, she loved to embroider – anything and everything she could find.

A few years ago, I was in the midst of a life change that required downsizing. I was selling an old steamer trunk that still had some of my memories in it. While cleaning it out, I discovered a denim shirt that my mom used to wear. It’s a tiny little thing – she was only about 90 pounds and five-foot-three. She had embroidered the sweetest yellow flowers around the cuffs and cross-stitched a heart on the pocket. Her initials “NT” were also there – something she always placed on her work.

Of all the things I have of Momma’s, this is the most precious.

Several years after Momma’s passing, my stepmother, Meredith, also developed a love of sewing. I remember going with her to a couple of classes at the local community college and becoming interested as well. When I was in high school, she helped me learn the basics, and I started making some drawstring pants, Hawaiian shirts, and those preppy pocketbook covers that you could switch out to match whatever you were wearing that day (it was the very early 1980s, and I was doing my best to try and fit in with the rest of the kids in high school).

Years later, I ended up buying a Brother sewing machine. It was the late 1990s, and I made a few things over the next few years – Halloween costumes for my stepkids, a failed attempt at a dress, and a few projects started but abandoned for other obligations at the time.

And then the machine was put away in the closet. For nearly twenty-five years.

So, back to the present day… and my rekindled love of the craft. For the past year or so, I’ve been trying to find my own creative “spark”. Five years ago, almost to the day, I started a small art business with the guidance of my father – it’s called Blondesighted Studios. We created notecards and art prints from our original watercolors and photography and saw some success with it. I later began making jewelry and started selling it in local shops and at markets. Some of my pieces may still be for sale in a coffee shop up in Connecticut. And although I loved going on the journey with my dad, something always felt like it was missing. I began to lose my “fire”… and when dad passed away in January 2024 after a short hospice stay (stage 4 lung cancer), the “fire” was quickly extinguished.

After a few attempts at creating some new things and feeling less than excited about them, I decided to start selling off some of my supplies. I was at the point of closing up shop and yet another chapter of my life.

And that’s when I saw the sewing machine in the corner of the laundry closet, beckoning me.

So, I pulled her out from the stacks of plastic tubs, brooms, and baskets full of unfolded clothes (I hate folding clothes) and placed her on my dining room table.

I had to recall how to properly thread the machine and the bobbin – and once I pushed the foot pedal and saw the first few stitches appear on the piece of scrap fabric… well, something stirred inside me.

All the memories of colors, textures, and patterns started flooding my mind. I could see my grandmothers, aunt, mother, and stepmother, sitting at their own machines, happily immersed in their craft. It was a gathering of creative women.

… and they are right there with me, connected by a thread of love.

My rekindled affection for sewing is intense. As Momma enjoyed bringing new life to something forgotten or discarded, I have also discovered the joy of taking thrifted clothing and finding the right pieces to create an entirely new “upcycled” piece, ready to be loved again and worn proudly. The sensation of running my hands across the fabrics and feeling their textures, coupled with the excitement of finding the right pieces to combine into a new garment… are you kidding me?

And, yes. If it involves velvet or calico prints, it’s likely in my stack of fabrics waiting to be sewn.

Somehow, I feel I have “come home”. Full-circle. To my authentic self. Through sewing, I have not only reignited my spark… I have found a way to reconnect with the women who helped shape the colorful, crazy, creative woman I am today.

I’d love for you to follow my journey… check out “Repurposed & Reloved” on my Blondesighted Studios shop page.

https://blondesightedstudios.square.site/repurposed-and-reloved