I’ve always watched, eyes green with envy, as a few of my closest friends casually altered their own clothing, created their own prom dresses, and flawlessly manufactured clothing out of practically nothing. So, this year, I decided I would try my hand at sewing. Pulling out my mom’s old machine, I got a quick lesson from a friend (thanks, Isabelle Oberhofer) on how to “thread the bobbin” (look at me using sewing lingo), and got to work. Under Isabelle’s proficient tutelage (plus a large assortment of vaguely helpful YouTube videos), I was able to sew in a straight line, playing with various stitches like a duck pattern and a row of tulips. Eventually, I felt I had gotten the hang of it (after sewing exactly three straight lines), and moved on to sewing a pillowcase (big mistake). As it turns out, when you make a pillowcase you need to first be able to sew in a curve, and second, a lot of stuffing (I don’t have any). Suffice to say, this simple task was outside my abilities, and I ended up breaking the sewing machine. But as they say, Cest’la vie! I did my best, had fun doing it, and now I know—beyond a reasonable doubt—that sewing just isn’t for me (or my mom, since she doesn’t have a sewing machine anymore).
