Sewing stories II
Thanks everyone for the opinions on the Sidelines vs. FLS. I love the swingy look of the FLS, but yes, I confess I too am not sure if it will flatter me. Some of the comments reinforced that doubt, so I finally opted for the Sidelines Top, but with some mods and a different yarn – which is still in the mail. If swatching goes well, I’ll blog about it soon. I decided to temporarily shelve the Mas Acero (Safeena, will definitely email you first if I do decide I have too many things in that shade!), and switch to working in some other colours for now.
In the meantime, I joined a Sewing 101 class here, and wanted to put down some first impressions about it.
First off, my jaw hurts from dropping to the floor at the prices of the pattern, the fabric, and the supplies. Yes, I am a mighty fool for not bringing some general fabric, or all my supplies with me. I guess it’s not so much the actual price as the difference because of the exchange rate, and my annoyance at having to basically reequip myself all over again. The pattern – apparently an easy one for beginners according to the saleswoman who sold it to me – is for a basic straight-lines robe, which I thought would be a good way to learn about such important things as sleeves, belts and bands. And it promises to be quite an education, given that I spent the entire five hours of the first class cutting the tracing paper, and pinning and cutting the fabric. Ten more hours and I will, no doubt, feel like I should have not just a robe, but a square hat and tassel, and a degree as well.
I saw one of those shiny electronic machines for the first time ever, and learnt where the bobbin goes and how to select speed and stitch and all of that. But the class is eye-opening in many other ways too – learning about the “grain of fabric”, which is a new and intriguing, if altogether proper concept, and about reading and using commercially published patterns. As always it set me thinking about how things are done so differently in different parts of the world. My teacher in Pune did not mention grain at all. Some fabric for salwar kameezes has a pannaa (width) of 54 inches, and even when it is 45 inches, it is not always cut lengthwise along the grain – certainly many of mine have been cross-grain. You would just need a lot more fabric to cut along the grain – in the case of my robe, I was surprised that I needed nearly 4.5 metres, when a full-sleeved A-line knee-length kameez, roughly similar dimensions as the robe, usually takes no more than 2.5.
I tried gently to suggest that I try the robe too along the cross-grain since it would allow me to use the remaining fabric for another kurti, maybe, but the teacher was quite adamant that I cut it according to the layout in the pattern. So I need to pick her brains about the hows and whys and what-happens-ifs of all this, and also pay closer attention to grains and things the next time I buy fabric from a taagaa (bale), rather than a pre-cut piece set, in India. I wonder if the need to economize over the fabric impacts the sewing practice, even at the expense of the fabric’s integrity, since garments along the grain are sturdier, perhaps? Even as I type this I imagine the internets and sewing fora to be abuzz with these debates – battlelines drawn sharply between the along-the-grain walas and the cross-grain walas, like English or Continental knitters, or like toe-up and cuff-down socknitters, or those who knit exclusively with natural fibers and those who use acrylic…
But I confess I was unprepared for two other things. The first was the actual pattern, which I had no idea would be pre-traced on paper! In my Pune class I measured myself, drafted the pattern and cut it on old newspaper, then held it by hand over the fabric as I outlined it with tailor chalk, then moved it away and cut the fabric. Here, I chose the L size, cut along the paper that already came in the pattern, ironed both the paper and the fabric, and then painstakingly pinned the traced pattern to the fabric. Oh my god the pinning! She made me repin it thrice, because I didn’t have enough, and she was worried the fabric would move. I was heartily sick of it, but deeply impressed with the attention to precision. I finally got the sides together in a fourth round of pinning, all prepped for sewing next week. All I could think of was – wow, is this how everyone sews every single pattern they make here? It’s a lot more labour intensive than the general eyeballing method of Mrs. Rajput back in Pune. It set me thinking about how much of this was her individual teaching style, and how generalized these sewing practices are.
A deeper discourse on handicrafts vs. the industrial revolution, individual product vs. mass production etc is fighting to burst forth here, but I am quelling the urge for now, because I am suspicious of simple binaries of “it’s like this in India” vs. “it’s like that in the West” and I really don’t know anything yet about the world of sewing to generalize beyond these two individual experiences. But it’s certainly worth exploring these themes further in my sewing adventures, as potential differences in crafting philosophy, or as pedagogical or epistemological approaches in different parts of the world to handicrafts that live in an industrial age. Maybe it will all emerge as individual quirks and accidents of history rather than broad patterns (!) of cultural practice; for now, does anyone know of interesting books or website that discuss stuff like this? I’d love to read more about it. (Actually, Abena, if you’re reading this, it would be great if you could weigh in on this, would love to get your take on it!) I’ve written in the past about the differences in knitting methods – in terms of the attention to gauge, yarn amounts, measurements and blocking vs. a general let’s-see-what-happens attitude among knitters like my mum. And yet, sewing demands an attention to fit that knitting does not, both because sweaters aren’t used as much in a warm country like India, and tend to stretch and fit loosely anyway, so it might well not be a good comparison. We all know a tailor has to be far more careful about his garments fitting his customers than an auntie has to be about her sweater fitting her nephew…
