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Getting back to basics with old-fashioned shops
A trip to the fabric store reminds this writer of a kinder, simpler time
By Moryt Milo
My mother has always been a wizard with a needle and thread. Scattered around her house--and mine, too--are pillows, rugs, quilts and sweaters all created through some form of stitchery. I'm sure she inherited this talent from her parents, both of whom were very skilled in sewing. And then there's me, the perfect example of talent skipping a generation.
Well, my daughter decided that she wanted to buy her teacher some embroidery books and needles as a present for the holidays. Their class had just finished a unit on the Colonial days and part of the learning experience was to make samplers. My daughter made a teddy-bear sampler, which looked quite impressive for a first attempt. After showing me, she said her teacher's needles were lost in the process and she would like to buy her a new set.
"Great idea," I said. "How about if I pick out some books and a package of needles as her gift?" Then I asked, "What do embroidery needles look like?"
With the true wisdom of an 11-year-old, she looked at me and said, "Mom, it says right on the packet: embroidery needles."
"OK. I can handle that," I must have sounded rather unconvincing because my daughter suggested she accompany me. "I'm not sure you'll get it right," she said. "You know sewing is not exactly your thing."
"How hard can it be? I'll go to Barnes and Noble get some books and then go into a fabric store and pick up some needles."
I walked into Barnes and Noble, looking incredibly lost (which is pretty sad for a writer), when one of the clerks popped out of nowhere and asked if I needed help.
Confidently I asked where the aisle of sewing books was located, adding, "Actually, I'm looking for books on embroidery."
"Oh, well, that's not the same thing as sewing," he said, steering me toward the crafts section.
What did I know? If it involved some sort of needle and thread, it was all sewing to me. As I stared at three shelves of stitchery books, I realized my naiveté. I planted myself on the floor and began to read.
I had no idea how much was involved. No wonder those old samplers go for a fortune in antique stores. Not to mention it looks like you have to have the patience of a saint to make them. Forty-five minutes later, I paid for my books, hoping I'd picked out the right ones. Next stop, fabric store.
Every time I enter one of these stores, I always feel oddly out of place, like someone from the 20th century who's just been "beamed back" into Colonial times. Nevertheless, I traversed the aisles in search of those embroidery needles. I got lost among all the end caps and various stitchery sections until finally I spotted the round wooden embroidery hoops. I leafed through a few more embroidery books, amazed at what they called "beginning stitchery." It all looked pretty darn complicated to me. And then there was this whole needle thing. Apparently, one size doesn't fit all. I decided to play it safe and got two different packets.
I lingered in the shop a bit longer. It felt like an adventure into the unknown. These stores carry a lot more then just sewing materials, and I soon found myself in the woodworking section. I have always loved the smell of fresh cut wood and its feel when sanded to a creamy smoothness. I love to look at the grain and texture in an unfinished state--it looks so alive.
I picked up some pre-shaped pieces and was reminded of the wood projects (bookshelves and shelving) I made for my children when they were infants. I hadn't thought about that for a while, yet my work still endures as a functioning testament in their rooms.
So perhaps that's the appeal of these old-fashioned shops. Like lingering dinosaurs in Silicon Valley, they are important reminders of our roots. Everything in these stores takes us back to the basics; to a time when we were intimate with the products we used. Such reminders, no matter how out of place we feel at first, should make us all feel good.
Please contact Moryt Milo at morytb@aol.com.
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Sunnyvale, California Since 1994
