Anti-Nostalgic

So today was the big day, I finally had my long awaited first sewing class. People there were nice enough and I was lucky, because we were not too many this time, so I had a huge table for myself. For my first project, I had chosen a simple burda dress pattern:

1) It is quite easy to do.

2) The cut is so generous it might even fit my terribly extreme hourglass figure. (- Yay for hourglass figures! Not yay for the stupid fashion these days that won’t fit any female looking female.)

3) I really need a summer dress.

For a fabric I chose some nice red linen. In my opinion, linen is not too easy to cut, but the result will certainly be worth the effort.

Our teacher is quite the nice person. Although I fear, she won’t have enough time for each of us once our number increases. I managed to cut out all pieces and even press the wadding (?) onto the collar parts. (One class is 2 1/2 hours and we stayed a bit longer.) What truly irks me, though, is that our teacher helps us along with our current projects, but doesn’t truly show us any basic stuff or techniques. So we’ll never be able to sew anything without her assistance. One of the others told me she was in that class for 4 or 5 years now, but she isn’t able to add a normal collar to a jacket she made by herself. Our teacher does that for her. Unless we try to learn stuff on our own in addition to those classes, it won’t do. - I intend to experiment a bit, of course, but how will I know I’m really doing things right? Sometimes you only think you did something correctly.

I guess, this is one more example for a class, where socialising is more important than truly learning something. However, I will enjoy going there. People *are* nice and I have far more working space available there than in my own flat. And maybe my first impression was wrong after all? I’ll keep you informed.

Tomorrow, my sewing class will *finally* start. I am so excited. Wish me luck. However, this didn’t stop me from beginning a “new” crochet project. It’s a shawl. I’m using my favourite pattern. It takes quite a few time and concentration to make, but so far I’ve managed to do it twice already. U/l a few photos for you, but they only show the first few rows. There’s still a lot to add. The colour is off, too. It’s more fuchsia than red.

[Click to enlarge]

Okay, before I turn my attention towards the main topic of this post, I will list the main events of my day:

1. Yellow water from the cold-water tap of my bathtub.

2. Sweetie-pie Tiva tries to jump onto the mirror, slips and crashes over heater and toilet to the floor onto her not-even-healed-yet back. Limps afterwards, but her embarassment was worse. Luckily. I totally freaked, of course, and coddled her for hours. I think she just stopped limping to escape from my worrying.

3. Did bake more bread, same recipe as always, but for some strange reason, it became ‘flat’. Still tastes the same, though.

4. Slept a lot, because it was so warm.

Now to more ‘deep’ matters. The month May is kinda dedicated to my mum for two reasons: First, Mother’s Day which is - at least in Germany - today. Second, the 26th is the day of my mum’s death. 17 years, that really disturbs me. 17 sounds a lot worse than 2 or 5 or 10 or 15. To me and right now anyway. However, since this is the first year I have a blog, I thought this a good time to get my mum some well-earned praise. You see, she was a total pro regarding crafting. I’m not sure there was a single evening when she didn’t tinker away. But her best disciplines were sewing, embroidery and knitting. She made a few stunning jumpers. I especially remember a white one made from angora with elaborate grey flowers embroidered around the collar. (When my dad learned how to use the washing machine after my mother had died, he washed it at 60°C and that was it.)

My mum also tried to teach my older sister and me what she knew. I learned how to crochet at the age of 3 or 4 and I got my own little but fully functionable sewing machine around that time, too. It was orange and white. When I was six my mum showed me how to knit, but somehow that just wasn’t my cup of tea. My sis and me and practically everyone else in the family ran around in the fabulous clothes she sew. Her dresses were kinda famous. I went through the remaining family photos (loads of moves reduced the number heavily and the rest is unorganised) to find you some good examples of what she did. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too successful. I will continue the search later. For now, the following will have to do (click to enlarge). I am sorry for the bad quality, but these are old. Even more so than my weak scanner.

Her own wedding dress:

Her honeymoon dress:

Blouse for my sis and dress for me:

My sis and I with two identical dresses (look greyish on the photo, but they were a light lilac colour):

Nightgown for my sis and jumper for me:

Red dress:

Both cardigans and my hat:

All three dresses:

Dress, coat, apron dress, jumper:

Nice comments would be … well, nice. My mum would be happy to know her work is still appreciated. It is. At least, by me.

P.S.: Tiva just fell into the tub full of cold water. She is such a clumsy sweetie.