BREAKING! The 1944 Outfit Project

Friends, I am very excited about my next project and I hope you will be too.  I'll be making three separate garments, all from 1944, to create a lovely WWII-era ensemble for demure Miss Cathy Lane.

The genesis:  I was perusing Etsy last week, and I stumbled upon this cute jumper and blouse pattern (above right) for only $3.  DING DING DING!!!  El Cheapo just had to have it.

I love the simple sweetness of it, and couldn't you just see a youthful Gene Tierney or Jennifer Jones -- or even somewhat more mature Eve Arden -- wearing that outfit onscreen?

Joan What's-her-name and Eve Arden in "Mildred Pierce"

Here's an ad for a somewhat similar jumper, from a September, 1944 Screen Guide magazine I own:







Now that it's fall, we couldn't have Cathy parading around in nothing but a jumper and blouse, so I decided to look for a suitable coat pattern.  And that's when I found this, also on Etsy:



It cost quite a bit more than $3, but what are you going to do?

Yesterday I went to look for fabric ideas, and here's some of what I came up with.  I don't want anything too matchy-matchy, and I want it to have a period feel.  The coat, I think, should be wool; the jumper can be velveteen, corduroy, or plaid or patterned wool tweed.  The blouse will be a very soft cotton, perhaps a soft camel and white stripe.







Last night, I remembered that Pattern Review has a Refashion contest starting November 1, which is just around the corner.  So at the flea market this morning, I picked up this huge salmon pink wool blanket.  It's not perfect -- there are some difficult-to-capture-on-film areas of fading and discoloration -- but I think it's usable.  It's darker than it looks immediately below, more of a rose beige, but I wanted to show you the blanket-stitching.





I'm fond of many of the styles of the mid-Forties and, paging through Screen Guide, part of my vintage movie magazine collection, I was reminded how lovely they are.







Oh, look what else I picked up!  I don't think it's real fur, but I love the look.



And that, readers, is what's on tap, starting soon.

What do you think?  Can you see a salmon coat, perhaps with contrasting lapels, combined with herringbone jumper and brown striped blouse?  Or should I go with textured velveteen?  Planning a new project is fun!

You can see more photos from my 1944 Screen Guide here.

Have a great day, everybody!

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Friday Featherweight Fun-Fest!

Friends, I recognize that this week, MPB has been a little -- how shall I put this?  -- sewing-machine-heavy.  Please believe that I have new projects in the pipeline and I will return to sewing soon.

A brief recap:  If you've been following the daily drama, you know that I bought a vintage Viking 6020 on eBay on October 6th, when my other vintage Viking, a 3240 -- seized up on me all of a sudden and I didn't think I could do anything to fix it.  Well, the 6020 arrived damaged, having been dreadfully packed, and I requested a full refund from the eBay seller.





In the meantime, however, I succeeded in lubricating my 3240 and returning it to full functionality, which meant that I didn't need the 6020 in the first place.  (Whether I ever really needed either machine is not a topic we will be discussing today, thank you very much.)

In the meantime, I successfully bid on a Kenmore 158.1040, a vintage 3/4-size machine, not to be confused with a Frister & Rossmann Cub 4.  That one joined the family on Tuesday, and though it needed considerable oiling, it's a keeper, and, considering it's a zigzagger, actually has an excellent straight stitch, due to its separate straight-stitch plate and excellent straight stitch presser foot.  (I have since learned that any Kenmore low shank zigzagger can use a vintage Singer straight stitch presser foot, but I digress...)



Meanwhile, despondent over my damaged Viking 6020 and not completely lucid, I bid on and won another Singer Featherweight on eBay last Saturday night.  I took a chance with this machine, friends.  The bidding started high-ish (at $125 -- a bad selling strategy for a highly coveted item, imo) but it received a mere three bids and I got it for about $140.  The photos of the machine were poor and the description briefer than brief -- basically, that what you (can hardly) see is what you get.  Nevertheless, the seller had 100% positive feedback (as did the seller of my Viking...) and was located nearby, so the shipping was low.

Well, the Featherweight arrived yesterday, and guess what -- it's fabulous!  This is the first and only time that an eBay machine has sewn perfectly right out of the box, requiring no oiling, no adjusting, no belt or wire replacement, nothing.  Amazing.

It's positively lustrous and dates from 1948.



My first Featherweight -- which I love today, of course -- arrived last March with a host of problems.  Yards of what looked like fishing wire were wrapped around the shaft behind the shuttle.  Even after removing it, thread kept getting snagged under the feed dogs.  Ancient thread, moreover, was tangled up in the handwheel.





A screw was missing in the bobbin case and I had to replace it.  But it still wasn't sewing right.  With Rain's help, we figured out the machine needed a new hook assembly -- the old hook had burrs on it which Rain didn't have the tools to smooth down -- and I was able to find a vintage one for sale on eBay.



All told, and not counting labor (which didn't cost me anything, but still), that Featherweight ended up costing me $100+ more than my new one.  You may also recall that its carrying case was so moldy it made me sneeze every time I opened it.  Achoo!



Many weeks later, I finally got this Singer working right, and it has performed flawlessly ever since.  That's why I wanted another one, plus it seemed like a good place to park some cash till interest rates go up.

My first Featherweight came with no accessories except a buttonholer, which I didn't need, but was still nice to get.



This second Featherweight came with a whole host of accessories and a vintage Singer oil can.





And did I mention that the case -- which has a lovely leather handle and just a few minor scuffs -- smells...well, OK, we're not talking Chanel No. 5, but it doesn't smell moldy in the least.  Just a little like gun cleaner.  Refreshing!



As I mentioned, it stitches beautifully.  I feel very lucky.





Now, many of you are no doubt wondering what is to become of the damaged Viking 6020, for which I have indeed received a full refund after persistent pestering.  You're probably thinking, Wouldn't Peter -- given his familiarity with vintage Vikings, success with loosening up stuck machines, willingness to wrap exposed wires with electrical tape, and overall cheapness -- try to get that machine running? 

Friends, upon my attorneys' advice, I  shall refrain from answering that question.  Let's just say I did only what you would have done, and leave it at that.

In closing, I will stop talking about sewing machines now.  Oh, one more thing:  a while back, I was kvetching about the straight stitch on my Kenmore 158.141 zigzagger, and MPB reader Wingamajig reminded me that my machine has "a flipping straight-stitch/zigzag plate."  Oh, joy!  I flipped the plate, and after attaching an old Singer straight stitch presser foot, it too is now an excellent straight stitcher.  My $20 flea market workhorse and I are back together again!  Now if only I could loosen the clutch from the handwheel -- a problem I have with both Kenmores, actually.





And that, as they say, is that!

Have a great day, everybody, and remember: Friends don't let friends bid on eBay in the middle of the night.

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Send in the Clones

So here I am, all excited about my new Kenmore 158.1040 and someone tries to rain on my parade.  The audacity!

A certain Curious Kiwi leaves a comment yesterday telling me that my newly-acquired, vintage, 3/4-size zigzagger is just like her mother's old Globe Cub 3, a machine that -- she doesn't say it but I can read between the lines -- is even more adorable than my 158.1040.

Why, if I weren't a gentleman....!

Here is my Kenmore 158.1040, admittedly a little drab, color-wise:

And here's whats-her-name's Mum's creamsicle-colored Globe Cub 3, which was sold in the Australian and New Zealand markets.  (Even her photograph is better -- rats!)



To make matters worse, after doing a little online research -- the only kind I do -- I discovered that this little Jaguar/Maruzen-made Japanese machine was also sold in the UK as the Frister & Rossmann Cub, which was cuter still, in a Terence Conran sort of way.  By this point, I am choking on my own bile.





Not only that, but on eBay right now, you can buy all of these adorable little Cubs!  (Please remember that electrical currents will differ depending on your location.)





Friends, is it me, or is something wrong here?

Now, I've always known that sewing machine models were often made in the same factories using the same (or nearly same) design, and then custom badged by whichever company was selling them.   In fact, you can read a very interesting article here about who made which machines for Sears, to be sold under the Kenmore name.  This still goes on, of course.

Kenmore 19112:



Janome 11554:



As with so many consumer products, over decades, corporate consolidation takes place (think General Motors) till there are very few independent manufacturers remaining.  Did you know that Singer is now owned by the same (belch) private equity firm as Pfaff and Husqvarna Viking?  Can anyone say Occupy Wall Street?

Even back in the day, Singer branded the same machines differently for different markets.  Remember that Seventies kitsch phenomenon, the Singer Genie?



She was sold in the UK as the Singer Starlet, don't ask me why.



At some point, they even changed her flower-power decals to something more suggestive of shag rugs, soft lights, and Barry White records.



And let's not forget the Mon Ami and Mon Ami II:





Readers, if your head isn't spinning already, I must briefly mention the Post-War Japanese clone phenomenon.  This is where America started losing its industrial edge, which is in no way to disparage our friends in the Land of the Rising Sun.

Here's a genuine Singer 15 model (15-88, 15-89, 15-90, and 15-91):



And here are some Japanese clones -- some of which were, apparently, better constructed and engineered than the Singer originals!













These clones still show up at flea markets and thrift stores all the time and can be a great bargain if you're looking for a vintage straight stitch machine.  They use Singer low-shank feet and standard Class 15 bobbins, too.

You can read more about Japanese clone machines over at Jenny's Sew-Classic blog and at the Vintage Sewing Machines blog.  It's a fascinating topic.  You can view (many) more clone pics here.

In closing, readers, how are you feeling at this point?  Bored?  Confused?  Weepy with nostalgia?  Have you ever sewn on a Japanese clone?  What was it like?  Do you love clones, if only for the pastel colors?

Did you always know that Sears -- and so many other retailers -- just stuck a badge on machines manufactured elsewhere and called them their own? 

Finally, the truth, please:  Is the Globe Cub 3 just a little bit cuter than the Kenmore 158.1040?

WAAAAAH!!!

Happy Thursday, everybody!

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