she's crafty (and she's just my type)

there's a new girl on my drafting desk, ricky's been eyeing her since sunday.  (oh yes! ricky is back, though that's another story.)  i'm not jealous, in fact i may even be considering switching to the other team for this dame.

she is a pfaff 1171, and all of kalkatroona is in love with her.  even ellie has graciously welcomed her (especially since i treated that formerly mean girl to elna specific serger needles).  the desk is a bit crowded, four square feet of sewing space and all, so that's to be sussed out... 

found her last sunday on craigslist, listed just as a pfaff (which is apparently pronounced with a long A, like faaahf, not like the A in cat, you can even put a little plosive of a p in there, but who's counting*), and from the picture i could tell she was an 1171.  during my rabbit hole of machine research, this was one of the gems!  a trip to bedstuy and a hundy later, she was mine.  a fabulous seven foot tall drink of water informed me she was moving to west africa and selling most of her (super chic, completely fabulous) stuff.  oh and i found a few feet in the case, she mentioned, offhand.  YEAH YOU DID. YOU FOUND ALL OF THE FEET!!!  Leggy Laday even had the original bottle of oil and needle packet (which i'm keeping for posterity).  the machine had been in her closet for five years-- she was the second owner, and never touched her after sewing up a children's dress (surely, that killed her sewing career right there.  Must Always Sew First Garment For OneSelf, Especially When One Is As Fabulous As Leggy Laday).

*EDIT: i'll admit it,i'm counting, ladies and gentleman, and i quote from le anon comment: "She is a beaut! But you've been had on with the pronunciation. Before this catches on and everybody starts saying Faaaaaf and making a donkey of themselves, let me tell you as a German: it's a short a and a clear P. Say "Pfuff". Easy. You're welcome." here's a li'l mp3 too.

she ran nicely at first go, but the presser foot came down as if on a hydraulic system... sort of a slow release that reminded me of a battlestar galactica viper coming in for a landing.  cool! i thought.  this must have something to do with the IDT system!  a quick post on the pattern review boards revealed that no, it was not, so i got to opening and cleaning.   i suppose five years of sitting idle will yield seized oil, even on the manual's boasted sintered metal.

wouldja like to see what this little gal looks like with her clothes off?  naughty.  i always knew y'all were pervs.

nope, you're not supposed to remove the covers and such, that's for the mechanic, but tinkering is in my DNA.  big daddy has been (among many other things) a mechanic, in fact he taught me how an internal combustion engine worked from A to Z for my fifth grade class presentation (i got an A: hand drawn schematics, verbal with no notes, yo) so yeah.  i found the users and service manual online and i was ALL IN.

i went for the needle bar area first.  it's always scary to self tinker, there is the very real possibility that you'll end up doing more harm than good, but after giving the equivalent of a tartar buildup cleaning, removing the yellow, seized oil, the presser foot release moved beautifully.  this seemed a good thing to me, so i was off to the races. diluted denautred alcohol on the plastic housing (really, i should have taken a before and after, she had dirt splotches the size of denmark) and tri flow oil on metal innards. the service manual instructs the mechanic to oil the entire machine (the user, only a dot in the bobbin casing), so i went for it.  and also:  tri flow is AWESOME.

LEAVE ASIDE THE FACT THAT I UNSCREWED THE ONE SCREW YOU SHOULD NEVER UNSCREW.  JUST LEAVE IT ASIDE.  just realized i still had the caps lock on-- but you know what?  LEAVE IT IN CAPS.  NEVER TOUCH THE SCREW TO THE RIGHT OF THE BOBBIN WINDER. it has a washer underneath, which will produced a most unsettling, clinking, falling sound at 12:45AM when you go a bit too far, leaving you in a state of shock and slight denial.  at that bewitching hour of the morning, the top cover, which was proving to be resistant,  had to come off. as ginger would say, not gonna lie... the top cover is a real bitch to work off that first time. she was coy, needed coaxing.  now she's been topless three or four times since then, with ease.

but that first go at second base is a doozy.

  

by gently tilting her head over heels, i was able to produce the washer.  i think i said ohthankyou out loud to the general vicinity (which at that point was my kitchen counter, my toolbox, and the cat).  the service manual does instruct you to loosen or tighten that screw to adjust the bobbin winder tension, but people.  TEENY, TINY, INFINITESIMAL ADJUSTING THERE.  (and one does not need to remove that screw in order to remove the top.   that's what got me to scarytown in the first place.)

still, i'm even glad i dropped the damn washer, it made me get inside the hood and discover a couple of thread snarls.  all in all, about fifteen hours of work on a vintage machine (that was already running nicely) and now.  and NOW.  I HAZ BUTTONHOLES.

and many other things, obviously, but the first trial was adding buttonholes to my new burdastyle bella jeans.  she runs beautifully.   and even better with a cocktail, naturally.

speaking of cocktails!  let's discuss her name (my point will become clear momentarily).  she is definitely a she, i knew it when i saw her.  the surname tiptronic puts 90s rap firmly into my head.  i immediately exclaimed over the little ball used to change the needle.  ricky likes her.  lucille ball... nicknamed tipsy for tiptronic...theme song, the beastie boys' tune "she's crafty," specific lines: "i think her name is lucy but they all call her loose"...her bare top reveals the number 8499 "i think i thought i seen her on eighth and forty deuce" (so close!) and also, she likes to work with a cocktail.  naturally.

long and winding road, yes.  not sure the destination to nameville is right, but that's what i'm working with.

parting shot: she came with all original accessories, right down to the li'l bottle of unopened oil and the needle packet (which i'm keeping for posterity).  so!  any 1171 lovers out there?  I AM IN LOVE WITH THE IDT SYSTEM! any tips?  do tell!

product placement

ever so many things are going wrong here.

my machines have been on full tilt revolt in kalkatroona, as you already might know if you follow me on instagram or twitter.  it has driven me to throwing fabric at my form in dangerous fashion.  it has made sewing very... stressful.  and we all know sewing is what we do to get happy.  

sewists, as sewists will, as they are the best people on earth, flew to my aid: peter offered me my pick of loaners from his menagerie.  carolyn is hell bent on letting me manhandle her high end janome (i am terrified).  sonja drove me ALL THE WAY OUT to queens to bring my ailing friends in for diagnosis, and test drive some berninas.

we had an amazing day at sew right, if you're in the market, get thee there.  harvey & co were just as delightful as they were on that thread cult podcast of yore-- the one in which harvey basically narrated my life as i tried my best to electrocute myself fixing my ricky.  we spent four hours test driving all manner of machine, and yes, i did possess a bernina 1008 for about thirty minutes, but it wasn't love. actually, the further i get from the initial bliss of those test drives, the more i think i might not be a bernina girl after all.  no offense, everyone has their favorite brand, right?  harvey had a juki straight stitch that was heaven.  the babylock jet air sergers were pure magic-- what about the babylock sewing jobs?  and i haven't even tried a pfaff, husky or elna yet.  um, and have you seen necchi's machines?  i do have a soft spot for italians.

my southern man, however, has no love in his heart for this work in progress.

then there's the vintage debate.  i've had six machines in seven years, and mostly it's been love: gimbles branded kenmore, singer featherweight, rocketeer, genie, elna lock pro dc 5, and finally my riccar superstretch 2600. combined, a total of $300.  the argument of course being, if i had a brand new machine with quadruple the price tag, i might say i've had one machine in seven years that i've totally loved.  one that might actually do professional buttonholes and solve tension on its own and such...

to my surprise, my riccar 2600 was pronounced by harvey to be the best model out there.  good thriftin eye!  yet, when i can buy another metal beast for less than the cost of service...it becomes somehow painful to keep him going.  especially when, in the years ahead, parts for my riccar will become obsolete.  as harvey said, although i scored the very best, there isn't a demand for vintage riccars.  no demand, no supply.

oh ricky. you handled this silk lame with no demands whatsoever.

my dad, also known as big daddy here on the blog, surprised me with a loan of his featherweight (read: jeans hemmer) that i bought him several years ago, so stitching is happening.  ploddingly.  for those thousands of you experiencing sleepless nights, clenching your teeth, pulling at your hair, wondering WHAT IS OONABALLOONA STITCHING ON GODSAKES I MUST KNOW, you can rest semi-easy.  myself, i am dreaming about machines nightly. that's not an exaggeration. i have... not nightmares, no, stressmares, in which i test drive machine after machine but always come out empty handed.  

product research stresses me clean out.  always has.  your advice is welcome, i'm mixing margaritas.

(speaking of stress, it has come to my attention that the oona drunken fat quarter challenge has produced unsafe levels of worry!  not on MY watch.  like i said, sewing is for happy times.  the deadline is hereby extended to may 20, aaaaaaaaaand the contestants are hereby allowed to stitch whatever their hearts' desire.  accessories! bikinis! placemats!  TODDLERWEAR! and what man doesn't want a unicorn pocket square!  have at, ladies!)

there are worse problems to have

well y'all, i must thank you PROFUSELY for all of the great comments, advice and emails, and thought it only right to let you know i've put the bernina search on hold.  i know, i know.  but now that the holiday tipsy has worn off, i just can't justify spending that much when i have a perfectly good working machine. 

YOU BE QUIET NOW.  DO NOT TRY AND STRONGARM ME, RUGGY ALREADY TRIED AND HE IS NO DELICATE FLOWER.  I AM RESOLUTE IN MY DECISION.  I SAID BE QUIET.  after all,  you can't be too surprised, can you?  did you really think i would do as i was told?

plus, ignorance is bliss.  i only test drove a couple in ruggy's hometown, so it's not like i really know what i'm missing.  what knee bar?  what needle up/down position?  what automatic tension?  

at the moment my ricky & i are enjoying the hell out of some christmas fabric, but if you're in the market, there are some great links/advice in the comments section of my last post!

and i shall christen the bernina in the bathroom.

okay okay OKAY.   i'm so excited i whisper scream to myself every thirty seconds or so, and i'm not even drunk.   (a constant state of holiday tipsy does not equal drunk. them's the rules.)   SANTA BEEN BERY BERY GOOD TO ME.  and on top of that, santa had the great wisdom to let me in on the decision.   i unwrapped a vintage ornament this christmas to find it nestled in a wad of cash...and i am under strict orders to use that cash for a new bernina.

for once, i am following orders.  mark this date well.

the rugster explained the family's intentions.  babe, we wanted to have one under the tree, but i thought you'd want to pick the model.  you'll probably want mechanical over digital.  you can get one like gertie's, she did a two year review of hers--

at which point my brain exploded a bit: i'm sorry ruggy, HAVE YOU ACTUALLY BEEN DOING COVERT RESEARCH ON MY BLOGGER GIRLS?  ARE YOU CALLING THEM OUT BY NAME?!  WHAT.  BATHROOM?! 

okay.   i'm telling you, pint sized freak outs every thirty seconds.  i would go balls out every time, but i feel i should keep them under a certain girth, i don't wanna blow my bernina wad just yet.  after all, there's still the homecoming, which may set off the richter scale.  here's where i need your help.   of course i've been trolling my girls lladybird, heather lou & gertie, all proud owners of variations of the sexy bernina beasties... anyone out there wanna add some advice?  mechanical?  digital?  feet? vodkas?  i'm all ears!

spy games: dallas edition

Howdy, hotel ironing board.  

(I'll be kickin' it Texas style through august. If everything truly is bigger in Texas, the next kalkatroonaan birthday celebration may actually end the world.)

Number one on the list of last minute mission supplies: an entire suitcase devoted to my truncated sewing studio. My Ricky Riccardo was shipped separately to me by Momma Ruggy, and I spent cocktail hour going Macgyver on its ass. Or, to be exact, its foot.  

Free for the night, I hit play on a most excellent episode of Thread Cult (#14), involving all manner of sewing machine knowledge from an obviously learn-ed man, Harvey Federman, the owner of Sew-Right in Queens. A delight to listen to. As I started my first seam of the evening, this statement came forth from my laptop speakers: vintage machines are only worth sewing on if they are metal, black, and pre WWII.

Hrm.

Cloth cut, makeshift table top set up, I plugged in my Ricky. Huzzah! The light blinked immediately on. Yet, another warning wafted through the air: many post WWII metal machines came from Japan, and were branded by department stores. They aren't worth the cost to fix them. I shuddered uneasily. You see, my Gimbels-branded, Japanese-made, beloved Kenny sits in NY, comatose; I can't bear to pull the plug.  Aright, I thought, I've got my Ricky, he works fine, maybe it's time to let Kenny go. I shook the image of Kenny's tiny, closeted sick space away, and gently pressed down on Ricky's engine.

Nothing.

As Harvey continued to wisely direct on all manner of new and vintage machine pros and cons, I fiddled desperately with switches and outlets and wheels. Occasionally I would sigh and drop my head: this poor white machine, with its made-in-japan stamp, it is not worth it. Thoughts of combing Dallas thrift shops or (shudder) getting a new plastic job (read: the cheap worthless kind) filled my weary traveling mind. I walked away to pour a glass of pinot to clear my brain. It didn't make sense! With his thirty pound metal housing of the wrong color, Ricky seemed impervious! Finally, a light shaking of the metal presser foot revealed a loose, rattling sound... 

Still enjoying the company of Christine & Co, I unearthed my handy machine screwdriver, which unfortunately was NOT a phillips head, and managed to pry the tiny screw off without stripping the damn thing. Harvey breathed: just because a machine is metal doesn't mean it's worth it. There are plenty of machines out there with plastic parts that are worth the money, and plenty that aren't. Holding my all metal foot, I scoffed, wrenched the plate off... and a plastic thingamajig promptly fell out.  

HARVEY FEDERMAN YOU GET OUT OF MY HOTEL ROOM.

Shoving fingers and screwdrivers into the tin nooks and crannies of the foot's guts, I realized the lone plastic part could only fit into one impossible hole.

Let's just say I had to sweet talk it into that spot with a long metal stick. It was quite naughty.  

As the show ended, so did my tinkerings. I poured another glass of vino, applauded the truly brilliant (and unsettling-- did an opposing spy install an observation device in my hotel room? Must check that out) episode, and patted myself on the back for being  Such. A. BADASS. Yeah, my machine was the wrong color! The wrong age! (hrm, sounds familiar...) But i beat the odds! I fixed it all by myself! And I even remembered to unplug the presser foot while I jammed metal and flesh into every steel corner for twenty minutes! Ruggy would be so proud!

With a force borne out of victory, I plopped myself down on the hotel-side-table-serving-as-sewing-chair. I carefully lined up my sweet Ricky with the edge of the hotel-dresser-turned-on-its-side-serving-as-sewing-desk. I leaned over to plug the foot back into the socket, and of course, found it already plugged in, as it had been for the last twenty minutes.

I'm assuming the fact that the thingamabob was plastic was my saving grace. Ruggy says I should've just jumped into the bathtub while I was at it. 

So, apparently, there's something to be said for plastic parts.

Touché, Mr Federman.

but baby, he's two thousand more than you...

well i'll tell ya.  kenny is giving me the glacial shoulder.

occasionally the needle, which has 3 positions, doesn't want to shift when i turn the knob.  his screws get loose. so i tinker and turn and curse for a bit and then he snaps back into place.  not so today.  after taking the hood off and hearing a pop when i messed with the cam housing, i enlisted the magical fixit skillz of ruggy.  but kenny's sat obstinate on the table for several hours now.

here's why:

never kid yourself that you can cheat on your man and keep it under wraps.  eventually they WILL find out.  i found ricky (riccardo is his formal name) in a goodwill store near mother ruggy's.   it was our last stop on a whirlwind tour of thrift shops that had only produced sad and beaten shells of machines.  i spied a small white suitcase on a high shelf, with a price tag of 50 bucks.  that hefty sticker had kept anyone from touching what looked like an overpriced vintage carry on... but i knew what must be inside.  shoppers stared curiously at the petite girl struggling with an old empty suitcase, and then swarmed when i revealed its contents.  oh riccardo.  so debonaire.  so accessorized.  full set of cams.  full set of feet.  original owner's manual.  

removable bed.  

i took him with me that day and had my way with him.

when it came time to return home, i left ricky behind, but i couldn't stop thinking about his smooth cam housing... his super long stitch... i thought i was hiding it, but kenny... kenny KNOWS.  he can tell by the way my hand keeps reaching for a slightly larger knob.   you may think he's not the jealous type-- after all, he shares a room with that psycho ellie-- but bring another man into the mix and it's kaputz.    he won't even eat, his feed dogs are on hunger strike.  it doesn't matter that i left ricky in another state.  it still happened.  to make matters worse, kenny's model 600 has been mocked by ricky's 2600.

size does matter.

i guess i'll have to fiddle with my girl ellie for awhile until we get to california.  as natalie portman so rightly observed, nothin like a little lesbo action to get a man interested.

luckily, i covered the machine.

so, yeah, i had a little unexpected trip to the hospital. well, it was expected, just not expected to be, shall we say, as in depth as it turned out to be. bit of a shock. luckily i got the sewing machine cover done before all hell broke loose. i mean, thank god.

at the moment, i'm relaxing in bed, about the one thing an oona hates most in the world (there are so many things to DO! clean! sew! organize! RE-ORGANIZE!).

actually, i was too in-shock & out-of it to be bored for the first few days. now i'm antsy and wanting very much to boogie. (don't worry, parental balloonas. i won't shimmy anytime soon.)

(oona reclines in her room at the hospital, suspiciously considering the latest offering of sustenance before her. suddenly, a knock at the door.)


big daddy: is there a balloona here?


eg: we brought you balloons!


big daddy: yes, but we couldn't find anything good to weigh them down, so we used a bottle of champagne.


(r enters, and looks to the bottle hopefully.)


r: how soon can she drink that?


(oona grins mischievously. the beige mass of pasta and meat balls have lost all luster.)

they know me pretty well. like balloona, like balloona.

wow. get me. links and scenes and everything. i must have more energy than i thought. for the past few days, all i could do was point & click-- in fact, i've spent MANY hours enjoying everyone's blogs and finding new ones through your favorites...so a very big thank you blogger peeps, you've helped keep me entertained and sane. we will raise many glasses when we pop that champagne open, and one will be to y'all.

what i've learned about leather: a little how-to

i've stumbled across many sewing peeps, both online and in person, who have a fear of working with leather. having jumped into this material blindly and with both feet, i thought i'd share what i've learned so far with you.

be prepared to get it wrong the first time.

just like the first dress you made or the last seam you ripped, you're going to have to accept a few fails. now, fails in this area do suck a bit more because leather is expensive, so try to find scrap leather to play with before starting that red MJ jacket. some stores will have remnants. if you don't have the garment district at your disposal, try this site.

get the right tools.

hands down the best machine needle i've found is schmetz, they make specifically marked leather needles in sizes 12-18. Amazing Lady hepped me to these. i use 14 for thin leathers, and 18 for the thickest hides. buy a few packs, because you'll want to replace them often! i have a dedicated pair of fiskars for cutting, no need for my fancy ginghers. i like a sharp seam ripper rather than a thread snipper to trim thread ends, i can get closer to the leather without nicking it.

when leather is pierced by a needle, it's not something that can be steamed away. those holes will stay. practice and muslins and lots of patience are your best friends with benefits. now, pinning is a very mean girl that likes to talk about you behind your back. ignore her. double sided leather tape is key when joining pieces together, i cut very thin, small strips; about 1/8 inch wide, and use these strips in place of pins on the WRONG side of the leather. this stuff is much thinner than ordinary double stick tape, you can sew right though it.

threadwise, i like coats & clark dual duty cotton/poly, it's strong, not too thick, and i can always find the color i want-- that's important to me, because i play with extreme colors in leather and need way more than the basic black and white heavy duty threads i find in most shops. but play, you might like thread the size of a plywood beam. no judgements here.

can your machine handle the truth?

i don't know about y'alls new fangled computer-ma-rized machines, but if you've got an old metal vintage job, you're in luck. my 80 pound metal kenmore eats up leather with a grin. when sewing leather on any machine, the tension should be set high (on mine that's a 6), and the stitch length should be fairly long--shorter stitches mean less space between the holes the needles creates, which for obvious reasons ain't good. on mine, no lower than a 5 for length on a straight stitch. i like to use a zigzag stitch when joining leathers on my belts (that's a 4 width & 3 length on my vintage dials).

slow down, partner!

best not to race through a seam on leather like you're sewing cotton. there are too many little hitches that can-- and will-- break your needle and send it flying off into your facial region. (oh, what's that you say? you have one of those computer-ma-rized machines with a needle guard? feh.) the hide of the leather can cause friction with the pressure foot, a little burl on the underside can mess with the feed dogs, the grain of the leather will change and simply not want to go in the direction you're headed, the needle gets pulled the wrong way one too many times and pop! as long as you're taking your time, you'll be fine. also, starting your seams at the very edge of your leather will cause you grief. the material will hitch up before you can begin. start with about a half inch of leather behind the back edge of the presser foot.

you got to know when to hold 'em.

so, your leather says: no thank you, my current plans do not include following the path you are leading. you can reverse the current direction and sew your seam from the opposite direction, that will solve the problem most times. otherwise, a little manual help will do the trick. while running the machine very slowly,  give a gentle and constant pull on the back of the material to get it moving, holding the front steady as well. if you & your machine are still working hard after a few inches of seam, try reversing the direction. sometimes, the grain of the leather just wants to go where it wants to go.

papa needs a new pair of shoes!

machine feet! i have learned to love them. i have not, however, found a teflon presser foot that fits my vintage guy. c'est la vie. you may find one quite easily, and it could make the 2 previous paragraphs of rambling completely moot for you. if you have a vintage machine and can't find your proper foot, don't despair-- after my first hour of playing with leather, my machine seemed to build up some confidence and sews like a dream now. or perhaps my machine does not have access to human attributes, and the oils from the hide have just built up? maybe that's not so good? again, i say FEH!

i have also heard of peeps using baby powder; dab some onto the underside of the leather, tap off the excess and go; but as a vintage user who regularly cleans and oils her machine, that starts the JAWS theme music in my head.

what's my type?

if your leather is of the shiny patent variety, you're in for some tears. the shinier the leather, the less it will want to move freely under that presser foot. it would be like sewing your first garment in silk chiffon rather than cotton... just step away from the patent leather, ma'am. go for a nice buttery soft thin to medium weight leather for your first outing. not to mention, if you're sewing a garment rather than say, a belt, you'll want thinner leather for all those seams.

i hope this proves useful... ask away if anything's unclear or unsaid.  my best advice:  dive in and see what happens! 

love, oona & roxie.

making progress

and going blind.

WOH, day four: and the peeps, they dance, they shake their bootys

 

i think it's well past surfing time in more than a few areas of the globe that do check this blog (areas? more than one is plural, yes?) but i did not flake! r & i have been at a health fair all day long here in LA, and we met some very wonderful, infectiously happy people. i taught a dance class (an afro-brazilian dance class) on top of a building (a 17 story building) on a helipad (a HELIPAD!).  how cool is that? so my day four WOH creation is booty shakin. dance-right-off-the-roof booty shakin. seriously, the railing was not that big. i decided, rather quickly, to take any and all spins OUT of the routine.

i have to admit that i was stressed out about this class. r set up the entire event, and this was the big finish. i don't think i would have been as confident creatively about it, truly, if i hadn't been creating on the days leading up to it. i was still crazy nervous, and of course i would've done a few things differently, but It. Was. FUN.

we've both been on all day, and i am dog tired, as is r. tank decided to overheat a few times on the way home, for good measure. r's vegging with the ultimate fighter (a favorite of both balloonas; these guys are amazing, they beat the absolute hell out of each other and then cry and hug and are complete BFFS) and i'm playing with photoshop. with some good oaky chardonnay, of course.

tomorrow we're both creating good health by going for our annual physicals, but i promise something a bit more fun than a doctor's visit. until then, WOHs from YOU: you know him, you love him, BIG DADDY's got a hosta named after him in eileen's garden... and a plant that would spark a rumbling in anyone's stomach grows in maya's spot... the rumbling fruitfully continues at marmota's... and mick is spinning yarn, bellydancing, and taking a really gorgeous picture while she's at it. like, i'm this far away from stealing it. but bed is closer. so to bed i go.

ANOTHER SOUTHERN MAN!

i haven't named him yet... but i'm going to spend the day sitting by the open window cleaning him up. open window?! that's right! it's 80 and sunny here today. apparently the rains were for oscar week. the gods are angry with awards shows.

so! i picked him up for twenty five american dollars all the way out in lawndale california. he came in a beautiful mid-century desk that easily fit in tank. tank was very happy to meet him. oh, have you not met tank?

tank.

this is a 403A singer slant-o-matic. and, as i have found out from the awesome peeps at various yahoo! sewing boards, the "A" stands for anderson, south carolina, where he was made.

i do like me some southern men.