"There's A Few Good Turns In That........."

Jamie's old grass cutting jeans, getting pretty worn, but still good for a few turns...........

In my previous life as a seamstress and dressmaker, I did my fair share of alterations and repairs. In fact some days it seemed that's all I did.

Jeans with knees out, pants with broken zippers, and collars to be turned, all in a days' work. And over the years, I've seen some dandies.

Back in the good old days, Nova's Sew Much More had quite a steady clientele, and not just for polar fleece and quilting cottons. I had one person dedicated to alterations, and that was Glenda. She was amazing and could perform magic with the big Juki, her industrial sewing machine. If that thing could talk.........Louise was our steady hand, and I had purchased the shop from Betty, who stayed on with me.

We had this one customer, a very short man, who didn't seem to like admitting to his lack of stature. The first, and the last time he brought in a pair of jeans was an encounter I'll never forget. I met him out front and he passed me his jeans. "Can you make these 29" for me?" I was busy writing his name on the card to go with the instructions for Glenda and I hesitated. "29 inches? Are you sure? Perhaps you should try them on and we'll mark them for you." You'd never want to take a chance on insulting anyone. They were a 34" inseam, pretty standard with good jeans, and I would have guessed him to be about a 25" inseam. There was no point in trying to point out his short inseam and embarass both of us, but he was adament. "I always wear a 29" inseam and I just got these jeans new, so I need them hemmed." I kept trying to be diplomatic and have him just quickly try them on for us, just to be sure; the last thing I needed was for a customer to give us the wrong measurement, and then we would get the "blame" for hemming them wrong, and we'd get to do the job all over again. Also, I had the complete right to refuse any job, it was my shop, but really, it was just a pair of jeans, and he was a local so what the hell.

"Okay, Lloyd," I said, "I'll give you a call when they're done. 29" it is."

And as expected, next day he picked them up, paid for them, and came back later that same day, madder than a wet hen.

"I can't wear these, they're still too long." So I took a measuring tape and laid the jeans out and showed him that Glenda had hemmed them............at a perfect 29 inches.

Well, by now he was ready to have a stroke. I said "Lloyd, just try them on and we'll pin them correctly for you, no worries, and Glenda will just run them up again."

So he didn't have much choice. I pinned them, Glenda hemmed them, Lloyd came back, and no more was said.

But Glenda and Betty and Louise and I all had a chuckle at the story, especially when I measured his true inseam.............a full 24". We never saw him again.

And never mind how many times we were asked to make a garment bigger, as if it was our fault that someone bought pants in a size too small, or a fancy dress too tight. Some things just can't be done, and we couldn't be too brisk about it, people get pretty touchy. But it happened all the time. One woman, a small blonde little thing couldn't accept that her brand new dress that she'd bought to wear to a wedding, because "it was just too good a deal to leave there" couldn't be stretched, no matter how many seams we opened. I can still see how big her eyes got when I simply said, "No. It just can't be done. Where am I supposed to get the material from? It's a size 8, that's all there is to it. I can't make it a 10."

Spare me.

But we had a lot of laughs too.

I'll never forget the basket of mending that came in one day. I actually always enjoyed the mending, it's straightforward and relatively simple, the customer is easy to please and we had a lot of tricks up our dressmaker sleeves. At that time we always removed any buttons from garments that had reached the end of their lives, and saved them in a jar. You just never know when you might need a spare button. How well I remember the afternoon Sr. Mahar from the convent arrived at my house with an old round cookie tin full of buttons that had been removed from any number of garments over the years, what a treasure. We sat for a while and chatted and sorted over the buttons. It was a comforting afternoon, and anyone who has a love for buttons will get it. The rattle they make as you push them around, finding a new pair, or a mother of pearl button. Or a large one with sequins.....what beautiful old gown did that originate from? Satin covered buttons, wooden buttons, brass buttons. Buttons with shanks or buttons with eyes, two or four...

A favorite customer was Pat (Hilrey) Cheverie, a beautiful hand knitter. The sweaters she made were works of art, and most required buttons. She would rattle around the spinning button racks, looking at every single card of buttons. I used to have a floor cabinet, wooden, with row after row of drawers full of buttons, kind of like a mechanic's cabinet. Those were full of of nuts and bolts. Our cabinet was full of buttons all sorted by size, color and shape.

Pat would pull every drawer open and look at each little compartment of buttons, she would do it for an hour, just lost in the simple pleasure of finding just the perfect button for her latest project.

But let's get back to the basket of mending.........

We shook our heads at this one. Nestled discreetly in the bottom of the basket, under the jeans that needed patching and the sleeves that were pulling out and needed a little stitch, were half a dozen pairs of men's underwear, the old tighty whities. They all needed new elastic on the waist bands, as the Mister of the household must have been a little portly and stretched them all to hell.

It was funny, until Glenda noticed all the skid marks at the back of each pair.

Then it wasn't funny.

She threw them in a separate bag and said, "You don't pay me enough for that, Nova."

And I couldn't argue. I pinned a note to the order, turning that job down.

Some stuff you just can't make up.

I always loved seeing Smid come in, just straight up mending the busted knees on all his jeans, one of the pitfalls of laying flooring for a living. Or Chef Michael with his too-long legs and too-long arms, and that was always a challenging job, but we loved the engineering needed to put 3 or 4 garments together to come up with one that would fit him. Entirely doable and he was always so patient.

Several other local ladies also did a lot of alterations from their homes, which I did too for years, and will find these stories amusing, with no doubt a few dandies of their own that they could contribute. I think of Maureen and Eileen and Wonita and others....

The first year that I owned the fabric shop, Christmas was even more special than usual. I was always a big Christmas fan, and now I had a property on Main Street that I could decorate to my heart's content, to add to the snowy streetscape.

One quiet evening the other girls went home, I stayed at work, and I locked the door behind them. I had set up a Christmas tree earlier and wanted to decorate it by myself. I took my time, and it turned out so pretty, and trust me, I am no decorator. I strung icicle lights in each of the the four big street windows, and added greenery swags outside under each window sill. I turned the shop lights out, left all the Christmas lights and tree on, went outside across the street so I could see what the shop looked like.

And like a fool, I stood there alone, on the sidewalk in the dark and let the tears come. It was so beautiful, I was so proud, I could still hardly believe the shop was mine. I was overwhelmed and it was a happy time.

The Santa Claus Parade, a big deal every year in Souris, would be next on my list and I was ready. It was still business as usual for us, but we so enjoyed opening our doors to the public, offering a terrific spot to warm up and watch the Parade, we were right on the level with it! I always served cookies and a big dispenser of hot chocolate and one of hot apple cider, and it was always well enjoyed.

As the parade passed, we went back to our work, and as Scarlett O'Hara said, " Tomorrow is another day."

What jobs would face us the next day?

Shortening a set of curtains? No problem.

New hooks on your expensive bra? Sure thing.

Fixing skid marked used old underwear?

Not a chance. Not on Glenda's watch.