Imagine . . .

 

2012.  This is the year I am dedicating to Becoming Mari.  I do not want to simply move through the notion of rediscovering myself, I truly want to experience the act of living.  Living life, MY life and loving it.  Loving what I do and respecting that it may not all be good all the time, I may not be jumping up and down with excitement and joy daily, but I want to love MY life again.  Imagine.

 

I do not suppose this process of living to be a quick transition for me, in fact, I believe the process shall move slowly evolving  over the months to come.  I am so comfortable with this pace of change.  I have spent the last 8 years moving into becoming the 24/7 caregiver for my mom, and it nearly well broke me of my life, and while I don’t imagine it taking 8 years for me to find myself again, I also do not imagine it taking 8 minutes to happen.  It will come, and this is all I imagine.  Imagine.

Designing Regency dresses is one way I am regaining my sense of myself.  When I think back on how I came to be a seamstress and loving the art of designing fashion I cannot help but think of my mother.  My mom was the consummate seamstress.  While she was a dedicated school teacher by day, mom also spent a lot of time in the sewing factories of the south during World War II where she became a gifted seamstress.  Her sewing skills moved with her into home life, after the war, and she designed and made the majority of our clothing.  Having so many girls in the family mom enthusiastically created dresses and prom gowns for all of us at a moment’s notice.  Growing up I loved searching through her fabric stash for my next school dress or homecoming gown.  Such fond memories.  Imagine.

 

Mom taught me to sew long before the mandatory sewing class at Anacapa Junior High School.  I enjoyed many a Sunday afternoon in the sewing room fashioning my new outfit to wear to school the following day.  Back in the 70’s I was somewhat of a Stevie Nicks lookalike wannabe and loved sewing long sinuous handkerchief skirts, and blouses with long flowing streaming sleeves, and of course my hair long and blonde.  Unfortunately my long hair was straight and would not hold a curl no matter how hard I tried to make it look like Ms. Nick’s beautiful hair.  One time I even curled it by means of skinny plastic permanent rods, sure this would curl it tight enough to hold, and it in fact curled it so tight it frizzed and instead of looking like Stevie Nicks I looked like Ethel Merman.  Thinking back on this makes me smile, and I am so pleased to have found this passion, dormant deep within me, to emerge again and in with such vigor.  Imagine

I have 5 older sewing machines.  Three of them belonged to my mom.  One actually belonged to Mother Soles, my mom’s mother, and one of them my mom brought with her when she moved from Alabama to California after WWII--both are obviously old and I shall never part with them.  My mom’s machine is in a sewing table, that I actually now use as my desk; I so feel my mom when I sit at this desk that holds so many memories of mom sitting there, at her machine, sewing.  My mom’s other machine is a Kenmore she bought in the 70’s to make my wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses. 

I too have an older Kenmore my parents bought me for my 15^th birthday in 1972.  I am hoping it still works well, and hope to drop both moms’ Kenmore

and mine to the repair shop one of these days.  I also have a professional model Pfaff machine, which was given to me free by a neighbor.  It sits in a table and I would like to disconnect it from the attached table and be able to use it on my sewing table.  I haven’t room for it in the house so it sits in the garage, and I would love to be able to use it.  The fifth machine is a Singer I randomly purchased at Costco two years ago.  It still sits in the box having never been used, but I now have it sitting