So I was looking at my notifications on YouTube, and found that Bernadette Banner, textile historian and period garment maker extraordinaire, as well as very funny YouTuber, had uploaded the story of her new acquisition, a late nineteenth century treadle Singer sewing machine, the kind that sits in its own table.
And I was instantly carried back, Proust style, to learning to use the one my Mom got at the local saleroom, in UK in the 1940s, and brought home. It desperately needed cleaning, and since detergents were newly on the market at that period, miracle cleaning materials, she took off the entire head of the machine, detached it from the belt and treadle mechanism, and boiled it in the kitchen copper, in Tide!
This worked a treat, since it worked perfectly without a hitch for many years after. And it became a family remedy: if something doesn't work, boil it in Tide!
Here's Bernadette in her period clothes, which she makes largely by hand, sometimes with early machines, true to original maker styles and patterns.
One look at the treadle, and my feet immediately went into treadling position, one slightly in front, one behind, and I could feel the gentle wavelike action you had to learn to keep the needle moving smoothly and not suddenly trying to jam or go backwards.
This machine can stitch forward and backwards. No zigzag. No serging. No fancy little gizmos. If you wanted buttonholes, you stitched them by hand, which I learned to do at school, bound buttonholes and stitched buttonholes. My mom used this machine to make all kinds of clothes for the family, including coats and skirt suits when she went back to night school to learn tailoring and excel at it. A lot of my skills come from observation of what she was learning, and why.
And here's my favorite shuttle, the boat shuttle. They simply never break, they don't jump about in the machine, they can't roll away, and they're easy to drop into place, using gravity. Those round ones which replaced them are not at all a good successor to them.
And here's the bobbin of thread which slides into the boat.
After I grew up and there was no more treadle machine in my life, I eventually had a couple of electric ones, one driven by a foot pedal, one posher, and which I came to dislike. I think it was mutual. I eventually gave my machines away to organizations that could use them, and resumed my hand stitching. I had been well taught at a school that prized all the needlework skills, as well as intellectual expectations, so I knew a lot about sewing, creating clothes, and embroidery, too, when I was still pretty young.
I think the makers of modern computerized machines know all about the crafts and skills of sewing and nothing of the art of it, and how to handle fabric and thread respectfully, and feel you've created something rather than been the supervisor of a machine.
Also you could do a lot of your own repairs on early machines, oiling, cleaning, adjusting tension, replacing the tension belt, that kind of thing. And you could see what was needed if a repair did come up, not that they often did with the old Singers. I liked all of that.
So this was a lovely little jaunt down the paths of my youf. I noticed Bernadette didn't have the hang of treadling yet. She was putting her feet side by side and wondering why the movement wasn't smooth. There was also a part missing that another reader pointed out, so when she fixes that and fixes her treadling action, she's good to go. Also if you don't put one foot behind the other a little, you'll get a bad back in no time.
Even if you don't sew, if you do like a highly literate and knowledgeable commentator and teacher, who also has a guinea pig named Cesario, who occasionally features in the action, I recommend her channel. Just go to YouTube, search on Bernadette Banner, and you'll be in for a very nice time. Make a cup of tea before you go,though. You might be there a while.