Let me introduce you to my sewing machine. She is a Brother from the 1960s. Just imagine: She was young when The Beatles were in full swing. She is made entirely from metal and from wood. No plastic pieces. She is a beauty. I firmly believe she is indistructible. All she needs is regular oiling and sometimes a little patience. Because she is temperamental like a dowager. Gracious, most of the time, but still she holds on to her secrets and she will only give them up at her own time. No rushing her. No disrespectful handling, oh, no, my dear friend, only dignified co-operation…

I inherited the machine from my late mother-in-law. She was a wonderful lady, a home economics teacher during her working days. She was a skilled seamstress: we still have some of her party dresses that she designed and made. (You know, those very classy 1960s outfits for the Saturday nigth ballroom dance, complete with ¾ lenght silk gloves and furs. Oh, boy, I wish there still would be occassions to dress up like that…) She also made her own wedding dress on that machine. So there might be newer and fancier sewing machines out there, with more elaborate functions, but I feel I am holding on to a piece of family history by keep using The Dowager.
What she cannot do, I will just hand-stitch. It is that simple. (Although sometimes, when I need to do a lot of blanket stitching, I wish for an overlocker in secret – but I would never admit it to The Dowager.)