Do you recognize the tablet-woven band? Yes, it’s done!
Yesterday I took the Singer for a first spin. Had already spent some time making sure it was pristine-clean and oiled well. While it wasn’t dusty a bit, it sure was thirsty, and a little more oil went on to help get the bobbin winder humming.
Knowing by experience that antique and early vintage Singers are good at handling thick or dense fabrics, I expected no less from this machine, and wasn’t disappointed. The tablet-woven band wasn’t the issue, as you can poke a needle through the twisted and woven threads easily. It was the manufactured guitar strap, which is two thickish layers. As I hoped, the machine didn’t blink or hesitate as I cranked it. Oh, it makes a pretty seam. Just as precise as the Wilcox and Gibbs, which by the way you can see on video below, too, and many times in blog posts.
I’ve demonstrated the foray into sewing on the Singer 28. You can hear its version of purring - relative to a motor, anyhow, it’s pretty quiet, but not as quiet as the Wilcox and Gibbs, which is nearly silent.
Listen to the Wilcox and Gibbs here, for a comparison.
I didn’t plan to come home with a sewing machine yesterday, truly I didn’t. On seeing it sitting on top of its case under a table in Feather Your Nest, a local antique mall, the chrome shine on its hand wheel caught my eye and I had to take a look, just like a magpie.
Me at that moment, making a beeline… Photo from Grungaloo, Wikimedia Commons
Ooh, it was in gorgeous condition! Ooh, there was its case, with a drawer (!), and an international shipping line’s label (!) pasted outside, ooh, and an original manual, and goodies in that little drawer. The price being fair, at that moment I thought, home it comes. I’ll have to sell the Singer 27, but home it comes.
And here it is now, a member of one of the more storied models of Singer, known for its simplicity of design, its durability (obviously), its long reign (1880s to 1960s!) and its lovely stitching ways. If you look up “Singer 28” on YouTube, you will find a lot of loving views and stories.
But in this case, there’s much more.
Singer 28K serial number Y9309795 Made in May 1934 in Kilbowie, Clydebank, Scotland
Here’s that label, hinting at overseas travel…
That’s American Export Lines, a major cargo shipping service in the Mediterranean, from New York, gaining that particular name in 1936. The stamp on top shows that this piece of cargo was inspected by the United States. The shipping line kept that name until 1964.
Does this whet your interest…a portable sewing machine that traveled? Come with me as my son Noah and I explore the machine and discover that it has quite a story, that it belonged to two women who taught at the American Girls College in Istanbul, that it was first in Canterbury, England, that it later went to Spain, and finally came to the U.S. in the 1960s, probably when that shipping label was applied and the stamp on top.
What a tale, occurring as it did in the turmoil of the Depression years, the darkening of the globe before World War II, the terrifying War years, and the rebuilding, realigning period afterwards. Because the machine was so beautifully cared for, and because the second owner, sensing that this little machine had a special history, left a letter explaining it, tells me that she and her predecessor probably would have been nifty to meet, what with their skills and experiences, including teaching abroad during such a swathe of the 20th century.
Here is a video all about it, including the moment I discovered the letter, along with other surprises. I hope you enjoy the trip!
Edit November 26th: yesterday I oiled the machine...no need to clean it as it had been lovingly cared for...and used it for a tiny project. It sews beautifully :)
Oh, the last installment of the 1901-1903 Edwardian summer gown, setting it into its milieu, is not far from being ready, but with the Season almost upon us, I am not sure when I’ll have it posted. Meantime, all safety, health, and cheer to you.
