Do you need a sewing machine to start making shirts and vests? Is hand sewing an option worth considering, or should I invest in a machine, in your opinion?
That's really a matter of personal preference!
Do you need a machine? Absolutely not!
Every garment ever made before the 1840's was sewn by hand, and a lot of them after that too.
I've sewn many garments completely by hand, including the early 18th century tiddy-out-violinist shirt, these bright orange breeches, and this green waistcoat.
Is it nice to have a machine? I think so, but again, individual opinions vary!
One of the costumers I follow sews everything 100% by hand because she finds it meditative and isn't interested in using a machine at all.
Some people hate hand sewing and prefer to do everything by machine, with maybe a bit of hand finishing if they absolutely can't avoid it.
I do about a 50/50 split overall, maybe skewing a bit more towards hand sewing.
I like to do pants, shirts, and nightgowns mostly by machine with some hand finishing, but for jackets and waistcoats I usually do considerably more hand sewing than machine, because I like 18th century tailoring techniques and think they give a nicer looking result.
I do most of my buttonholes by hand, or I do them by machine first and then cover them in hand stitching.
Most people who sew do at least some of it by machine, but again, I don't know which way you prefer to work, so I'd suggest trying out both to see how you feel abut them.
For hand sewing, I suspect a lot of people hate it because they're using shitty needles and/or shitty thread, and perhaps haven't found good resources for hand sewing techniques.
Here's a post of hand sewing advice that I found quite helpful a decade ago.
Use good needles because the eyes of the cheap ones have jagged edges and will ruin your thread! Use nice thread because the wrong kind will be twisty and tangly and will fray more!
Thimbles are good and useful, and typically they go on the middle finger of your dominant hand, and you use them to push the needle.
I prefer metal thimbles and dislike using leather ones, but some people prefer the leather ones, or rubber ones.
The metal ones come in sizes, and I don't know how to find out your size aside from trying them on in person, but I know I'm a size 11.
One very important thing is that if you're hand sewing a garment, look for hand sewing specific instructions on how to do the construction techniques you're going for. A lot of the time when someone nowadays is trying to figure out how to hand sew a thing they'll just try and copy the machine sewn version, and a lot of the time that's inefficient and more difficult and the result looks worse, because machines and hands work very differently!
This is something I'm going to briefly discuss in the outro to the very long shirt video I'm working on, because it's so very common, and I've done it too!
On several of my earlier hand sewn shirts I didn't know to turn the edge in on the front slit and do a little narrow hem, so I instead sewed on a facing for the front slit and cut and turned it, just like I'd seen on machine sewn shirts. This made it about 3x more time consuming, and the result was much bulkier and looked worse.
I've got so many more things to say about sewing but it's almost bedtime and I don't want to make this post too long.
For machine sewing, again there's a lot of personal choice. Some people like newer machines, some people like vintage or antique ones.
I'm one of the ones who prefers solid metal vintage machines. I grew up using an old cast iron Singer, and the newer domestic machines just feel so plasticy and insubstantial to me.
I'm used to ones that just do straight stitch and can also go backwards, but some people are perfectly happy with ones that can't even backstitch.
I do think that for a beginner the vintage machines are a better deal, because if you're patient and look around for a while you can snag one for really cheap at a thrift store, yard sale, facebook marketplace, etc. Also they're mostly metal and therefore harder to break.
I recently got a Pfaff (from I think the 1960's?) at an estate sale for 25 bucks. The zig zag mechanism is stuck and needs fixing, but I cleaned & oiled it up and it works just fine for regular straight stitching.
There are SO MANY online resources for how to clean, oil, and fix vintage sewing machines, especially the more popular brands, and a lot of the time cleaning & oiling is all they need. Read the manual and get an oil bottle with a nice long pointy thing so you can reach all the parts, and get some compressed air to whoosh out the fuzz. If it's old and hasn't been used in years, turn the hand wheel and observe every single place where metal rubs against metal, and Make It Greasy There.
(If you don't have the manual, you can often find those online too. I even found the service manual for my new-old Pfaff! I have the original users manual, but this one's for the people doing repairs.)
Oh this post is getting much too long!
If you don't know yet if you like machine sewing, try seeing if you can use one without owning it, perhaps at a sewing class or in a makerspace. I know some libraries can loan out machines.
A sewing class would probably be a good idea actually, if there are any available where you live!
Much like how you'll have a bad time hand sewing if you've got shitty supplies and no proper instructions on good techniques, you'll have a bad time machine sewing if it's not oiled well and if the tension is uneven.
There are so so very many things to learn about sewing and I hope I'm not making it sound too overwhelming, because I promise it's not if you take it one step at a time!
Also, when someone who's been sewing for a long time says "You may think you can ignore (piece of sewing advice), but actually that's bad and you will regret it", they're usually right. Oh, how I regret not learning to use a thimble years earlier than I did...
Sorry this post is so long, I hope it's helpful!
Basically, there's no one best way to sew anything, and you should try different stuff and see what works best for you, because everyone has different preferences.
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these two seemed like your vibes: pizza place au and magic au :3
URBAN FNATASY MY BEST FRIEND URBAN FANTASY
(gonna be clear - when i hear 'magic' my brain goes 'dnd' so this is very much a 'fantasy high' style universe.)
(also jupes how long did you spend on the randomizer trying to get a good combination. i know you're a perfectionist jupes there's no way you got those right away.)
Alright, here’s where we start – it’s been about a year or two since Race bought this stupid elemental-powered oven (on a whim) and this is the third time they’ve needed the fire elementals to be replaced. It seems like every couple of months, the fire spirits die down into flickers, and it takes a whole day to cook just one pizza all the way through.
Of course, Jack would rather die than hire the Delancey’s again – every time they’re in the shop, it’s like all his hair is on end. They only ever solve the problem, never fix it, and Jack can’t prove it, but he’s certain they’re scamming them. So, he goes to look up other mechanics who specialize in magical tech, and stumbles across Jacobs Artificers. Not much information about them – their website is awful, very ‘graphic design is my passion’, and it burns Jack’s eyes to look at it – but their reviews are great, and their evaluations are free, so it sounds like a decent idea.
Enter Davey, wearing cuffed jeans, a tank-top that was probably once white but has gone permanently grey with time, and a burned, bleach-stained, poison-damaged flannel. He’s skinny, weedy, and doesn’t look like any artificer Jack’s ever seen. He’s doubtful, to say the least.
oOo
“So…” Davey as he leans over the oven. “How long have these guys been acting up?”
“Since we got it.” Jack mutters, pointedly not looking at what those ratty jeans are doing to this scrawny wannabe-mechanic’s ass. “This is third time we’ve had to replace it in a year.”
Davey pops his head out of the oven like a rabbit – there’s already soot on his face, a little smear right on his nose, and Jack refuses to find it cute.
“For an elemental oven?”
“Fuckin’ rip off, what can I say?” Race shrugs. Davey frowns, nibbles his lip between his teeth.
“They really shouldn’t be acting up so much…”
He emerges with a tiny fire-spirit resting on his palm – although ‘fire’-spirit is probably too generous a term. The elemental’s mostly smoke and ember at this point, barely any bigger than a candle – and the mechanic’s jaw drops.
“What the hell have you been feeding these things?!” He snaps, rearing towards them like a wild animal. Race takes a panicked step back, holding his hands up in a weak surrender.
“I – pizza?” He squeaks. Davey’s face goes incredulously slack.
“Pizza?” He says incredulously. “I – that’s it, pizza? Just pizza? These spirits are emaciated, they’re dying-!”
“You don’t feed elementals!” Jack tries to protest. “They’re elementals. They feed when they burn, don’t they?”
“Feed when – but – I don’t…” Davey rakes a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes heavenwards as if in prayer over the sheer stupidity of the men before him. “Okay, let’s start over here – who told you that?”
“The Delan-” Jack’s eyes widen as he says it. He trails off, his whole body going stiff and fuming, and Davey’s fury seems to calm just slightly.
“The Delancey’s?” He asks tentatively.
Race nods, still hanging his head like a kid who got scolded. Davey sighs, looking just a little bit sorry for them.
“Okay.” He sighs. “Okay, so you – yeah. I see what the problem is now. One moment.”
He raises the fire elemental to his face and whispers something Jack can’t hear. The spirit coughs a little and bounces its flame as if nodding. Davey smiles, cups his gloved hands over the little candle-flame – and his eyes glow a bright, burning blue, like the center of a welding flame, as motes of fire lick over his leather gloves.
“Jesus-!” Race shrieks, leaping backwards, but Jack pays him no mind. He’s too lost in the fire in Davey’s eyes, the slight movements of his lips, as he holds the fire spirit between his hands.
(Perhaps Jack’s a romantic, but it looks almost like prayer.)
The fire flickers away. Tentatively, Davey walks to the oven and uncups his palms – he only needs to separate them an inch when a rocket of fire shoots into the oven, bouncing off the brick walls as flames spread to its smoking, flickering brethren – and soon, the entire oven is alight with roaring elementals.
Davey closes the door behind him, waving bashfully as the fire spirits chatter at him in a language of crackling embers – Jack can hear him whispering to them, bashful little “okay, yes – oh, you’re welcome – no, I have to go now, thank you – okay, bye, buh-bye-!” – until they’re closed behind the iron door.
Davey turns to where Jack and Race gape at him.
“Okay. I cannot emphasize this enough; you did not hear this from me.”
Jack and Race glance at each other, then nod sheepishly. Davey claps his hands together like a teacher.
“The Delancey’s-” he tips his hands forward- “are con-artists.”
oOo
According to Davey, the Delancey’s have made a business for themselves by catching rogue elementals, forcing them into cheap machinery unsuited to their magic, and then selling them at a high mark-up as genuine elemental-tech. Not only that, but they’ve also made a pretty successful side-hustle of allowing the elementals they sell to fizzle out over time so that they can be re-hired to replace them – they then take the elementals they’re replacing, load them up on just enough fuel to keep them going, and then wait until the next elementals fizzle out to replace them with the exact same elementals they already took out. The elementals that Jack and Race have in their oven – supposedly the third replacement lot of elementals they’ve had so far – are the same elementals they started out with.
oOo
Jack can only cover his ears as Race all but screams in what can only be described as a pile-up of about fifteen different curses.
“Oh, those little-!” He flaps his hands, paces a few steps in one direction, then the other, then rakes a hand through his hair. “Fucking God damn it- Jack, where’s the phone? Where’s the – there-!”
Jack lurches the phone over his head as Race lunges for it. He growls behind his teeth and makes a few leaps for it, like a dog jumping for its prize.
“Jesus, what’re you gonna do, Race, sue ‘em?!”
“I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna get DOME on their asses so quick-!”
“Defense of Magical Entities?”
They both stop their squabbling long enough to realize that oh, yes, Davey is, in fact, still here. He’s watching them both with a quirked brow, a slight smile toying at his mouth. Jack swallows.
“You’re welcome to try, but I’m not sure it’ll do much good. I have a buddy, she’s pretty high up there – according to her, every case against them gets thrown out. I’m thinking they have someone in civil court, but-”
“We didn’t hear that from you.”
Davey shoots Race a finger-gun.
“Exactly.” He winks – Jack’s stomach flips. “Look, I have an old elemental-oven in my workshop – second hand, doesn’t cost too much, and you’ll get way more efficiency from your elementals. Y’know, as long as you feed ‘em.”
Race grits his teeth as Jack cringes a little, both still a little embarrassed that they’d been apparently starving their elementals for months.
“Um…” Race mumbles into his collar. “I dunno if we can afford that and elemental replacement…”
Davey cocks his head, a mop of dark curls tumbling over his brow. Jack can feel his wrist twirling at his side, mimicking how he might move his brush to capture those little flicks and corkscrews.
“Replacement?” Davey glances towards the elementals still roaring away in their oven. “There’s nothing to replace. These guys’ll do just fine.”
oOo
They settle the payment for the new oven, and Davey sets it up for them the following day. I could not be bothered to write this, since the ask game did specify ‘snippets’ and I’ve already written far too much for that.
oOo
“Uh…” Jack coughs into his fists, scuffing the toe of his boot along the tiled floors. “You’re, uh – you’re not gonna report us to DOME, are ya?”
Davey looks up from his work and smirks, wrinkling his nose playfully.
“Thought about it.” He shrugs. “But it does seem like an honest mistake. You were working off of misinformation, after all. And besides…” He shoots a glance at the pile of kiln-dried cedar logs stacked against the wall (because Race is nothing if not consistently irresponsible with Jack’s money-). “I think you’re making up for it.”
Jack sighs, his whole body sinking in relief.
“You’re a gem.”
Davey’s grip slips on one of the pipes he’s fastening – a little flicker of fire-elemental seeps out from the gap, which he lunges to catch with a strangled yelp.
“Um – speaking of DOME!” Davey laughs awkwardly as he stuffs the elemental back into its pipe. “My friend, the one I told you about? She’s trying to build a case on the Delancey’s, something ironclad that can’t just get dismissed – you mind if I send her your way?”
“Sure.” Jack shrugs. “What’s her name?”
“Saoirse Conlon – she goes by Spot sometimes? I-If I could just get a contact number-” Davey stiffens, his whole face going suddenly red. “I – not that I – y’know, just – an address works, I’ll just give her the address-!”
Jack hands him a business card, hoping Davey won’t notice the second one he’s tucked underneath until it’s too late.
oOo
Race absolutely rags on Jack for giving the hot artificer his number, but it’s okay – Jack gets his own back when Race becomes absolutely humiliatingly head-over-ass smitten with the hot beast-master ranger.
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