We're heading into that time of year when many are in search of the perfect gift. And what better gift for the sewist in your life (even if that's you!) than a vintage sewing machine?
Buying, of course, presents little problem, as they are easily found on your local Craigslist, and, with a bit more involved, on Ebay. But selling is a different matter; the competition is many and varied. I'll be looking for ways to stand out from the crowd in order to achieve the price point I place on my machines.
I'm preparing to "show off" a number of my machines at an at-home holiday event, and I'm looking forward to the reaction of those invited to what is, in effect, a "tour" of vintage sewing machines from an era of increased reliance on striking good looks and the promise of remarkable domestic achievement. And there will be cookies.
I'm placing my machines about the living and dining rooms in what I hope to be as understated a way as possible (I don't know that I could well-explain a Singer Featherweight next to the toaster, or a Vigorelli Universal on the toilet tank), while highlighting the obvious attributes of their immediate attraction. After all, it isn't every household that has need for so many sewing machines.
So which machines and why?
Well, the great names to begin with: Singer, Elna, Pfaff, Necchi. And then, all of them? No. I'm sure I couldn't find room to modestly display as many as twenty two (and counting) sewing machines. And, to be sure, some few are either repeats of the same model, or are similar enough that not all add more to the effect. But those that are recognized classics will draw their admirers if they are not often seen by members of this particular group of friends (a creative bunch), and will both instruct and amaze (well, that's my expectation, but then, these are my "babies").
So, while it's a bit early for holly and mistletoe – and none of my machines can easily be hung, even with the greatest care – the season's approach is in the air, and over a warming dinner of butternut soup with holiday cookies for dessert, I expect conversation to include a comment or two about our choice of decorations surrounding the dinner table.
I'll leave the bathroom to New Year's Eve.
Chandsew 406RB
Size Matters
Singer 153W103 Industrial
Singer 316G
Singer 301
A design revolution for Singer, this light-weight portable is a favorite with quilters. This example dates from 1951, but, interestingly, isn't badged as an anniversary model.
Singer 221- Featherweight
In remarkable condition. This one dates from 1956.
Singer 500A
Reassembled and polished.
Singer 401A
Singer 503A
I've had a number of examples from the 400 and 500 series pass through my hands now, and as testament to their quality, they have all been in very nice condition; none, however, has matched this beauty for its near pristine state of preservation. While even on the cleanest example one must forgive a minor imperfection or two, this classic from Singer exhibits none! Truly as nice as one could hope.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Updates and Outtakes
It wasn't an especially busy week for sewing machines. I did take in a 306W for a general servicing. I hadn't seen one before, so it was nice to have one on the bench for a bit. And I picked up yet another 401A at a garage sale. I've continued with a number of postings on Craigslist of machines I have for sale. And I've been making an attempt at better arranging my shop/office for a better use of space.
The 401A is from 1951. As I've now had a few of these on my bench, I noticed features specific to the year. I don't know these machines well enough to know just what changes were made and when, but a couple of things stood out as I worked on this one: first of all, the top cam-hatch has a decal on it, while later years do not (again, just when these changes occur, I haven't, yet, a clue). I also noticed that the screws used to attach the various adjustment plates are "bright" finished as opposed to the color-matched screws from later years. Little things, but a matter of interest when one delves into these on a fairly frequent basis.
This latest acquisition also had me in mind of some of the tell-tales of a machine's condition and potential value. When evaluating that potential, it's always best to do so before buying, but I'm rather quick to buy and slow to evaluate when, say, hitting garage sales on any given Saturday. It's only after getting my latest find back home that I begin to note any real problems (or lack thereof).
A few clues as to how a machine (in this case Singers from the 400/500 series) may have been treated throughout its life include: the condition of the various screws used throughout. If they show few signs of screwdriver wear, that's certainly a good sign. It means the machine wasn't roughly handled, or in for much servicing.
I now look at the spool pins as well; are they noticeably bent? Straighter pins have seen fewer hours of use. Are they yellowed with age and exposure? I like to see whiter/clearer spool pins (these are the plastic pins).
Perhaps most importantly, for me, is the condition of the machine's interior. This is where one can usually determine something about the life a machine has had. Clean, dry surfaces without any signs of grease and oil are always something I like to see. This latest 401A seems to have never been in for service; clean, dry and unmarked.
Of course, the condition of the exterior is very important. And here, too, this one is near perfect. While a few scratches or chips are the norm, and don't have too great an impact on resale value, a machine with no discernible flaws warrants an escalating premium. Here is a machine worthy of special consideration.
You can image the satisfaction there is in freeing from years of dirt, grime and disuse, a marvelous machine in near like-new condition.
The 401A is from 1951. As I've now had a few of these on my bench, I noticed features specific to the year. I don't know these machines well enough to know just what changes were made and when, but a couple of things stood out as I worked on this one: first of all, the top cam-hatch has a decal on it, while later years do not (again, just when these changes occur, I haven't, yet, a clue). I also noticed that the screws used to attach the various adjustment plates are "bright" finished as opposed to the color-matched screws from later years. Little things, but a matter of interest when one delves into these on a fairly frequent basis.
This latest acquisition also had me in mind of some of the tell-tales of a machine's condition and potential value. When evaluating that potential, it's always best to do so before buying, but I'm rather quick to buy and slow to evaluate when, say, hitting garage sales on any given Saturday. It's only after getting my latest find back home that I begin to note any real problems (or lack thereof).
A few clues as to how a machine (in this case Singers from the 400/500 series) may have been treated throughout its life include: the condition of the various screws used throughout. If they show few signs of screwdriver wear, that's certainly a good sign. It means the machine wasn't roughly handled, or in for much servicing.
I now look at the spool pins as well; are they noticeably bent? Straighter pins have seen fewer hours of use. Are they yellowed with age and exposure? I like to see whiter/clearer spool pins (these are the plastic pins).
Perhaps most importantly, for me, is the condition of the machine's interior. This is where one can usually determine something about the life a machine has had. Clean, dry surfaces without any signs of grease and oil are always something I like to see. This latest 401A seems to have never been in for service; clean, dry and unmarked.
Of course, the condition of the exterior is very important. And here, too, this one is near perfect. While a few scratches or chips are the norm, and don't have too great an impact on resale value, a machine with no discernible flaws warrants an escalating premium. Here is a machine worthy of special consideration.
You can image the satisfaction there is in freeing from years of dirt, grime and disuse, a marvelous machine in near like-new condition.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Revisiting Number One – 1951 Singer 128
This was the first sewing machine I ever worked on, and, as little was needed, it didn't present the challenge I could have used at the time. I gave it an oiling back then, and made sure the thing worked. And, yes, it worked... very well.
I didn't know a sewing machine could make such fine stitches. I had to look close to see the individual stitches. Of course, until then, I hadn't paid much attention to stitches of any sort.
And I was taken aback by the age of this machine. This look, that Singer is famous for, was synonymous for all things ancient to me. Well, antique, anyway. Put one of these next to a stagecoach and I'd have thought they belonged to each other.
But this machine dates from 1951; attested to by the extra adornment on its badge. It has the blue band signifying Singer's 100th anniversary. This is the same year that Singer introduced the 301 slant-shank machine, with its modern, mid-century flair. Here we had the stagecoach trying to out-race the streamlined locomotive.
Today, I looked more closely at the shuttle bobbin, and paid attention to how its parts went together and how they worked. I knew this time that one had to insert the bobbin with its thread wound one way and not the other.
Threading this machine is easy and straightforward, though its stitch-length knob was another something I had to figure out. But soon, it was working as well as ever. And still that beautifully fine stitch.
I didn't know a sewing machine could make such fine stitches. I had to look close to see the individual stitches. Of course, until then, I hadn't paid much attention to stitches of any sort.
And I was taken aback by the age of this machine. This look, that Singer is famous for, was synonymous for all things ancient to me. Well, antique, anyway. Put one of these next to a stagecoach and I'd have thought they belonged to each other.
But this machine dates from 1951; attested to by the extra adornment on its badge. It has the blue band signifying Singer's 100th anniversary. This is the same year that Singer introduced the 301 slant-shank machine, with its modern, mid-century flair. Here we had the stagecoach trying to out-race the streamlined locomotive.
Today, I looked more closely at the shuttle bobbin, and paid attention to how its parts went together and how they worked. I knew this time that one had to insert the bobbin with its thread wound one way and not the other.
Threading this machine is easy and straightforward, though its stitch-length knob was another something I had to figure out. But soon, it was working as well as ever. And still that beautifully fine stitch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)