How is it possible to work closely with someone for years, enjoy their company, respect their knowledge and experience and appreciate their collegiality yet not really know something this important about them? I had the pleasure and privilege of working with Barbara Emodi for years in my “other” life and wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear that she’d written a book. However, I expected that the book would be about political communication, a topic about which she’s something of an expert. Turns out I didn’t know her at all!
Expert though she may be in political communication and university teaching (which is where she and I intersected happily for some years), it seems that she’s equally expert in sewing. How did I not know this? Let me back up a bit.
About three years ago, after I had returned to sewing and had taken early retirement from my university career, I happened to be reading an article in an old Threads magazine on the topic of fitting. It was a terrific article, and as someone who also writes books and magazine articles from time to time, I glanced at the by-line, like you do. Many people don’t ever do this, but if you’re also a writer, you know what I mean. The author’s name was Barbara Emodi. Hmm…I thought, not a very common name in my view. So, I did a bit of exploring and found that Barbara had this whole other life all the time we were working together. It must be a testament to our single-minded focus on our work that we never discussed this mutual interest. It seemed that alongside of Barbara’s stellar work with me in my university department, she was writing magazine articles, teaching sewing, developing a seriously popular (and very entertaining/educational) blog, and generally becoming an internationally-renowned sewing expert. And she has written a book – about sewing.
Sew…The Garment-Making Book of Knowledge: Real-Life Lessons from a Serial Sewist is a seriously good book. With Barbara’s signature wry style, she presents a book that purports to be the sewing advice and lore you would received from your mother or grand-mother… well, it is if your mother or grand-mother happened to be a sewing expert with wildly well-developed communication and writing skills.
She begins the book with a rumination about “what sewing can do for you.” Her discussion goes beyond the usual – sewing is a creative outlet – to take in notions of improving your resourcefulness and making you see things about yourself and your life more clearly. You should really read it yourself. But suffice it to say that few sewing writers address this fundamental aspect of sewing – and she does it in such a clear and accessible way. The book doesn’t simply impart knowledge; it also makes you think. How often does that happen?
Although this book would be terrific for anyone who is just starting out on their sewing journey, it is also for those of us who have moved beyond the basics. She begins with finding the right pattern and moves on to fitting issues and altering flat patterns. I especially appreciated her discussion of what makes a great pattern to help everyone who has ever struggled with whether or not a particular pattern would work for them. She also talks about choosing and cutting fabric which is of particular interest to me.
One of my other favourite books that I reach for often is The Fashion Designer’s Textile Directory by Gail Baugh because I adore fabric – not hoarding it (that goes against every principle I hold about having enough but not too much of anything) – but understanding it and figuring out how it will behave in specific applications. Barbara’s chapter isn’t exhaustive by any means, but it’s a great place to start.
Sew… is lavishly illustrated and is replete with extraordinarily well-conceived full-colour photos. It’s a wonderful addition to my own library and I think anyone interested in sewing would appreciate its wisdom and insight. And it’s entertaining, too.
In my own inimitable way, I have two minor bones to pick with the book: first, on page 39 she refers to the double-ended, fish-eye dart as a French dart. Nowhere I can find calls this a French dart. A French dart, as defined by Craftsy (and everyone else on the internet), is “…a type of elongated bust dart that start[s] at the side seam, down near the waistline, and end[s] up near the bust point…”
The second issue is on page 185 where it says “…Your machine needs oil.” End of story. In fact, some machines, mine included (Singer Quantum Stylist 9960) has specific instructions NOT to oil. I say follow the manufacturer’s instructions. Both of these are editorial issues, not author issues in my view.
Anyway, you should buy this book for yourself to add to your collection (or put it on your Christmas wish list) and buy a copy for your sewing friend.
All of this as a way to put off just a bit longer my final unveiling of my Little Black Dress and the end of that (very) long project!
[Barbara’s blog “Sewing on the Edge with Barbara Emodi” is worth subscribing to. I wouldn’t miss a post!]
My two other favourite books at the present:
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