A while ago I got my Mom’s scissors. The pair of scissors that broke during her work in the studio and which was repaired by my Dad with great care. In the way that is his, to last a lifetime…
The scissors are older than me and actually a bit too heavy to be really useful, but the memories make it so much more than a practical tool.
As a little girl, I remember sitting next to my mom while she was sewing. From mending worn stuff to sewing brand new clothes. I remember one of the first things I assisted her with was pinning fabrics together. And later on, drawing patterns and cutting the fabric.
At one point, my wardrobe mostly consisted out of handmade clothes I sewed myself or together with my mum.
A while ago, I came across some beautiful linen fabrics, which revived the sewing spark and resulted in a small collection of napkins