Buying a Bernina
Image from Q is for Quilter
Back the early seventies, when I was finishing my Arts degree at UBC, I went to the PNE and fell in love with the latest model top-of-the-line Bernina sewing machine. It had a red case, and came with four sewing lessons. It could hem, pleat, frill, smock, and embroider on leather. But even with the Pacific National Exhibition discount, it cost over $600. I knew I must have it. But how could I justify spends the equivalent of two and half months' rent on a toy?
Meanwhile, the PNE would be over in a couple of days, and so would the special price. I had to come up with an idea that would make the Bernina affordable. Walking disconsolately down Fourth Avenue, I passed a tiny shop called Central Africa Imports. That's when the miracle happened. In the window, a sign said seamstresses were needed. I'd buy the machine and earn back its cost by taking in sewing.
When I walked into the shop that day, I didn't expect the other bonus. I was about to enter into a fruitful lifelong friendship with the couple who owned the store.
These days, I do more mending than sewing, but I still have the Bernina Record. After traveling through many miles of stitches, it continues faithfully to run. The drawer of the sewing table contains large wooden spools of cotton thread from my days of sewing for Central Africa Imports.
Back the early seventies, when I was finishing my Arts degree at UBC, I went to the PNE and fell in love with the latest model top-of-the-line Bernina sewing machine. It had a red case, and came with four sewing lessons. It could hem, pleat, frill, smock, and embroider on leather. But even with the Pacific National Exhibition discount, it cost over $600. I knew I must have it. But how could I justify spends the equivalent of two and half months' rent on a toy?
Meanwhile, the PNE would be over in a couple of days, and so would the special price. I had to come up with an idea that would make the Bernina affordable. Walking disconsolately down Fourth Avenue, I passed a tiny shop called Central Africa Imports. That's when the miracle happened. In the window, a sign said seamstresses were needed. I'd buy the machine and earn back its cost by taking in sewing.
When I walked into the shop that day, I didn't expect the other bonus. I was about to enter into a fruitful lifelong friendship with the couple who owned the store.
These days, I do more mending than sewing, but I still have the Bernina Record. After traveling through many miles of stitches, it continues faithfully to run. The drawer of the sewing table contains large wooden spools of cotton thread from my days of sewing for Central Africa Imports.