While working on my recent project, and posting about it (see below), I have been thinking about my introduction to sewing. About how I learned the basic techniques for choosing, laying out, and cutting fabric from a pattern, and then how to construct garments and other items from the sliced-and-diced material.

Some people had a home-econ teacher in junior high, a girl scout class, a grandmom, or similar female mentor to initiate them into the world of sewing, or other such needle crafts.

In my case, my mentor was... my DAD. Yes, my dad, the mechanical engineer. My dad, the corporate executive. My dad, the Republican. My dad, one of the most kind and creative people I have ever met. I say creative in his case, to indicate his ability to find (and fully appreciate) innovative uses for scraps and "leftovers"of various materials around the house in all sorts of craft projects.

I do remember him stating that he thought sewing was really quite engineering-oriented in that its about following certain logical steps to construct something that will hold together sturdily. And he must have been correct because I have, to use for my daughter, some gorgeous calico "clown" costumes he made for my little sisters for halloween one year. They are in perfect condition some 20 years later.

If I recall correctly, my first sewing "lesson" was a project that developed while Mom was clearing out Dad's closet of old clothes for charity. It was 1986. I was very much into that "New Wave"/funky/arty-a-la-Denise-Huxtable look. I was also 16 or 17 years old, and with limited resources.

I spied an old pair of Dad's grey wool flannel pinstripe pants that were to be discarded. He must have seen me admiring the fabric...somehow one or both of us came up with the idea of ripping the seams and refashioning the slacks into a funky long "fishtail" skirt for me. I think he did the sewing. It was a wee bit ill fitting through the waist, but with an oversized sweater overtop, you couldn't tell, anyway. I thought I looked like Molly Ringwald in it.  My mother thought I looked like a hobo. My frugal dad was just glad to see his teenager wearing non-revealing clothes that cost nothing.

I think he let me alter a few more of his wardrobe castoffs that year, including a very well-liked pair of his old plaid polyester golf pants that I took in at the waist and pegged by hand and wore with a vintage mans shirt and one of his old yellow cable knit cardigans. That outfit SCREAMED "punk"; I think I wore it to every "hardcore" all-ages show I attended that year.

The formal sewing lessons began during winter break, 1987. My freshman year in college. I had fallen in love with the ease of a long rayon jumper that I wore almost every day - over leggings and turtlenecks in winter; over a t-shirt in summer. However, I stained it while working a shift at my job in the dorm cafeteria.

Not unlike the zip-up robe dilemma for my daughter, at the time I could not find a suitable replacement for my beloved jumper in any store. So when I was home on break, Dad suggested that we try to find a pattern and make a new one. After all, it was a simple design.

He accompanied me to Jo Ann Fabric at our local mall and showed me how to find a pattern and then read what fabric types were recommended and how much needed to make the garment.

For some reason I kept telling him I wanted it "big" and "oversized" (this WAS the 80's, remember) but somehow I think I forgot that it was a loose style to begin with.

I chose a dark spice color rayon, and we took the project home to work on over break. Needless to say, it ended up being, um, kinda "plus sized" and ill-fitting, but to this day, I still have it in a cedar chest in my attic. Along with the plaid pants and that goofy grey wool "skirt."