Admitting you have an addiction. A sewing machine addiction. Complete and utter obsession.
My office could fuel a fashion house.
*searches ebay again*
I fell in love after using a 301 Singer which moved along smooth as silk and made hardly any sound at all. After sewing for six months on a plastic contemporary Brother, there’s just no comparison. So now any vintage Singer under $100 I see represents a writhing, beckoning temptation. The Slant-o-matics were the top of the line (401, 501) and so of course I’ve added those to my hoard. But now the other models with external motors and belt driven mechanisms are becoming interesting too. Not quite as perfect, but I find myself wanting all of them I can get my hands on to explore the idiosyncracies of each.
Current obsession: 300 series. The differences between the 348, the 337/338 and the 327/328. Add to the temptation that they’re various shades of retro gorgeous robin egg blue and seafoam green and it’s just, ugh.
Did I mention the atomic design and the curves and the space program influence visible in the rocket like detailing? How can I resist this:
The top, brownish one is a 328k, designed with similar touches to the Singer 500 series Rocketeer. The bottom little minx is the 327k with similar style lines but a glorious color scheme that might just crack me before her ebay time runs out. (Color and smell are a big deal to me, since the whole sewing experience is motivated for me by the enjoyment of the feels and sounds as much as they are the vague promise of having something wearable in the end. That doesn’t always work out for me because of fitting challenges > my skill level, so it’s good that I enjoy the journey.) Nevermind that I have 9ish floating around my house currently and haven’t sewn anything since getting sidetracked by the sweet, sweet tactile enjoyment of cleaning them out and oiling them.
I might be addicted to the smell of sewing oil too.