The Thread that Binds: Four Generations of Sarcasm and Sewing
There are two skills I proudly learned from the three generations of women who preceded me, the art of quick-wit and the timeless art of sewing.
My great-grandmother was the most entertaining woman I’d ever met. Kind, caring, feisty, and funny, she’d wake up, step down from her waist-high bed, do some overdramatized calisthenic exercises to make us laugh, then make breakfast from scratch.
My great-grandmother’s sewing machine is still in the family and is proof that she was in far better shape than I, because that jawn is heavy! Her machine’s foot pedal is the size of my laptop. I remember her stories of working in the fields and being responsible for all the laundry. Her wardrobe was handmade and she later used that same machine to make her children’s clothes and to teach them to sew.
My grandmother has been my biggest fan since birth. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, she makes my business her business, often mailing me news articles about something related to my school, job, or neighborhood. For years I tried to explain to her that I could read the article online and she could save her stamp, but that didn’t stop her. Eventually, she went from sending postal mail to telling me to “Google it!” every 3 seconds. She’s the kind of funny person who has no clue they’re funny.
My entire childhood, I remember the desk in her kitchen being the home to her green, Necchi sewing machine. But, when I went to her house to take a picture of it, it was nowhere to be found. Instead, this replacement Singer machine sat in its place. From curtains and tablecloths to hemming pants and mending holes, my grandmother made it all and passed that skill down to my mother.
My mom is a master crafter and busybody. I’ve never known her to not have a project going on. She worked a taxing full-time job and yet, each night of the week she had a second job. After work she’d get busy with a different side hustle each night and/or participate in something community, school district, or church-based. Because of her full calendar, I was also involved in something. A fan of the arts, my mom encouraged any creative endeavor I wanted to try. While other parents deterred their kids from artistic professions not known to garner high incomes– such as writing– my mom was the parent who told me about every poetry contest, writing conference, and person looking to hire a writer. She bought my first journal and to this day she buys me cute pens or notebooks, despite me having more than I could ever use.
One of my mom’s numerous side jobs was sewing. As a child, I won best-dressed in school because of all the custom outfits my mom sewed and crocheted for me. I would give anything to have my pink poodle skirt back that she made me in elementary school. Our dining room table wasn’t for meals, it was for her fabric cutting mat, yardstick, and bolts of fabric she bought at The Mill fabric store. Prom dresses, pillow covers, costumes, jumpsuits, holiday-themed vests, you name it, she made it for me, family, friends, and strangers referred by others. I learned to sew on my mom’s machine and that skill helped earn me an ‘A’ grade in my home economics class when we had to cut and sew shorts from a pattern. The sound of my mom’s sewing machine at night is a core memory of mine.
In December of 2021, a few months into my mom’s full-time caretaking for my grandmother, I felt a pull to create something that allowed my mom and I to continue caring for my grandmother while being able to earn a living. I asked God for an idea and shortly after I learned Philadelphia was soon to enforce its single-use plastic bag ban. My mother and grandmother were bag ladies who kept reusable bags in their cars years before being “eco-friendly” was trendy. But I didn’t own one tote bag. I’d sooner carry my items in my arms than use one of those weird-colored, loud, busy reusable bags I always saw at checkouts. Because I and others like me would soon need one, I settled on starting a tote bag business.
I ordered sample tote bags from numerous companies, hated them all, and decided to draw my own. I knew millions of minimalists, like me, were more likely to remember to take and carry a bag they liked, a bag that matched their aesthetic, and a bag that was big and sturdy enough to carry everything from groceries or gym clothes to beach gear or kid accessories.
After my final approved bag sample, Tote Jawn launched with its inaugural ‘Philly Neighborhoods’ collection and the slogan, “Minimal, modern, canvas bags to carry your stuff and match your swag.” We continue to strive to be a more green/eco-friendly company sourcing biodegradable and sustainable materials and adapting the slow-fashion model so that the thread that binds the next four generations isn’t a landfill full of totes.
