I come from a crafty family. I don’t mean Doctor De Soto crafty (anyone else remember that book?), though I would call them clever. No, I mean a family who makes things. My grandmother Mildred, who I just called Gram, was an accomplished cross-stitcher and seamstress. When she passed away my Aunt Judith (who taught me to sew) and my mother inherited her sewing supplies, some of which eventually passed to me. This included fabric, trim, thread, sewing machines, and this.
What appears to be a weapons grade torture device.
For more scary goodness, check out more after the break.
|Yeah, I made this face too.|
Don’t believe me? Summon up some horror movie music and look at the other side.
I know, right?
As it turned out, this is a very old style of buttonhole attachment for a singer sewing machine. The leaps and bounds sewing technology has made! The box itself for this thing is huge, larger than the storage space I would need for all my other sewing machine feet combined (including the ruffle foot).
It comes packed with instructions, a feed dog cover, and the screws required to attach it to your machine.
The buttonholer was incredibly sophisticated for the time. It moved the fabric back and forth without the feed dogs, I would presume because the machine didn’t have a zigzag stitch. I don’t know that for certain; I’m not sure which of Gram’s machines it was bought for.
The slides with the wingnuts are for adjusting the length of the stitch and the bight (width) of the stitch.
The whole contraption is slid in from the back of the machine, and this part
Slides onto the needle clamp screw just like a walking foot or ruffle foot would.
Not only can you control the width and length of the stitch, you can also control the width between the two stitches where you cut the buttonhole open. I can’t even control that on my modern machine.
I may have to pull my Gram’s featherweight sewing machine out of the closet and try it out. If I do, I will definitely take pictures and show how it turns out!