Re: Hendersonville quilt sightings

Beautiful story, Lia. Thank you for sharing your quilt shopping event with
us. It's a memory you'll always cherish even if you came away almost
empty-handed. Polly

"Taria" <wrote>I enjoyed your 'tour' Lia. You know a docent at the art
museum told
me if I kept bringing my kids in they would learn to enjoy the place.
(free day only when nobody expected a nice quiet museum) It didn't
work so well on my kids but like you it wasn't due to my not trying.

I have gone along with my dad to what he calls 'the hippie book store'.
It is an occult store where he enjoys the astrology section. I try
to be interested but it is tough for me. I do like the crystals
but he isn't looking at those. I try.

My mom was my biggest sewing fan. I miss her. Gotta love family for
what they have in them though. Each has their own special gifts. I am
still looking for that is some family members. LOL


So what you gonna quilt with that thread? I enjoyed your stash
saga.

Julia Altshuler wrote:

Jim and I are back from 10 days in Hendersonville where we met my
parents for a family vacation. My parents have no interest in
traditionally feminine activities. They actively don't know how to
cook, go out a lot, or get others to cook for them. My mother treats a
knowledge or interest in all things sewing as some arcane and useless
talent, the way some people have perfect pitch or can intuit 12 digit
prime numbers. My father has memories of his mother supporting the
family by sewing on a treadle during the Great Depression, but it's not
something you'd do for fun. I adore quilts and quilting. They accept
this about me but secretly wonder if I was switched at the hospital.


The first thing I did was take them for a tour of a quilt shop. I
didn't mean to. I wanted to drop by for a private orgy, but you know
how it is with family and limited time and rental cars. If I was going
to get a chance to go, they were going to come along.


The first point of connection was the 30s repro fabrics. I showed them
the shelf, told them about the renewed interest, and how these were
based on originals. They loved them. They thought of people they knew
who would wear housecoats made out of exactly such fabrics. They
remembered the way women would wear aprons with the small designs, then
take them off to go shopping downtown. They brought up the
sophisticated ladies who wore tailored black and pinstripe. Those were
30s fabrics too.


I showed Mom how new laser technologies made it possible to get a
greater selection of patterns on flannel. I noticed her reaching out to
pet the fabric. She's catching on, I thought.


The batiks had less appeal for them. They were interested in the room
of novelty fabrics. My nieces and nephews have different interests and
might like fabrics with basketballs or dolls. Mom was interested in a
Raggedy Anne doll for the youngest granddaughter, but she was so turned
off by the misspelling (raggaddy) that she thought better of buying it.


The sales clerk (owner?) asked us what sorts of quilts we made. I said
that I was mostly a piecer and machine quilter, that I knew how to do
hand applique and hand piecing, but while I love the result, I didn't
love doing it. Mom, of course, doesn't sew anything. It was a funny
moment. The women in the shop wanted to connect with Mom because she's
older, but Mom had no common ground with which to make that connection.


Dad was intrigued by big boxes of buttons. I helped him pick out 10
matching ones. As he now has the bent over shape of an old man, he has
a seamstress in Miami who puts buttons and button holes in the right
places so he can wear suspenders instead of a belt. He was thrilled
buying buttons.


They had a whole room of fusibles. I told my parents about how some
people love them and some people don't think their use belongs in real
quilting. I showed them the class samples of embroidery done on top of
the line Berninas and mentioned the same thing. Some think the new
technologies are great. Some think they're cheating.


I felt like a tour guide in my native country trying to give clueless
tourists some idea of why I love my home, why it excites me. My parents
understand enthusiasm, but they don't understand enthusiasm about fabric.


I showed them variagated thread. Dad pronounced that beautiful. I'd
realized that I hadn't found any fabric that I couldn't live without,
didn't have the suitcase space for it anyway, and was starting to feel
embarrassed for walking into a place of business and treating it like a
museum. Dad's getting hard of hearing, and they've both been loud
talkers their whole lives anyway, so I'd been practically yelling. I
couldn't walk out with only a purchase of buttons. So I bought
variagated thread, beautiful purples, blues, and greens.


There were more quilt shops in town, and Jim and I did find some time
alone to visit them, but the timing never worked. I didn't get to them
when they were open.


--Lia




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