Score One for Habitat for Humanity, and Score One for Rebecca! This One IS Mine!

1951 Singer Featherweight 221

She is stinky.  She has dirty brown oily gook in her nooks and crannies, and she is not very shiny.  Her toggle light switch is broken off, there is rust on her stitch plate where the chrome plating has worn away, and she is missing the last little thread guide that belongs just below the needle clamp.  Her electrical plug is cracked and has a chunk of plastic (bakelight?) missing, exposing live wires (immediately covered with electrical tape by my horrified and ever-watchful husband).  However, she has a gorgeous scrolled chrome face plate, she has a complete bobbin and bobbin case, and she runs and stitches beautifully -- (at least, she was stitching beautifully until I started monkeying with the needle tension dial...)  But, most importantly, this Featherweight is MINE!

I bought this Singer Featherweight 221 sight unseen from a Habitat for Humanity ReStore located about an hour away from where I live.  They had listed it on Craig's List for $200 with a 30-day guarantee, and I was afraid someone else might snatch it up before I was able to get up to Salisbury to take a look at the machine.  My son Lars told me I should just buy it over the phone -- "Mom, if you don't like it, you can just sell it on eBay."  And he was absolutely right.  

1951 Singer Ad for My Exact Machine, the Same Year Mine Was Made

According to the Serial Number Chart on the Singer web site here, my Featherweight was manufactured in the U.K. in 1951, then sent to the Canadian Singer factory to be fitted with a 110-120 volt motor so it could be sold in the United States.  She came to me with her original Type 3 black leatherette carrying case, which has one broken latch, an intact original handle, and no keys.  The case smells like something died in there, like the something that died is still IN THERE, actually, rotting away...  I'll deal with that later. 

Unfortunately, the machine did not come with any accessories or with the instruction manual, but I was able to purchase a reproduction manual from an online Featherweight parts dealer -- and then I discovered that I could download the Featherweight owner's manual from the Singer web site for free, here.  I printed it out so I can highlight and take notes.  As for the original accessories, they would have added value if I wanted to sell the machine, but I don't need rufflers or hemmers for what I plan to do with this Featherweight.  She's in great working condition, but cosmetically she's not up-to-snuff as a collector's item and she isn't one of those really rare iterations that would command a high price in any condition.  The machine hasn't been abused, just used well over the years, as attested to by the finish wear and all the pin scratches on the flat bed of the machine.  Did she sew children's clothing?  Hem trousers?  Someone's wedding gown, or treasured quilt?  What stories could she tell if she could talk to me? 

The original straight stitching presser foot is on the machine, and the various quarter inch patchwork feet that most quilters use on Featherweights are all after market parts, anyway. 

Hmmm...  Is That Nancy Drew with her Featherweight?

I have ordered a replacement foot pedal and electrical cord for safety, that missing thread guide, a reproduction stitch plate with seam width markings (the original plate has chrome worn away around the feed dogs and did not have the markings), a little spring that goes on the spool holder at the top of the machine, and some Singer sewing machine oil and motor lubricant.  Most importantly, I've ordered a replacement for the wool felt liner inside the bottom of the machine, which is soaked with old oil and probably mold as well, and is the most likely culprit for my Featherweight's embarrassing body odor problem. 

I'm in the process of learning how to clean out the gook and shine her up again. I have read that the factory clear coat finish on a Featherweight is a shellac that is very vulnerable to water and most contemporary cleaning products, as are the mostly intact gold decorative decals on my machine.  Since she's not so shiny to begin with, I certainly don't want worsen that problem or accidentally remove any of the decals in my cleaning zeal!



Nancy Drew Again, or Is This Trixie Belden?

I don't know whether I really got a great deal by the time replacement parts and repairs are factored in, but if I did pay too much, at least it went to a great charity.  Proceeds from the Habitat for Humanity ReStore directly fund Habitat for Humanity, helping them to fulfill their mission statement: "Habitat for Humanity believes that every man, woman and child should have a decent, safe and affordable place to live. We build and repair houses all over the world using volunteer labor and donations."   So not only has my little Featherweight churned out countless sewing projects over the past 62 years; she is also helping to provide affordable housing for a family in need. 

She's a cute little machine, an icon of an era when machinery was built to last a lifetime.  She only sews forwards and backwards, but Featherweights are legendary for their perfect straight stitch and reliability.  I will use this machine as it was intended, as a portable sewing machine that I could take on vacation or to a workshop, and it will also be convenient when I'm doing crazy quilting with bobbinwork decorative stitch embellishment on the seams, because I can stitch the seam on the Featherweight, flip it open, and then stitch the decorative stitch pattern on my snazzy Bernina 750 QE without having to change settings, rethread, and monkey with the bobbin tension after each and every seam.  Sewing on this machine is like traveling backwards through time.

The Singer 221 Featherweight was a modern marvel of design and engineering when it was unveiled at the Chicago World's Fair in 1933, just like my Bernina is in 2013.  But I don't think for a minute that anyone will want to sew on my Bernina 80 years from now.  When it comes to sewing machines, they really don't make them like they used to!



This Is Not My Featherweight... But It Should Be!

Quilty Joy: Someone Else's Featherweight

I got sucked down a black hole of Featherweight obsession this week, and I can't even remember what set it off.  I found this gorgeous image on Pinterest (another time-sucking black hole of Internet temptation and delight), which sources back to a post on a blog entitled Anyone Can Quilt here.  Look carefully at that picture, and what do you see?  A modern, snazzy Bernina in the background.  Which just proves that I'm not the only Thoroughly Modern Quilter who has been bitten by the Bewitching Featherweight Bug.

She was introduced at the Chicago World's Fair in 1933.  She was one of the first truly portable sewing machines, weighing in at approximately 11 pounds due to the use of some aluminum instead of the cast iron of other sewing machines at that time.  She was perfectly balanced, sewed a beautiful straight stitch and was sold until about 1970, when home sewers demanded zigzag machines and the built-to-last-generations Featherweight was no longer cost-effective to manufacture.  Probably the single most popular sewing machine of all time, over 3 million Featherweights were sold between 1933 and 1970, and quite a few of them are still around, sewing just as beautifully as the day they were made.  Quilters rediscovered this little gem of a machine in the 1990s -- they are perfect for piecing quilt tops, which only requires a straight stitch anyway, and the Featherweight is small and light enough to bring to classes, guild meetings or retreats.  A Featherweight is quite the conversation piece, and they are just plain GORGEOUS.

Do I need one?  Of course not.  Do I want one?  Duh...  And am I going to get one?  Oh, it's just a matter of time...

Immaculate Pre-War Featherweight with Scrolled Faceplate and Chrome Handwheel

I am in Research Mode right now.  I downloaded the Kindle version of Featherweight 221: The Perfect Portable and its Stitches Across History, by Nancy Johnson-Srebro, from Amazon and have been reading it on my iPad.  I've learned that nowhere on any of these machines does it actually SAY Featherweight.  I've learned about the manufacturing changes over time, how to guesstimate the age of a machine and pin it down to a "birth year" by serial number, how to thread the machine, and how to trouble-shoot the most common problems.  I've been trolling eBay and Craigslist to see what the machines are going for.  But I'm torn -- I really love the craftsmanship of the pre-war Featherweights, like the one shown above, but I also like the no-nonsense mid-century appeal -- and the addition of seam width markings on the stitch plate -- that the mid-1950s Featherweights feature:

1955 Featherweight 221, for sale here

You know I really want one of each, don't you?  So now that I know what I'm looking for, I'll just keep this in the back of my mind until the right machine turns up at the right price.  I'm still learning the ins-and-outs of my new Bernina 750 QE sewing machine, which due to size, weight, and modern technology is the polar opposite of a Featherweight machine that pre-dates the zigzag!  I also have some hand applique for my Jingle BOM that I've been avoiding starting for some ridiculous reason.  After all, the worst that can happen is that the first attempt comes out ugly (do it over!) or that I stab myself with a needle (get a Band-Aid!). 

I'll leave you with one last glimpse of another lovely Featherweight that doesn't belong to me:

Photo by Linzee McCray, read her Featherweight blog post on etsy here

Anders' Suzuki Violin recital is tomorrow morning and Lars is headed to a computer programming class at Central Piedmont Community College.  Twenty-six kids between the ages of 10-13 will be learning how to program video games.  You should have seen his eyes light up when I told him about it!  I hope it's as much fun as he's expecting.  Have a great weekend, everyone!