Here’s something I never dreamt I’d find in the trash one day: a vintage sewing machine. But find it I did, this morning, just before the truck came! It reminds me of my mother’s Bernina 830 I grew up using, although this machine is simpler and heavier-duty. Made by New York Sewing Machine Co. (not to be confused with New York Sewing Machines Inc. who replied to my query to say they never made this machine), its model number is 408, and that’s about all I know. It has an external motor built by French company Luxor, but I doubt it’s a retrofit since the motor is anchored by screws:

It is missing the foot pedal to control the motor, but that’s not a problem with this sort of machine. The large stitching wheel still moves smoothly by hand. The previous owner took very good care of this machine; nothing is rusted, everything internal is oiled and impeccably clean, the machine still works! But it had indeed been abandoned: as well as being in the designated trash pickup area, it was very dirty on its surfaces. But as you can see, it came threaded.

Why would someone throw away a working sewing machine? Unfortunately it’s probably easily explained: it’s a simple machine, with just straight and zigzag stitches, nothing more. Modern-day sewing machine manufacturers tend to tout fancy embroidery machines with any number of stitches, but all you really need are the two basic stitches and a way to control their length, width, and tension. This machine is built like a tank, entirely made of steel, apart from the heavy-duty plastic base (which hinges away to access the bobbin mechanism). That also probably worked against it for whoever decided to toss the machine: it’s big, not exactly the latest fashion, and weighs a ton. But it will probably outlast the home sewer’s Pfaff hobby 1030 that I have. I’m looking forward to trying it out seriously this weekend. I love its simple design lines.

There will be five operas in all, so I’ve been using it as a nice reason to add some home-sewn items to my wardrobe. Currently I’m working on a capelet that will be made of black silk burnout velvet patterned with roses, and lined with a soft black cotton velvet. The pattern is McCall’s 3033 (M3033), view F with the stand-up collar. It will be perfect for keeping off the November Riviera chill.

Today I went to H&M to look for a cardigan. While there, I noticed that they were now carrying suit separates, and that the jackets had what looked like hand-sewn topstitching, the likes you usually see on tailored jackets. I looked more closely, and indeed, it was hand sewing. (No machine can do this – it’s a single thread.) Then I looked at the price: 39.95 EUR. Dumbstruck, I shot this photo with my mobile phone, put the cardigans I’d wanted to try back on their racks, and walked out of the store. I won’t be shopping at H&M again.

The root of my reaction is that there is simply no way that the seamstresses were paid a decent wage. At 40 euros retail, knowing that these stores have a markup that is 2 to 3 times what they paid for an item, that makes this jacket’s manufacturing cost (assuming there were no other intermediaries between the manufacturer and H&M) about 14-20 euros. I reached the conclusion that this cost is unacceptably low based on a modicum of sewing experience; fundamental knowledge that you too can use to evaluate clothes.

At its very basics, an item of clothing goes through the following steps: pattern selection, fabric selection, pattern and fabric cutting, and sewing. Depending on what is being made, there will also be ironing steps at certain points. Modern manufacturers are able to automate pattern and fabric cutout, ironing and sewing, except for certain types of stitches, such as the hand topstitching shown here. A jacket is quite complex – where it is feasible that a t-shirt could be manufactured for 5 euros, since it can be almost entirely automated (you still need machine operators), and has very few pattern pieces (4 total: front, back, and sleeves), this is not the case for a jacket.

We’ll take an example from a modern-day patternmaker, Butterick, and their jacket pattern in the wardrobe set here (B5687). Since I’m adapting the example for a manufacturer, we’ll ignore the price of the pattern itself; once you make thousands of mass-produced items, the pattern price is practically negligeable.

We’ve still got the following costs, however – I’ll use the yardages for size 12 (you’ll notice that patternmaking sizes still follow rational sizing, unlike stores that pretend to have size 0 and such).
- Jacket fabric: 2 1/4 yards (2.1 meters)
- Jacket interfacing (keeps the collar and hemlines stiff): 1 3/8 yards (1.3 meters)
- Jacket lining: 1 1/2 yards (1.4 meters)
For a total of 5.125 yards, which we’ll round down to 5, despite the fact that this jacket is smaller and better-fit than the one sold at H&M.

That’s already quite a bit of fabric. If you buy decent-quality cotton (not suit fabric or linings!) as an individual (non-wholesale), you can find some for between 8-15 USD/euros per yard/meter. So, we’ve already reached 40 euros and we haven’t even sewn anything yet. But of course, we are considering the mass manufacturer, who gets heavy discounts; around 2-3 USD/euros per yard/meter. We’re still at a minimum of 10 euros for a jacket that hasn’t been cut out or sewn yet.

We can pretend that H&M buys fabric for 1 USD/euro a yard/meter, but this in turn brings up serious questions about what they pay their fabric suppliers. In any case, we’ll pretend that the fabric for a single lined jacket costs them 5 USD/euros. Which leaves 9-15 for paying the people who operate the cutting machines, irons, and sewing machines… and for this jacket, the seamstresses who do the hand topstitching.

The Butterick pattern looks to have about 17 pattern pieces (minimum) for the jacket (not counting the pockets), probably at least 5 interface pieces (lapels, collar, shoulders), and 7 or 9 lining pieces, depending on how they’re sewn. That’s a minimum of 29 pattern pieces to cut out – and for the seamstress on a sewing machine to keep track of and assemble properly. For those of you who have never sewn before, this is not a minor consideration since a properly-constructed item of clothing needs to have the fabric facing the right way – you can’t just sew things together any which way; fabrics have right sides and wrong sides, and pattern pieces also have to match up at certain points (seams, darts, pockets, lapels, collars) in order for them to look right.

We can pretend that the cutting costs are negligeable (which they aren’t, but you’ll soon see why I’m pretending this drastic reduction), and that it takes two hours for a manufacturing line of seamstresses (each doing a different section or sections, for instance) to assemble a jacket. And I’m also ignoring the investments in thread, scissors/blades, lights, oil, and needles here. Anyway. A pretend 4 minutes per piece, without rest breaks, without making any mistakes, without any needle or thread breakage, without any machine troubles. We have 9-15 USD/euros remaining – that works out to 4.50 to 7.50 USD/EUR an hour. US federal minimum wage is 7.25 USD/hour. We’re not doing too badly, if H&M paid 20 per jacket, and apart from all the assumptions of bare minima.

Except there hasn’t been any hand topstitching yet. This jacket had topstitching all around the front hems, from bottom side seam, around the lapels, to bottom side seam. We’ll really pretend now, and assume it took half an hour for a single seamstress to do. Oh and, I didn’t point out earlier that the H&M jacket also has decorative orange-red tape around the lining (sewn in) and that the jacket has clearly been ironed. We didn’t figure in the extra cost of that orange-red tape, it being sewn in, and, additionally, the time to iron in the interfacing while that was being put in, which is to say, before the finished product was ironed. We can imagine that the finished jacket was steam-ironed, but interfacing can’t be ironed that way; it needs direct contact from a heavy, flat, hot iron. Hopefully readers have also noticed another missing bit – buttons and buttonholes.

As you can see, it just doesn’t add up. Someone, probably several people, were not paid fair wages in order to create this jacket, no matter which country they live in.

I’ve been on vacation this week, using it to rest, sew, and write. Our sudden summery weather in Nice, coupled with favorable fashion winds, combined to spark my desire to sew. I’ll also admit… I love the TV series “Mad Men“. It’s been nice to see designers follow the trend; even sewing pattern publishers are linking some of their vintage designs to the show. On Tuesday, while shopping for buttons in a mercerie (crafting notions specialty store), I noticed they had posted a large ad on the side of a counter in the middle of the shop, for this Butterick pattern (B5557), with the woman in the red dress, and a caption along the lines of “Mad for style”. It’s something of a windfall for me, since I don’t get along so well with contemporary styles that seem to be in a race for tightest fit and sheerest fabrics. Conveniently for clothing manufacturers, that means less fabric used, and the fabric itself is often cheaper. Before the advent of fabrics with stretch, clothes were tailored with ease, a sewing term for allowance added to body measurements in order to make a garment wearable. Tight clothes such as sheath dresses, when made of non-stretch fabrics, often require special undergarments, such as corsets and girdles, in order to keep a stable foundation so that seams don’t pull or tear.

As for the Mad Men-like pattern, I had already ordered the same a few days earlier! I also got the two other patterns shown with it in the photo below:

The wrap dress on the left was Butterick’s most popular pattern in the 1950s: dress 6015. “Sales of the pattern were so great, that at one point manufacturing of all other patterns ceased, and only the ‘walk-away’ dress was produced until all back-orders for this dress could be filled.”

Before those patterns arrived yesterday afternoon, I finished a few Burda magazine (now called “burda style”) patterns, including the simple A-line skirt in the top photo. Kanoko was adorable, as usual, and mimicked my pose for the camera. Others include a purple shirt dress and a flowery seersucker empire dress. I’m working on a pair of pants from the same tartan fabric as the skirt (practical for wearing to the office), and plan to start on one of the retro dresses tomorrow. It will probably be the walk-away dress, so named because you could start it in the morning and “walk away” in it for lunch.

Yesterday I bought the latest Burda sewing magazine, as it had a few dress, coat, shirt and blouse patterns that caught my eye. One shirtdress pattern in particular was precisely what I’ve wanted for a while (their version of it sewn). I’ve had a beautiful light lavender check stretch fabric for years now that I couldn’t fit with a pattern, but this shirtdress will be great in it (I won’t be putting in any pockets, however). I’m also completely in love with this simple Empire dress, which I plan to make in a floral too.

I started tracing the pattern pieces yesterday afternoon. Kanoko, as can be seen in that photo, was drowsy and so merely kept an eye on my progress. Today, however, as I laid out the pattern pieces on the fabric, he decided to take things into his own paws… and mouth, as shown above! I probably won’t finish the dress today since I have other errands, but hopefully it will be ready to wear to work in another week.

For readers curious about my mentally ill neighbor, I’m still waiting to hear from “Francine” and so don’t yet know how things went with the judge. Rest assured that I’ll post as soon as I do.