The first sewing machine I ever touched wasn’t electric, it had a treadle and a stubborn personality, much like my nana who taught me to use it. I still remember the sound it made, the weight of the fabric, and the way my feet had to find their rhythm. Learning to sew that way taught me patience, precision, and how to fix things when they didn’t go quite right.
That old machine sparked everything I do now. I’ve used all sorts since, fancy new ones and vintage classics—but none with quite as much character as that first one. If you’ve ever sewn on a treadle, you’ll know exactly what I mean.