What the hell is that?
So I went to the Scrap Exchange yesterday afternoon because they tweeted on friday that they had a couple of boxes of new vintage sewing patterns. I have managed to find a few shiny gems amid their intimidating inventory of, for reals, total dross, so I figured what the hell. Maybe I’ll come across a former seamstress’s stash of three dozen totally perfect, factory-folds vogue couturier patterns for a paltry two bucks per (and hell no I’m not too proud to drop seventy bones at the scrapx–they can use the money, right? I didn’t contribute to their capitol campaign or anything) and maybe they’d even cut me a deal of an even $50 or something. And then on top of that, I’d find a healthy series of three-to-five yard cuts of fancy wool suitings and abstract floral silk charmeuses with, I don’t know, designer tags or selvage identifications that would easily pay back outright, outright! the recent three-day Asheville vacay that the Mrs. and I just enjoyed. Also there would be free samples of the three-cheese and spicy kale from Toast Paninoteca, I’d finally run into my bestie Adrian from high school again, kittens would serenade my button browsing with purrs and synchronized tumbling and there would be a Rogue tasting van outside with nothing but dead guy with my name written all over the full-pint-sized tasting (sic) glasses. And then I would look down, realize that I was surfing on a wave of chocolate buttercream, and beck and I would be immediately transmogrified into that crazy wave scene from “Back to the Beach” as f*cking Frankie and Annette.
Now come down from that cloud, do your best to stifle those dust-triggered sneezes, and join me on what really happened.
It was sort of crowded and a lot of kids were there, but on a fifty-degree drizzly Saturday afternoon you can’t expect much different. In all I was there right at an hour and I feel pretty good about my haul: three vintage sewing patterns, including a couturier design from Belinda Belville (196-?); a modest handful of buttons; a two-yard cut of a lightweight plaid cotton/blend in a good colorway for Beck; and what may actually be a couple hundred yards of soustache braid in navy and beige (I haven’t counted–and probably won’t, for $8 total).

At several points in I think every trip I ever make to scrapx, I mutter with nostrils in various levels of flared-outedness ‘what the hell is that?’ and, this time, the internet came to my rescue. I found these two little strips of a card of buttons that’d been cut up, and while they looked pretty good (basic black, no cosmetic damage, usable and pretty standard size), I couldn’t figure out how the hell they were supposed to work. Plus they were marked $1 for four, and that’s a little steep for a crazy cheapass like me if I can’t even determine how to work them. On one of the cut-up card backs I was able to read “the old reliable ‘Pilcher’ button” so out came the iphone to find me an answer. I came across an etsy listing that featured the pristine card imagery with this handy little closeup:
So I pried out the center disk there and voila! the back tack came right out; I felt like a cross between Miss Marple and Betty Homemaker right there in public. They seem sturdy and attractive enough to not save for an emergency, and they’ve got a nice rivet-like aesthetic that would work great for a jacket. Plus if I need more, I know what to search for on ebay.






















