[An Elegant Weave] A Thimbleful of Confidence

by **Sydelle Faraway** on August 26th, 2014, 2:12 pm

78th of Summer, 9th Bell

Slipping into the orangery with her sewing box, various common threads, and a colorful array of clothes meant for hemming and minor repair, Sydelle was not at all surprised to find that several other tailors - and some designers - had beaten her there. Smiling shyly at her new coworkers, the young woman settled herself at a deserted table and took a few moments to inspect her surroundings.

The orangery was nearly all glass; though Sydelle had seen it, briefly, in her initial tour of the shop, she had been too excited about the prospect of earning a living to really take it in. Now she took the time to properly appreciate the craftsmanship that went into the construct as well as the view that it overlooked.

Lush gardens, in full summer's glory, stretched out in front of her. Most of the flowers were unknown to her, but Syd thought she recognized a few of the more decorative herbs tucked here and there in between the showier blooms. It would definitely bear some exploring one day when the work was through. For now, though, there was plenty to do.

At her side, the stack of garments beckoned her; though Syd knew that most were simple repairs, she didn't let that discourage her. After all, Navia had no way of knowing how skilled she might be. Certainly after proving herself with the mundane tasks, she would be given more advanced duties. 'Maybe not designing clothes,' she thought, eying one such designer, ’but surely more complex alterations, at least.’

Still, there was the hope of 'someday' and Sydelle was content with that. Plucking the first item, a pair of cotton trousers, from the pile, she unpinned the work order and read it through.

’Trousers, cotton, plain.
Hem: 2 inches per leg.
Additional Repair: inseam, 2-inch split.’

Simple enough. Sydelle opened her sewing box and plucked the tailor’s tape from it. Carefully laying the trousers out over the table, Syd grabbed a few straight pins and began to measure the two-inch hem reduction. Folding each leg under once, and then once more, she placed pins around the piece quickly and confidently. It was mindless work, the kind that she’d had to do frequently on the Outpost. For most of the families there, ‘hand-me-down’ was a style, and hems were as fluid as water, often being let out and taken in no less than 4 times per garment before being relegated to the rag pile. Sydelle found the routine comforting and soon began humming happily to herself.

by **Sydelle Faraway** on August 26th, 2014, 2:24 pm

With the pinning done, Sydelle rummaged around in her kit for her thimble and needle. Hemming was simple, but it was still entirely possible to stick yourself with a needle if you were letting your thoughts wander. Since Syd was always letting her thoughts wander, the thimble was a necessary precaution. She’d once stuck herself so deeply with a pin that the fabric she’d been working on had been spotted lightly with her own blood. It was a mistake she would be deeply embarrassed to repeat on the job. Kissing her thimble for luck, she placed it on the table and set about threading her needle.

Her mother had often complained that she’d been unable to see the eye of the needle. Syd thought this was just a clever way to get out of doing the mending, but nevertheless, it had afforded her much practice and in no time she had slipped a length of cotton thread through the tiny hole. Giddy excitement took over for a moment, and a grin spread across her face. She was about to begin her first piece o f work. At her first actual job. Syd was determined to do her very best.

A knot tied in the thread kept it from slipping entirely through the fabric, and Syd slipped her middle finger into the thimble and began sewing. Using a method she’d learned as a child, a ‘blind hem’, the fabric of the hem was stitched under with very little visible evidence on the front of the trousers. The inside of the trousers would show small, slanting stitches, of course, but the thread and the fabric were both undyed cotton, and so the client – whoever it was – would be hard-pressed to notice the mend. The hemming was a matter of only a few chimes’ work, and soon enough Syd had tied off the thread and was ready to mend the inseam.

This fix followed the same general pin-and-stitch procedure, and Syd sang softly to herself while performing the task:

’With fingers nimble and quick,
With eyes so clever and bright,
A woman sat, in inglorious dress,
Plying her needle with might!
Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!
In bright day she does her work,
And still with a voice of delicate pitch
She sings the song of the shirt.’
creditThis is an adaptation of 'The Song of the Shirt', by Thomas Hood - first published in 1843.

It was an old song; she’d grown up listening to it sung by not only her mother, but most of the other women on the Outpost. And though her voice was nothing too special, Syd found the singing passed the time and, almost before she realized it, the inseam had been mended as well, and she was finished with the first of her tasks.

Pleased with herself, and feeling very accomplished for no real reason at all, Sydelle folded the trousers neatly and set them aside, repinning the accompanying instruction slip to the pocket for safe-keeping. She didn’t know if she was expected to turn in the completed sheets, but intended to keep all slips on hand, just in case.

by **Sydelle Faraway** on August 26th, 2014, 6:00 pm

The next garment in the stack was a treat to her hands; thick velvet of the deepest black, pooling like liquid shadow on the table in front of her. Sydelle took a precious few ticks just enjoying the feel of it against her fingers before locating the work order and unpinning it.

’Tunic, velvet, black.
Repair: replace wooden buttons (6).’

’Replace with what?’ Syd held the tunic up, searching for the buttons in question. Sure enough, 6 wooden buttons were strategically placed around the tunic; 2 at the neckline, and 2 on each sleeve for a customizable wrist closure. But where were – there! A small collection of shiny gold buttons, held together by a loop of thread, landed on the worktable. The metallic tinkle seemed loud in the relative calm of the orangery, and Sydelle looked up to see if her clatter had disturbed anyone.

No one seemed at all interested in the new seamstress, however, and Sydelle didn’t know if she were more relieved or disappointed by the fact. At some point, she would like to strike up a friendship or two with her coworkers, but maybe disturbing their work with her own clumsy noise wasn’t the best introduction. As she was staring, a girl about her age looked up; Syd met her eyes and smiled across the room, before both girls went back to their tasks. It wasn’t much, but Sydelle was glad to have at least made that much contact with someone. Maybe tomorrow she would find herself a table nearer to the others and insert herself in one of those happily chattering groups.

But for now, the buttons.

They were elegant buttons, and Syd thought that whoever had asked for the change must have had impeccable taste. The wooden buttons were… Nice. But common. It seemed like shame to the girl that such a glorious fabric should be finished off with common buttons, no matter how utilitarian their purpose. The gold was much more decorative and, in her opinion, would be more of an accessory than a necessary addition to a practical clothing item. With these buttons, the velvet tunic would be fit for a special event.

Sydelle retrieved a small pair of snips from her sewing kit, and began carefully removing the buttons. Holding the button in one hand, she carefully scissored at the attaching threads, taking great pains not to puncture the lush nap of the velvet as she did so. A small hole wouldn’t spell disaster, as a new button would be taking place of the old and would hide the error, but that was no excuse for sloppy work. And so she snipped and pulled and snipped and pulled at the thread until the button fell away from the tunic and into her hand. 1 down, 5 to go.

Buttons took a bit more attention, and the extra care was reflected in Sydelle’s face. Though there was nothing wrong with her eyesight, by the time she’d begun working on the final button, Syd had brought the tunic within inches of her face and was biting her lower lip in concentration. No humming with this task; instead, hunched shoulders and a focus too intense for the task at hand.

When the final button came free, she straightened her shoulders with a small laugh. It was something her mother had often teased her about; when truly concentrating, Syd managed to draw herself into a tiny, cramped, awkward shape that, prolonged, was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked. The unconscious habit was well-formed by now, and Syd had learned to compensate by taking small breaks frequently to relax her muscles.

While not strictly necessary, Sydelle put her work aside and took one of those breaks now. Stretching up off the bench, the young seamstress took a few moments to walk closer to the garden – and closer to a group of women industriously sewing with colorful linens in shades of blue and green. Curious, but not wishing to intrude, Syd surreptitiously peeked over one woman’s shoulder for a better look at the fabric; on closer inspection, it appeared that the women were all working on the same voluminous length of fabric. Their delicate stitches were combining to form an intricate, swirling pattern over the entire surface. Her fingers twitched of their own accord, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to run them over the pattern.

”Beautiful,” she remarked, with a smile meant for the entire group, before heading back to her own work.

Embroidery. Sydelle had little to no experience with it, herself, but the concept intrigued her. She was familiar with the theory, of course. The seamstress would use colored thread of varying weights to ‘draw’ a picture on the fabric. It was a costly endeavor, though, and Syd had never had the luxury of extra materials and time to make the attempt. Sitting down to her buttoning again, she wondered if there would be an opportunity to learn the process at work.

by **Sydelle Faraway** on August 30th, 2014, 2:08 am

"Ouch! Petch!" A blush stained Sydelle's cheeks at the word. But it had hurt! Syd hated buttons. It never failed, as often as she attached the horrid little things, she managed to stick herself with the needle at least once in the process. At least it hadn't drawn blood, she noted with relief, after inspection.

'Serves you right. Push with the thimble, not your finger.' The uncharitable thoughts came laden with her mother's matter-of-fact tone.

Pursing her lips, she glared down at the offending accessory. It still had the audacity to look shiny and beautiful. Sydelle stuck her throbbing finger in her mouth for a moment, comforting it, and then sighed resignedly. Personal feelings aside, the buttons still had to be attached. She'd just have to make sure her thoughts didn't run away with her again.

After all, embroidery was all well and good, but hardly merited skewering her fingers to think about.

Resolved to focus on the task at hand, Syd carefully positioned one shiny golden-hued button against the sleeve of the tunic. Preferring not to tie unnecessary knots in the thread, she held a length of it aside as she slipped the needle through the fabric and the shank of the button. A swoop back through the fabric and the button was in place. Multiple passes would have to be made, of course, and Sydelle made sure to wrap over the tail of the thread with each one. In this manner, the button would be held fast and no ugly knots would show on the wrong side of the sleeve.

The finished button was a measure in tidy stitches, almost enough to make her forget about her poor, grievously injured finger. And only 5 more to go!

With an inaudible groan, Syd bent her head over the tunic and began placing and stitching the beautiful, shiny, banes of her existence to it. Each button found her closer and closer to the fabric; Syd hardly noticed her proximity until she found her eyes trying to cross to see clearly. Thanking the whole pantheon of her Gods that this was the last button left to stitch, she pushed the fabric back a respectable distance and hurried through the process as fast as she deemed safe.

After what felt like an eternity, but was really just a matter of chimes, Sydelle held the finished product up for review. It was stylish, to be sure. She grudgingly admitted to herself that the upgraded buttons were worth the work; whoever owned this was certainly going to be happy with their alterations. Sydelle wondered idly where this tunic would be worn.

Fancy dinner with the Knights? Family celebration? Posh and luxurious day at the market? There was always the chance that she would see it on someone wandering the castle. The odds were against it, but the prospect made Syd oddly excited. Not that it would be proper to just walk up to a stranger and tell them 'I sewed your buttons!' But still, she imagined it would be fun to see something she'd had a hand in being enjoyed outside of work.

by **Vanari** on October 8th, 2014, 7:55 am

Sydelle

Observation	+4 XP
Sewing	+5 XP
Singing	+1 XP
Investigation	+1 XP

Lores :

Notes :

Solo [An Elegant Weave] A Thimbleful of Confidence