I'd call it a commission, but as I have declined any monetary compensation, it is better considered a gift.
The full story will be told later, but this is the back story of its making (quite literally, as this is indeed the back) ...
I am stitching eyelet initials on a vintage handkerchief, which is most likely linen. Originally I was attempting to stitch the initials in an imitation of the font on a wedding invitation, but the results looked amateurish. I tried and tried with every fiber in my cloth pantry: fine linen thread, cotton floss, plied silk untwisted into a single strand. I tried split backstitch and plain backstitch. I tried different fonts. Nada.
It had everything to do with the handkerchief. So after a design consult with my oldest daughter, I decided to go back to my colonial marking stitch roots and headed out to stock up on supplies. Seeking the finest silk possible, I asked for direction from a helpful employee at Needleworks in Austin. Peering at the proffered handkerchief she opined "70 count?"
"Probably," I replied (while making a mental note to check the count later) and then went on to select four silks and three needles to try ...
The John James needles, usually my go-to needles of choice, were quickly eliminated. Likewise the first three silks, of which one was too white, another too fuzzy, the third too heavy. The last silk tried was best, hugging the gossamer strands of the (confirmed) 80-count handkerchief. Even so, the crossed stitches sat too high on the cloth.
And so, eyelets ... each composed of eight stitches ... each stitch ideally worked over three gossamer strands of the handkerchief ... or two, or four (it's hard to tell sometimes) ...
The camera focus shuddered on this last image, moving in and out, much as my eyes do while working. Thank goodness I'm as near-sighted as I am. Even so, I can't work more than a few hours at a time. I'm on day four or five at this point.
All this (and the full story yet to be told) awakened me this morning with a thought. So I pulled out the wicker basket in the back of our closet, dug down to the bottom, and unfolded a sheet-wrapped bundle to try this on ...
I can honestly say I weigh the same as in 1977, but these days the zipper couldn't possibly be closed without tearing something. Sadly, gravity and childbearing seem to have moved significant portions of my anatomy south.
So I'll leave you with this vintage image instead ...
and a promise to tell more of how this project came to be ... later, when it is done.
