A Home for Pfaff

So... you guys know I like sewing machines, right? And I already posted about one of the cases and antique machines that I restored here. But that was just ONE of... um... the COMPLETELY REASONABLE number of sewing machines that I have. I can tell it's a reasonable number because my husband still lets me buy them without rolling his eyes even a little. I return the favor when he decides he just HAS to order expensive industrial (like crop-dusting) strength herbicides that are only available on the internet. 

The really nice thing about collecting old sewing machines is just how devalued they tend to be on the presumed basis that practically no one sews anymore, and those who do buy fancy Janome or Huskavarna machines with a million stitches built in and an automatic threader. Which is not to say that modern machines aren't great, but they are mostly made of plastic and I've ruined an expensive newer machine with some of the crazy things I choose to sew. 

For a long time my sewing machine Holy Grail was to find a Pfaff sewing machine. I'd read blogs and heard people talk about what nice stitching they do, how they are powerhouses and aren't phased by the thickest seams or material. How they last forever and are basically the most awesome thing ever to come out of West Germany. But it's hard to find the old, mostly-metal mid-century models because they now belong to little old ladies who are NOT giving them up. Fortunately for me one day we were at a thrift store and my husband came over and asked, "What's that sewing machine brand you're always looking for? Something with a 'P'?" And then he showed it to me! The beautiful, perfect, Pfaff 284 that became mine for only $25!!

I stole this photo from the internet.

That is not my Pfaff, but it did look just like that after I cleaned it up and oiled it. Unfortunately, my machine didn't come in a pretty wooden case like that. It came in a broken press-board base that snagged every piece of fabric in its immediate vicinity. So for a long time I'd wanted to give it a proper home where I could use it without having to either leave it in the scratchy box or take it out and worry about the bottom of it destroying my desk. Good thing I hoard have other sewing machines!

I picked this table up at another thrift store for $15. It contained a pretty neat in its own right vintage White 468 that was made in Japan.

That's the box that the Pfaff came in.

The neat thing about this is that the motor and belts are internal, so it was late enough they'd figured that out, but not so late that someone thought to, I don't know, PUT A BASE ON THE THING. Why did they used to make sewing machines with so many spikes on the bottom, anyway?

The thing I liked about the table was how it had simple lines that seemed appropriate for the stark, German Pfaff styling. The thing I didn't like was that the finish was orange-y and all scratched up.

Lookin' a little rough there, pal. 

Don't worry! I will help you!!

So I took the thing all apart and promptly let it sit in the basement for five months. What? I'VE BEEN BUSY! A couple of weeks ago I finally had some free time to start working on it. Unlike other sewing machine cases I've refreshed, this one actually had decent wood that wasn't chipping or ruined with peeling veneer. Step one was to strip off the old finish which I did with chemical stripper. Then I sanded it with 150 grit sandpaper, followed by 220, and then 0000 steel wool. Once it was nice and smooth, I was ready to stain.

I wanted it somewhat dark, so I did two coats of Minwax Wood Stain in Dark Walnut. After that dried, I covered everything in three coats of polyurethane, sanding with 320 grit sandpaper between coats.

And voila!

I also changed out the handle with something more industrial/modern which I may or may not regret depending on how often I snag cloth in the return.

It could be styled as a cute side table when not in use.

But with this beauty inside, what are the odds it won't get used?

Fun fact: if someone at Lowe's asks if you need help, you will waste a lot of time if you ask him whether or not they used the metric system in post-Soviet West Germany. They did. Metric all the way. There was only one of the original set screws that hold the machine onto the brackets in the case, so I had to get another. Unfortunately they only had M6-1.00 pan head screws at Lowe's, which wouldn't fit due to the head. So the next day we had to go to Home Depot for proper set screws. Whereupon we returned home and I realized that we don't own a metric hex-wrench set. *SIGH* Luckily we had a star-head bit from one of our various bit-driver sets that was close enough to get the job done.

TA-DA!

Couldn't be happier with the way it turned out, except that now I have to get it upstairs.

One Man's Trash is Another Man's Sewing Machine

Although I don't blog about it all that much anymore, sewing is one of my favorite hobbies. I make things for the house as needed such as pillows, window treatments, and alterations to kids' clothes, mostly I make clothing for myself. It has been years since I shopped retail for clothing. Everything I wear is either hand made, thrifted, or both (as in refashions). So I am a big enthusiast of sewing machines, and I have amassed quite a collection of both modern and vintage machines that each shine in their own way. The truly amazing thing about vintage sewing machines is just how well made and really powerful they are. Sure they don't have automatic threaders or fancy stitches, but hit the right yard sale and you can get all sorts of cool vintage attachments like ruffler feet, narrow hem feet, and, well, frankly I haven't figured out what half the feet are even for.

Last year I was venturing out on my own one weekend and I spotted a big piece of plywood spray painted with FREE on it. I slowed down and decided to pass on the 80s era coffee tables and lamps, but then I saw a sewing machine and did a U-turn to snatch it up. Which isn't exactly the right description since the thing weighed about 40 lbs, but I tossed it in the car as best I could, and then excitedly called my husband even though I'd only been gone five minutes and we likely hadn't been out of each other's sight in weeks. You can call it co-dependent, but I call it teamwork!It;s just that an awesome discovery doesn't really mean anything without an appreciative audience!

My real hope for the thing was that I could use the table to hold my beloved vintage Pfaff that is currently residing in the lower part of the original carrying case (which has seen better days). But after getting it home and checking it out, I realized that the White Rotary machine was actually in a lot better shape than I'd initially thought. It was manufactured in 1917, but had been converted with a motor and installed in a new cabinet at some point probably in the 50s (based on the motor assembly). Still, it was worth salvaging, and although the cabinet was gross, I had faith that it could be beautiful once again!

This was after I'd started to take it apart and with a bit of sanding done. It was mildew-y, as if it had sat in a shed or wet basement for awhile, but it wasn't peeling apart like the last sewing machine cabinet I dealt with.

Unfortunately, the top did have some damage, so it seemed like painting would be better than stripping and staining it. The thingie on the left is a cool slide out mechanism that transfers the weight of the top when open back down through the case into the legs. I like that much better than the kind that rely on the front panel to be opened in order to support the weight of the top.

The little plug box was wired through the cabinet, so it must have come with it and was added at the same time as the external motor. There was no pedal with the machine, so I scavenged one from an old, broken Singer machine and rewired everything to get the machine up and running. Much to my surprise, the lightbulb still worked!

The machine itself was a good bit more work. I had to clean it all up, but also ended up taking most of it apart so that I could get inside and oil the appropriate bits and pieces. It took awhile, but eventually I got it all cleaned up (when I say "I", I mean that Neal helped a lot. This thing is HEAVY!) and working with only the addition of a new belt.

Interesting fact about White Rotary machines? They run backward.You have to spin the wheel away from you instead of  toward you as on most modern machines. There's a threaded hole to add a handle so that this machine can be worked manually with only the upper body. Also, they thread sideways - from left to right.

Once it was working, I was really excited to get the cabinet finished. I sanded it by hand with 100-, 150- and then 220-grit sandpaper, and then went over it again with 0000 steel wool. Honestly I didn't do that great a job since I was planning to prime and paint it. When we went to buy the spray paint, Neal talked me into trying Krylon Dual Paint + Primer in Glossy Black. This stuff is AMAZING! I've spray painted a lot of things in my life, but I'm not sure any have turned out as well. I sprayed on probably three coats, maybe four in some spots, just to make sure it had good coverage.

And voila!

I wish I had a picture of the whole thing when I first grabbed it, but I assure you, it looked nothing close to this. The machine cleaned up pretty nicely, too.

And of course there's the additional fact that now it works. 

Look how shiny! Although the handles and hinges are brass, no amount of steel wool or Brasso was helping, so I primed them, painted them with chrome spray paint, and then used antique gold Rub and Buff, followed by a coat of clear acrylic to seal it in.

When it's closed, I can shove the pedal into that little shelf on the door so that it just looks like a table.

I'm very very happy with this restoration, now I just have to think of something to make with the crazy, backwards sewing machine!

Ripped from the Archives: Bedroom Edition

This post was originally made in April of 2011 when we still had pet ducks (they were just babies then even!) and were apparently listening to a lot of Evita. Our bedroom still looks much the same, and I still love it!

The choice was mine, and mine completely. I could have any bed that I desired. I could shop to the limit of the greatest card... or else... or else I could budget hard.

You know, and listen to Evita, watch a documentary on Eva Peron and... MAYBE force Neal to watch the movie version despite the should-have-been pantsless butchery that was Antonio Banderas' performance in the movie during the renovation.

I asked Neal to comment on the "before" pictures of the room. It's funny to me to look at them now because when I took them I thought, "Oh, it's not that bad. It's not great, but no one will come in and be shocked by how bad the room is." Now, I'm totally shocked by how bad the room was. As Neal put it, "It was ours but it wasn't." It really was all our stuff (as loathe as I am to admit it), but also, "The wall color was bland and unfriendly and, most importantly, not something we picked." Also, "The floor was the lesser of two evils (the more evil option being beige carpet that somehow quantum leaped into the second floor from 1976)."

For what I can only assume is his sense of decency, Neal fails to point out that it was tan. The walls were tan, the relocated floor was tan, the bathroom is tan... It was only not the most tan thing I've ever seen based on the main floor of the house. Because to get any more tan than that, you'd have to become a realtor.

The duvet was threadbare, the sleigh bed didn't really accommodate tall people, the layout left a huge unused space in front of the bathroom doors so that they could be, I don't know, OPENED. The fan was just honestly the ugliest thing I've ever seen. And, as the kids would say, I've seen UR MOM.

Let's take a look, shall we?

Tan here, tan there, tan EVERYWHERE!



I bet you could waste a whole lot of space if only the doors opened into the bedroom...


Ducks wouldn't even crap in here.


Wait, that's not right, we need another Evita reference. SHIRTLESS ducks wouldn't even crap in here. I want to tell the people of Argentina... this bedroom sucked.

Okay now that that's done, the worst thing was really the bed. I don't know if you know this about Neal, but he's pretty tall. Just over 75" and when a Queen size mattress is 80", it doesn't leave a lot of room for getting comfortable. We settled on a California King, which is 84" long and impossible to buy sheets for. Not to mention finding a frame to put it on. I looked around online and while I found some King-sized beds that were nice, something to accommodate the extra length didn't seem to be readily available unless you went with a flimsy metal frame. We wanted something STURDY. A platform strong as fascism! Which meant, of course, that we'd have to build it.

Neal wrote previously about buying and refinishing the door that was to be the headboard on the blog that got deleted because people are jerks about ducks and trees.

But what about the platform? Don't worry, I have a plan - "Sipping cocktails on the terrace, taking breakfast in bed. Sleeping easy, doing crosswords, it's attractive." Oh, and I also have a plan for the platform.



Neal prepares for sanding after making the cuts - "Descamisados! I have taken these power tools from the oligarchs only for you! FOR ALL OF YOU!"



It went together surprisingly quickly, and because we stained and finished it before assembly, it was no time at all  before we had it in the room.  Which was a relief after the heated "hanging the door on the wall" session of the previous night.

"Then I must now be Vice-President!"  cried the door.

No, we said, YOU ARE A DOOR.  

"But you just told me I'm a headboard now!" countered the door.

Touche, door. Touche.

It took about three trips to Lowe's, a box of deck screws, and four 5" carriage bolts, but it's up there and it's never coming down. EVER.



I also installed a light fixture through what had been the doorknob hole. When you turn it on, it "burns with the splendor of the brightest fire," by which I mean you can't look directly at it.



This headboard hasn't learned the lines you'd like to hear. Eventually I'll either put it on a dimmer or switch out the lightbulbs for something not quite so bright.  As for the other lighting in the room... Well, this house may not have had appliances or window screens or any color other than tan when we bought it, but it did have one distinctive piece - The world's UGLIEST ceiling fan.



Seriously.  It was impossible to lay in bed,  stare up at it, and not wonder just how such a horrible thing could have been allowed to come into existence. Was there some kind of bad design contest at the fan factory? Was it a sick joke being played by builders on unwitting consumers? Luckily we'll never have to know the answer to this question as Neal joyously and gleefully ripped it down while it cried hauntingly, "Where am I going to?" Don't ask any more.

He replaced it with a massive 70" ceiling fan that could get into a fight with Chuck Norris and WIN. Well, largely by fighting a psychological battle laden with jokes about Chuck Norris' mom but STILL. The fact that Neal actually installed it instead of making me do all the electrical work the way he usually does should imply just how vehemently he wanted that old fan gone.



When I was first planning the room I found this sort of retro whimsical fabric that I just loved. Neal wasn't so keen on it, though, so I settled for just using it to recover a chair that I picked up at Goodwill. Before:



On this night of a thousand birds, let me hold open the bedroom door...



Since I wanted to keep the bird theme going more subtly,  I did a painting of a feather and cut out some silhouettes:



Now we get to the part with the finished result!



Neal said I made too many pillows. Actually he said, "Screw the pillow class! I will never accept them. My father's other family were pillow class and we were kept out of sight, hidden from view at his funeral." So I threatened to put on Phantom of the Opera if he didn't behave himself.

The duvet was sort of the starting point for the color. I wanted something gray to help balance the yellow in the floor and something dark to make all the wainscoting look less beachy.  We found this new in the package at Goodwill for $12.50, which was a lot better than the $150.00 duvets I'd been looking at online.  On a later trip, I also found a matching sham.  So I matched the paint color to that and ended up using it on the nightstands and the bird chair, too.  I had to special order the silk shantung that I used to make the drapes and pillows, but it was 50% off and since I reused the blackout lining from the old drapes, it was still cheaper than buying even one pre-made curtain panel. All to make sure the money doesn't start rolling out, of course.



From this angle you might notice that where there used to be a table, there is now a couch. See, we went to IKEA for pillow inserts, as I'm sure so many other people do, and came out with a couch. The conversation went something like,

Kimberly and Neal: Ooh! Look! A couch!

Neal: 50% off... is that really the price?

Kimberly: I'll go ask... yes, that's really the price.

Neal: I think we should get it.

Kimberly: But where would we put it?

Neal:  In the car.

Che Guevara: Excuse my intrusion but fine as those sentiments sound, little has changed for us peasants down here on the ground...

Kimberly: Okay, I'll get a cart to put it on.

So we managed to fit a couch, three kids, three pillows, two shelves, assorted other IKEA crap, and a cello in the minivan for the drive home. Then when we got it here and moved it into the bedroom, one thing was clear - this door situation had to be fixed. We discussed, brainstormed and agonized.  Should we remove the doors completely? Replace them with curtains? Bi-fold doors? Sliding doors? At one point Neal wanted to use one of the old 3-foot wide pantry doors as a stationary panel leaving us like a 20" uncovered space of egress from the bathroom. Finally I insisted that we just buy chisels and switch the door hinges to the inside so that they just swing into the bathroom instead of opening out into the bedroom. We switched all the hardware to oil-rubbed bronze while we were at it and, as a bonus, the doors actually work without sticking now, which they never did before.



With a couch now occupying the space that previously housed my sewing table, this side of the room had to change.  Neal moved in a table from the office that was a better size and, as a bonus, offers more drawer space. I used the wall shelves as an opportunity to cram in more birds.



Okay, so I used every surface as an opportunity to cram in more birds.  Except the desk, which is now home to this thrifted typewriter. Perfect for signing your checks as 30127 - never be an account in the name of Eva Peron.



So let's hear it for the Bedroom Tour, it's been an incredible success. We weren't quite sure, we had a few doubts, but the answer is YES! It's finished!

Did you just call that fan a whore? You actually called it a whore? You better head to Cuba, and FAST.