The Green Dress
Long before I became a chef I had another career that formed the building block for the person I’ve become. As a young girl, I never imagined I would be a professional seamstress. I grew up knowing how to sew, but never thought it would become a career. Sometimes necessity becomes a journey of its own, and mine began with a green dress.
My sewing education began by my mother’s side watching her stitch together clothing on her Singer sewing machine. She made all my clothes, and, to me, it seemed a fabulous magic trick. She would pin paper patterns onto fabrics, cut, then sew the pieces together transforming it all into a dress, robe, or Halloween costume. She showed me some basics and would let me practice sewing with her fabric scraps. Let’s just say my Barbies had some unique ensembles.
Eventually, my mom upgraded her sewing machine, and the machine I watched her use for years became mine. Many weekends were spent at my machine creating my next outfit. Of course, I made many mistakes, but I could always go to my mom when something didn’t fit or if I scorched the front of a blouse with the iron. There were times I swore I’d never sew again, and I avoided my sewing machine for weeks. But I always went back with the determination to make something wonderful.
Once I got to the semester of sewing at Home Ec, I was the star pupil. All that practice—and all those mistakes—had made me into quite the seamstress. When it was time for college, I decided to study fashion design, where I progressed from stitching simple skirts and shirts, to tailoring complicated jackets and gowns. It became such a passion that I continued to graduate school for clothing design. I dreamed of moving to New York City to work for a fashion designer; instead, I fell in love and got married my last semester of grad school.
As it often happens with young love, we had no money, so I needed to get a job if the bills were going to be paid. I had moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, two hours away from my hometown, and I knew no one except my new in-laws. The only skill I had was sewing, and it was then I realized I could be a seamstress if I could just get my name out there.
I discovered a high-end fabric store in Tulsa where the socialites and debutants shopped for expensive fabrics and hired seamstresses to make their clothes. The shop looked like a glamorous boutique with dazzling chandeliers and tables stacked with silk, wool, and velvet fabrics. I introduced myself to the owner, Jo, and told her I would like to be a seamstress for her customers.
Instead of ignoring me, she smiled and gave me an ‘assignment’ so she could see my work. She wanted me to sew a dress for myself, and she would determine if I was skilled enough to sew for her customers. If it passed her exacting standards, she would display the dress in her shop for all her customers to see. She chose a Vogue designer pattern and pulled fabrics to measure and cut. The dress had two different fabrics across the front, and she chose a forest green wool crepe and deep green silk velvet. She matched it with thread and a zipper, and neatly wrapped everything in tissue paper for me to take home.
When I got to my little apartment, I opened the tissue and stared at the fabrics. I had never held nor cut fabrics that cost $75 per yard. I was terrified. I called my mom and told her what I was getting ready to do. I started sobbing, telling her I had made a huge mistake by going into that store. Even with all my education, I still didn’t feel confident enough to make dresses and gowns for rich women. Mom talked me through it like she always did, and I was able to buckle down and make the dress. The moment of truth came when I tried it on and – the dress fit exquisitely. I was in disbelief that I had created such a masterpiece. It passed Jo’s test and hung in the store for three months before I got to take it home.
The green dress was the beginning of a career that spanned ten years. At times, I had as many as twenty projects going at one time, and often sewing 16 hours a day. I still made a lot of mistakes, sometimes purchasing more fabric to start over. Sometimes a client asked if I could make her look taller, slimmer, bustier, or sexier. I wasn’t a miracle worker, but for the most part women felt beautiful in the dresses I sewed for them. I also found myself “on call” for wardrobe emergencies – the late-night phone calls asking me to hem a dress or alter a sleeve.
I learned many lessons during my career as a professional seamstress: The value of hard work, patience, and the importance of paying for services promptly, and I’ve used those lessons in my later career as a chef. I still have the green dress, and I’ll always keep it as a reminder of the fears I overcame, and the skills I acquired during those years. I still have the sewing machine that my mom gave me, although I’ve upgraded to newer model that now sits in my sewing room seldom used except for repairs and an occasional pillow. But inside, I know even 30 years later that if I ever had to, I could make a ball gown suitable for the runway.
