How To Rescue a Holy Scarf

 My dear friend, Lynn, gave me this antique lambswool scarf many years ago. It had more than a few moth holes, and she didn't want it any longer. "I know you can do something with it", she told me. But I didn't do anything with it at all. At least, not immediately. This beautiful scarf, ornately hand-embroidered with silk threads, languished in my textile collection, waiting for something to be done with it. 

With the press of the holidays behind me now, I've been busy reorganizing my work studio. I came across the lambswool scarf and a pang of guilt hit me. "I should do something with this", I thought. But there were those holes, so many infernal holes. Maybe I could incorporate pieces of the scarf into another project, perhaps a textile collage? Then my focus was drawn to the exquisite, intricately stitched embroidery. Countless hours of highly skilled effort produced those elegant designs nearly a century ago. It seemed criminal to cut up this lovely piece of textile history. My thoughts shifted to how I could repair the damaged areas of the scarf and restore it to its original function.

I've mended many pairs of wool socks and chunky sweaters. But the fineness of this lambswool was another matter altogether. After consulting with the knowledgeable folks at Pacific Northwest Fibershed, I developed a mending strategy. First of all, I learned that lambswool, once popular for luxury goods in the early to mid twentieth century, is no longer easily sourced. Very fine alpaca roving was recommended as a suitable substitute. Fortunately I found a bit of cream colored alpaca roving at a local fiber shop. I was advised to felt the roving into the voids of the lambswool. This required the construction of a thread matrix, something that the roving could attach itself to in the felting process. 

Out came my silk threads and the finest embroidery needle I had. I gently stitched a grid over each hole in the scarf. Patience, patience, patience! Now for the roving. I pulled narrow strands of the alpaca fibers and rolled them into a very small wad, then ever so carefully, plunged my narrowest felting needle down into the roving and through the stitched grid, over and over. It was a delicate process and I'm sure I held my breath while working the first hole. To my relief, the results of the first mend looked pretty good. Encouraged, I continued the process.

After all the mending was finished, I washed the scarf by hand and air dried it. Evidence of my repair job is scarcely noticeable! It gives me great pleasure to have restored this scarf to usefulness. The lambswool is unbelievably soft and warm, and the lustrous embroidery elicits admiring comments. I hope my scarf project will convince you to consider salvaging a garment in need of some TLC rather than tossing it out. By the way Lynn, if you read this, no you don't get the scarf back. It's mine for keeps!

An Ethnic Textile Love Story: Conclusion

 During the two weeks that Juanita lived under her grandparents' roof in El Paso, she came to know this branch of her family tree more intimately. When not sitting at his desk reading, her grandfather Martin shuffled quietly about the house, always smiling, always deferring to the wishes of his wife. Grandmother Joaquina could be quite demanding at times. She insisted that Gloria and Juanita accompany her to Mass every morning. The church was over two miles from the house, and they walked that distance, departing at 7:00 AM dressed in modestly long skirts and long sleeved blouses, gloves, and mantillas covering their heads. By the time they returned to the house for breakfast, it was already approaching ninety sweltering degrees outdoors. 

Gloria's baby would be born in January. To prepare for baby's arrival, Joaquina had the girls work on making a layette. In that brief time spent with her grandmother, Juanita learned how to crochet a baby blanket, how to make needle-turned lace, and how to smock a christening gown. She also learned how to "properly" clean and iron linens. "These skills", Joaquina told the girls, "are essential for all young women of good breeding to have." Joaquina was not one to dole out praise easily. But she recognized in her granddaughter Juanita an ability to learn quickly, and a true desire to do things well.

One afternoon while Juanita, Gloria, and Joaquina sat in the shade of the back veranda, stitching tiny garments, Juanita caught her grandmother staring at her intently. Joaquina held a closed fan in her hand and pointed it at the baby socks Juanita was embroidering. "A ver", Joaquina ordered, holding out her hand. Made nervous by what was sure to be a critical inspection, Juanita passed the socks to her grandmother. Joaquina turned the tiny socks in her hands, closely studying the stitching. Then she handed the socks back to Juanita. "Muy bien", Joaquina said tersely, then added, "como el bordado de tu madre".    Like your mother's embroidery? This praise was the highest compliment Juanita could ever have imagined, for her work to be comparable to her mother's! She looked at her cousin. Gloria smiled at Juanita and nodded her head to validate what Juanita had just heard. 

Juanita replied, "Gracias, Abuela," but before she could say anymore, Joaquina snapped her fan open and began to wave the thing against her neck with furious energy. 

   "Tanto calor!" Joaquina exclaimed. She looked at Juanita and said, "Siga, hija." Continue stitching.

Juanita realized in that moment that she was participating in a ritual. What she learned and experienced was more than mere stitching. She was gaining a sense of connection and identity through the simple acts of making garments alongside her grandmother and cousin. In her grandmother, Juanita found a curious mix of severity tempered with compassion. Although Joaquina was indeed a task mistress, she was also a generous teacher who believed in the importance of passing her knowledge to the younger generation.

Juanita's visit in El Paso sped by quickly. The day before departing for California, she mustered the courage to ask her grandparents if she could take a few of the handwoven textiles in the attic home with her. "Why do you want those old rags?' Joaquina brushed a dismissive hand against the small rug and brightly colored rebozos Juanita showed to them. 

Juanita searched for the words to explain her keen desire. "I think these are beautiful". Almost in a whisper, she added, "They remind me of my mother." 

Grandfather Martin chimed in, one of the rare occasions when he expressed an opinion. "What are we going to do with them? They've been up in the attic, unused for years. My mother and sisters loomed those things with their own hands. It's good that hija Juanita appreciates them."

Joaquina's frown softened and she looked away, staring into space, as if seeing something in the distance. After a silent moment she turned to Juanita and sighed, "Pues bien. Tomalos." Fine. Take them.

"Gracias, Abuela! Gracias!"  Juanita hugged her grandmother, then hugged her grandfather. Martin smiled and winked at her.

Gloria hated to see Juanita leave. "As soon as Roland  gets stationed in California, we will come to see you. I want you to be my baby's comadre!" 

Juanita went to El Paso not knowing what to expect, longing for memories she didn't have, yearning for an ancestral connection to her mother. In her grandparents' home she found a juxtaposition of the raw and the refined, earthiness and pretentiousness. Above all she found that familial connection that she'd always wanted, and a history of textile making that preceded her mother by many generations. Juanita was never able to return to El Paso before her grandparents passed away. But those precious handwoven textiles and her newly acquired stitching skills endured throughout her lifetime. They proved to be not only her heritage, but also her legacy when she in turn, passed those skills and stories down to her own daughter.

Now my patient readers, you know the story of Joaquina Design Studio. Every garment, every handbag, every piece of textile work made by Joaquina Designs is an act of love, abiding respect, and honor for all the generations of women who have come before me. I am grateful to each one of them. "Gracias, Abuela! Gracias!" 

#textilestories #ethnictextilelovestory 

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