Saundra

This is in praise to my Friend, Saundra. Saundra makes patterns. Not just any patterns– but patterns of existing garments of past generations.

On Saturday we drove down to her studio to visit. Robby and Jack didn’t stay– they went off in search of the children’s museum. Saundra’s kitchen is warm and dear– much like her. (Although she seems to hate the brown checked floor that I immediately loved. It’s patina-ed and scuffed with previous kitchen adventures. Her house is old (1918) and it’s easy to imagine different generations cooking and eating and living in such place.

Saundra’s a fabulous cook. I knew that she loved to eat– it’s something the two of us hold in common– but it never occured to me that she could be so blessed with multiple talents. (Not fair, that.) She made a recipe from Saveur magazine– a North African chicken stew as yellow as her daffodils out front (apparently her talents also extend to gardening!?) The stew would have been enough– but what turned it into a feast was the wine glass of pomegranate juice, the platter of cheese, and the bowl of fresh berries.

It was a pleasant meal– her husband, John, is as brilliant as Saundra so the conversation is lively and quick. Under the table the kitties wound their way through our ankles and meowed as though they had things to add to the topic.

We spent the afternoon in her workspace. I watched her work a pattern from the muslin mock up of the original, through her cryptic notes, to a graded piece on her computer. Here and there I could help measure a seam or recall a number for her– but mostly I tried not to interrupt the magic. A lot goes into one of Saundra’s patterns– it’s not mass production. Each line is eyed and often corrected. Historic garments don’t grade as simply as modern lines– so there is a lot of attention to the detail of how 1/32″ might make the biggest difference in the construction later.

I had a wonderful time– it was interesting to see my Friend at work. Usually I see her at play or when she’s lecturing or conducting a workshop. To see her in her studio and to have her all to myself was a treat.

Eventually the big, rolling printer spooled out a pattern in my size and the light in her front windows changed to a late afternoon hue. The boys came back and we sat her table, again, for bowls of unbelievable beef soup and slices of John’s homemade bread spread with good butter. There was cheese and– to send us on our way properly– pieces of pure dark chocolate.

I was sad to leave their house– even as I felt guilty for taking a whole day of work away from her. I appreciate her even more than I did before– and that was already at a ridiculous high–.

And today, I’m sipping pomegranate juice (I bought some on the way home) and savoring it and good thoughts of my day with Saundra.