White 793

Here is the White 793.  Don’t you just love it?  By the way, it isn’t just pretty.  It sews, too!  It came with lots of goodies:

Now, I can tell you that it is not in the same league as the Bernina, but it is still worth having.

I have only had a chance to test out the stitches on a few scraps so far.  This sampler was underneath the presser foot when I bought it:

This brand of sewing machine is new to me - I have never sewn on a White before.  Nor have I had a chance to find out much about this brand/model online.

Clash….what happened?  The tops have been cut out and I intended to work on them today.  I opted instead to spend some of my afternoon at the spa for a mani/pedi.  Frankly, it was a good choice.

A Problem?

"Hello, my name is Tammy and I am a compulsive purchaser of old sewing machines."

It is true.  I leave for a week and following me home, scheduled to arrive tomorrow, is a 1972 turquoise White 793 sewing machine.  I have nothing to say in my defense.  Nothing.

The goal of my trip was to visit my family in the Midwest and I had a wonderful time.  Other than my family, about the only things I saw for miles and miles were knee high corn, white potato blossoms, red barns, and farmhouses.  So, how could this have happened?  It was the result of an innocent visit to a local antique store.  The store consisted of three stories of the usual randomness including old books, dishes, framed art, appliances, furniture, toys, etc.  The offerings continued outdoors in several outbuildings.  The outside stuff was mostly manly things like antique tools, motors and fishing/hunting items.  There was also some heavy furniture.

I had resisted the twenty or so rusty black sewing machines found on the second floor and was proud of myself, as a few of them had caught my eye.  The White 793, though, was tricky.  It was waiting for me, snug in its carrying case perched atop a painted dresser, in one of those outbuildings.  When I opened the case and saw bright turquoise paint and shiny silver trim, I knew it was coming home with me.  Twenty-five dollars later and it was mine.

My father oiled it and got it going.  It works!  I will post a photo once it arrives.

Thank you DD#2 for keeping this blog alive in my absence.  Please feel free to jump in anytime and illuminate us with your wisdom and insight.  Bring your wounded pants with you on your next visit and I will assist you in their repair.

My next post should (hopefully) conclude the Clash of the Sunshine and the Butterick tops.