The Tomato

Me and the old tomato spent a lot of time together.  Usually the tomato pin cushion sat on the right hand side of the Singer Zig Zag sewing machine.  Sometimes it stood at attention on the ironing board waiting for to be poked with arriving pins.   Other times it held pins at the ready on the floor next to a long stretch of fabric while I noodled about trying to figure out the most economical way to position the pattern pieces.   Sometimes the tomato was NO WHERE to be found. When you needed a needle, I hated having to hunt for the elusive tomato. It often was hiding with the scissors, who were extremely elusive and very necessary to my seamstress ambitions.

The worst part was that needles were scarce. Packages of them disappeared.  It wasn’t until much later when I discovered by squeezing the tomato that needles were hiding inside.  Once I tore one of these tomatos open and found dozens and dozens of needles. I can’t tell you where sox go… but I have the low down on lost needles. 

Pins were something that the rag sisters were reckless with. “ DON’T SEW OVER PINS. You will BREAK the needle, mom shouted from the next room. She could hear the machine knicking pins from the next room. We ignored her. Taking out the pins really slowed down the stitching. We knew that if you put the pins in at right angles, the  odds were that sewing machine would zip right over them. We would go roaring along, reving up the pace… and then THUNK.  Dreaded sound of a broken needle. Silence… while we waited for the mom storm.  

 

Why were tomatos were the default pin cushion? Who knows. In the olden days they were made in Japan, and had a strong camphor. They were common…. Every person who owned a needle for sewing on a button had one. New tomato pincushions had a sprout, that usually fell off with use. Why was the tomato sprouting a strawberry?  Another one of life’s mysteries…. 

LA. 5.16 2020

For as long as I can remember my house has had a red fruit pincushion.  It holds straight pins, glass and plastic headed pins, hand sewing needles, machine needles, hatpins. It was where pins and needles were supposed to live, though I remember finding their sharp points everywhere when we were sewing. On the floor, accidentally sewn into clothing, there was even an occasional pin in the couch, ouch!

What is this variety of fruit? It seems to be a tomato, but with a strawberry attached? I Googled red fruit pincushion and learned from Wikipedia

” The tomato design was most likely introduced during the Victorian Era. It is commonly alleged that the origin of this design was a belief that placing a tomato on the mantel of a new house guaranteed prosperity and repelled evil spirits, and that if tomatoes were out of season, families improvised by using a round ball of red fabric filled with sand or sawdust, which also became a place to store pins.[6]...”

According to Wiki the strawberry contains emery for sharpening needles and pins. Wow! I had no idea.

SA 5.16.2020