I’m Glad It’s Not Rocket Science

As often happens when I have a lousy and stressful week, I usually decide that I need to do *something.* Never sure what it is, of course, but it certainly needs doing. And since on March 27 I will be doing a book signing at the Arizona Renaissance Festival along with Robert Vardeman, I thought about making up a Ren Faire costume. I have a lot of bits here, but in noodling around on the internet, I found some simple patterns for a T-tunic. I studied them, said to myself, “How tough could that be?” and headed out to a JoAnn’s Fabrics.

That store is for women what a Home Depot is for men. I like Home Depot, or any hardware store. It has things I know how to work with: wood, nails, screws, and power tools. I can look at a pile of lumber and think, “Yep, there’s a shelf.”

The fabric store? Totally intimidated. I mean, sewing machines are power tools, but they don’t look like them. They have push buttons and aren’t terribly noisy. And you get different stitches out of them without having to change bits or tightening anything down. There is something unnatural about that. And fabric, it was not clear how you even measure the stuff, or who is going to cut it for you. Needles and thread I recognized, and then recognized that my project was not something I could ever do in time for the Ren Faire.

And while hand-sewing might be authentic for the period, it would take me three years to do the job. That would not satisfy my need to do something now.

So, I thought about it. I have enough Ren Faire clothing to be kitted out, but what I didn’t have was a satchel to carry things in. Last thing I want to do is to have all the right clothes on, then have to rely on a nylon Nike backpack. What’s the point? It would be like showing up at Agincourt with a machine gun. Wait, that could work. But you know what I mean. It just wouldn’t be right.

Pack-rat that I am, I had this big old piece of very supple leather from some other project I was going to do once upon a time. I had made a couple things from it, but I had a bunch left over. So, I decided to make a satchel twelve inches wide, eight high, three deep. I measured and cut, even including generous seam allowances. I worked in my office, which was dark because I have too little light and the day was dreary—but this was a Dark Ages project, so I figured that was okay. I punched holes, threaded thongs and knotted them, made a shoulder strap and affixed it.

And I did everything inside-out so when I finished and turned it right-side-out, all the ugly seams and hideous knotting are hidden!

All things equal, it’s not a half-bad job. I think it’s funny, of course, thinking I’m all big and bad doing this when Neanderthals created this level of tech and they were using stone tools. And, um, they had to go fetch their own leather, too, scraping it down, tanning it; which I would have done save that there’s a distinct shortage of wooly mammoths in the valley, and the folks at the zoo get upset if you try to harvest their antelope.

No, I will not be posting pictures of this bag on the Internet. If you want to see it, you’ll just have to come out to the Ren Faire. I’ll try not to blush too badly.

I will just take joy that, in the days after the fall of civilization, I might have a skill. After all the stores have been looted of Gucci and Coach, folks will be coming to me.