Tagged: stitcher’s beeswax

Sep 07

Waxing lyrical

Welcome back to the new autumn term here at Scrapiana Towers! My pencils are freshly sharpened, my needles have become almost dangerously pointy (OK, I won’t mention strawberry needle emeries again for at least 24 hours, promise), and I’m wearing big pockets, eagerly anticipating a crop of shiny new conkers.

Having apparently spent so much time since my last post in the company of bees (I haven’t actually been sitting on that bench quite all this time), it seemed right to return with one of my favourite topics: beeswax.

The application of beeswax is a time-honoured thread-improving technique. I often wax lyrical about it (most recently when asked to list my sewing essentials for Cross Stitcher magazine – out soon, I think) because it’s such a beautifully simple and thrifty idea. Drawing cotton or linen thread along the edge of a block of beeswax before hand-sewing renders it stronger and more resilient, less inclined to twist, knot or fray, and more likely to run smoothly through the fabric. Sewing guru Ruth Singer recommends it in her excellent manual Sew It Up, mentioning its history as a traditional tailor’s aid, and that it’s particularly helpful with long hand-sewn seams; she suggests running over the thread with a warm iron to melt the wax into the fibres slightly before use, though I must admit I haven’t tried that. Dollmaker extraordinaire Mimi Kirchner says that beeswax turns an ordinary thread into super-thread, and is fantastic for the sturdy attachment of coat buttons. And so it is.

Cobblers and sail-makers of old would have routinely coated their thread with beeswax, its waterproof qualities an added advantage. Up the social scale among the leisured classes, Georgian ladies could obtain cakes of wax decorated with gold-paper stars and other motifs. A Georgian lady’s sewing box might also contain a natty little device aptlycalled a thread waxer, designed to hold a small cake of wax on a pin between two protective ends of ivory or mother-of-pearl: think of wafers round an ice-cream sandwich and you get the idea. These were sometimes incorporated into another device, such as a tape-measure. The Victorians favoured a wooden wax box, sometimes carved in the form of fruit. And presumably these were perfectly suited to house the balls of white and yellow beeswax mentioned in an 1869 domestic guide by American author Harriet Beecher Stowe and her less famous sister Catherine. The extra refinement of white (‘bleached’) beeswax was often preferred as it was less likely to stain the palest of fabrics.

But beeswax isn’t the only product that has been used for thread-conditioning. Once upon a time, especially if you didn’t happen to have access to a hive, it was de rigeur to use your own earwax for the job, harvested with the aid of a device called an ear-spoon. I’m guessing I just exceeded your “Eeuww!” threshold, and if you now have beverage-splatter all over your screen, I apologise. Our stitching forebears may have been resourceful, but I confidently predict no comeback any time soon for earwax-based sewing aids. Double-dip or no, the trusty Q-tip is here to stay. Though, on behalf of ENT specialists everywhere, I feel beholden to add that you really shouldn’t put anything in your ear that’s smaller than your elbow.

If you can overcome your squeamishness, the notion of the pre-cotton-bud era is intriguing. Ear-spoons – or ear-scoops as they were also known – were essentially just a tiny bowl on a disproportionately long handle. They were made from a variety of materials: silver or gold, ivory or bone. They cropped up in ancient Roman beauty-sets (presumably just for personal grooming, but who knows?) as well as Georgian sewing etuis. In the seventeenth century, they were often incorporated into the end of a silver bodkin, that indispensable status symbol required to lace a lady into her wardrobe; if there had been such a thing as a Stuart Swiss army knife, I like to think that it would have featured a flip-out ear-spoon among its crop of bespoke blades.

A silver bodkin-cum-ear-spoon makes a surprisingly attractive item, but happily you don’t have to acquaint yourself with one intimately (at least, not for sewing purposes) because beeswax isn’t hard to come by. It’s best to use 100% beeswax as paraffin wax can misbehave. I happen to offer prettily shaped and packaged morceaux of stitcher’s beeswax over here on Etsy. And, for the rest of September, I’m offering them on a BOGOF basis – buy one, get one free! They make great stocking fillers for keen needle-persons, I’m told. Here’s what someone said about them a little while back.

How do you feel about beeswax? I confess to being heavily biased. That honeyed tang just can’t be beaten, and I love it in almost any product, from lip-balm to soap to furniture polish. Do you use beeswax for sewing, or for other purposes? Perhaps you can’t abide the stuff. Whatever the case, do tell!

Scrapiana beeswax

Stitcher's beeswax

 

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Dec 10

This is not a cupcake

It looks a lot like a cupcake, or maybe a petit four, but ceci n’est pas un cupcake. It’s actually a useful little stitching aid called Stitcher’s Beeswax. When you’re hand-sewing,  run your length of thread through this beforehand and you’ll find it won’t be so prone to knotting, twisting or fraying.

Eat me not

Ceci n'est pas un cupcake

You can buy more utilitarian lumps of beeswax which will do the job fine. But I wanted to sex them up a bit. And what, now, could be more sexy than a cupcake? So, I formed these 100% beeswax amuses-mains in little chocolate moulds. Both beautiful and practical – what a joy!

This is not a cupcake

Stitcher's beeswax

In my compulsion to recycle everything, I made the first ones from used candle ends (really!) which happened to be green. But most of them are actually natural beeswax colour, as I’ve made the majority from new beeswax. You could probably eat them without much harm, but I’d recommend reserving them for their intended function. I think they’d make a cracking little stocking filler for a favourite stitcher. As with all my items, they’ll be on sale at It’s Darling! this weekend. The excitement is mounting, and the fair has  even been recommended by BBC Homes & Antiques  Magazine as one of the 5 great festive shopping treats nationwide. Woot! Hope to see you there.

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Jul 10

Minding my own beeswax

I’ve been minding a lot of beeswax lately, mostly my own. It began with some gorgeous beeswax candles which were a gift from my sister; they were green sheets of hexagonally imprinted beeswax (presumably made by green bees) rolled around a wick. When burned they left these honey-smelling trails of silky wax.  Of course, I couldn’t throw them away (nor the candle ends) before thinking hard about a potential re-use. After all, if bees are in short supply, we should be careful to conserve all their precious beeswax too, right?

Several experiments later and I came up with this: stitcher’s beeswax in various cupcakey shapes. Well, more petit-fours shapes, really. Aren’t they pretty? They look good enough to eat – though please don’t! Instead, run your thread along the edge of one before hand-sewing and your thread will be more robust, last longer and not twist.

Well, I’m giving away one of these little beauties with every purchase over £10 on my stall at the It’s Darling! fair on 17th July. I’ll also be selling them in my forthcoming Etsy shop.

Beeswax cupcakes

Little cupcakes of repurposed beeswax stitcherly goodness

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