To listen to this post in French, click belowhttps://blogginginparis.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/boiteacouture.mp3″
Three times a year, my friend Fazou summons me to the meeting of her quilting association, Paris Patch. I can’t even sew a button properly, or claim I can’t, much less do any quilting. But I enjoy taking photos of those quilting ladies. They are extraordinarily creative and the atmosphere reminds me of those days when Gitta, my mother was sitting in her favourite armchair and knitted, crocheted or sewed (three activities that I took up as a young woman but have no patience for any more).
She too had a sewing box I distinctly remember, red with a black and white design, and unlike the one in the photograph, it had legs.
The owner of the sewing box you can see here, told me she’s had this box for the last fifty years. In the box, you can see a small pin-cushion that spells: maman. Her now fifty-two years old daughter did this for her mum when she was a first year school-girl.
When Gitta died, I went through her personal things and was moved to tears when I discovered she had faithfully kept all the poems I had written on her birthdays and on Mother’s Day.